#i looped his playlist the entire time i was answering these questions for him so i was bouncing off the walls

[mattodore]

60 questions with Theo | playlist, pinterest | ->

1. What’s the one thing they would save in a fire?

Theo is a collector and a bit of a hoarder, so there’d be too much he’d try to save. I really couldn’t just say one thing… but I guess he’d grab his memory journal first.

2. What’s their biggest regret?

Not being good enough. Not being lovable enough. 

3. How would they fare in a zombie apocalypse?

Theo would do very well up until a point. He’s a survivor through and through, but I do think he’d burn out eventually. He could go a few years before breaking down. When he’s no longer able to repress all of his emotions, the feeling of exhaustion would weigh on him. He’d get bitten soon after, almost on purpose.

4. Where do they see themselves in five years? Ten?

Working for his father for a few decades and later taking over his father’s company. He feels a lot of dread and nausea over this.

5. What’s their most useless, weirdest, or least marketable skill?

He can wiggle his ears.

6. What are they like in the bedroom — well-rounded lover or wooden plank?

Theo is… well. More wooden plank than anything. Sorry, Theo. But, well, he normally goes for more aggressive partners who tend to take control anyway. I don’t think Theo really wants to be all there during sex… it’s one of the reasons why he normally uses before finding hook-ups… it makes him a little foggy and loose. I do think, however, that it’s a little bit different when he’s with women. In Theo’s experience, women treat him kinder… which is one of the reasons why he mostly sleeps with men. He wants affection, sure, but he’s also uncomfortable with it… he’s used to pain. With Matthias, however, this does end up changing. Maybe it’s because Matthias is gentle with him unless he’s asked for it to be rough, or because Matthias won’t fuck him when he’s using, but Theo’s more active when having sex with Matthias. Not a lot of talking, but he pulls and pushes and moves how he wants. After a while, he starts taking control and speaking more.

7. Have they committed a crime before? Which one(s)?

Theo uses drugs frequently.

8. If they were an animal, which one would they be? Which one would they think they’d be?

Theo is a pygmy rabbit or a netherland dwarf rabbit (that temperament… yeah). I think Theo would see himself as… well, a goldfish trapped in a bowl, swimming in endless circles and going nowhere.

9. Do they cheat to win or play by the rules?

Theo plays by the rules, generally speaking. If we’re talking sports, though, he does play dirty. He’s very competitive.

10. What do they fantasize about?

Comfort. A room with a door that locks and will keep him safe all night. A bed on the floor. Blinds and curtains on every window. Matthias’s arms wrapped around him so tight he can hardly breathe.

11. Who’s the most important person in their life?

I want to say Matthias, but it’s his parents. It’s hard for Theo to cut them off, even despite the abuse. I don’t think this changes to Matthias for a very, very long time.

12. What’s their ideal vacation like?

Theo can’t even imagine what a vacation would be like. I think even fantasizing about it would stress him out… he’d just think about how far behind it’d put him academically. 

13. What is/was/will be their college major?

Business. Statistics and data. He doesn’t like it.

14. What’s their favorite book genre, if they enjoy reading at all?

Theo doesn’t read for pleasure very often — he has too much reading to do for school — but I think he’s always enjoyed science fiction from a very young age.

15. How would they describe themselves?

Theo wouldn’t know how to describe himself at all. He’d freeze at the question and become despondent.

16. How would others describe them?

Matthias: Lovely beyond words. Intelligent and wry. Shy, pulls away when feelings are too much or too positive. Irresistible. Anxious about things that I could make go away if he'd let me. Lashes out when he gets scared. Strong when he shouldn’t have to be. Soft when he should be hard. Too forgiving to the wrong people. Easily frustrated. Standing on the edge. Endearingly insolent. A mirrored image. Every beautiful thing. Angel. Bambi. Mała myszko.

Everett: Sometimes he makes himself so small… like an injured animal. Jumpy and skittish. But strong, too… impassive when he’s hurt. He’s hiding a lot, but you can see through the cracks sometimes. He needs help, but he won’t let anyone in.

Jordan: Stubborn and headstrong. Naïve or just reckless. Lost. Like a child.

Dutchie: Hard to get to know. Honestly couldn’t tell you much about him despite the years of friendship. Still… you wanna protect him.

Jackson: Fun to be around, y’know… for a rich kid. Troubled, though. Hard to reach. Everyone wants to get to know him better, but… he doesn’t really allow that.

Kavi: Incredibly intelligent but totally aloof. Mysterious. Nose always buried in his books. Cold.

Imani: Too good for Matthias. Sweet. 

17. What’s the most ridiculous thing they’ve ever spent money on?

A large collection of delicate Fenton glass bells and assorted pieces. He collects them and stores them in an antique curio cabinet in his apartment.

18. What’s their dream job?

He doesn’t have a dream job. He just does what he’s told and expected to do, which is to work for his father.

19. How’s their financial situation?

His parents have a lot of money. He doesn’t have a job (honestly… he isn’t permitted one). He’s financially reliant on his parents.

20. Who’s their go-to person for advice?

Theo doesn’t ask for advice from anyone. 

21. What’s one secret of theirs that could potentially ruin a relationship they have?

If he told his parents that he’s bisexual and interested in men they would cut him off or worse…

22. Are they a dog person or a cat person — or something else?

Theo’s never had a pet before, so I don’t even think he himself knows the answer to this. He likes Matthias’s cat well enough, but he’s never been around many dogs to really choose between the two. I think he really likes looking at fish… I’m iffy on if he’d ever actually own one, though.

23. What’s one childhood memory they’ve never forgotten?

CW for child abuse. I’m talking directly about an instance of abuse. This isn’t vague like I usually am when I talk about Theo’s trauma.

Being beaten for tracking mud onto the rug in his father’s office. His father stood him in front of a full length mirror in the hall and made him watch. If he looked away he would be struck again. If his knees buckled he would be hauled back up and hit harder. It felt like it lasted for hours. Theo had been in the gardens beforehand, an umbrella held over him by his au pair. The dwarf sunflowers had bloomed and in his excitement he pulled off a petal and barreled into the home, heading straight to his father to show him how yellow the petals were. His au pair couldn’t keep up with him, and Theo was always forgetting to take off his shoes when he came in from outside. He was very young… maybe five or six.

24. Do they have any phobias?

Open doors. Windows without curtains or blinds. Locks that aren’t sturdy. Mirrors. Older men. Authoritative figures.

25. What’s one thing they’re utterly incapable of doing without the help of someone else?

Theo is actually very independent. It’s hard to think of anything he couldn’t do himself, because he’s always been on his own, really. 

26. What’s one topic they could never get tired of researching or learning about?

Theo is very intelligent, but he’s not actually that interested in learning. He lost that drive and passion at a relatively young age. He’s no longer curious. Hm… I think he might get a little thrill from learning information that’s just… completely useless. Like, think dumb trivia. Still, though… knowledge is synonymous with pressure to him. It makes him feel sick.

27. What’s their favorite genre of music?

Theo will listen to anything. I don’t think he necessarily has a favorite genre. Hm… I think he likes lullabies, though. Quiet music. Calming.

28. Who, if anyone, do they dislike most?

Himself.

29. If they could change one thing about themselves, physical or otherwise, what would it be?

Whatever would make his parents happy with him. Whatever could make him better suited for the part they want him to play.

30. What’s their political stance?

Theo is whatever his parents want him to be on paper, but politically he’s… a liberal, I guess. His party friends, in general, lean left… and they’re definitely influencing him some. However, I don’t think he has the backbone to really go any which way. 

This question is a little hard for me to answer with some of the echthroi cast because they’re rich at the end of the day, ya’ know? Materially, politics don’t touch them.

31. Are they religious?

No.

32. What were they like in high school?

He was all over the place. Quiet and then having these uncontrollable outbursts. Fearful. Frequently pulled aside by teachers, being asked pointed questions. Standoffish. Flinching when touched. Far away from the other students. At the same time he was scared to be alone, though, so he would blend in with the crowds when he could. At the summer school he was sent to yearly, the outbursts always got worse.

33. What’s the worst injury they’ve ever had?

I’m going to choose not to answer this one.

34. Do they work to live or live to work?

Live to work. He doesn’t know who he’d be without it. It’s what he was molded for.

35. Do/did they want children?

No. Theo is scared of even the idea of having children.

36. What’s their favorite thing about themselves?

Nothing? I don’t know. Theo… really doesn’t like himself. Maybe his hair, though… his pierced ears… the things he feels give him autonomy.

37. What’s their favorite thing about their significant other, if they have one?

Hm. I think Theo really likes how big Matthias is. He towers over people and is visibly strong. I think that offers Theo a lot of comfort. He feels safe when Matthias is around. Matthias is also very protective, so… it makes it easier for Theo to face his fears. There’s a reliability to Matthias that Theo needs. Matthias cares about him and tells him frequently how much he loves him… Theo’s never had that before. It makes him feel lighter.

38. If they hear something go bump in the night, do they get out of bed to check it out or do they stay put?

Theo is paralyzed but his mind shoots off at a mile a minute. He’s too terrified to do anything.

39. What’s one skill they wish they had?

A photographic memory. It would make his life a lot easier with regards to his education. He’s never thought about the downsides to this… especially as someone with drug and trauma related memory loss…

40. What do other people find annoying about them, if anything?

He can be very cutting and dismissive. He's judgmental, too. First impressions are everything if you want him to even be cordial with you.

41. What do other people love most about them?

He has this magnetism to him that you can’t really put your finger on. I think it’s a combination of how handsome he is alongside the way he keeps himself almost entirely separate from everyone else… you always want what you can’t have. 

42. What’s the typical first impression after meeting this person?

That he’s very prickly or just cold… restless… doleful. 

43. What do people notice first about them, as far as their appearance goes?

The repressed anger and sorrow in his eyes. Then, maybe, all those beauty marks. The elegant line of his body.

44. Does this person try their best to be honest or are they not above lying to get their way?

Theo isn’t a very good liar, but he’s very good at prevarication and skirts the truth with ease. 

45. What kind of movies do they like?

Theo doesn’t have time for movies. Regardless… I think he’d like horror movies. I think… Theo would find a lot of comfort in watching horrible things happen to fictional people. He could fictionalize the abuse he’s faced that way.

46. Are they the life of the party or a wallflower?

I’d say he’s a bit of a mixed bag on this one. If he’s using, he’s the life of the party. If he’s sober, he’s a wallflower. Either way, though, people will approach him to strike up conversation and ask him to dance.

47. Are they an early bird or a night owl?

Early bird. Theo doesn’t actually like the night. Does he still party until three in the morning? Yeah. But… well. Theo tortures himself in many different ways, doesn’t he?

48. Are they a good kisser?

He’s not bad at it, but he never really kissed anyone until Matthias. So… he’s not amazing at it or anything. He’s learning as he goes. 

49. Do they think about what they wear or do they throw on whatever they find first?

Theo definitely plans out outfits. I think he has three separate lives he’s living and three separate fashion senses to suit each of them. He dresses very typically masculine and rich when he’s with his parents. He dresses down for university but incorporates some elements of his nightlife wardrobe on occasion. He experiments more with sexuality and gender for his nightlife fashion… I think this is what he would prefer to wear all the time, only with a less dramatic flare.

50. Do they have any insecurities?

I could be contracted to write a trilogy about Theo’s insecurities and would meet every deadline with ease. The underlying root of all of his insecurities is his belief that he’s unlovable and dirty, though. Let’s keep it simple with that.

51. What is their favorite thing about themselves?

A repeat question. I’ll add onto my last answer, though, to say that I think he has some days where he feels really good about his appearance and some days he doesn’t. He’s temperamental.

52. What’s their diet like?

Theo eats whatever is made for him and will finish all of it even if he dislikes it or isn’t hungry. He doesn’t have any favorites, but he really dislikes candy or sweets.

53. If they could only eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would it be?

Again, he doesn’t have anything in particular he likes. I guess something easy to eat would be the answer… maybe mangos.

54. What’s their body count, if they have one?

I think he has sex very regularly… on average I'd say once a week unless he’s studying too intensely for a break or his last experience was a really rough one. He doesn’t always sleep with new people, either. The faces blur, though. Hm. I can’t say an exact number and Theo wouldn’t be counting anyway.

55. Who do they look up to most?

The blurry image he has of his childhood au pair.

56. What do they smell like?

Copying things I’ve mentioned previously here… Theo smells very clean. Think green and fresh… a little powdery. He doesn’t often wear cologne, so he mostly just smells like soap — not even his body lotion is scented. He doesn’t like strong or chemical smells on himself. As a signature he’d wear a spritz of Francis Kurkdjian’s Aqua Universalis. However, Theo will also wear Gucci’s Tears from the Moon, which was a gift from his mother, if he’s at family events — it’s outside of his preference but that’s neither here nor there.

57. How do they feel about drugs?

…Theo is an addict. He doesn’t get clean for a few years and relapses multiple times. He relies on them but he also wishes he’d never touched them sometimes, usually when the guilt floods in after he’s sobered up from one of the outbursts he’s had because of them.

58. If they could change one thing about their life, what would it be?

Hm. I’m going to bow out of answering this question as well.

59. What motivates them?

A desire for recognition, acceptance, and love.

60. What are some of their simple pleasures?

Collecting knickknacks. Cold showers. The wind whipping through his hair when he sticks his head out of the window of a car. The sound of the windchimes outside his bedroom window. Odious purring on his chest. Matthias’s voice in his ear.

#river dipping #ts4 #theodore doe #echthroi #oc extras #a burning house to live in #s: echthroi #cw child abuse mention #for this cw i wanna be clear that i talk specifics of an incident for one question (i also give another warning for it before the answer) #cw drugs mention #really out here blogging just for myself bc seriously who's reading this except me #it's nearly 3k words in google docs... what can i say 😌 #theo... my little guy..................... #i looped his playlist the entire time i was answering these questions for him so i was bouncing off the walls #i honestly always want to do the ask games i see on here but my avpd kicks my ass so when i saw this one the other day i was like #why don't i just answer all of the questions and post 'em to the extras tag without the actual ask element #it was a lot of fun and also kind of agonizing....... honestly i might do this again if i see another ask game that interests me #also revealed the third nickname matthias regularly calls theo... i think it's obvious why someone like him would call theo that gkfhjfnh #pointing to hierophant by king woman in matthias's playlist like . what else did we expect #okay....... onto rereading matthias's answers and then i'll post that one and go back to catching up #updating the pic of theo from this WEEKS later bc i can't believe i let theo's hairline look like that............ anyway

[rebelpeas]

BAM QUESTIONS

✨ 🎶 🎯 🤲 🤡

HI QWERTY thanks for the questions! i skipped two that i have already answered (✨ and 🤡) this time bc im sleeby tonight 😴

🎶 - Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

i cannot write without music LOL i make playlists for my long wips and try to only listen to those songs while i’m working on the wip, so it’s a sort of “sit down and focus” soundtrack. for oneshots i tend to loop just one song the whole time i’m writing. lately, i’ve been listening to fold i by motherfolk and chinese satellite by phoebe bridger!

🎯 - Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

shoutout to the mine theory truthers of devil town! i think at least one person had guessed every reveal, twist, or plot point in devil town by the time we got to the end, with the one exception of (SPOILERS) wilbur being involved in quackity’s dad’s death in any capacity, or, like. anything about karl. i did not see anybody guess that, which was kind of funny and i suspect is probably part of the reason chapter eleven ended up being the most memorable scene in that fic.

also. you with a certain character in footnotes LMAO but you know this

🤲 - Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

this is less of a snippet and more of An Entire Scene because i couldn’t decide which part to grab and just got. all of it. but here is a 500 word chunk from act two of pds 70b for you! warnings ahead for discussions of unreality and death.

“I think I’m going to die in this car,” Wilbur tells Tommy, who is sprawled out across a blanket with one arm over his eyes. It’s just shy of noon; the sun beats down above them, shielded only by the overhang of the building they’ve stopped at for the day. The teenager raises the corner of his lip in the tired approximation of a grossed-out sneer.

“What?”

Wilbur thinks he was pretty obvious the first time. “I’m just gonna keep driving it around until it breaks. Then I’ll live out of it wherever it stops, and eventually I’ll die there. Gonna die in the car. Be buried in it. It’s my tomb, all decorated already and everything.”

This causes Tommy to lift his arm, blue eyes finding Wilbur’s with a scowl. “Has anyone ever told you, you’re fucking morbid?”

“I don’t know,” Wilbur says. “My memory’s bad. That’s insensitive.”

“Fuck you,” Tommy says without a bit of venom to it. He settles back down. “Stop talking about death and let me nap, would you?”

“Okay.” Wilbur puts his back against the wall. “What about you?”

Tommy heaves a sigh and Wilbur can hear the eyeroll that goes with it. “I’m never going to die, actually.”

“No,” Wilbur corrects. “What’ll you do when the car breaks?”

A silent pause hangs between them.

“Well,” Tomm starts, slowly. “I imagine it’ll still be a good while til that happens. Told you, Tubbo’s good with cars. A right mechanic. He’ll keep it moving, and we can go wherever. See who else we can find that’s still around. Oh, we could start a–what’s the word, for like, end of the world shit?”

“What?”

“A community,” Tommy says. “With survivors. We can start farms.”

“I don’t think plants have been growing.”

“What? Oh.” Tommy frowns. “Well, maybe they just need different conditions. We can figure it out.” And after a moment, “How haven’t plants been growing? That doesn’t make any sense. They haven’t died.”

Wilbur shrugs. “You ask the apocalypse how it all works. I haven’t the slightest clue.”

Tommy covers his face again. “I’ll ask tomorrow. Goodnight, Wilbur.”

Wilbur lets him sleep this time. After a few moments, Tommy’s breathing slows into something slow, heavy, and even. He’s a quiet sleeper, whether that’s in the passenger seat of Wilbur’s car or on a blanket in an empty hotel’s lobby, just by the doors where an occasional breeze blows through. The breeze is louder than Tommy’s breathing sometimes.

It startles Wilbur the first time he mixes up the wind for someone breathing. Then it gets stuck in his head. He keeps looking over, half-expecting for Tommy to be gone and to be alone again. Even after the night spent driving together, and the morning spent together scrounging for supplies and finding a cool enough place to sleep, Wilbur still doesn’t quite believe that Tommy is real.

Doesn’t quite believe he’s going to stay.

Tommy is some sort of ghost, he’s pretty sure. Something like a sketchbook high above a canyon, or a name written on a calendar, or a wallet sitting on his dashboard, only a little more tangible. A little louder, when he’s awake, and a little more insistent about it.

So Tommy is the last dredges of Wilbur’s sanity trying to survive, one last-ditch effort to wake himself up and get back into the car and start driving, again, and again, and again. Maybe he isn’t even alive. Maybe it’d worked, back at the canyon–maybe this is just the hallucinated last moments of Wilbur’s life, played through in vivid detail.

Maybe nothing’s real. Maybe trees never fall if no one is there to see it go. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

Tommy is still asleep. One arm over his eyes; blonde hair spilled over maroon carpet. His chest continues to rise and fall. Real or otherwise.

Wilbur dozes off just behind him, and he dreams of something dark in between glittering lights and velvet fabric bundled up inside of his chest.

#ask box #qwerty tag

[shiroi---kumo]

Which song do you feel describes your character the most and why?

Canon Questionnaire || Accepting

I've been asked similar questions like this before and for the entire year my answer to this question has always been Spectral Friends by Maraton and most likely will always be this song.

That being said this is going to be a little different when comparison to the other times I've answered this in in the past. So Buckle up this is about to get long because the topic is Kumo and music.

I have always said Spectral Friends because it hits Kumo's issues with Ghost Mentality so square in the face. The last repeating line of the song is

"I'm a Ghost but then you'd never know."

and damn that line just hits him dead on. For the majority of the year, I've been writing him again Kumo has clung to the idea of already being dead. It's been his way of survival as strange as that is. He told himself if he already died then he doesn't have to deal with the trials and tribulations of being alive and one of those things being emotions.

Another section of Spectral Friends:

We are spectral friends And I want you to know, you know We're haunting while the others breathe and grow We are spectral friends tonight And it's our job to make it right Beneath the void, with you and I

This song largely hits on both his Ghost Mentality and his relationship with Kaze. "It's our job to make it right, Beneath the void, with you and I."

Please note how to the song says "We're Haunting" and "We are" and in Kumo's mind that reflects against himself AND Kaze. In his mind they are both dead men.

So yeah, Spectral Friends hits him square in the fucking chest, and honestly if you were to shift your way through his playlist you would find yourself A LOT of songs revolving around ghosts, monsters, dying, hauntings, the living dead, etc. He's got a theme you see, and that theme is the fact be doesn't consider himself as a living being -

Until recently and a different song crawled into his life and this one too can't go without mentioning. BURY ME ALIVE by Neoni

Bury me alive 'Cause I'm living like, I'm living like I already died Bury me alive I'm begging for a feeling but I'm hollow inside

This one came for him and hit him dead on too. This one got looped for many many days. This one captures both is Ghost Mentality and his desire to not live that way anymore. "Cause I'm living like I already died." // "I'm begging for a feeling but I'm hollow inside."

But then the bridge of this song hits HARD:

Going insane, yeah, I'm begging and I'm pleading just to get free But I'm so empty, oxygen is running low, no, I can't breathe Would somebody save me? Save me, please save me Clawing at my coffin, yeah, I'm screaming I can feel I'm suffocating No escaping, I feel like I'm wasting Would somebody save me? Save me, please save me

Kumo has been so difficult lately because he hasn't been relying on his Ghost Mentality as a survival technique. He's acknowledged he needs help with things and that he can't keep doing things as a one man show. He wants him from His Other but he's not getting it so he feels like he's losing his mind.

And with the way Main Verse is set up and Chaos /Anarchy able to whisper whatever they hell they want into Kumo's ears whenever they want the man really feels like he's losing his mind.

He's been struggling between the idea of actually being alive and just being a ghost that exists to solve a problem of unfinished business and he can't talk to anyone about it because the one person he shares a space with most often won't listen.

So

Bury me Bury me Bury me Bury me alive

#founderkings #meme || Canon Questions #topic: Ghost Mentality #ask || inquires of the cloud

[dontgofarfromme]

I'm too lazy to go digging through other episodes to find more examples but Orym is a master of redirecting conversations and deflecting from sensitive topics in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion or make people think that he's hiding something and it was so interesting to watch how someone finally got past that instinct in the last ep. I've been tracking this since really early on in the campaign since we all had our very heavy suspicions about Orym's backstory (and let's be real Liam's EXU playlist basically spelled it out), and he's been doing this shit constantly. Looking at last episode, in his convo with Chetney, we have this exchange:

Chetney: I see you got the moons on your sleeve[...]

Orym: It's no alpha male tattoo.

The second Chetney briefly touches on this subject Orym dives right into asking Chetney questions about himself. He doesn't just like idk say thank you and leave it open for more questions, he actively steers the conversation away from himself and eventually even away from the subject of tattoos entirely, in a way that has worked really well previously to get people to forget that they were even discussing Orym in the first place. But this time, Chetney loops right back and asks in a roundabout way several times before getting a straight answer:

Chetney: I see the love

Orym: The love?

Chetney: For the moon!

Orym: Oh yeah.

Chetney: What's that for?

Orym: The ink?

Chetney: Well the moon!

Orym deflects every single indirect question. He says "oh yeah" like it's the end of a conversation, he asks "the ink?" which would've pushed the question broader because Orym has a whole sleeve, I'm sure he could find something else in the art to talk about even if the moons are the central focus of it. It's only once Chetney directly asks "the moons" and Orym is basically backed into a corner of either lying, saying something vague and encouraging more suspicion and curiosity, or telling the truth Chetney that he finally tells Chetney.

It's interesting because otherwise Orym isn't a very secretive or a very manipulative character like I think you might expect from someone this good at hiding things, but even beyond this obviously painful part of his past he has been reluctant to talk about his being from the Air Ashari or the people he knows because of his position there. In his case it feels almost like the secretiveness is coming from two places. One is the fact that in general he's a very genuine and unconceited person and while I don't think he's self-depreciating he is the kind of person who thinks well, it's a pretty big world and there's lots of people and things going on that are more important, who I am and my past and my problems can take a back seat to that. The second is just in the way he talks about Will to Chetney and the tight, pained tone he always gets when he talks about anything nearing the subject. He talks about it like it's raw still, even though it was six years ago. It feels like that's a pain he's used to keeping very close. It seems like talking about it is something that still hurts him deeply, and honestly probably something he hasn't done a lot of. Which explains why he's so resistant to opening up about it now.

(Also according to my extremely unsupported "Orym was hanging out alone in the wilderness for 5 years before EXU" theory which is fueled purely by the timeline and the fact that Orym has apparently never been to a tavern before he met the Crown Keepers in Emon, maybe he intentionally avoided people following Will's death to keep from having to confront that pain at all).

On another note, I think his conversation with Laudna softened him up for this convo with Chetney. I feel like Laudna being able to share the absolute horror of her past with him and then gently leaving the door open to him to talk about his after, but not pushing, may have put him in the right mindset to be able to talk to Chetney. I'm not totally sure he would've otherwise.

#critical role #cr3 #cr spoilers #orym #chetney pock o'pea #this got LONG and extremely rambly and idk what my point is other than im extremely fucking sad abt orym #and also that hes INCREDIBLY intriguing to me as a character due to how incrdibly tightly he holds his cards to his chest #despite seemingly having no real dark secrets #the only thing fueling it is a good sense of the scale of the world and a deep; very human pain :(((((

[hizashiiis]

Bakusquad + “Why are you awake” Part Two

PART ONE HERE

So here’s part two! Fun fact, the song Jirou plays you in her part is actually a song I wrote! I didn’t include any of the lyrics though because its lowkey really cheesy :/

I hope you like this! This one is for Sero, Mina, and Jirou.

Warnings: insomnia, depression kinda

Sero Hanta

- Sero is very much a hypocrite when it comes to getting enough sleep

- He’s constantly up at all hours, even sending you random texts if he can’t sleep

- But when you aren’t going to bed at a normal time?

- He’s so sad

- He looks like you kicked his puppy and then him in rapid succession. 

- It’s crazy because he seems to just instinctively know when you’re awake

- Like he bolts up in his bed all, “they ain’t in bed. I’m abt to beat some ass.”

- He’s never sure if he’s right though, so he texts you a meme he made specifically for you being up too late

- It’s probably really cheesy and outdated, but the effort is there

- If you respond to it (because you will) he knocks on the wall between your dorms and talks to you 

- Often, you both just stay up like that

Sero’s body is awake before his mind, moving him to sit up in bed before he can think. He was having a really intense dream; something about talking mice. He didn’t mind it, but he woke up as if he’d had a nightmare. 

Faintly, from the wall beside him, he can hear low music playing, but he can’t make out what song it is. It’s coming from your room, though, so he’s concerned. 

The sky outside is dark, clouds drifting across his windowed view of the moon. It must be pretty late; all the noise is gone, leaving nothing but static air, and the music. He leans over his bed to look at the time on his phone. It’s around 2 am. The song you’re playing ends, and he recognizes the next one. It’s on your sad playlist. 

He sends you the meme, as well as an invitation for a hug as soon as it’s morning. You respond almost instantly, assuring him that you’re fine, you just couldn’t sleep. But he knows you better than that. 

Knocking on the wall between you, he hears the music stop suddenly. He calls out to your wall. 

“Mi amor? What’s keeping you awake?” He’s met with silence for a moment before your shaky voice responds.

“I’m okay. I just kinda got hit with some sad, y’know?” He does know. He knows that this happens sometimes. It happens to him, too. But he hates hearing your voice sound so lost. You almost sound hopeless, and he can’t bear it. 

“I understand.” He places his hand up to the wall, wishing he could hold you. Unfortunately, you had both been told off by Iida for sleeping in each other’s rooms more than enough times lately, so he couldn’t just go see you. He opts instead for hugging a stuffed giraffe you had gotten him after the Sports Festival. 

“Do you want me to distract you, or do you want to talk about it?” He asks, stroking the giraffe’s head as if it’s your hair, not knowing that on the other side of the wall, you’re holding a stuffed lion the same way. 

“Distract me?” Your voice comes out only just loud enough for him to hear you, but he understands. He begins to tell you a story. He’s told it before. It’s about a great hero, one who fights crime valiantly, and his partner, also a fantastic hero. He ad-libs parts of it, making pretend villains say silly slogans, and recounting how the heroes save the day. 

As he reaches the end, he hears you giggle a bit. “Oh? Did it work? Are you smiling over there, my sweet?” He calls to you, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

“A little bit.” You respond, playing with your stuffed animal. “If you keep talking, maybe I’ll even smile more.”

He laughs, eyes bleary with sleep, but happy to talk to you the whole night.

Mina Ashido

- Honestly, she’s no better than you about staying awake

- She tries to sleep, but her thoughts are always racing

- Sometimes it’s thoughts of you, sometimes of new things she wants to try in training, or things she wants to see if she can convince her friends to do

- But she wants you to get adequate rest, even if it’s hard for her to do the same

- She used to get told off for sneaking to your room every night, but then Momo and Iida saw how much better you were performing in school on the days after she’d been there, and they started letting it slide

- It’s nicer for her, too, because she has someone to ramble to as the two of you fall asleep

Mina skipped down the hallway toward your room. It was a bit past midnight, and usually, you would be asleep by this time. It was well past lights out, and classes had run long that day, not to mention the endless exams that were happening at UA right now. So when she reached your door, she was surprised to find you watching a movie on your phone instead of snoring. 

“Hey bug! Why are you still up, don’t you know what time it is?” She says, throwing a grin your way as she puts her blanket down next to you. 

You shrug, yawning. “I could ask you the same thing, love.” She pouts at that, tossing her arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple.

She watches you watching your show for a few minutes before saying anything. It looks good, she supposes, but she has a better idea of what to watch. “Scoot over.” She pushes you lightly, giggling as you scrunch to the side to give her more room. “Do you wanna watch something with me?” She asks, holding up her phone. 

You look at her for a moment. “That is what we are currently doing, is it not?” You hold up your phone in return, showing her the paused screen. 

“But I have a better movie!” She insists, unlocking her screen and shoving it above yours so that you can see her pick. She’s right, it is a better movie. You guys have watched the entire Studio Ghibli filmography, but even you know that her favorite, “When Marnie was There,” is the better option at this particular moment. 

You toss your phone to the side, pulling her in to lay next to you. “Fair enough, bubs, I guess yours is better.” You feign reluctance, watching her excitedly press play and tuck the blanket in around the both of you. Her arm curls tighter around your shoulders, and she giggles as the opening credits start. 

“Hey Minari?” You use her favorite nickname, looking at her through hooded, sleepy eyes. She hums in response. “Why is this one your favorite?”

Hearing the question, she pauses the movie, turning to look right at you. She’s quiet for a moment, thinking about her answer. “I guess because they remind me of us! Like I’m Marnie, and you’re Anna, and we’re having this great adventure together!” You feel your face heat at her words, thinking about the movie more critically now. Mina continues, “It’s like…” she pauses, finding the right words. “Like Anna is learning how her friendship with Marnie can make her feel more right, as a person. And I feel like that about you!” 

You’re tearing up now, unsure how to respond. Mina is so many things, and being with you is that important to her? It’s a new feeling, but certainly a welcome one. You pull her down, giving her a kiss. And then another kiss. And one on her nose. 

“Press play, Mina.”

Kyoka Jirou

- Lol u think she sleeps?

- She does, but not at night

- Were it not for classes, Jirou would be essentially nocturnal

- So you try to remind her to go to sleep

- Sometimes you’ll walk past her dorm at night, and you hear her guitar, softly playing her favorite songs

- Before you got together, sometimes you would sit outside her door and listen to her play

- Not in a creepy way, there’s just a little common area right outside her room and you like took a book there, you weren’t like ooh it’s late i think i’ll sit outside someone’s room and listen to them

- You aren’t Mineta. 

- But anyway

- Now that you are together, Jirou thinks it’s really sweet that you listen to her play

- Sometimes she leaves her door cracked open so you can come in

It’s 4 o’clock in the morning, and the light is on in Jirou’s room. You had come out to go to the bathroom, but you noticed her guitar, and decided to stay. The soft strumming is pretty, and you’re glad to be one of the few people allowed to hear it. 

Opening Jirou’s door just a bit more, you nod toward her desk chair in a silent question. She nods, so you go sit down. 

She’s playing a song you don’t recognize, and the lyrics are sad. Even still, it’s beautiful, and your eyes seem to naturally close, taking in the melody of her voice. She used to tell you her voice wasn’t anything special, but she seems content now to let you listen. 

The guitar resonates with the last few chords, and the ending note is held for three beats. When she’s finished, Jirou opens her eyes and looks at you, waiting for your thoughts.

“It was beautiful. Did you write that?” You ask her, your hands fidgeting with the urge to hold her own. She nods, but doesn’t say anything. 

You don’t acknowledge the sad theme of the song. She’s told you before that sometimes sad songs are easier than happy ones. That the melody is clearer. You don’t mind. All her songs are beautiful, and they reflect her in them, and isn’t that what makes a piece of art?

“I have another one, if you’d like to hear it?” She looks nervous; something you never see on her.

“I’d love to!” Your exclamation seems to snap her out of the anxiety in her eyes, which narrow a little. 

“Just…” She starts, looking away from you to adjust the capo on her instrument. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

Confused, you nod, and she starts playing. 

The song starts out with a few chords repeating in a loop, and then she begins to sing. The lyrics are confusing to you at first, and you still aren’t sure why she’s told you not to freak out. But then she gets to the chorus, and it begins to make more sense. 

Lyrics, in essence, are a poem, and this one is a love poem. Her thoughts, written out, are so sweet and loving, that you’re sure you don’t know what to think. She sings elegantly, like someone who’s never known how to dance, and yet is waltzing perfectly across a shining floor. 

She finishes the song with a declaration of loyalty, and you realize your eyes are watering. She looks at you, waiting for your thoughts. 

You say nothing. You don’t know how to say anything, so you stand, cross to her, and pull her into a hug. She’s not usually one for physical touch, but she holds you tightly. 

“It’s about me, right?” You laugh, leaving a kiss on her calloused fingers. She rolls her eyes. 

“Obviously.”

She smiles at you, pulling you to lay on her bed as she puts her guitar in its case, taking the capo off the strings. “You should sleep. It’s like, morning now.”

“You should too.” You retort, still holding her hand. 

“No.”

#mha fluff #mha x reader #mha imagines #sero x reader #sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #mina ashido #mina x reader #mina ashido x reader #jirou x reader #kyoka jirou x reader #mina ashido fluff #sero fluff #jirou fluff

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Heartbreak | awesamdude

Requested? Nope this just helped me with my writer's block

Warnings? None?

Summary: Sam helps you through a heartbreak

Word Count: 1,816

You were certain you were going to be sad forever.

Dramatic yes, but you always had a flair for grabbing attention whenever you could. As much as you didn’t want to admit it though, you were genuinely crushed though by your break up.

You and your now ex-boyfriend Austin had spent six months together, in what you would call a whirlwind romance. He had stolen your heart pretty quickly, the two of you spending what felt like every second for the past half-year together.

Dinners, studying together, errands, dates, weekends, everything was spent together. You couldn’t believe how fast it had happened and then how fast it had ended. You were still reeling a solid week later after being ghosted for a solid two weeks and then having the relationship end with a text that said he couldn’t do this anymore.

You had taken the break up as well as anyone or any of your friends knew. You had cried and cried and cried the first few days, watching sad movies or romance movies over and over until you cursed every man to the ends of the earth for simply existing. You then ate a copious amount of your favorite comfort food accompanied by many sympathetic hugs from your mom.

By the end of the first week, you knew you had to keep going in life, but didn’t know how to cope with the breakup. So, your next resort was sad music. You were pretty certain anyone looking at your Spotify playlists was probably concerned at the number of sad songs playing on a loop but it helped to know someone else understood the pain you were going through.

“Please tell me you at least left your house today?” Sam, your best friend questions.

Sam had been your rock through this entire thing. While he hadn’t come over (at your request since you looked horrific) he still tried and coached and helped as much as possible. He texted you throughout the day, calling you at night to check up on how you felt and what you did during the day. You were definite this boy was the only good one left.

“Uhhh,” you drag out at his question looking around your trashed room and see that you probably couldn’t even make a path to your door if you wanted to through the number of clothes on the floor.

“That’s okay. There’s always tomorrow,” he reassures and you smile lightly at his positive tone.

The next day, you woke up a familiar pang hitting your chest and memories flooding you. Today was probably not going to be a good day in the break-up department. You tried though, for the sake of your best friend, and got as far as showering and eating something.

After lunch you ended up back in bed, sad Taylor Swift music on a loop and your covers pulled up to your chin. Sure, you made progress today and you could carry that momentum into tomorrow but you were pretty certain this was as far as you were getting.

Just as you snuggle into the covers, your phone dings with Sam’s special text tone and you pick it up. Your eyes scan the text and a smile creeps along your lips again.

“You can do this!! What did you eat this morning?”

You text him back, telling him about how your day is going so far and what you’ve eaten, and ask the older boy what his plans are for the day. He’s quick to text back and tells you not much is up and you leave it at that and go back to your playlist and sulking.

Sam couldn’t help but worry about his best friend and the girl he had been secretly crushing on since day one. He hated knowing you were sad and couldn’t do much more than offer words of encouragement and support. As he paces his apartment ideas wracking his brain one hits him like a freight train.

He grabs his keys and wallet, heading out the door to your house. Once there, he knocks on the door, waiting patiently for one of your family members to answer.

“Sam!” your father greets and the brunette smiles.

“Hi, Mr. (y/l/n). Is (y/n) around?”

“Upstairs in her room,” your dad says and Sam nods and thanks him before scaling his way up the stairs and towards your room.

Just before he knocks on the door, he stops upon hearing music playing inside. All Too Well by Taylor Swift blasts in your room and Sam pouts at the idea of you alone and sad in your room. He knocks on the door, waiting for your voice and when he hears you call to him he lets himself in.

When you see Sam enter your room, you sit up in bed clear confusion present in your features. Sam makes his way to you, sitting down in front of you on your bed and you pause your music.

“Hi honey,” he greets and you smile sadly.

“Hi,” you respond weakly.

Sam doesn’t say another word, just opens his arms to you in which you dive straight into. He holds you tight rubbing light circles on your back as tears flow slowly down your cheeks. He pulls back after a moment, lifting your face into his hands and wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“You’re too pretty to cry over an idiot like him,” he tells you and your sad smile shoots straight to his heart.

“I think I loved him Sam.”

“I know baby,” he says, still focusing on your tears and not meeting your eyes. “But he’s still a jerk who hurt you and doesn’t deserve you. Don’t waste tears on that. Your tears and emotions are precious.”

You nod, sitting up and pulling yourself over to sit next to Sam. You lay your head on his shoulder and he rests a hand on your leg rubbing comfortable shapes on your thigh.

“You ready to face the world?” he whispers and you take a deep breath.

“With you? Yeah.”

Sam stands, a wide smile on his face before holding his hands out to you. He pulls you up with him before whipping out his phone and blasting music. However this time it’s the good kind of Taylor Swift that makes you feel like a bad bitch and you can dance around your room too.

Sam takes your hands in his and spins you around the room, the two of you screaming the lyrics together and the louder you are the better you feel. Sam’s hands in yours, the music blasting, and the therapeutic action of yelling Taylor Swift’s music ebbing the pain away slowly.

By the time a few songs have gone by and you and Sam are exhausted from dancing he pauses the music. He holds up a hand, heading to your closet and picking out an outfit before throwing it towards you.

“Let’s go get some dinner huh baby?” he asks and you nod not even realizing the wide smile set on your lips looking at your best friend.

He lets himself out of your room and as you get changed you can’t help the little giggle that escapes your lips thinking about Sam. Before Austin, you had the biggest crush on your best friend. It had never gone away, granted you were pretty sure it was still there the way he had your heart racing just by being in the same room as you.

He made you feel like a queen on your worst days, and like the only woman to ever walk the earth on your best days. You wish you knew if he felt the same or not knowing that if he did you’d give that man the whole world and more.

You finish getting changed, swinging your door open and Sam looks up, an awestruck smile hitting his lips. He holds out his hand and you take it letting him pull you away from the room that held utter sadness for a week now and into your utter happiness.

When you get to Sam’s car, you’re back to blasting music and singing, the two of you trading laughs, jokes, and stories like any other day and Austin has been pushed so far back in your mind you barely remember what he did in the healing presence of Sam.

“The usual?” Sam asks, pulling into both of your favorite restaurant.

You nod and the two of you get out together and head inside the crowded restaurant. You’re seated to the side of the room in a big booth that hides the two of you away from the rest of the world. As you flip through the menu uselessly, already knowing what you want, you realize Sam’s eyes are on you.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing. You’re smiling again,” he says and you don’t even realize the grin that had set permanently on your lips since he had walked into your room.

“I’m glad to see it,” he says and you both smile, a blush covering your suddenly nervous selves before looking away.

Dinner goes by quickly, and you wonder why you didn’t call Sam earlier. The thought crosses your mind but is quickly washed away by the thump of your heart when he sends a smile your way and your feelings reverberate throughout your entire body.

You head out of the restaurant and decide to head home for the night. The ride home is easy, music flowing, conversation traded back and forth, probably the best you felt in a long time.

When you get out of the car, Sam meets you on your side and you lean against the passenger door. You stare up at him as he leans next to you, body half-turned to face you and your heart speeds up a little.

“So,” he sighs out.

“So,” you echo.

His hand comes up to push a piece of hair back, before trailing slowly down your jawline and eventually cupping your cheek. He hesitates for a moment as he turns to face you completely, his body slotting in between yours perfectly.

“Can I?” he asks quietly, his head dipping down mere inches from yours.

You nod, heart slamming in your chest and his lips finally grace yours. You come alive under his touch, one arm wrapping around his shoulder while the other grips the fabric of his shirt pulling him as close as possible. Your lips sync with ease, his body pressed against yours as you sink into his touch.

When you’re out of breath you pull away but stay close to Sam as possible. His forehead lands on yours and he pecks your lips again before pulling back just slightly to look at you.

“So,” he repeats and a smile widens on your lips a giggle escaping shortly after.

“So, wanna come inside?”

#awesamdude imagine #awesamdude x reader #awesamdude fic #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #dream smp fic #mcyt imagine #mcyt fic #mcyt x reader #x reader #fic #imagine #bravebesson

[fruitcoops]

hi! i was wondering if you could do couples play truth or drink with coops and o’knutzy? i wouldn’t mind it being spicy :))

This is VERY spicy, so please be aware of that before you go in. Coops and O’Knutzy belong to @lumosinlove!

TW for many mentions of sex and alcohol

Sirius was warm, a little tipsy, and perfectly content. The carpet was soft under his palms and Remus was cuddled happily against his side from their spot on the floor; across from him, Logan was sitting in Leo’s lap with his legs over Finn’s, whose Spotify ‘gaylist’ played from the speakers. Their cheeks were all a little pink from alcohol and Sirius was glad they were staying the night instead of driving home.

“Okay, okay, new game,” Leo laughed as they gathered the last of the Scrabble pieces. The five of them had made it through a whole fifteen minutes before Remus and Finn began arguing about symbolism in Great Expectations, while Sirius sat on the sidelines deeply regretting his choice to build ‘mansion’ for a triple-word score. Twenty points really wasn’t worth the near-fistfight.

“It’s time,” Logan singsonged as he took the truth or drink cards off the coffee table, which had been pushed aside to make room for their game board. “The rules for this are a little different. Do you have alcohol?”

Sirius scoffed. “Of course we have alcohol, we’re adults.”

“Other than wine.”

“Mon dieu,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he got to his feet and walked back into the kitchen. He returned a few moments later with a bottle of cheap whiskey he had been given on his birthday and set it in the middle of their circle, along with five glasses. “There.”

“Before we start, let’s make an agreement that whatever we say stays in this room, alright?” Finn held his hand out, palm down, and they stacked theirs on top. “No cameras, no holding back.”

“Deal. Who goes first?”

“Alright, so with the group game, there’s one judge each round,” Logan explained as he took a few cards out and put them face down. “Every card has two questions and the judge decides who asks who. They give the card to the person with the best answer, and whoever has the most cards at the end wins. Ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

Finn drew a card. “Okay, I want Remus to ask Leo the first one, and Leo asks Remus the second one.”

“Have you ever walked in on your parents?” Remus asked.

Leo groaned. “Yeah.”

“Not Eloise and Wyatt!”

“Yes, Eloise and Wyatt. Scarred me for life, that’s for sure.” Leo shuddered and took the card, immediately grinning. “This is a good one. What’s your most embarrassing sex moment?”

“I really want to drink.”

“You can’t chicken out this early!”

“Ugh, fine.” Remus ran a hand down his face, which was faintly red. “Um, it was after my first game with the Lions and I tried to ride and…” He sighed. “My legs were too tired to actually sit up.”

“No,” Finn gasped, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. “You couldn’t even get up?”

“I could get up, I just couldn’t move.” Remus tucked his knees under himself. “Like, I got to here and it was fine, but there was nothing left.”

Sirius snickered. “Almost broke my sternum trying, though.”

All three cubs burst out laughing. “This one goes to Loops,” Finn managed after a moment, wiping a tear from his eye as he handed the card over. “Oh, shit, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Leo, you’re up.”

“Okay…I want Cap to ask Logan the first one, and vice versa.”

Any higher power, give me strength. “What’s your favorite position, Tremzy?”

Logan grinned cheekily. “Middle.”

“Didn’t need to know that.”

“Too bad. When was the last time you had sex?”

“It would have been three and a half hours ago if your boyfriend didn’t insist on being early to everything.”

“I knew it!” Finn practically shouted. “I told you two they were fucking.”

“Did you bet on that?” Remus asked, incredulous. “Oh my god!”

“It was less of a bet and more of an assumption,” Leo corrected. “Cap, answer the question.”

“Last night.”

“That’s a lame-ass answer and I’m giving the card to Lo.”

“Bias,” he coughed, earning himself three different smacks to the shoulders. “Rude.”

“My turn!” Logan reached over for a new card. “Loops, ask Finn the first one, and Finn, ask Loops the second.”

Remus cleared his throat, took a second to laugh, and then read. “Name the person here you think I should hook up with.”

Finn snorted. “Aside from your actual fiancé?” They both turned to Logan, who shrugged. “Alright, which one of my boyfriends am I willing to hand over for a night? I feel like you’d object to sleeping with Lo because he’s basically Sirius’ brother. You and Leo are close already, which means it wouldn’t be all that awkward. Honestly, when it comes down it, I’d tap that.”

“Oh, you think you’re doing the tapping?” Remus raised an eyebrow and Finn glanced at Sirius, who grinned. “That’s cute. My turn, Harzy, hand it over.”

Finn obliged, shocked into silence while Leo and Logan cackled next to him. “Are you really surprised?” Sirius asked.

“I mean, a little.”

“Shush, you two. Finn, have you ever done anything sexual on camera?”

“Does Snapchat count?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes. Multiple times.”

The five of them looked to Logan, who shook his head. “I’m going to have to give it to Loops, who is apparently a top, much to everyone’s surprise. Sorry, mon rouge.”

“To clarify, I’m a switch,” Remus said as he added the card to his pile. “Let’s not get too hasty here.”

Sirius took a card off the stack and scanned the two questions. “Logan, ask Leo the first one, and vice versa.”

“Oh, this should be interesting. Knutty, who here do you most want to hook up with?”

“Just one?” Leo looked over to Sirius who nodded. “Fuck, I don’t know. I can’t choose!”

“Are you going to drink?” Sirius asked. “That means you lose the card by default.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to choose between my boyfriends.” He downed the shot and reached for the card. “Have you ever had an awkward sex dream? Was anyone here involved?”

“Fuck,” Logan muttered. “Yes, I have had so many awkward sex dreams and several of them involved people in this room.”

“Aw, Tremzy, I’m flattered,” Remus teased, taking a sip of his water as Logan stretched a leg out to kick him in the thigh. “Do I get to be the judge now, seeing as you won by default?”

“Get me some cards, Loops!” Finn said.

“Sirius, ask Finn question one and Finn, ask him question two.” Remus kissed Sirius on the cheek as he handed him the card.

“Harzy, what’s the sexy nickname they’ll give you in the old folks’ home? You have no idea how bad I want to know this.”

Finn winked. “Big Red.”

“That is the shittiest nickname ever. Do better.”

“Ugh, fine. Hmmm…” He hummed along to the playlist while he thought, and Sirius couldn’t help but bop a bit as well. Sue him, Gloria Gaynor was catchy. “My nickname in the nursing home is going to be Harzy because that’s already sexy. Hand it over, Cap. What’s a sexual thing you tried, but just couldn’t get into?”

“Having sex with women.” The entire group burst out laughing at that, and it took a solid minute for everyone to calm down enough to continue. “It’s true! They were all very nice and lovely, but it wasn’t quite right. Alright, Re, who won?”

“You did,” Remus laughed. “By a landslide, holy fuck. Batter up, Harz.”

“Ha! Everyone has to answer this one except me. What’s the sex skill you’re most proud of?”

“Do we just go around the circle?” Leo asked. Finn nodded and he tilted his head. “Hmm. I’m really flexible.”

“Damn right you are,” Logan grinned. “I’m most proud of my riding ability.”

Sirius did not miss the flush that came to both Finn and Leo’s faces at that. “Easy, boys. I think I’m a really good kisser.”

“That’s not a sex skill!” Finn protested. “Everyone can kiss.”

Remus huffed a laugh. “Not like he can, trust me. Um, I give top-notch blowjobs.”

Finn looked between the four of them, deep in thought. “I hate having to choose between my boyfriends.”

“You know there are two other people here, right?” Sirius asked drily.

“Yeah, but I don’t have to go home with you tomorrow and neither of you are in direct control of whether or not I get laid. I think I have to go with Logan on this one. Peanut, I am grateful for your flexibility every single day, but it’s not a specifically sexual talent.”

“We’ll see if you get to experience it ever again,” Leo scoffed, flicking him on the ribs playfully. “My turn. Logan, ask Finn the first one.”

“Okay, baby, what did you get in major trouble for as a kid?”

“Oh, that’s tough.” Finn absentmindedly ran his hand through Logan’s hair. “There was one time when I told Alex I was going for a bike ride, but he didn’t tell my parents and they thought I’d been kidnapped. Got grounded for a month after that.”

“Even though you told your brother?”

“Mhmm. Oh, I hate the way this is worded. Tell us about a time a fluid got on you during sexy times.”

Logan snorted. “Do you remember the day we found out I was allergic to dust?”

Both Leo and Finn started laughing, but Sirius shared a bewildered look with Remus, who shrugged. “Spill it, Tremz, we weren’t there.”

“D’accord, we had forgotten to clean the apartment after a roadie, so it was pretty dusty. I went down on Leo and then pulled off to sneeze right as he came, and it got in my eye.”

Sirius winced at the thought and Remus hissed in sympathy. “Yikes.”

“After we finished rinsing my eye out, we dusted the whole place and now we vacuum at least once a week.”

“Logan is the winner for this round because I still feel bad about that,” Leo said as he handed the card over. “I have never felt so guilty for coming. Lo, you’re the judge now.”

“Since the questions stayed within the triad last round, I’m going to be nice and give you two a chance to catch up,” he teased. “Cap, read Loops the first one.”

“Alright, sweetheart, what’s the strangest place you’ve had sex?”

“I don’t think a lot of people can say they’ve fucked at the rink.”

“Yeah, um, how often did that happen?” Leo interrupted, making a time out motion. “Because I thought it was maybe twice and I’m a little worried about sitting on that table now.”

Sirius winked. “Pre-game rituals, Knutty. At least once a week.”

“The Habs PT room was also interesting,” Remus mused. “They had a very heavy door, which was nice. Okay, gimme. What was your best orgasm?”

“When I wore your jersey,” Sirius answered without hesitating. “No contest. Logan, who won?”

He blinked twice before responding. “Sorry, I’m still stuck on the fact that you got off in the Habs PT room. I think this one goes to Loops.”

Sirius sighed and picked a new card. “These are incredibly similar. Um, Re and Leo.”

Remus took the card and snuggled up against his side as he read. “Leo, how much money would a voyeuristic billionaire have to pay us to have sex in his velvet blimp? That is so specific, what the hell?”

“There are two parts to my answer,” Leo said. “Number one: it would take very little actual money to get me to have sex with you if I wasn’t head over heels in love and you weren’t engaged. Number two: a hundred million dollars.”

“What?”

“He’s a billionaire! That’s nothing to him! Think of another time when you’d be allowed to fuck in a velvet blimp and get paid obscene amounts of money, Loops. I’ll wait.”

“Good point.”

“My turn. What would we do on our first date?”

“Hmm. I’m getting, like, coffee shop and bookstore vibes.” Remus paused. “Wait, we literally did that last weekend.”

“By that metric, we’re basically already dating,” Leo laughed. “Cap, who won?”

“Sorry, honey, but Leo put a lot of thought into his answer.” Sirius slid the card across the floor and Leo kissed it in victory.

Remus shook his head and drew a card. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight. Finn, ask my traitor fiancé the first one and vice versa.”

“I’m getting punished for being fair?”

“We’re in this to win, baby.”

“Ask away, Harz.”

“How are we wrong for each other romantically? Ooo, can I answer this after you?”

“Sure. Where do I start?” Sirius laughed. “First we have the weird power imbalance if we’re still on the same team, then there’s the part where I’m super introverted and you’re painfully social, and finally you’re poly and I’m not.”

“I was going to say you’re not as kinky as me.”

Remus, who had been taking a drink of water, choked and nearly did a spit take. “Double check that before you commit,” he coughed.

Finn’s eyes widened. “Really? Again? I thought you guys were the wholesome vanilla couple!”

“Oh, honey, no,” Leo said, patting him on the arm. “Kasey made the same mistake.”

Sirius took the card from him. “This is easy. Have you ever had a threesome?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Sirius wins that one,” Remus said. At Finn’s betrayed look, he shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“You’re literally the judge.”

“You are now, actually. The round ended.”

Finn rolled his eyes and took a card. “Loops and Logan, give it a go.”

“Loops, if we were on a desert island together, would we become lovers?” Logan batted his eyelashes and Remus laughed.

“Is anyone else there?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Sure, why not. You’re cute.” He paused and made a face. “Now that I think about it, that would be a lot like fucking Regulus and I don’t know how I feel about that.”

Sirius turned to look at him. “I hope you feel oh god, please no about that.”

“It’s a desert island!”

“Maps exist! We’ll find you!”

“Hand over the card before this gets ugly, Tremz.” Remus made a low oof noise as Sirius dragged him into his lap and placed a loud kiss to the side of his neck. “Thank you, baby. Describe the first time you had sex, including every cringey detail.”

Logan put his face in his hands. “I was a junior in high school and it happened in her parents’ basement. The school gave out free condoms—”

“You had sex with a school condom?” Remus grimaced. “I guess it’s better than nothing.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I had been crushing on her for a while, but she panicked as soon as her shirt came off and told me she was a lesbian, and that I looked exactly like the girl she was in love with.”

“No.”

“Yeah. It was so awkward. I gave her a hug and then we went and got ice cream.”

The room was quiet for a moment. “Damn,” Leo said with a low whistle at last as Remus passed the card to Logan. “Good for her, I guess?”

“I mean, she was dating the girl by the end of the year. Gay rights?”

���Gay rights,” the rest of them said in unison, breaking down into laughter as Leo took the last card.

“Bummer, everyone gets to answer this except me. Expose one of your kinks or take a shot, and you can’t repeat one that’s already been said. Nobody wins this card at the end of the round.”

“I am not opposed to a little bit of manhandling,” Logan said with a sly look at Leo.

Sirius eyed the shot glass in the middle of the circle, then decided against it. There was no way he would give up a chance to beat the cubs at this game. “Getting tied up.”

Remus gave him a surprised look. “I thought you’d take a shot.”

“Not this late in the game. Your turn.”

“Hmmm.” Remus bit his lip. “Praise kink.”

“Aw, man, that was mine!” Finn protested. Remus gave him a high five. “I guess I have to go with voyeurism, then. Whew, wasn’t expecting to say that out loud tonight.”

“Is that it? That was the last one?” Strangely, Sirius was a little disappointed. Despite the insanely invasive sex questions, it was fun to trade stories with the cubs.

“Yep. Count your cards, everyone.”

“I don’t have any.” Finn pouted.

Leo held up his single card. “Thank God for the velvet blimp.”

Sirius had two, and Remus shuffled his three. Across the circle, Logan was sitting pretty on five cards. “I win,” he said with a smug smile.

“Way to go, Tremzy.” Sirius reached over for a fist bump, doing his best not to jostle Remus. “I mean, it must have been nice having both your boyfriends here to give you cards.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Logan tossed his cards at Sirius, who grabbed a pillow off the sofa behind them and whacked him on the side of the head with it. “Oh, you’re going down.”

In the ensuing chaos, the truth or drink box and Logan’s winning cards were forgotten. None of them really cared, though; they had a pillow fight to win.

[kikis-writing-world]

Tiktok Dancing

Summary: Marcus wants to prove to Missy that despite whatever flailing and spasming is popular on that tiktok, he can dance.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Rating/Warnings: Fluff. Breif mentions of dead characters (Marcus’ wife and father.) No beta/editing.

You and Missy watched the video over and over, rehearsing the steps the girls on the screen performed. Missy had begged and pleaded with you to learn a Tiktok dance with her so she could post it to her account. Marcus didn’t have a great handle on the technology, so you did your best to monitor Missy’s usage of the app. The girl had a small following - mostly her friends from school and other children of The Heroics, plus a handful of people who were hoping for glimpses into the life of the leader of The Heroics. 

After weeks of asking you finally gave in, but of course she picked something way out of your range.

“No, you have to kick your foot up like this,” Missy corrected, showing you the right way to do it. You restarted the video and watched, seeing she was right.

“Okay, okay. Like this?” You copied the motion the best you could.

“Yeah!”

“Okay, let’s try it again.” You declared, starting the video over so the two of you could dance along with the remixed song.

The two of you bumped into each other halfway through when you turned the wrong way. Missy fell on her behind, laughing the entire way down. Her laugh made you feel better about accidentally bowling her over.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized with your own laugh, offering her a hand.

“I thought you said you could dance.” She sassed, crossing her arms as she looked up at you.

“I said I would try.” You corrected her with a grin. “We’re almost there!”

“What’s all the commotion going on in here?” Marcus interrupted the two of you as he entered the den. He had a smile on his face, no doubt from hearing all the laughter the two of you were sharing. 

You’d been dating the man for two years now and had grown close to his daughter in that time. The two of you had introduced her to your relationship slowly, scared she would reject it after losing her mother. You also didn’t want to push too quickly into a relationship with Missy only for things to not work out between you and Marcus. There had been bumps in the road over the two years of course, between you and Marcus as well as with Missy, but overall it had been a great couple of years.

“We’re trying to learn a dance for Tiktok.” Missy explained, standing easily on her own.

“Tiktok again?” Marcus shook his head with a sigh. It was all Missy seemed to talk about lately, and he didn’t understand it. The technology the kids were into just moved too fast for him to get a grip on it. Just as he understands Webkinz, Club Penguin comes along. Snapchat was out, Tiktok was in. He was thankful you seemed to have a better handle on it, just so he could be sure someone was keeping an eye on Missy’s internet usage.

“See Dad, look.” She told him as she showed him the two girls doing the choreography. You bit back a laugh as his face contorted as he watched. Confusion, an attempt at interest, more confusion.

“That’s dancing?” He asked once the video looped back to the start.

“Daaaaad,” Missy scoffed, sounding every bit the pre-teen she was.

“I’m just saying. That didn’t look like any dancing I’ve ever done. That looked like they were trying to swat a fly. Or air out a bad fart.”

You laughed loudly at that, unable to hold back. Missy groaned, once again annoyed with how out-of-touch and uncool her dad had somehow become.

“I’m just saying.” Marcus held his hands up defensively, although he was grinning at you as you laughed.

“Why don’t you show her a thing or two then, old man?” You egged him on, teasing him with the moniker that came out anytime he called it “the facebook” or “tweeter.”

“Yeah Dad!” Missy challenged, cocking her hip. “You think you’re such a good dancer?”

“I never said that,” Marcus denied, glaring between the two of you. “I’m just saying that that isn’t dancing.”

Missy shot you a disbelieving look, clearly calling out her Dad’s skills. “Dad probably dances like Carlton on that show you were watching the other night.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, knowing you had definitely seen Marcus dance like that before when he was being silly and trying to make you smile. Missy did her impression of the character, making sure to bob her head back and forth with a goofy grin. She looked so much like her dad as she did.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you.” Marcus warned, pointing at Missy with a playful glare. “You wanna learn how to dance, I’ll show you how to dance. Sit down.”

Missy plopped herself onto the couch, crossing her arms over her chest as she shot him a challenging look. Her eyebrow quirked up, clearly saying “show me what you’ve got.” You moved to sit with her, but Marcus grabbed your hand and pulled you to him.

“Oh no, you’re on my side for this one.” He told you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he held the other near your shoulders.

“Am I?” You questioned with a grin.

“I’m gonna need a dance partner.” He grinned back at you.

“I don’t even know what we’re doing.” You laughed.

“Just follow my lead.”

It took a moment to get the hang of it as Marcus led you through the steps. A slight push against your waist or a pull of your hand and he would spin you one way then the other. Push you out and pull you back in. His hips swiveled as he stepped, but you were much stiffer in comparison as you tried to follow the silent commands.

“Alexa,” Marcus called once you seemed to have your bearings. “Play my 80’s playlist.”

The computerized voice responded before Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody started to play.

“Did you plan this?” You accused him, narrowing your eyes.

“Not at all.” He smiled.

He led you through the steps to the tempo of the upbeat song, occasionally mumbling a word or two to tell you where to go. You didn’t know exactly what kind of dancing this was, but you’d love to learn more steps if it meant the two of you could dance together like this more often.

“Where did you even learn this?” You asked him as he pulled you close, your side tucked against his front.

“My parents.” He answered easily as he turned the both of you in circles. “They always used to dance together. When my dad died, I learned-” he paused, dipping you. “So she could keep dancing.”

“That’s adorable.” You marvelled, staring into his eyes. He grinned bashfully before pulling you back up onto your feet.

When the song ended, switching to another, both of you were breathing heavily. Most of it was due to the steps and the spins that Marcus had guided you through, but you had to admit that a part of it was the attraction you felt to him. You didn’t know he could dance, let alone dance like that. He had kept it appropriate, no Patrick Swayze Dirty Dancing moves, but the way he led you effortlessly took your breath away.

“Well, Missy?” He asked, grin on his face as he caught his breath. He turned to the couch and his grin fell. You turned away from him reluctantly to see what he was frowning. The couch was empty.

“When did she leave?” Marcus pouted.

“I have no idea.” You admitted with a giggle. The two of you had been so caught up in dancing that you hadn’t even noticed the young girl leave the room. “You proved your skills to me though.” You praised with a kiss.

A few days later you were checking up on Missy’s Tiktok account when you saw a video of you and Marcus dancing in the living room, taken from the doorway. The two of you were smiling, staring into each other's eyes as you spun. No wonder you hadn’t noticed her leave. The caption Missy had left on the video read “My parents are so cute 🤢🤮🤢”

Tagging @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @dinthisisthe-wayson​ @insideafictionaluniverse​ @vonschweetz​ @driedgreentomatoes​ @computeringturtle​

#Marcus Moreno x Reader #Marcus Moreno x GN!Reader #Marcus Moreno x You #Marcus Moreno drabble #Marcus Moreno imagine #Marcus Moreno fic #We Could Be Heroes fanfiction #WookieTales

[sunlightwoo]

wc: <1000

“Are you ready for the interview, bubbles?”

The words coming from Changmin makes you turn around from where you were sitting on the couch to see that he was already taking a seat beside you, nodding in response as you put the water bottle that was in your hand down beneath your feet. There was a comfortable silence that was between you both as you were seated in front of Kevin’s camera and equipment, but for some reason that silence became one that was more awkward and tension filling by the time that he did come back.

And he wasn’t empty handed either, considering there were a pair of headphones in his hands knowing that he was definitely up to no good.

From that moment on, it seemed as though it all went by in a blink of an eye since both you and Kevin knew that you were ready to leave the moment that you saw the headphones. Turns out, he thought that it would be fun to answer questions without the other person hearing it and wait until the video was released to know what was truly said between the two of you, and he even swore that the questions were safe since he had shown you some of what he was going to ask Changmin ahead of time.

It was in the moment that you watched him give Changmin the headphones from his hands and played a song from one of his playlists really loudly on a loop, he watches as Changmin gives him a signal that he couldn’t hear you both and turns to face you with a small smile on his face. You could only hope that he would give you questions that you could easily answer.

“So bubbles, your character Lana and Hansol are lovers, even after everything that has happened between them in all of the seasons, and I know that you and Changmin are exes but… what do you think about your relationship with him is like on and off screen?” He asks you carefully, his eyes already searching in your for any discomfort that you might be hiding or not wanting to show, but you knew that he wasn’t the first one to ask about it.

It might as well be easier to say it to your best friend, rather than a stranger that might be interviewing you for a show that they may be hosting for views.

“Well… both Lana and Hansol hated each other as everyone may know from the beginning, but they fell in love and started dating which eventually led to me and Changmin actually dating off camera after some time. We played as lovers with real feelings by being lovers, and at one point we broke it off, even though our characters are still dating in the series… Yeah, no it’s not awkward with him, but I won’t say that I don’t love him, that’s for sure. He’s always been my best friend, and I rather have that if fate tells us so.” You say with a couple lingering thoughts in your head, and you give Kevin a small smile to show that you were okay, just as he gives you a reassuring one back.

From there, he continues on with the interview by making the heavy atmosphere lighter again and it was suddenly your turn to wear the headphones while a familiar song plays in your ears at a loud volume. The words that you had said out loud to Kevin just moments okay echoed in your head as you watched the two converse with lip movements, hoping that what they were talking about weren’t too bad considering you continuously caught their eyes glancing over to you.

Maybe it was for the best that you were friends at this point, because you were absolutely convinced that if you were to tell Changmin that you were still in love with him, then nothing would be the same afterwards.

UNDER THE SPOTLIGHT: CURTAIN CALL

chapter fifteen: the interview

a/n: updating before midnight since i’m heading out to bed early, but i hope you guys liked tonight’s double update :)))

summary: after the curtain closes, you know that you are no longer the character that plays the love interest of Ji Changmin’s character. all feelings that could possibly be felt towards him could be you being immersed into your own character. how much of it was actually true considering you couldn’t tell what was real and what was acting.

taglist: @sankyeom​ @viastro​ @mae-gi-writes​ @vibecheckvernon​ @escapewriter​ @catboyeatr​ @notmangojuice​ @anjcia​ @caibaby23​ @bunnylover0193​ @jaehyvnsvalentine​ @mochinyu​ @sunwoowuvbot​ @nanadreamies​ @haotheheckk​ @gretzelle17​  @moonlightgrlkev​ @parfaitz @elcie-chxn​ @sunzwoo​ @banhmi07​ @allyg-onz​ @changnuggie​ @reverienostalgia​ @juyeo-on​ @mimaisiomai​ @seventeeneration​ @etherealbyeol​ @softforqiankun​ @younggwingss​ @caralice​ @fabshua​ @privyjk​ @deobi-pabo​ @lovecn​ @glxwingstar​ @winterbeartaehyungbestboy​ @propollis​ @tr8sure​ (want to be added to the taglist for a specific member, story or the entire series? click here or send an ask/dm to be added!)

cannot tag: @jowonfg @dazzlinggirl25

masterlist | previous | next

#deobiwritersnet #kpopscape #destinyverse #tbznetwork #kdinernet #the boyz #tbz #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz social media au #the boyz fluff #the boyz angst #ji changmin #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz fluff #tbz angst #changmin imagines #changmin scenarios #changmin angst #changmin fluff #changmin fics #curtain call #under the spotlight

[milo-my-beloved]

chapter nine of stupid things!

Read on AO3 // Playlist // Buy me a coffee?

Group Chat: Double Daters

Jesper: guess where we’re going on friday

Inej: where?

Jesper: no u have to guess

Wylan: I know!! :D

Jesper: if u spoil it, i’m breaking up with u

Wylan: aw :(

Kaz: does this have anything to do with the email I just received?

Jesper: depends what ur email is about

Kaz: a ticket for a festival this friday

Jesper: ...yeah that’ll be it

Inej: why are we going to a festival?

Wylan: it’s our last friday together! I move on sunday :(

Kaz: do we have a choice in the matter?

Jesper: no

Kaz: then see you on friday, I guess

Jesper: hey Kaz you’re driving, right?

Inej laughs, sliding her phone back into her apron. It looks like there’ll be one last outing after all. She doesn’t know what she’ll do when she doesn’t have all these idiots to laugh at on her weekends, but she has an extra week to figure that out.

Nikolai wiggles his eyebrows. “Going on a hot date?”

“Shut up,” Inej whines, shoving him playfully. “We’re all going to a festival, actually.”

“Well, good luck,” he replies with a smirk. “I’m sure you’ll need it.”

{o0o}

The festival, as it turns out, is little more than a gathering of drunk people in a field decked out with a collection of speakers. Inej can’t say she’s particularly impressed, but she’s here now, so there’s no point in complaining.

“This is shit,” Kaz declares, his nose wrinkled in distaste as he surveys the crowd.

Inej smiles. “This barely classifies as a festival.”

“It’s closer to a houseparty that spilled out into the garden,” Kaz jokes, and Inej laughs.

He’s not wrong, though. Actually, it reminds her of the party where they first met.

“We need to stop being the only sober people at parties,” Inej announces, turning towards the bar. “Will you let me buy you a drink this time? I actually brought my wallet this time.”

Kaz grins, but shakes his head. “I’m the designated driver, remember? Besides,” he continues, pointing out Jesper and Wylan in the crowd. “I think one of us needs to stay sober to look after those two.”

Inej groans. “We need to stop going to parties just because Jesper asked us to.”

Kaz shrugs. “I don’t know… If we hadn’t gone to the last one, we never would have met.”

“I also wouldn’t have had to run away from a load of bouncers in my pajamas,” Inej replies, but she knows Kaz is right. “Jesper might not have been lying about the live music, though. Shall we see if we can find it?”

Kaz gives Inej one of his mischievous grins, offering her his arm, which she latches onto. “Sounds like fun,” he answers, and they head towards the crowd.

{o0o}

Jesper doesn’t remember the first time he met Wylan. He asked Kaz about it, later, but the man had just glared at him and told him that he would never pick him up from a houseparty again.

At the rate they are going, he isn’t going to remember tonight, either.

“WYLAN!” he yells over the music, slinging an arm around his boyfriend’s neck. They’ve been there for an hour or so, and thanks to the open bar, they’re both already quite tipsy. “HAVE I TOLD YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU?”

Wylan rolls his eyes, but Jesper’s rewarded by a huge, dopey grin. “You should do it more often,” he suggests, laughing at Jesper’s fake offense.

“WELL, I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH.”

Wylan laughs. “I love you too, idiot!”

Jesper suddenly goes very still, like he has just remembered something. He frowns, pulling his arm back and patting his back pocket but coming up empty.

“Have you lost your phone again?” Wylan asks, concerned.

Jesper shakes his head. “NO, IT’S FINE. LET’S GO FIND KAZ AND INEJ.”

Wylan doesn’t look particularly convinced, but he nods anyway. “I saw them head towards the stage,” he says, taking Jesper’s hand in his and squeezing it.

The stage is near the bar, anyway. So far, he’s not quite drunk enough to forget that school’s over, and with it, everyone will be going their separate ways. In just a week’s time, he’ll be back in the Van Eck mansion with his father, and he might never see his friends again.

Jesper squeezes his hand back, giving Wylan his most charming smile.

If this is our last hurrah, Wylan thinks, then I had better make the most of it.

{o0o}

There is, in fact, a stage. It’s tucked away in a corner of the field behind a few tall poplars and an alarmingly large bonfire, so Inej thinks it’s totally reasonable that it took them half an hour to find it.

If anyone brings up that it’s right next to the bar… well. She doesn’t really have a good excuse for that one.

Even though it feels impossible, Inej is sure it is getting more and more crowded with every minute that passes. She lost sight of Jesper and Wylan a while ago, and the ice has melted in her glass of lemonade, leaving it lukewarm and slightly sticky.

Kaz looks like he might throw up and she doesn’t blame him, so she grabs his hand and tugs him around the bonfire, climbing up onto a boulder and pulling him up after her. Away from the crowds, everything seems much more manageable.

“Thank you,” Kaz mutters. Inej squeezes his arm in response, taking a sip of her drink.

“Let’s hope no drunk people try to climb up after us,” she jokes, and Kaz smirks.

“I don’t know,” he replies, wrapping an arm around her back to stop her from tipping backwards. “I think it would be funny to watch.”

“Kaz!” Inej chastises, slapping his arm playfully. “It would definitely not be funny. They could get hurt.”

“HEY GUYS!” Jesper yells from right behind them, startling Inej enough for her drink to slosh all over her legs.

She locks eyes with Kaz, both of them desperately trying to stifle their grin, but they burst out laughing anyway.

Jesper doesn’t seem to notice. “CAN I HAVE MY VERY SPECIAL PRESENT, PLEASE?” he yells at Kaz, wobbling precariously as he reaches out a hand so Kaz can pass it over.

Kaz looks him up and down, sizing up whether or not it’s a good idea. Eventually, he sighs, reaching into the inside of his jacket so he can pass it over to Jesper.

“THANKS!” Jesper shouts, smiling widely, before jumping back down and dashing into the crowd, presumably to find Wylan.

They both watch him go, Inej dabbing absentmindedly at the spilt lemonade on her lap. These pants are old, so she doesn’t particularly mind them getting wet.

“What’s his ‘very special present’?” she asks, fishing in her bag for a tissue. She comes up with an old Subway napkin and stares at it for a second, before mentally shrugging and trying to make it look like she hasn’t wet herself.

“Unless he manages to completely fuck it up, I think you’ll know soon,” Kaz answers cryptically, but he has a fond smile on his face, so Inej doesn’t worry about it. She trusts Kaz to tell her everything she needs to know in his own time, and she isn’t going to push when she has bigger problems.

“I’m going to see if the bar has any more napkins,” she declares, twisting around so she can slide off the boulder. “Want anything to drink?”

“A glass of water would be nice,” Kaz replies, smiling down at her.

“A glass of napkins and a wad of tissues,” she confirms, nodding as she drops down onto the crowd. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Don’t get lost,” Kaz jokes, leaning back into the extra space.

Inej just laughs, the noise disappearing into the night as she is swept into the crowd.

{o0o}

Jesper has the best plan in the entire world, and he’s absolutely sure the sober version of him would approve of it. That’s what his dad used to tell him - if you think you’re about to make a bad decision while drunk, figure out what sober you would think.

If he’s being honest, Jesper doesn’t think the sober version of him would be this calm about the plan. Sober Jesper would probably have put more than ten minutes of thought and more than three steps into the plan.

Luckily for him, Sober Jesper isn’t here.

Besides, it’s not like he has a history of making terrible decisions while drunk. Okay, sure, there have certainly been some… unfortunate accidents, shall we say, but nothing irredeemable. And, if you’re considering the bad things, you have to look at the good ones too; Kaz and Inej may never have met without him drunk dialing both of them, and look how happy they are!

(Well, happy is a relative term with Kaz. Jesper has seen him smile more than once a month, which - for Kaz - is an absolute win.)

Jesper’s favourite drunk decision is somewhere in the crowd, probably getting them both another drink. He feels bad about leaving Wylan on his own, but the first two steps of the plan require total secrecy, and it’s only for a few minutes. He’s sure Wylan can manage for that long.

With step one (Retrieve The Goods) complete, it’s time for step two of Jesper’s master plan.

He heads towards the stage.

{o0o}

There are no napkins at the bar. Inej doesn’t really know what she was expecting, considering the biggest infrastructure at this entire ‘festival’ is a few people stood on a unstable platform with some speakers next to it, but she’s still a little disappointed.

A little bit of looking around confirms that there aren’t even any toilets for her to grab some loo roll from, so she’s stuck with her one soggy napkin, Kaz’s glass of water, and not a lot else.

“‘Nej?” someone asks from behind her, and she swirls around to find Wylan looking a little dazed.

“Wylan?” she asks, concerned. “Are you okay? Where’s Jesper?”

Wylan shrugs, his entire body wobbling with the effort of staying up straight. “He said he had to go do something and that he’d be back in a minute, but now I can’t find him.”

Inej mentally curses him. “Did he tell you where he was going?”

Wylan pouts, considering her question. “The stage, maybe?”

“Okay,” Inej says, looping her arm through his so they don’t get separated. “Let me deliver this to Kaz, then we’ll all go find him together, okay?”

Wylan nods, looking pretty put out. Inej isn’t sure what he’s been drinking, but if the blue stains on his shirt are anything to go by, it’s a weird mix of something probably designed to get you drunk fast.

The bar is fairly close to the boulder where they were sitting, so it only takes a few moments to get there. Inej lets go of Wylan’s hand, making him promise to wait where he is for a minute, before clambering up the rock one handed so she can pass the glass of water to Kaz.

Only, when she reaches the top of the boulder, Kaz isn’t there.

“For fuck’s sake,” Inej mutters, looking around to see if she can spot him, but finding nothing. She carefully balances his glass of water on top for if he returns before dropping back to the ground beside Wylan.

“Kaz isn’t coming?” Wylan asks, sounding unreasonably upset by the news.

“He’s not there,” Inej explains, grabbing Wylan’s sticky hand so he doesn’t wander off.

“Oh. Can we find Jes now?”

“Sure,” Inej says gently, pushing her way through the crowd so they can head towards the stage. “‘Don’t get lost’, you said,” she mutters as they go. “What a load of horseshit.”

{o0o}

When Kaz spots Jesper clambering onto the stage, he slides off the boulder and heads towards the stage in record time. Sure, he had agreed to help when Jesper had told him about his plans, but he never thought he’d go through with them drunk.

Only a special kind of idiot does that, and Kaz had been stupid to think Jesper didn’t qualify.

A few elbow jabs and well-placed ankle whacks later, Kaz makes it to the stage. Jesper is up there, whispering something to the guy on the drums, who starts to smile and nods enthusiastically.

Kaz climbs onto the platform, grabbing Jesper’s arm and yanking him back down. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jesper blinks at him slowly, like he’s trying to comprehend Kaz’s question. “STEP TWO!” he exclaims, grinning.

Kaz briefly considers kicking Jesper in the privates, but refrains, satisfied with just the mental picture. “What?”

“Kaz!” a woman’s voice yells from the crowd, and he turns around to see Inej leading a very drunk Wylan behind her. “Where’d you go?”

Before he can get out a response, the song finishes and the lead singer steps up to the microphone, tapping it a few times to get everyone’s attention.

“Hey everyone! Thank y’all so much for coming out here to show your support, it means a lot to us! Now, before we go onto the next song, we have a very special announcement to make…”

The crowd lets out a collective ‘ooh’, everyone’s eyes on the stage.

“Is there a Wylan in the audience with us today? Come on up here, we want to meet you!”

Kaz watches as Wylan hesitates at Inej’s elbow, hovering for a moment before making his way up to the stage. He’s too drunk to climb up by himself, but the singer just seems to find his clumsiness endearing, and gives him a hand to help him up.

Inej comes around the side of the stage to stand with Kaz. “What’s going on?”

Kaz shrugs. “I would like to officially state that I didn’t know Jesper was going to do it this dramatically.”

“Okay everyone, here’s Wylan! Now, Wylan, your lovely boyfriend over here - Jesper, he’s called - he wants to ask you a question up on stage, if that’s alright.”

A heavy silence hangs over everyone in the crowd as Jesper steps up to the microphone, seeming more sober than he has all night. He swallows nervously, fidgeting with something behind his back.

“Wylan… I know we haven’t known each other very long,” he begins, his voice unsteady. “But I love you much very and I think you are really cute.”

Wylan blushes, apparently not noticing the fact that Jesper is barely speaking English.

“I just wanted to tell you that you’re the best, and…” Jesper pauses for dramatic effect, waiting a few seconds before dropping to one knee and holding a ring out in front of him. “D’ya want to be the best with me forever?”

Wylan is far beyond words - Kaz is pretty sure he’s crying - but he launches himself at Jesper and they both topple to the ground in a laughing, crying heap.

“Is that a yes?” the singer says, stepping up to the mic. “I think it is! Congratulations, guys!”

The crowd explodes into cheers, everyone now personally invested in Jesper and Wylan’s relationship. The two of them still haven’t managed to successfully pick themselves up off the floor, their arms wrapped around each other as they kiss.

“We’re taking them home,” Inej decides, grinning widely, and Kaz isn’t about to complain. They’re both absolutely pissed, and he isn’t about to spend hours scouring a field tomorrow when they inevitably lose the ring. “And then we’re gonna cuddle on their couch and watch a movie.”

“The deal is the deal,” Kaz says, both of them grinning as they remember the night they met. “Let’s get these two idiots home.”

{o0o}

Jesper wakes up many hours later to a bursting bladder and his head feeling like it is about to explode. He sits up, gently disentangling a drooling Wylan from his side, when he spots the ring on his boyfriend’s hand and he stills.

“What. The. Fuck,” he whispers to himself.

Instinct has him reaching to his forehead, and sure enough, Kaz has been kind enough to leave a note taped to him. On it is printed a single word: Congratulations.

Jesper smiles. Maybe proposing while drunk was a stupid thing to do, but his life is made up of a million stupid things, and he wouldn’t trade a single one of them for the world.

#six of crows #shadow and bone #kanej #wesper #kanej fics #my writing #stupid things #mmb writes

[buckyskorpion]

11 hours - part four

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: super fun chapter, we got some more secret things revealed and some fluff and emosh AND some smut AAAANNNNDDD some drama so really, what more could ya want. thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoy. i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist

part one | part two | part three

When Bucky invites you to another party, you don’t pretend you’re not apprehensive about it. The last one didn’t go badly, per se, but it certainly led to some less-than-favourable events which you’d rather not repeat. Bucky pouts, though, gives you big blue puppy eyes and kisses down your neck and chest and across your stomach until his head’s between your legs and you’re saying yes yes yes without any awareness to what you’re agreeing to.

It’s not at Natasha’s house this time, and it’s nothing like that last party. Bucky takes you to a basement bar in Brooklyn, holding your hand as you descend the stairs behind him into moody lighting and deafening levels of classic rock. Something’s different about this night - you can tell in the stiff lines of Bucky’s shoulders under his leather jacket, the tight grip he keeps as he tugs you into his side, the way everyone seems to falter for a beat and stare as Bucky enters the room. There are a lot of scary looking people in here, you realise, and all their eyes are on you.

It’s a relief to see Natasha’s red head weaving through muscles and leather towards you, and that really says something.

To your surprise, she loops her arm in yours just like at the last party and tugs you from Bucky’s side. You hesitate, gripping Bucky’s hand tighter and looking up at him for some kind of nonverbal explanation. He releases your fingers, grazing his hand from yours in a slow slide, and just stares back at you. Sorry, he mouths, and then you lose his head in the crowd of equally tall, muscular men as Natasha drags you further into the bar.

“Let’s get some drinks,” she says, pushing aside two men twice her size to stand at the bar and tap her violet nails on the countertop. You are, as per usual around this woman, lost for words.

“Is Bucky-?” You don’t even know what you want to ask. You’re quickly realising this isn’t a party just to have fun with friends. This is something outside your world, something you don’t understand, and the way Natasha looks at you all shadowed and shuttered confirms it.

“He’ll be back,” is all she says, and nudges a vodka shot towards you. She doesn’t pay, you notice, just taps the glass on the counter and clinks it with yours before throwing it back. You do the same, hissing at the burn, and watch as she orders two more. It’s very Russian, you think, and file that away for later. You down your second shot without a flinch this time.

“Why am I here?” you ask Natasha, scanning the bar before you as if the answer will arise from the crowd.

“You want to be in Bucky’s life?” Natasha raises her eyebrows at you, gestures to the bar with a flick of her wrist and says, “This is a part of it.”

You hum in way of answer, letting that sit with the burning vodka-warmth in your chest starting to slowly drip down, down, down to your toes. This is what you chose - shady rooms with shady men and more questions than answers. A tormenting nightmare for someone as paranoid and curious as you, is probably what your dad would say if he was here but he’s not, so you ignore that little voice and try to find Bucky in the crowd.

Before you can, Sam comes barrelling over to the two of you with his arms held wide. Natasha shies away from him but he sweeps her into a hug anyway, her unimpressed scowl peaking over the top of a muscular arm and making you giggle despite yourself. Sam ruffles her hair and Natasha genuinely looks like she’s about to murder him - you cover your mouth with your hand, far too amused at the interaction for your own safety.

“Welcome!” Sam yells to you, also pulling you into a crushing hug. He moves away, leaving a hand clapped on your shoulder, and asks, “Having fun?”

“We just arrived,” you say, “But the shots are doing wonders for me.”

“Good, have more!” Sam says, and to your absolute horror, reaches over the bar and grabs the bottle of vodka to sloppily pour in your empty shot glass. He tops Natasha up too, and you must look as scandalised as you feel because she starts laughing and nudges Sam, who throws you a charming grin. “Relax! I own the place.”

“Oh,” you say, more than relieved. That didn’t come up on your search, you think, and try to squash that thought down as quickly as it comes. You’re not investigating them anymore, there’s no need to file information away on them like it’s an open case. Smiling, you say, “Well, in that case,” and down the shot Sam and just poured you. You’re on a one-way ticket to tipsy town and you don’t plan on hopping off anytime soon.

Sam leads you to a booth where Steve and one of the regulars from your time watching his tattoo shop sit. He’s got dirty blonde hair and a plaster on his forehead, waving his hands around as he tells a story which makes Steve belly-laugh. You slide in the end after Natasha, the seat opposite you open for whenever Bucky comes back. You wish he’d hurry up, ignoring their conversation in favour of searching the crowd for his dumb head. Out of your depth didn’t even begin to cover what you felt sitting here with Bucky’s friends in Sam’s bar with a bunch of bikers milling around, watching you all like hawks.

“New girl,” the guy you don’t know says, pointing the straw he’d been fiddling with at you. Natasha smacks him upside the head and he barely flinches, like it happens all the time. He says, “Verse me in darts.”

The entire table groans, and the guy throws his hands in the air and scowls at everyone as he cries, “What? None of you lot will play with me anymore.”

“That’s because you’re a master archer, you dickhead,” Sam says, throwing a balled up napkin at the guy’s head. He doesn’t bother dodging it, letting it hit him square on the nose as he turns to you and waggles his eyebrows.

“Whaddya say? No better bonding activity, I reckon,” he says. You dart looks around the table, catching Steve giving you a cut-throat motion and Natasha shaking her head with an eyeroll.

“I’ll start with your name first,” you say, “Then we can move onto darts.”

He introduces himself as Clint, reaching across the table and knocking over Steve’s glass in the process to shake your hand. Everyone devolves into complaints and arguments about Clint ‘taking advantage’ of new people and feeding his ego with ‘easy wins.’ Nonetheless, your small group vacates the booth and moves to the dart board near the pool tables at the back of the bar. The group already there stop playing mid-game and move off as you approach, which is weird and keeps happening so you think it might be something you’ll have to find the guts to ask Bucky about later. Right now, though, Clint is pushing darts into your hand with a smirk and lining up to go first, despite Steve’s exasperated yell of ladies first!

Clint lands a bullseye with his first dart and does a little victory dance on the spot. His friends groan, clearly having seen this too many times. Three bullseye’s later, he’s moving off the mark and opening it up to you with a low, theatrical bow. You curtsy and take his spot, earning a laugh out of Sam and Steve.

“Archery, huh?” you question as you line up your shot, tongue poking out slightly as you concentrate.

“Natasha calls me her very own Robin Hood,” Clint says, and you’re not facing him but you know Natasha throws something at him if his yelp of pain is anything to go by. Wheezing slightly, Clint adds, “Don’t feel bad when you lose.”

“Hmm,” you say, smirking at the dart board. But before you can throw, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye - close cropped hair and a familiar leather jacket weaving it’s way towards you. You turn to Bucky, leaning into him as he slides a hand up your back, over your shoulders to rest on the nape of your neck and tangle in your hair. You hate the way you melt into his side, because everyone’s watching and Natasha is smirking and you should be embarrassed, but. But but but. You missed him, just a bit, and you feel him relax with you in his arms like maybe he missed you a bit, too.

“How did Barton con you into darts, huh?” Bucky asks, looking down to you and the darts still clutched in your hand. You shrug as much as you can under his arm and grin, maybe a bit looser with the shots, but that’s nobody’s business. Bucky is laughing slightly at you but you can’t bring yourself to care when he uses his grip on your neck to spin you around, hands moving to rest on your hips and position you on the mark.

“Not fair! Interference!” Clint calls out, and you feel Bucky’s chest rumble with a laugh from where he’s pressed up behind you. Bucky is supposed to be helping but all you feel is distracted, hazy focus and burning heat starting from your toes and working up to pool in your stomach.

“Oh now you care about fairness,” Sam says, and the group behind you devolves into a loud argument with plenty of name calling.

You’re not paying attention to them, though, as you bring your arm up to aim and Bucky grips your elbow, fixing your form. His breath is hot against your ear as he ducks down, smiling into your skin, and you feel yourself shiver against him. Bucky says low in your ear, “Don’t close your eyes.”

“Thanks for the advice,” you say flatly, and finally shrug him off. He steps back with a laugh, dragging his hands from your hips slowly so you can still feel his fingers long after they’re gone. You take a steady breath and narrow your eyes at the board. You throw, and in a blink your dart is buried in it’s red centre. The argument behind you comes to an abrupt stop.

“Fluke!” Clint sputters in to the silence, pointing wildly at the board as you turn to him. You raise your eyebrows and he flails his arm, nearly smacking Steve in the face. “Barnes helped you!”

“Hardly,” Bucky snorts. You grin at Clint, all teeth, and Clint’s expression drops almost comically as you wink at him.

“Don’t feel bad when you lose,” you tell him, and then proceed to fling your two remaining darts into a neat little cluster on the bullseye in quick succession. Clint shuts up properly this time.

While Steve and Sam descend on Clint to heckle him to an early grave, Natasha grins over at you and says, “You are full of surprises.”

“Not really,” you shrug, “Just learnt to throw knives with my dad instead of throwing balls with my non-existent friends. Nothing interesting.”

“Respectfully disagree,” Bucky murmurs, and suddenly you’re drawn into that ocean-deep stare of his where the rest of the bar ceases to exist. Bucky steps closer and you meet him halfway, the shouts of his friends and the rock music blaring through the speakers and the clink of glasses fades to a dull buzz. Maybe you had one too many shots, because you find yourself swaying into Bucky as he tugs you by the belt loops, or maybe that’s just Bucky you’re drunk on. Now that you’d allowed yourself to fall you were falling fast, a weightless come-up, not a single thought about the crash waiting for you at the end.

Bucky doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, always tethered to you somehow, and its alarming how quickly you’ve grown used to having him next to you. Attuned to him, turning when he does and shifting to his every movement so you fit together, his hand in yours or your back to his chest or tucking yourself under his arm. Bucky is just so warm, is all, and under the bulk of his touch you can almost forget where you are, who you’re with.

That is, until a broad man in a leather jacket much like Bucky’s comes up to your booth and leans down to talk in Bucky’s ear. You’re pressed to his side, head tucked against his shoulder while you lazily follow Sam and Steve’s conversation with your eyes half-closed - the vodka is catching up and you’re getting sleepy as the night wears on. The smell of cigarettes and an unfamiliar voice brings you back to the bar, however, and you’re close enough to be able to hear Bucky and the man’s hushed exchange.

“S’done, boss,” the man says, “twenty-three-forty hours, no witnesses.”

“Y’sure?” Bucky murmurs, and the man must nod or something because you feel Bucky clap the man on the shoulder and he walks off, the cloud of cigarette smoke leaving with him. Bucky twists to look down at you on his shoulder only to find you already looking up at him. He is impassive as you stare at him for a few, silent beats before he asks, “Ready to go?”

It takes an hour to extract yourselves from Bucky’s friends and all the people he has to say goodbye to on his way out, and then you’re on Bucky’s bike with your head tucked against his back as he roars through the few blocks back to his apartment. Bucky busies himself flicking lights on and rummaging in his pantry for food while you collapse on the couch, flinging an arm over your eyes. After a few beats you feel him start to unlace your boots, easing them off your feet and throwing them towards the front door. You peak out from under your arm to grin at him, wiggling your toes in his face when your feet are free, and he shoves at them with one big hand and a smile.

Retaliation comes in the form of him throwing his huge, muscled body on top of yours and squashing you into the couch, knocking the breath out of you. He nuzzles his head into the side of your neck and lies there, snaking his arms under your body in a bear hug that leaves you breathless in more ways than one. The moment stretches on, both of you slightly dozing in the early morning hours, until the niggling in your brain gets too insistent and you can’t hold it in any longer.

“When were you gonna tell me tonight was an alibi?” you ask, hating the way Bucky’s body stiffens on top of you. He slowly raises his head, resting his stumbling chin against your collarbone and scanning your face with those puppy eyes you see in your dreams, now.

“You’re too smart for me,” he sighs, rolling off you slightly so you can shift onto your side and face him, two half-brackets on the couch. Bucky says, “You know what I do. You were- I said you could leave.”

“It’s not what you do,” you say, shaking your head of the concept of leaving. “It’s being kept in the dark. I just wanna know, I hate not knowing.”

“Too dangerous,” Bucky says, mirroring you as he shakes his head, “The more you know the worse it is.”

“Don’t care,” you say, raising an eyebrow in challenge when Bucky opens his mouth to argue. You press your palm to his cheek, scratching into the short hairs above his ear and dragging your nail over the silvery-scar there where hair won’t grow. Bucky’s eyes flutter shut, eyelashes delicate against the papery skin under his eyes, and you marvel at how soft the looks up close. Only tough from far away, you think. Only soft for you.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Bucky says, keeping his eyes closed.

“I figure out secrets for a living, Bucky,” you sigh, “I don’t wanna do that with you as well.”

He looks at you then, the world narrowing to his eyes burning your skin and his breath against your lips. He kisses you, rough stubble and soft lips. Your lips part with a sigh and he rolls on top of you again, hands rucking up under your top to grip your bare waist and hold you there, pressing kiss after kiss on your mouth like he can brand you with just his lips alone.

“You’ll stay?” he murmurs against your mouth, “The night?”

You know what he’s asking. Will you stay, will you listen to the terrible things he’s done and the things he will do and stay anyway, will you let him into your bed and your heart and trust someone you should be afraid of? You kiss him, digging your nails into the side of his neck to hold him there.

“Yeah,” you say, pressing your face against his cheek to kiss the rough skin, murmur words against the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile, “I’ll stay.”

***

The first time you wake up next to Bucky he’s still asleep, lying on his stomach with his cheek smashed into the pillow. One big arm is flung out over your stomach, trapping you to the bed as you blink awake but the heavy weight is comforting. You twist under him to lie on your side, tucking your arms against your bare chest, and watch him sleep like a genuine pyscho. You don’t care. His face is relaxed when he sleeps, peaceful - he looks so beautiful. You want to remember this forever.

Sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the tips of his short hair golden. Pouty lips part, soft in sleep, and there’s a tiny bit of drool pooling on the pillowcase you find yourself smiling at, even though it’s gross. He’s all tan muscles and tattoos lying naked next to you, and you take to tracing the ink on his skin with yours in an attempt to memorise them. His left arm is flung over you, the arm with the sleeve, and the closer you look the more you realise the tattoos cover not just skin, but scars. Old and faded but still there under swirling lines of storm clouds and skulls and the red star in the centre of his deltoid.

How had you missed this? Maybe you hadn’t been looking before, but you’re looking now. From surprisingly thin wrist to meaty shoulder where muscles are bunched and gnarled under a flowery piece which extends down his chest and across his back. His sleeve is a beautiful piece covering not-so-beautiful, painful looking burns and lines and marks you can’t tear your eyes from.

“Stop staring, y’creep,” Bucky mumbles into the pillow, startling you. He grins, eyes closed, and you reach out to whack his side. With the arm across your waist he drags you into him, rolling onto his back and dragging you across his chest without ever opening his eyes. He hugs you close, legs tangling, and doesn’t appear to want to wake up - rather he just holds you and attempts to doze off again, lips pressed against your forehead in a sleepy, lazy kiss.

That won’t do. You’re awake and now effectively trapped - Bucky doesn’t get to go back to sleep like this. With your new vantage point on his chest, you start kissing slow and heady across his skin. Under his collarbone, his shoulder, beside one of the wolves tattooed on his skin making up half his chest piece. Goosebumps form a trail where your lips have been and you grin, victorious. Bucky shivers as you drag your teeth from his peck to his nipple, giving it a quick flick of your tongue. That seals the deal.

Bucky grips the back of your head, fisting your hair and pulling your head up to look at him. Eyes cracked open and bleary with sleep, he glares at you but with no heat. Well, there’s heat. He licks his lips and you track the motion, hungry. Bucky’s lips stretch in a smirk as he watches you watch him. His other hand travels down your back to grip your ass and pull you up in a straddle across his hips.

He pulls you into a kiss and you go willingly with a hand braced on his chest, licking lazy into his mouth. He tastes like sleep and so do you but you really couldn’t care less. His mouth is hot and his skin is sun warmed, strong and smooth under your body, seeping into you so it feels like you’re holding the sun inside you. He pushes the warmth into you; tongue in your mouth, squeezing your neck, kneading your ass under one giant palm. Morning sex, you think, is possibly the best thing in this world.

Bucky hums against your mouth and shifts, sliding his hand back down your ass to rub his middle finger against your cunt. You gasp, and he bits your lip as you open to him. The contrast of pain and pleasure as he slips a finger inside you is brain-melting. All that heat is concentrated now in the pit of your belly and you roll back against Bucky’s hand, nipping at his jaw when he huffs a laugh at you.

You slide a hand up his neck and into his hair, scratching your nails against his scalp and leaving hot, open mouthed kissed down his jaw, neck, chest - wherever you can reach. When Bucky doesn’t move, just leaves you to grind against his finger, you get frustrated and start using your teeth. He’ll be littered with little bruises soon and he clenches his fist in your hair, tugging in warning, but you keep going. So Bucky groans, slides his hand around to your neck and squeezes until you come to a shuddering stop, panting against his chest. He pulls you up to look at him, smirking at the glassy look in your eyes, and pushes another finger into your cunt without warning.

That makes you moan, which makes Bucky grin because he’s a smug bastard and can never let you win. You can’t remember why you were frustrated anymore, though - you’ve got pinpricks of pleasure bursting all over your skin, from your nail beds to your scalp to the back of your teeth. Bucky tugs you by the neck until he can catch you in a sloppy kiss, tongue too deep and too much teeth but you live for it. He removes his fingers from inside you and you whine into his mouth, clenching your fingers in his hair and your cunt on nothing but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Bucky’s there, he’s pushing into you and you forget how to kiss for a second as all your executive function concentrates on the feeling of Bucky’s dick in you.

It’s slow, sticky with sweat from the too-bright sun on your back, sweet in the way Bucky releases your neck and lies fully back on the pillow just to stare up at you. You sit up in his lap and grind your hips slow, letting your hands rest light on his chest as the urgency dissipates into simple, syrupy-soft want. He runs his hands up and down your thighs and your sensitive skin erupts like starbursts, urging you to slide up and down on his cock just to feel the drag inside you that makes your eyes roll back. You lean forward on him, the angle gets deeper, you stop feeling your toes as the ecstasy snaps up your spine in hot waves.

“Look at me,” Bucky says, voice low and rough with the first words of the day. You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed and they flutter open, barely focusing on the pink pout of his mouth and hazy lust in his eyes. “Look at me, honey.”

“Bucky,” you say in response, any other words lost to you. He slides a hand from your thigh up your stomach, muscles clenching against his touch as you ride him, to cup one of your tits and squeeze. He rolls his thumb over your nipple and you moan, head lolling back on a limp neck and hair tickling your bare back. But you remember what he asked and you come back, eyes finding his and they seem to darken, then, as you keep yourself locked on him.

It’s spilling over. That heat that’s been building since you first woke up is trying to go supernova. Bucky moves to rest one big palm on your back and pushes, rising up to meet you as he squashes your bodies together, seam for sweat-slicked seam. You’re limp against him as he takes over and starts a faster, steadier rhythm. He pounds into you, the only sound in the quiet morning being the slap of your ass against his thighs and it should be kind of embarrassing but you’re way too far gone for that. You unspool with his arm wrapped around you, shuddering against his chest but he doesn’t let you go anywhere. Bucky comes soon after with a groan you swallow as you kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him until your lips feel numb and your muscles stop shaking.

“Good morning,” you murmur, licking into his smile as he laughs at you.

“Good morning,” he replies, and smacks your ass for emphasis. You yelp and jerk forward at the impact, still sensitive and he’s still inside you. He moans at the friction and you feel heat start trickling against your thighs. It should be gross but somehow it’s insanely hot and you feel yourself clenching just imagining what his come dripping out of you would look like - that’s when you know you need some divine intervention, because you are too far off the deep end.

Bucky holds you tighter to keep you still, leaning back into the pillows to glare at you and say, “Gotta stop that, honey,” because apparently he’s also too sensitive. You start to smile, a little evil and a lot still-turned-on.

“What, this?” You roll your hips slow, all you can manage since you’re a bit worn out yourself, and Bucky legitimately growls. With a very un-sexy screech you find yourself flipped and on your back, Bucky’s cock slipping out of you and his body pressing you firmly into the mattress. He rests on his elbows either side of your head, dipping down to kiss you, and you hum at the feeling of him sliding a thigh between your legs.

“You’re a menace,” he grumbles, eyes flickering open to mock-glare at you. He’s so close that you feel kind of cross-eyed as you stare back.

“I think you like it, tough guy,” you tease. Bucky rolls his eyes but he doesn’t deny it, and you count that as a win.

Bucky finger-fucks you like that, trapped against his mattress and his stupid-soft lips leaving kisses over every inch of your skin. He has to carry you to the shower when you come again, announcing your legs are jelly and it’s his fault so he has to help you or he’s a bad person. He swings you over his shoulder and slaps your ass, calls you a brat, and you bite his shoulder in retaliation.

The shower is more of a water fight than anything else, after that.

“I like waking up to you,” you say once you’re dressed and coffee-d and fed, leaning against his doorway with a squeak of leather from your jacket. Bucky leans against the doorframe over you, dressed in fresh sweats and really threatening your resolve to go get some work done today. You feel soft, undone after this morning, looking up at him and telling him things your self-preservation instincts yell at you to keep to yourself.

“I could get used to it,” Bucky grins, and you punch him on the arm but there’s no force to it. He tugs you in for a hug goodbye, arm slung over your shoulders and ruffling your hair with his stupidly big hand until you squirm away from him. He laughs and you push him, propelling yourself backwards into the hall - mostly so you don’t grab onto his t-shirt and never leave.

“See you later?” You mean it to come out as an offhand statement but your nerves shake through. Bucky’s kilowatt smile breaks through all that fear of rejection and he nods.

“‘Course,” he says, tilting his head, “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Shit,” you say, shaking your head and his laugh follows you all the way down the stairs to the ground floor.

You hesitate at the bottom the stairs. To your left is the laundry room and your familiar route out of Bucky’s apartment building, through the window and the gym parking lot to the block over. Knowing who Bucky is now, what he does, means you have even more reason than ever before to turn that way and keep being a paranoid freak. But it’s mid-morning, now. Someone walks past you up the stairs, the lobby is lit with sunlight, there’s traffic noise and people’s voices and life inside this building. Mid-morning feels very different to three AM.

You’ve just woken up next to Bucky because he likes you, like that, and that makes you brave. You turn right and push out the front door, jogging down the steps to the street with a stupid smile on your face. You shove your hands in your pockets because despite the sunlight it’s still kind of chilly, and you turn to walk towards your apartment for a fresh change of clothes before heading to the office. Your brain still feels like it’s lying in bed next to Bucky, but you try and focus yourself back to the present.

Theres a guy leaning against the building next to Bucky’s, and he stubs his cigarette out as you walk past. When you pass by a parked car a few more buildings down you see in their side mirror that he’s started walking your direction. Stop being crazy, you tell yourself, one time using the front door like a normal person and you freak out, but you keep tabs on him as you walk. Bucky and his room and his touch start to fade from your mind as the stranger does not fade - not into the crowd, not down another street or into a building. He keeps walking, because he’s following you, and that might be paranoia speaking but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

You reach into your pocket for your phone but find yourself hesitating before calling Bucky. You’d only just gotten to the point where you feel comfortable to stay with him, to push past your walls and Bucky’s and dive head-first into whatever this is going to be between you. Telling Bucky someone is tailing you from his apartment would probably build those walls right back up, from both sides. The dark, twisted part of your brain supplies - what if it’s Bucky who’s sent this guy to follow you?

The phone rings one, twice, and picks up on the third. There’s a shuffle, a muttered curse, and you smile before your dad says, “Kroshka, sorry, I dropped the remote. How are you?”

“Great, papa,” you say, a bit louder than necessary, turning your head slightly to look across the street and so your voice travels behind you. Out of the corner of your eye you see your tail slow down, linger back further, when he realises you’re talking to someone who would notice if you suddenly dropped off the line. “What’re you up to?”

“Nothing, it’s early,” he says, sounding a bit suspicious, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, “Just wondering if you wanted to get lunch today.”

“Of course,” he replies, and you turn the corner to keep on your normal route to home. As you do, you notice your tail has disappeared. You don’t relax, per-say, but you do feel some relief. You barely catch your dad saying, “Wanna get sushi?”

“Sounds great,” you say, “I’ll call you.”

By the time you make it back to your apartment, the glow from this morning has faded. You find yourself in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror and trying to convince yourself this isn’t what you think it is. No one followed you, no one’s after you, and Bucky certainly isn’t having you tailed because that’s insane. But you’ve always been like this, chasing down threads that don’t need to be pulled and finding faces in shadows even when they’re not there.

You should tell Bucky. Your supposed tail is as much a threat to you as it is to him, since he knows where Bucky lives. But something is stopping you, and you don’t pick up your phone. You’re a private investigator, you tell yourself firmly. You can figure this out on your own.

Part 5

~~~

let me know what you think!! thank you all for reading xx oh and listen to the playlist i made pls its fire

#bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky x reader fic #reader insert fic #pov fic #pov #au #biker!bucky #biker!bucky au #biker!bucky fic #biker fic #bucky barnes #sam wilson #steve rogers #chelsea clinton #natasha romanoff #avengers fic #marvel fic #11 hours

[avengershumanresources]

blood 8 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 7 - part 9

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

WARNING: Attempted sexual assault/violence

8 - a secret

The news swept over the castle like a wave at high tide.

Prince Loki and Prince Thor were leading a brigade of men toward the castle, and the rumor was that the princes were furious with Obadiah. 

“I did say trust me, didn’t I?” Stephen joked while the two of you watched the men cross the threshold into the castle grounds, both princes sitting majestically upon their steads, leading their entourage inside. 

“They’re going to get themselves killed,” you murmured.

“Obadiah wouldn’t be so forward in front of the public,” Stephen reasoned, eyeing the Asgardian guardsmen as they continued their march inside. “They look like they’re ready for a war now. He’s be stupid to start anything with the men they’ve brought.”

He wasn’t wrong. The men looked as angry as their leaders were rumored to be. Their armor shimmered against the bright summer sunlight, and their weapons didn’t look like they were in town for a diplomatic mission. 

If you hadn’t known any better, you would have guessed they had plans to overthrow the castle themselves.

“He is on our side, right?” you asked again, nervous at the confident way the brothers surveyed their troops below. 

“Yes,” Stephen assured you with a confident nod of his head. “They both wish to see Peter safely on the throne.”

“I hope I don’t actually have to marry him,” you blurted out, catching Loki’s eye and offering a small wave in his direction. He bowed his head and rounded his horse into the castle behind the last of his infantry.

“Oh no?” Stephen teased, pinching your arm with a chuckle. “Did Brock win you over with his boyish charm?” 

“Gods you’re unbearable sometimes,” you shoved his arm and started back for the castle. “Let’s get ready. I have a feeling court is going to take a while.”

(—)

“Announcing, Prince Loki of Asgard,” Sam bowed and stepped aside while the dark haired prince sauntered forward, ignoring the wave of whispers and dirty looks that were sent his way by the court. 

You were seated a few levels down from your uncle with Peter and Pepper. Morgan was with her nursemaid, and the rest of the court stood on the ground, watching the scene unfold with great interest. 

“You have a lot of nerve showing up,” Obadiah opened, glaring down at him. Brock was at his side, arms crossed while he glowered down. 

“You have nerve with your slander, your majesty,” he snapped back. “Defaming your closest allies for what, this traitor?” 

“I remind you, you’re standing in my keep,” Obadiah snarled back and Loki laughed. 

“My brother and my men are already within your walls, with reinforcements waiting at the border,” he countered sharply. “I dare you to make a move against me. Even with your hound at your side, you would be making a very powerful enemy.”

Obadiah exchanged an uneasy look with Brock before clearing his throat. 

“Why are you here?” 

“You’ve stolen my bride,” Loki stated simply, eyeing drifting in your direction. You kept your expression neutral, despite your heartbeat kicking against your chest. “I’ve come to collect my due and close what relations Asgard has with you. Unless you have something to offer to appease my father’s understandable frustrations.”

The murmurs started up with that. 

Peter even leaned over and whispered in your ear. 

“He didn’t mention that,” he said, frowning, his fingers curling nervously against his armrest. You reached over and touched the top of his hand, focusing on calming your younger brother. 

“You know how he is,” you reminded him softly, willing calm toward him. After a moment, you saw his body relax. “He’s negotiating. You know our uncle won’t listen otherwise.”

Peter gave a curt nod, returning his focus to the scene before you, and listening intently to the exchange. 

Amora, for her part, had been ignoring the whole ordeal until you tried calming Peter. When you pulled your hand away, you instantly felt her eyes bore into you from across the room, where she and Stephen stood away from the crowds. 

“I was under the impression there was no claim to the princess,” Brock cut in, glaring now at Obadiah. The tension between the three men was palpable, even in the massive throne room. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, there wasn’t,” Obadiah hissed, waving away the other king and returning his attention to Loki. 

“I beg to differ,” Loki reached in his robes and pulled out a rolled document. The entire room was on edge as he passed it to Sam and the knight handed it off to the king.  

Obadiah took his time in unfurling it. He skimmed it over, expression reddening, with Brock reading over his shoulder. 

“Forgery!” he cried, throwing the document aside. Loki snapped his fingers and the paper materialized back into his hands. 

“This was written three days after the princess’ brith, pledging her to me when we came of age,” he explained coolly, mostly to the crowd. Ladies and lords gasped at the revelation, eyes darting between the royals at the scandal.

“Why weren’t you married sooner?” Obadiah demanded, ignoring the cutting scowls from Brock. “She’s had her blood for years now. The contract is no longer binding.”

“We were to be married after the king returned from battle,” Loki lied easily. “But the princess was distraught and asked that it be postponed. I, ever the gentleman, respected these wishes until such time there was stability in the kingdom. I never imagined such a betrayal by an allied nation would have occurred in such a short time.”

Eyes shot to you while the kings continued their interrogation over who would eventually take your hand. 

You kept your eyes down, only looking up to Pepper when she lightly touched your hand with a loving smile. 

“The princess mentioned none of this,” Obadiah howled, and when attention was diverted back to you, Loki jumped in and saved you from embarrassment. 

“Of course she didn’t,” he stated, tone as calm and cool as it’d been when he entered the room. “Look at you, she’d lost her father and potential betrothed in one sweep. She was probably terrified to go against you. It’s why I’m here, to defend her honor, take her as my bride, and return to Asgard.”

“I won’t allow it,” Brock voiced, stepping down from Obadiah’s side and moving to the ground near Loki where he continued his case. “The princess has agreed to marry me.”

“Under context of further terror, I’m sure,” Loki supplied sharply. “Your men slaughtered her father, leaving nothing behind. What other option did she have but to agree?”

“Do not play this court for fools,” Brock hissed. “We all know it was Asgard who planned the attack and framed my kingdom. The trading negotiations were never enough.”

“Is that so?” Loki asked, expression darkening. “I was under the impression that the trade routes benefited this kingdom handsomely. Is it not convenient that I’ve been given permission from my father to end our agreement if I see it necessary?”

The room began to panic at this. A few of the lords even voiced their protest at the concept, and seeing that he was losing the crowd, Obadiah bellowed out.

“Enough!” his voice rattled against the glass in the windows and echoed through the chamber until everyone fell silent. “I will convene with my council until the matter is resolved. Loki, you and your men will be our honored guests until this… confusion is settled.”

“I accept your invitation,” Loki smiled snidely at Brock with a grand bow. “My men will settle in the land surrounding the castle for the time being, and appreciate your generosity during this… difficult time.”

Court was dismissed, but ladies and lords lingered, watching the royal family and the kings as they turned the public spectacle into a more private conversation. 

“Princess?” Amora questioned, appearing at your elbow just as you stood from your chair. “May I have a word with you?”

Eyes wide, you tried to seek out Stephen, but he was nowhere to be seen, likely caught up in the crowd answering questions and speculations from the lords and ladies. 

“The princess and I were about to enjoy a walk through the gardens,” Pepper looped her arms through yours, throwing on another smile. “You’re welcome to join us. I will try not to be a bother.”

Amora’s gaze flickered over the queen, her plastered on smile faltering slightly at the offer. 

“I’d be honored, you majesty,” she finally stated, letting Pepper lead the way to the gardens with a pair of guards behind. 

“It’s a beautiful day, don’t you agree, Amora?” Pepper started the conversation, forcing Amora to keep in step with you and the queen. “I planted some roses last year that have finally come to bloom. Do you like roses, Amora?” 

“I do,” the sorceress answered tersely before turning to you, eyes glowing an ominous green. “Princess, what do you make of what just occurred? Is it true you were frightened from telling the truth of this prior betrothal?” 

“My late husband always intended for the princess to marry Loki,” Pepper answered before you could even open your mouth. “It was hardly a secret. You should have seen the two at balls when they were children. It was so endearing.”

“Then do you protest the marriage of the princes to my king, your grace?” Amora tried and Pepper stopped, pulling her arm free of yours and giving the sorceress a once over. 

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, witch, but I suggest you stop,” she practically growled at the blonde. “My daughter will not marry your king, and your schemes will be stopped before the moon is full.”

Amora’s eyes snapped back to normal, her pupils flaring at the overt threat. 

“How can you be so confident?” she countered, voice full of venom. “You would do well to stay quiet and pretty on the side. You’re no longer queen, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“My son will sit upon the throne in three months time,” Pepper reminded her. “And if there is any obstruction to that, those who stand in the way of the Stark family will burn. Darling, what are the family words?”

You startled at the shift toward you.

“We shall overcome and conquer,” you recited quickly before Pepper returned a razor sharp smile toward the sorceress.

“I think your king might need you,” Pepper added, waving away the blonde and turning toward her roses without so much as a second glance. “Gods know we don’t.”

You’d never heard such open hostility from your step-mother. The woman had always had a calm reserve about her that you’d respected during times of crisis. She’d been the voice of reason when you’d seen your father fretting over alliances or military tactics.

Amora hesitated a moment, looking from Pepper to you, before letting out a resigned sigh and leaving the two of you to the flowers. 

“Is she gone?” Pepper asked, tinkering with a rose that was struggling to bloom. 

You waited until Amora had returned to the castle interior before confirming she was out of sight. 

All at once, Pepper enveloped you into her arms and sighed, squeezing you against her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against the top of your hairline. She pulled away after a moment, her hands still lingering on your shoulders while she tried to read your expression. “This is never what we had planned for you.”

The honesty in her tone broke your heart. How many times had she and your father discussed your future? Your prospects?

“We can only do our best,” you murmured. “Who could have predicted the turn this would have taken?”

“If you had to choose, who would make you happy?” Pepper asked seriously and you considered her words carefully.

“Of the two?”

Pepper’s expression lifted at the question, a knowing smile playing at the edge of her lips.

“I see,” she hummed in thought. “That damned idiot never came forward.”

Feeling your face warm at that, you sighed with a defeated laugh. 

“He probably thought there was more time,” you reached for one of the nearby roses and gave it a sniff.

Pepper paused, and when you looked to see why she hadn’t spoken, her expression had fallen, eyes lost a million miles away.

“I think we all did,” she finally whispered, blinking back the pooling water in her eyes. “I do believe you could be happy with Loki.”

You made a noise- not quite of agreement, but not of total disgust. 

“He might even allow you certain… liberties,” she offered lightly. “For his mischief, he is a good man at heart.”

Pulling away from the flower, you finally met her eyes directly, knowing that you would have to face this eventually.

“He’s doing this for our family,” you whispered, keeping your gestures calm and neutral under the eye of the guards. You plucked one of the roses free and move to attach it to the collar of her dress. “He means to stop the alliance Brock and Obadiah are planning, to keep Peter on the throne.”

Pepper’s expression hardened at the information. You could tell she was forming connections as you fidgeting with the button holes and slide the rose into place. 

“You keep secrets well, dove,” she reached for the flower affectionately before leaning and kissing your cheek. “Peter… not so much. Have you gone to the kitchens recently? I hear you might have a reunion with a little thief from yesterday.”

She pulled away and started back toward the castle, one of the guards following behind her, the other remaining to watch you. You realized that it was Steve, his expression guilty when you approached.

“Were you listening?” you challenged and he sighed.

“Only a little,” he confessed. “For your safety.”

“A conversation between mother and daughter?” you smirked and he rolled his eyes. 

“You should go to the kitchens,” he offered in place of an explanation. “Or rather, shall we?” 

(—)

“Are you ready for what you must do?” Wanda asked, lifting the glass vial Stephen had sealed and set out on his desk. 

The observatory was unnaturally quiet. The fireplaces extinguished, the books all stacked away or moved to his family home in the countryside. Aside from him and Wanda, there was no life in the room, all traces of your late nights together, books read, or spells learned had been erased.

It was almost time. 

“What choice do I have now?” he asked, plucking the vial from her hand and giving it a shake. “Loki can buy us some time, but until the family is secure we cannot make a move.”

“The princess is headed to the kitchens,” Wanda stated, pausing while her eyes glowed red. “Brock is unhappy with todays events and is looking for her.”

Stephen clenched the vial in his palm. He didn’t want to exploit your emotions, but you wouldn’t be able to hide from Amora forever. The queen had done a marvelous job of keeping her away, but she, along with every other magic user in the room, had felt the seidr you’d unwittingly passed to Peter.

“I need to be with the king,” Wanda suddenly stated, eyes wide. “The future is moving toward us faster than expected, Stephen.”

She disappeared in a cloud of red smoke, leaving him to his empty, broken room. 

Would the two of you get a chance to steal away in its comfort again? 

Would you even forgive him for lying and hiding the truth from you?

Opening his hand and rolling the vial around his palm, he sighed. Wanda was right. Things were going to move quickly and all at once after the first weight dropped. 

(—)

Natalia hadn’t expected you to be glaring at her from across the kitchen.

So when you dragged her to the hallway, demanding an explanation, she was at a loss for words. At least, until she saw Steve’s smirk from the corner of the space. 

Oh.

It was nearing time.

“Stephen wanted me to be closer to keep an eye on things,” she lied. It wasn’t a complete lie. She was close and Stephen had agreed with the plan (the plan set in place by your father, but you weren’t to be made aware of that just yet) and she was keeping an eye on the quiet rebellion stirring under Peter’s leadership.

All the paths were beginning to converge, whispers turning to quiet battle cries as the castle readied itself for battle. 

And you were none the wiser. 

It was too risky otherwise. Amora was focusing in on your seidr and any lapse would pull the magic user’s attention. If you even thought about rebellion and war, the sorceress would be tipped off and Brock or Obadiah would make a move to counter it. 

“Why wouldn’t he have told me?” you demanded, arms crossed. Steve continued to look amused in the background. Natalia would have to knock him straight one of these days…

“Safety,” she merely replied, shrugging.

A call came from the kitchens and she used it as an excuse to exit, but you followed behind stubbornly. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” you asked, pestering her while she scooped up a basket of bread for the Asgardian troops outside.

“Princess, please, you’re in the way,”  Nat shoved past you, earning a small gasp from one of the kitchenmaids at the casual way she addressed the princess. Pulling you aside, she lowered her voice. “You’re going to expose me. Just trust what is happening is for your own good.”

She stalked off, fuming at the way Steve continued to smirk to himself, knowing full well he was the one who brought her down there. 

Not that he was entirely to blame, it was part of the plan, just a little earlier than anticipated. It meant that Natalia had to work fast and get a message to Loki and Thor’s camp before nightfall.

“Is this funny?” you asked Steve dryly, motioning toward the stairs back to the main living quarters with a defeated sigh.

“Not at all, your highness,” he answered cheekily. 

(—)

No one was willing to answer your questions. OR rather, no one was around to answer your questions. 

The observatory was locked- meaning Stephen was off the grounds. Wanda wasn’t around, Peter was avoiding you after the ordeal in the throne room, and even Wong was no where to be found. 

“Maybe you should retire to some light reading before dinner?” Steve suggested after having followed you across the greater length of the castle. 

“You’re hiding something too and I’m not thrilled about it,” you snapped, turning on him. “Why is Nat in the kitchens? Is James in the stables?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s in the armory,” Steve answered, deadpan, watching your expression until he finally let out another laugh. “Princess, I promise you, there is no grand conspiracy against you. Master Strange is just ensuring extra layers of protection are in place for you.”

“For what? My wedding?” you asked bitterly. “I thought that’s what Loki was for.”

“These are dangerous times, my grace,” he replied. “One can never be too sure of who to trust. I caught a Baron at the border not three days ago negotiating with one of Brock’s men for privileged information.”

“Who?” you asked, a little curious as to who would be so bold.

“Zemo,” he said the name sourly. “He was apparently promised more land and favor in Brock’s kingdom for supplying vulnerable points of entry to the castle.”

“Oh,” you paused, considering the passages you’d ventured through with Natalia and Stephen over the years. 

As if reading your mind, Steve spoke up. 

“They’re secured,” he murmured, before nudging your shoulder at an approaching figure.

“Princess,” King Brock greeted with fake enthusiasm. He reached for your hand and gave the knuckles a light graze of his lips. “Would you like to take a small walk around the castle with me?”

“The princess was about to start her afternoon studies,” Steve informed him briskly. 

Brock sized him over, just then realizing he was even there. 

“The princess can spare some time for her betrothed,” he stated firmly, looking down at you, hand still clutched around yours. “Isn’t that right?” 

“Let Stephen know I’ll be with him shortly,” you urged, hoping Steve would do well to get the sorcerer or someone who was capable of intervening. 

He nodded briskly, excusing himself and hurrying down the hall with your message. 

“Quite the ordeal today,” Brock commented, guiding you toward the private quarters. “Tell me, do you wish to marry that brute? I can’t imagine with your delicate heart that wedding the monster who killed your father would be acceptable.”

You swallowed, pulling your hand free and pretending to fix a button on your sleeve to occupy yourself. 

“I serve at the pleasure of my king,” you answered neutrally. “What agreement he makes is outside of my control.”

Brock stopped, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t trust me?” he asked sharply. “Or like me for that matter?”

You froze like a deer at the hunt. 

You didn’t trust him, and you were far from liking him. You knew in your heart he was the one who’d killed your father, who’d betrayed him and brought your home into chaos with a mad king on the throne. 

“I don’t know what you mean, my liege,” you lied, continuing down the hall and pretending to admire a tapestry you’d seen a thousand times before. 

“Don’t play coy,” he catch your arm and spun you to face him directly. “It wasn’t me, you know. It was the Asgardians. They wish to frame my men for their misdeeds.”

You ripped your arm away, glaring up at him.

“Hundreds of our men saw you on the horse, leading the charge,” you snapped, forgetting exactly who you were speaking so freely with in the heat of the moment. “The Asgardians weren’t even positioned for that area. How could they have assembled so quickly and nearly destroyed our army for effectively?”

Brock gaped at you in surprise, not expecting such a curt and honest response from you. The surprise quickly shifted to fury and he grabbed the top of your arm, pulling you toward a nearby room and shoving you inside. 

The room must have belonged to him or Amora. It was a standard living arrangement with an armoire and a four post bed, but no personal touches that suggested it was permanent situation. 

“Who do you think you are?” he snarled, shoving you against a wall. “You’re lucky anyone is giving you a second thought, don’t think because that bastard prince has shown up that you aren’t anything but something for my seed to fill.” 

He was in your face, hissing his words as he continued to push you back against the wall. 

“Get away from me,” you threw an elbow, catching him in the jaw, but that served only to fuel his anger. He caught you by the wrist, twisting your arm behind your back and pinning you face first onto the cold stone. 

You could hear him fumbling with his belts, his breath hot against your neck while you tried to snuggle yourself free. Each movement made him twist even tighter on your hand, sending a shock of pain up the arm. 

“Has your wizard fucked you already?” he snarled, pressing his hard member against the back of your skirts. “I bet you’re just a little whore for him, aren’t you?”

You squirming became more desperate. His hands caught your waist, his knee edging up the skirts. 

“Too bad you’re mine,” he growled, pulling at the strings of your corset and trying to shuffle it down your waist. “I’ll have him hanged and let you watch his pathetic body sway in the courtyard while I fill you with my heirs, you pathetic whimpering fool.”

He’d nearly succeeded in pinning you in place when you remembered the dagger hidden at the front of your dress. Using your free hand, you slipped it free and rolled against his grasp, swinging the sharp object toward him.

It caught his face and he reeled back, yelling in pain, blood dripping from his cheek. 

“You bitch!” he swung, catching your face and sending you stumbling back toward the bed. He moved toward you, blood spilling over your dresses while he reached down and gripped your neck, hiking the skirts up while he ripped his pants down. 

You tried to scream, to throw fists, but no matter how you fought, he was overpowering you. 

You closed your eyes, willing it all to be over, to have someone hear the chaos, but no one came. You couldn’t let this happen. Every inch of skin repelled at his touch, your entire soul repulsed by his very existence, you willed everything inside of you to get him as far away from you as possible. 

Your world was going dark when you held up a weak hand to try and shove him off of you one last time while he positioned himself over you. 

The was a yelp of surprise and a crash. The constriction on your throat loosen and no longer was he ripping at your skirts. 

Opening your eyes, you saw Brock hunched over on the other side of the room, a fresh wound bleeding from the back of his head, the stone wall behind him cracked slightly. 

You looked to your outstretched hand, a faint glow of violet was fading and you slowly sat up to take in the situation. 

Did you just kill him?

“Princess?” a voice was calling from the hall, a short rap of knuckles on the door before it opened, revealing Loki.

“Close the door,” you urged sharply, your voice broken from the damage Brock had done to your throat. Loki obliged, taking in the scene with wide eyes. He was at your side in an instant, touching your cheek where you were certain a bruise was forming around your eye.

“What happened?” his tone had dropped dangerously, and from the look on his face, you were certain he already knew the answer.

“Did I kill him?” you asked, eyes falling behind your friend to the slumped over king on the ground. “He’s bleeding…”

“I hope so,” he hissed, standing and moving to the king. He checked his pulse and sighed. “Alive.”

“What are we going to do?” you asked, panic now forming in your chest. This was very very bad. If Obadiah found you… or him… or he told someone about…. 

“Let me handle it,” he murmured, returning to your side. “Hold still.”

His hands were cool while he traced around the tender spot on your face. As he moved his fingers, they glowed a beautiful emerald color and the pain began to recede.

“Look at me,” he ordered gently, lifting your chin to examine his handiwork. “Lovely as ever, princess.”

Dumbfounded, you touched the bruise and found no pain or swollen skin. 

“I couldn’t control it,” you whispered, looking down at your hand when you dropped it into your lap. ���Stephen said it would be best not to completely seal it. That it might serve as protection but…”

Loki chuckled at your hesitation.

“I’ll take care of him,” he promised firmly. “He won’t remember a thing. You’re fortunate that Stephen and Amora are examining the barriers around the castle. She would have sensed your seidr immediately.”

“Won’t she know you tampered with him?”

“She’s good, but I’m better,” he winked and helped you to your feet. “Are you injured anywhere else?” 

There was a pause while you realized precisely what he meant. 

“No, he didn’t- he wasn’t able to-,” you stammered out, cheating aching at the fresh memory. Loki pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms over your shoulders protectively. You hadn’t realized you’d been trembling until he had steadied you.

“You should retire for the evening,” he suggested. “I’ll have someone bring up your dinner.”

“What about-?” you looked to Brock, still unconscious on the ground. 

“I told you, I will take care of it,” he reminded you with a playful smirk. “Here.”

A shimmer of green overtook you and you looked down at your formally ripped and tattered dress. It’d been replaced with a fresh dress in Loki’s colors of emerald and gold.

“You’re hilarious,” you joked, smoothing out the silks and bending over to recollect your dagger and sheath. 

“You have to admit, you do you look good in my colors,” he teased.

“I prefer my own,” you countered, the dress shifting to the crimsons of house Stark. “Or maybe the blues of Kamar-Taj.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You’re just cruel,” he sighed, leaving the dress in red. “Lock your doors. Only answer for those you trust. I’ll inform Stephen what has happened as soon as I’m done.”

He guided you toward the door, a hand on your back. 

“Are you sure?” you asked a final time and he just smiled, letting you back into the hallway and closing the door behind you.

“Trust me,” he supplied before the door latched shut. 

A lot of people were saying that to you recently. 

On the other side of the door, Loki looked at the king and scoffed.

“Pathetic.” 

Snapping his fingers, he left the man exactly how he was, materializing outside of Prince Peter’s quarters.

“Your highness!” he knocked frantically on the door. When Peter peered out, Loki rushed in, rapidly explaining what had happened between the princess and the king.  

Peter went into a frenzy, while Loki stood to the side, watching the young man announce it was time to make their move against Obadiah. 

The younger prince was absolutely right, in more ways than he realized.

(--)

9 - a king’s arrival 

TAG LIST (message to be added!):

@ayamenimthiriel  @ladynothing​ @im-a-bi-disaster-help​ @idkwhatthisislol​

#Stephen Strange #Dr Strange #Doctor Stephen Strange #dr. strange #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor strange/reader #dr strange x reader #dr strange/reader #dr. strange/reader #Dr. stephen strange/reader #reader #reader insert #female reader #stark!daughter #stark reader #fanfic #marvel #marvel fan fiction #marvel AU #fantasy marvel au #marvel fairytale au #MCU #MCU AU

[cherrybracelets]

Politics & Violence (one)

masterlist | requests

summary: Your father is one of the most progressive presidents in history, and many praise you and your family for all the good you’ve done for the country. But there is a select group of radicals who plans to take the entire administration down, and the threat to you and your family is growing every day. Your father takes matters into his own hands when he hires individual body guards for each member of your family.

pairing: bodyguard!a. hotchner x presidents daughter!reader

words; 11.5k warnings: this fic will be 18+!!! lots of heavy stuff, drugs, alc, depression, sex, guns, violence, death 

song inspo: politics and violence by dominic fike

an: hey this is my first hotch piece and I’m super nervous so please let me know what u think!! i will be making a full playlist for this fic and a moodboard so keep ur eyes peeled; this is also obviously non canon and the backstory hotch has here is completely made up by me also this is gone be two parts ok bye

Being the daughter of the president was hard enough, it doesn’t make it any easier that you’re fucking your bodyguard. You wouldn’t trade Hotch for the world, but it was exhausting keeping up with this life sometimes. You never thought of yourself as someone who would get entangled up into a secret like this. You felt it weighing on you all the time. Every secret glance between you two in the hall, every ‘accidental’ touch at an event, the secret kissing in the closets with the door locked and the lights off. It was a thrill, but also added unneeded strain to your life. 

Hotch saw the effects he had on you, too. Both negative and positive. He knew that the love you two shared, the passion between you, would be unmatched with any other person. But he also knew how hard it was to keep that love a secret, to not hold hands in public, to lie to all of your friends and family. Most importantly, to lie to your dad. Loving him, being with him, it was a sacrifice. 

Your dad had spent the past 23 years of his life doing everything he could to protect you. He hated that he brought you into this life; he hated this life himself. All he wanted was to help people, and he thought the best way would be politics. But he didn’t know that with his more modern takes, many people would hate him. And it got so bad that last year you started receiving death threats. A group of radicals had recently started sending individual letters to your whole family, making it clear how much they hated you and what your family stood for. 

It was terrifying. And you were tired of it. You had been dealing with it your whole life, as he had been an important politician for a long time before winning the presidency. The cameras following you everywhere you went, never having real relationships with anybody because people just wanted the clout that came with knowing you. You were miserable, and were only finding happiness in the darkest of places, ironically. Partying, alcohol and drugs had taken over most of your nights, with a group of people who you wouldn’t really call your friends, but people who had allowed you to be miserable with them. 

You had never really had friends, besides your siblings. People always wanted to be your friend, but almost never for genuine reason. And when someone was being genuine, which was rare, you had a hard time trusting and ultimately hurt the person to avoid being hurt yourself. It was a terrible cycle that you’d been dealing with for... a long time. Twenty three years to be exact, because the night of your twenty third birthday was when it all changed. 

Your dad had called everyone to the house for a family dinner. At the time, you were living in some tiny studio across town, and your brother was shacking up with some girl he knew from college. It was pretty rare to get all of you together in one place, but for you and your brother, Matt’s birthday, it was extra important that everyone was there. 

Your father always blocked out his schedule for birthdays, they were a big deal to him. And although you were dreading having to put on your happy face for an evening of passive aggressive comments and awkward small talk, you did it for him. He was the only member of your family who deserved even a second of your time. 

So that night, you drove to your parents house, reminding yourself that it’s only a few hours and everything will be fine. There won’t be any issues, you and Matt won’t fight, the two younger siblings won’t fight, mom and dad won’t fight. No one will fight, you promised yourself. You’ll hold it together. You practiced your smile as you pulled in the driveway, hoping to not be too disingenuous when you saw everyone.  

None of them were especially bad people, they just all had a lot of problems, and were especially bad at dealing with them. But, so were you. Comes with the territory of being a high profile political family, apparently. You already saw Matt’s car there as well, which made you nervous. Matt and your mother being alone together for very long without you to interject was never good. It could already be a disaster as soon as you walk in. 

You got out of your car and walked slowly to the entrance, your head down. You didn’t like making eye contact with the secret service, they always made you incredibly nervous. They stood so still, but their eyes always followed you like a haunted painting. Someone opened the door for you, and you stepped through the entrance to an empty hall. You assumed they were in the dining room already, waiting for you. 

As you walked there, you noticed an unusual silence of guards and other employees. Most people at least said hi to you as you walked by, but there was nothing tonight. Every face you passed was buried in paperwork or their phones, looking worried. When you finally arrived to the dining room, you walked into an unusual silence. There were quite a few guards that you hadn’t recognized, one specific one watching you intently as you greeted your family and sat in between your dad and Matt.

“Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence, princess,” Matt grumbled, raising his eyebrows in discontent as he shifted in his chair. 

“I’m like, five minutes late dude, can you relax?” You protested, crossing your arms in frustration and avoiding looking at him. 

“Guys, please don’t do this, not tonight for God’s sake,” your father interjected, his teeth tightly clenched together as he stared daggers at the two of you. His forehead was sweating, and his nails were bitten down to the point of bleeding. It had been almost two weeks since you’d last seen him, but he was not like this before. Something was happening, and you felt your stomach turn as you looked around the rest of the table and realized you were the only one out of the loop. 

“What is happening with everyone right now?” You looked at your dad first, hoping he would step in and explain the obvious elephant in the room. 

“Someone is trying to kill us all,” your little brother, Charlie, blurted out. He was young, only ten, and clearly didn't understand the gravity of the situation. 

“Jesus, Charlie, way to freak her out,” your sister yelped, pushing him slightly. 

“Charlie, Dani, both of you shut up!” Your mom yelled, slamming her fists down on the table loudly and making you all jump.

“Everyone, relax, okay,” your dad instructed calmly. It used to be you, mediating every fight and solving every issue. But you couldn’t do it anymore, and your dad knew. He needed to step up and fix the shattered remnants of your family. Unfortunately, that was a harder job than being the president. 

“There have been some… issues, with this radical group based in Virginia. I get threats all the time, but, they are threatening each of you now. And I’m not going to put up with that. So, there’s going to be some changes around here.” 

“Yeah, go ahead and tell her about how we have to move back home,” Matt objected.

“What?”

“It’s only temporary, (Y/N). We are doing everything we can to catch the guys who are doing this. But for now it is safest for all of you to be home.” 

“I have a life, Dad. I can’t give up everything because you did some things that pissed people off.” 

“Don’t be so selfish, (Y/N), this is about all of us, not just you.” Your mom took a long sip of her wine and sat back in her chair, preparing for the yelling that was about to ensue. 

“You all each have a personal bodyguard as well, with high levels of combat training. They will be with you all day, everywhere you go. At night there will be a rotated shift of guards outside your doors.” 

“Oh, wonderful.” 

“Aaron, why don’t you come meet my lovely daughter,” your father muttered, motioning to one of the men standing behind him. As you suspected, the man who had not taken his eyes off of you since you arrived took a few steps forward, nodding respectively at you. 

“At least yours is hot,” your brother whispered to you, rolling his eyes. 

“My name is Aaron Hotchner, and I will do everything I can to keep you safe.” He stuck his hand out to you, and you grabbed it reluctantly, shaking his hand lightly. His touch was gentle, but his hands were strong and large compared to yours. He definitely looked the part. 

“What about my trip next week?” You questioned, turning away from Hotch and back to your dad. “I’m supposed to go do that college campus tour in California. I leave in two weeks.” 

“We all think you should still take that trip, it’s only a few weeks and Aaron will be with you the entire time. I don’t think the jet is a good idea, though. We’re going to have you fly commercial.”

“First class, I hope?” Your brother and mom both collectively rolled their eyes, and you just ignored them and continued to stare at your dad, awaiting his answers. 

“Of course, darling.” He smiled politely, hoping to end the conversation here and get on with dinner. You decided it wasn’t worth pressing it, seeing how clearly your dad was falling apart, you didn’t want to add anymore stress to him. 

The rest of the dinner was uneventful, for a change. You all made small talk, caught up on work and school- pretty boring stuff. The whole time, you felt his eyes on you. When you looked at him, he dragged his eyes away slowly, as if pretending he wasn’t watching your every move. You weren’t sure why he kept looking away when you noticed him- it was his job to watch you. It was almost as if the thought of your eyes meeting scared him. 

The most exciting part about a dinner with your family was when you could finally leave and go home- but tonight, unfortunately, you did not have that luxury. Your bedroom here was already prepared, and you always had a few spare pairs of clothes here. You knew there was no way you could convince any of them to let you go home. 

And you definitely could not go out with your friends. But they were blowing up your phone, talking about their plans to go out to some new club with some amazing new party drug. You looked around the room nervously, trying to plan an escape somehow. There had to be a way, you basically had a PhD in sneaking out. 

“Well, it’s getting late, I think it’s time for us to get Mr. Charles to bed!” Your dad teased, making funny faces at your brother, who just laughed in return. It was nice seeing him so full of joy, still loving life. He hadn’t hit the rough years, yet. You missed that feeling, the feeling of not knowing that every day, no matter what, would be miserable. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna head out. Breakfast tomorrow, Dani?” 

“Really,” she sat up, tilting her head in confusion. She was 16, now, and was more miserable than the rest of you. Being sixteen and living this life is utterly exhausting. She looked up to you highly, and you always paid her extra attention. You didn’t want her to end up like you.  

“Of course.” You kissed her on the head and hugged your dad, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone else. You walked through the doors quickly, a reluctant Aaron Hotchner following close behind. 

“I thought you left me alone at night.” 

“Once you’re safe and I’ve secured you in your room, I can pass my duties to another guard. I don’t see you safe in your room.” 

“Okay, dude, I got it,” you rolled your eyes, watching him get closer to you with every step. He was right beside you, now, your arms both at your sides, your hands accidentally bumping together as you walked. The moment his flesh touched yours, you felt your whole body fill with heat, your throat feeling tight as the forbidden flesh touched yours. That was the first time you knew you wanted him, the first time you felt like you could lose yourself in him. He smelled of strong coffee and vanilla, pulling you in like a flower shop in a Spring day. 

You stayed silent the rest of the walk, coming up to your bedroom door. “Honey is secure, send in the first shift.” 

“Honey?” 

“Code name.” He responded sternly.

“What does it mean?” 

“I don’t… I don’t know. I just picked it when I saw your picture.” He seemed caught off guard, as if nobody had asked him that question before. You were pretty sure nobody had a codename like Honey.

You saw the other guard approaching, and Aaron seemed to relax a little as he saw the man. This man was a lot younger, and you didn’t feel nearly as protected with him. Which was probably why he was the night guard, and perfect for your plan. Aaron and the other man spoke secretly for a moment, before he turned and walked away without saying goodnight. You felt a little hurt, but also knew that it was his job to protect you, not to get close with you. 

You went into your room and closed the door behind you, praying to God you had something cute to wear somewhere here. You searched around the closet, pulling garments off of hangers in frustration. Luckily you found an old dress that somehow still fit. You wiggled your way into it and fixed your hair a bit, hoping the low light of the club would cover for your bare face. You threw a robe on top of everything and shoved your heels into each pocket. You realized it was still pretty early, and decided to work on your presentation for your college tours. 

You were pretty proud of your program actually. You had created a program for colleges to help get students to care more about politics, helping them to register to vote, understand laws and policies, amongst a million other things. It ended up being very successful, and your dad even credited you for helping him to win the presidency. Most of your life felt like you were stuck inside the darkest cloud to ever exist- but when you were working on this, doing your presentations for people just like you… it gave you something to live for. It was one of the few reasons you had to keep going, in all honesty. 

And by the time you looked up at the clock, it was already almost 11, and your friends were on their way to the secret exit to pick you up. Yeah, there were plenty of hidden exit spots around the building that weren’t patrolled. You and Matt pretty much discovered that the first day you moved in here. You let your friends know that you’d be out soon, and you got yourself ready to go. You quietly opened the door to see the guard standing silently, turning towards you when he heard the noise. 

“Hey, super sorry, my mom just texted me to come to her room. I’ll be right back!” You smiled confidently, closing the door and trying to start walking before he questioned you. 

“I should probably go with you,” he requested.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. There’s a million of you guys on the way to her room. Plus, what if someone tries to sneak in my room. How will you know?” 

“Oh… alright,” he muttered, awkwardly. “Just don’t take too long.” 

You nodded in agreement and skipped down the hallway, people stopping to look at you momentarily before ultimately deciding they had something more important to do than worry about you. When you got to the back secret staircase, you dropped your robe and slipped your heels. Your friends were waiting for you at the door, greeting you with squeals and hugs. 

“The uber is right outside the gate, let’s go!” One of them said, sprinting to the exit. You all followed quickly, laughing and twirling in the warm summer air. That was weirdly easy. You had never had such an easy time getting out. You slowed down a bit, your friends brushing past you. Something felt off. But right now, you were out, and you could at least enjoy it while it lasts. You shook your negativity off and ran to catch up with them, exiting the gate and running up the street. You stopped at your Uber and slid into the back with two others. When the doors were all closed and the car started moving, your friend in the passenger seat turned around with a handful of small blue pills. 

“Have one!”

“What is it?” 

“It’s a whole lot of fun, that I know for sure.” He raised his eyebrows goofily, giggling as you shrugged and took a pill. You washed it down with a swig of vodka from someone’s flask. You winced at the sharp taste of the alcohol, feeling it burning your throat and descending into your stomach. 

The music on the radio was bumping loudly, each beat of the bass shaking the car. You felt everyone moving around you so quickly, but you were frozen. Your body wouldn’t move. You didn’t feel scared, though. You almost felt that if you couldn’t move, if all you could do was just sit there and listen, no one could possibly hurt you anymore. You were finally safe. 

But then a hand touched yours, and the reality of your pause in time came crashing down. Your whole body jerked, and you snapped back to reality to see your friend trying to drag you from the car and into the club. She hadn’t even noticed your temporary disconnect from reality, or if she did, she didn’t care. She, just like all of you, just wanted to party. The last thing you wanted was to come face to face with your problems. 

The club was dark and smoky, blurring the faces of those around you, everyone just becoming silhouettes of themselves. Someone passed you something to smoke, and you took a drag without hesitation. You got swept up into the crowd, your body moving with theirs like seaweed in a flowing ocean. Your feet were attached to the ground, but your body floated as if the wind was carrying it in her hands. Someone came up behind you, wrapping their hands around your waist and tracing their lips up your neck. Their body moved in sync with yours, the universe holding you together like a moon to it’s orbiting planet. 

“Shots!” A voice nearby called. You instinctively recognized the voice, and trailed off to find the rest of your friends passing around a bottle. You joined excitedly, wrapping your arms around one of them and reaching for the bottle. You took a long swig, not even tasting the overpriced tequila, just letting it pour straight down your throat and into your body. The walls around you turned into stained glass, the sunlight pouring in a shining a beautiful rainbow of light on the crowd around you. You remembered the blue pill you took in the car, and felt happy. He was right, this was a whole lot of fun. 

The music picked up a bit, and you felt each beat pulsing through your body as if it were your own heartbeat. You dragged a person from your group out to the dance floor, needing to move your body. Luckily the rest of the group followed, dancing with you, the blue pills pulling you all into the same universe. You loved moments like this, where you lost yourself, where you couldn’t even remember what real life was like even if you tried. The thought of that scared a lot of people, and you understood why. For many people, their reality was way better than anything a drug could create for them. But for some people, and for you, you needed to disappear into another existence in order to survive. 

You had no idea how long you had been dancing, it felt like only seconds but your body felt like it had been moving for hours. You were still slightly lost in your mind, the drug slowly wearing off and bringing you down to the harsh reality of the come down. You felt a hand grab tightly onto your wrist, and you yelped. You couldn’t see who it was, but they were tugging at you harshly, and you couldn’t resist much longer. Your body was tired and weak, and this man was strong. You finally felt yourself moving through the people and towards the exist, still no sight of who had their hands locked to you. 

If you someone snuck out and died, your dad would be so pissed. You started feeling scared, not enough drugs left in you to block out the reality of the situation. You panicked, trying to pull your hand away and scream. But no one noticed, everyone was lost in their own universes, completely away from reality, where you needed them. That was the downfall of this lifestyle, of course. Sometimes people could lose themselves a little too much. 

You managed to get pulled out the door, the fresh air smacking you harshly right in the face. You felt dizzy, the lights of the city around you spinning wildly. You sat down on the pavement, pulling whoever took you out down with you. You tried to look up at him, but felt queasy when you moved your head. 

“Just take a deep breathe,” a man whispered, placing his hand on your back and rubbing slowly. “Here’s some water.” He handed you an opened bottle, your fingers touching lightly and instantly making you feel better. His touch was almost healing, like he was pulling the pain right out of you. The longer he kept his hand on you, the better you felt. You sipped slowly on the water, the cold liquid flowing through you and cleansing your body. 

“We need to get going,” he instructed, pulling at your arm to get up. 

“Hotchner,” you muttered, finally realizing the mystery man that was stealing you away into the night. 

“It’s Aaron.” 

“I don’t like that. Doesn’t fit. I do like Hotch-” you hiccuped. “Hotch, actually, that’s pretty bad ass.” You giggled loudly, Hotch helping you into the front seat of the car and buckling you in. He went around the front and got into the drivers seat, starting the car with a grunt. 

“How did you find me?” 

“How long do you think Cooper would’ve waited until he realized you weren’t with your mom.”

“That’s not what I asked,” you sat up, taking a deep breath and looking over at the man. “I knew you’d realize I was gone. How did you find me?” 

Hotch moved his lips uncomfortably, his eyes shifting back and forth. 

“Why would you go out when you know how much danger you’re in? You’re an extremely intelligent woman on paper, (Y/N), but you are clearly so incredibly stupid.” 

You gasped in awe, your heart racing and heat flushing to your cheeks. You were blushing like a strawberry, digging your nails into your palms to refrain yourself from screaming at him, or punching him, or just getting out of the car at the next red light. 

“You don’t know anything about me, Aaron. Don’t pretend you know me from reading a few of my daddy’s notes.” You sat back in exhaustion, feeling your eyes fill with tears. You willed yourself to not cry in front of him, to hold it together until you were alone. The last person you wanted to break down in front of was him. 

“We’re stopping somewhere, before we get you home.” His voice was calmer this time, clearly realizing you were upset. He didn’t look at you the rest of the ride, staring ahead at the road, focusing intently on the cars around him. You recognized the street as he started to park, realizing you were at your apartment. 

“What are we doing here?” You muttered in confusion, looking around at the familiar buildings. 

“Let’s go inside.” 

He turned the car off and got out, walking around to you and opening your door. You reluctantly got out, and walked slowly to the front door of your building. You realized quickly you didn’t have your keys, and turned to him. As if he read your mind, he held up your keys in his hand and nodded at you. He walked to the door and typed in the code to unlock it, revealing the lobby of your apartment building. You were on the second floor, and the two of you walked slowly up the stairs to your place. He continued to stay silent as he unlocked your apartment door, opening it hastily as he braced himself to walk into your place. He shuttered uncomfortably as he stepped inside. 

“Can you tell me why we’re here now?” You insisted, shutting the door loudly behind you and locking it. You were still feeling kind of uneasy, and needed to reassurance of a locked door if someone happened to come look for you here. 

“Get your things. Everything you need.” He crossed his arms, a look of authority overcoming him. You realized now that he was dressed down- wearing only a t-shirt and jeans. His arms looked stunning in the cut off sleeves, the nicely displayed muscles in plain view. 

“Why… why do I need my things?” 

“Because, you’ve lost your privileges to privacy. Since you want to act out, you no longer have your own place. Take everything you need and say goodbye, because we’re not coming back here again.” He had raised his voice quite loudly, his arms uncrossed and at his sides. He had gotten closer to you as he spoke, now only a foot or so away from you. 

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I am trying to protect you. Do you not care at all about your own life, or your families? You are being incredibly selfish, you know that. You have an amazing family that loves you, millions of people around the country that adore you. If something happened to you, the world would be devastated, and yet you are so reckless with your life? It’s… I truly don’t get it, (Y/N).”

You stood in awe, unsure of what to say to him. You felt like a thousand pound weight just dropped on your chest. No one had ever spoken to you like that before, especially not someone who was hired to protect you. You stepped away from him, stumbling over your steps as you rested yourself against the wall. 

“What… what about you?” You muttered, looking up at him. “You want to talk about recklessness with life? You don’t know me, or care about me at all, and you’re here ready and willing to die to protect me. Don’t you think that’s a little fucked up? Or, what is it, Hotch? Do you have a hero complex?” You cocked your head at him, grinning. Your moment of sadness had passed, and now you were pissed. Nobody talked to you that way. And now you wanted to piss him off. 

“No, you’ve got me all wrong sweetheart,” he chuckled, walking closer and closer to you until he was inches away and you were completely backed against the wall. He moved his arms to the base of his shirt and ripped it over his head, revealing an unsurprisingly ripped body. He had multiple scars across his chest and abdomen. 

“I’ve been in and out of foster homes my whole life. Switched schools constantly so I never had many friends. Went right into the Marines after high school and kept to myself for the most part there, too. I have no one, (Y/N). If I die, nobody would blink an eye. If you die, the whole country would shut down. Do you see these?” He pointed to his scars, touching them gently as if taking a moment to remember each one. “I’ve taken bullets for many before, and I’ll do it for you if I have to, Honey. That’s why I do this. I’m not reckless with my life. I have no one, no life outside of this. I can give up that to protect someone like you.” 

His hand was resting on the wall behind your head, his body towering over you. He was breathing heavy, trying to relax himself. 

“That is so…” you took a deep breath, bringing your hand up to his flesh and tracing your fingers over his scars. You gently circled the rough skin, watching him look down in confusion as you touched him. “Incredibly sad.” You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as your hand still pressed against his bare chest. “I’m so sorry nobody has made your life feel worth it. You don’t deserve that,” you whispered, your face only inches from his. You realized now the vanilla scent that rolled so deliciously off of him was his cologne, because it was much stronger as you got closer to the base of his neck. 

“We need to get out of here. Get you home.” He muttered, turning away from you harshly, and looking around to find his shirt. 

“I’m… I didn’t mean to upset you, Hotch.” 

“It’s Aaron,” he barked, his eyes filled with fury as he scrambled around for his missing clothes. 

“Why don’t we just get my things tomorrow? I promise I’ll stay in the rest of the night.” 

“You won’t have the chance to sneak out again, I can promise you that.” He said sternly, putting his shirt on quickly and heading for the door. You followed quietly behind him, your head racing and your body flushing from being so close to him just moments ago. He ushered you into the car quickly and slammed the door behind you. His energy had changed so dramatically from moments ago, but you were still feeling so drawn to him. 

You remembered the way his bare skin felt to your touch. Even one small brush on your fingertips against his flesh made him melt, as if he couldn’t remember the last time somebody had touched him with such pure intentions. 

He was driving quite recklessly back to the big house, not saying a word as you stared silently ahead, replaying the moment over and over in your head. You wanted to say something, trying to come up with the right words to handle this situation. But your brain came up empty, and you continued to stay silent the rest of the drive home. 

Hotch parked the car in the garage, sitting back in his seat for a moment as if he wanted to get something off his chest before going in. “You’re lucky I didn’t tell anyone you’d snuck out. I’ll cover for you this time, but don’t count on it if it happens again.”

“I’m sorry I made you come get me,” you whispered, fully realizing how dumb and selfish your actions were. He was right, you were reckless with your life. But you’d never really cared about it, or even thought about it, until now. 

“That was, um,” he shifted, clearing his throat. “That was unprofessional of me to talk to you that way. I apologize.” 

“No… I… you were right. I kind of needed to hear it. And, again, I’m sorry that you feel the way you do.” You slowly reached your hand out and grabbed onto his, your delicate hand resting gracefully amongst his strong, tired ones. It was almost comical, the difference in the sizes. 

Your fingers intertwined in his, your palms meeting as you sat silently in the car. You looked up at him, his eyes staring deeply at your hand in his. His thumb grazed gently over your skin, his silent way of acknowledging your touch. You knew, in that moment, that your feelings towards each other were the same. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, despite every element working against a relationship. And you both knew that. It could never work, and nothing could ever happen. 

He tore his hand away with haste and looked out the window, refusing to verbally acknowledge the moment you just shared. One of many moments you had shared since you met. 

“You need to get inside before anyone else realizes you’re gone. Cooper is inside the door. I’ll see you in the morning.” He refused to look at you, his body backed up into the door as far away as he could get himself. You nodded silently and opened your door, getting out onto the concrete and beginning to walk to the door. You turned back to look at him, and he was watching you, as always. 

“I want to make sure you get in safe,” he muttered through the cracked window of his car door. 

“Thank you, Hotch.” You smiled at him, and were hoping to catch a grin from him, too. But he didn’t seem like the type of man to smile very often, and this definitely wasn’t the right moment. He continued to watch you until you got in the door, an angry Cooper ready to lecture you as he walked you back to your room. You did your best to ignore his taunts, your mind still on Hotch.

You fell asleep quickly after you got back to your room, your body craving the healing powers of sleep. Your dreams were fluttered with thoughts of him, his touch. You could not even escape him in your solitude, your soul, your subconscious, was so encapsaleted by him. They would not let you forget him, even if your slumber.

You finally woke up around eleven the next morning, confused and dehydrated, your head throbbing. You clearly had a wicked hangover, and were still feeling pretty laggy from the drugs the night before. You crawled slowly out of bed and into your connecting bathroom, sticking your head under the sink and slurping down faucet water like a child on a hot summer day. The cool taste felt refreshing on your throat, but the minute it hit your throat you felt nauseous. You clipped your hair back so it was away from your face, which was still rocking last night's makeup. You finally opened the door of your room to a different man, one you hadn’t recognized. 

Seeing a stranger made you startled, especially standing right outside of your room. You instinctively wanted to call for Hotch, pleading for him to come sweep you off your feet and save you. But, there was nothing to save you from, as this man was just the third shift night guard. He confirmed that when he muttered, “Honey has left her room. Send in A3.” 

You waited for him to greet you, say anything at all, but he stood silent and waited for him commanding guard to relieve of him his duties. You started to walk towards the kitchen, the nausea you were facing earlier now turned to hunger. You were stopped by his arm, blocking you from going any further. 

“You have to wait until he gets here, Miss.” 

“Right, sorry.” He had already turned away, you weren’t even sure if he had heard your apology. You didn’t know how long you’d have to wait until Hotch came and released you from your prison cell, so you scrolled through instagram in annoyance as you waited.

“Good morning, it’s wonderful of you to join the living. Long night last night?” Hotch was smirking at you, a look of contempt as he clearly saw the misery of the previous night sweating right out of you. His mood clearly changed to despising you, again. And if that’s how he wanted to play things this morning, you were happy to play right along with him. 

“Not all of us have no life at all, Aaron. Sometimes people, ya know, do things.” You rolled your eyes as you walked passed him quickly, trying to get down to the kitchen before all the food was gone. 

“Not all of us have death threats hanging over our heads, either,” he snapped back, his voice sharp and stern. “Where are you going, (Y/N)?” 

“Breakfast. I’m hungry,” you shrugged, continuing to walk fast and not get too close to him. Everything felt so hot and cold, you honestly had no idea what he was feeling. The times where you were close, where you felt him, it was so genuine. You knew there was a chemistry between you. But his anger towards you also felt so real. If he was somehow faking, if it was an act or a defense mechanism for his true feelings, he was doing an incredible job. 

“All the food is gone. They won’t be back till lunch in another hour.” His smirk came back, as if he was excited by the idea that you now couldn’t eat. “We could go get food, though. If you’d like. If you can’t wait.” 

“Yeah, that’s a great idea actually. There’s a little diner right near my place that has the best chocolate chip pancakes I have ever had.” Your thoughts were racing, the idea of delicious food filling your brain. You did that, sometimes, just lost yourself in your thoughts or an idea. You caught him smiling, maybe at you, maybe at just a passing thought. But the feeling of him watching you, seeing your beauty, and smiling. It made your heart race.

“Let’s get to the car, we don’t wanna be gone too long. You’ve got a lot to prepare for your trip coming up.” Hotch motioned towards the stairs, and you remembered the current state of your wardrobe and stopped in your tracks. 

“I can’t go looking like this… I mean, this is bad,” you laughed, pointing at your messy hair and smudged mascara. 

“Maybe nobody will recognize you if you look that… well…” he chuckled, raising a brow as he looked you up and down. 

“Well that’s a little rude.” You both laughed together until silence ultimately fell on the room. You felt like there was more to be said, but you weren’t sure what. You stood still, waiting for some instruction on what to do next. Why was it that you could never figure out what to do with yourself in situations like this? 

“I think you look beautiful,” he observed, a slight comical tone to his voice. But the way he looked at you, the way he said it, for a slight moment, it felt real. His words felt real. And you would lose yourself in the chaos of it all if you had to spend every day decoding his words, trying to figure out what is real, what is truly him, and what is a facade. You couldn’t fall for him, you couldn't put yourself through that. But each moment with him drew you in more and more, you almost felt that you would be unable to escape him if things went any further, if the small flirtatious comments and slight forbidden touches when you were alone. 

“Let’s get to the car, go get you something to eat,” he instructed, beginning to walk away. You followed him close behind, not sure why you craved the security of him so much. It was his job, but he really did make you feel safe. You followed him down the garage silently, and hoped into the passenger seat of his SUV. 

“Where are we going?” He asked, trying to program the address into the GPS. He looked up at you for an answer, his eyes wide and childlike, the simple act of asking you for assistance making you melt. 

“Uh, Ruby Street Diner,” you stuttered, watching his hands diligently as he typed in the address. He turned on the radio and started driving, and you stared eagerly out the window as you drove. You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you heard him humming with the music. It was those little things that reminded you he was still human, and that was the last thing he was supposed to do. The more human he became, the more he showed you of himself, the harder it would be for you to walk away. 

The drive was silent, but you didn’t mind it. It didn’t feel awkward. Neither of you had anything to say, and sometimes that’s okay. You watched him out of the corner of his eye, watching his face, the way he studied the world around him. Sometimes it seemed like he saw everything, like he saw you watching him. If he knew, he didn’t care. He would glance over at you ever minute or so, maybe to just check if you’re still safe, still breathing. Maybe because he, too, was wondering how he could walk away from you. 

He parked his car on the street across from the diner, and checked his pockets and gun before turning the car off. He looked around him, checking for anything suspicious and out of the ordinary. He clearly didn’t see anything to worry him much, because he opened the door quickly after and got out of the car. He walked to your side and opened your door, checking for oncoming cars as he did so. You were used to people opening doors for you, but something about him holding it open and grabbing your hand as you stepped out of the large truck was hot. 

You walked into the diner and were quickly seated at a small booth in the corner, per his request. It was never a good idea to be in the center of the scene, he said. You nodded in understanding, looking around at the crowd, which wasn’t anything to be worried about. The scene at a diner at noon on a Thursday was never very eventful. 

“Thanks for taking me out,” you whispered, your eyes lazily scrolling over the menu even though you already had your heart set on those chocolate chip pancakes. 

“It’s my number one duty to make sure you are safe and satisfied.” 

“Satisfied? I don’t feel like that’s really a part of your job description.”

“Of course it is. If you’re unhappy, angry, sad- you’re more likely to rebel, lash out, sneak out.” He chuckled softly, taking a sip of the hot coffee the waitress just poured for you both. You ordered your food, and Hotch ordered some wheat toast and a fruit bowl. You rolled your eyes at his order, knowing you were about to stuff your face. 

“So, are you saying the only reason I go to party is because I’m unhappy?”

“I don’t want to make any assumptions about your life. It’s just, in my experience, people turn to that life if they aren’t satisfied with their normal existence.” 

“Is anybody happy with their normal existence?” You questioned, sighing loudly as you sat back in the booth. He watched you for a moment, his eyes paying special attention to your rising chest as you started breathing heavily. He set his arm down on the table, laying his palm out as he looked up at you. 

You stared at his exposed hand, a sudden remembering of your fingers intertwined in his car last night. He needed your touch, then. He needed a pull back to humanity, a remembrance that nobody is truly alone in this life. And now, you needed it. You needed somebody to hold your hand. And he knew. 

You reluctantly placed your arm down on the table, looking around at the people in the place. No one was even paying the slightest attention to you. A rare moment where nobody cared who you were, or what you were doing. Your fingers moved towards his, and you grabbed on to him slowly. It was a slight touch, nothing that would be noticeable to anybody passing by. But it was enough for both of you. It was enough to mean something. 

“I would like to think that everybody has a chance to be happy. It’s just a matter of finding your happiness.” His fingers moved closer to yours, his thumb slightly rubbing your fingers. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, his illicit touch sending sparks through your whole body. 

“Alright, you guys ready to eat?” Your waitress cheerily interrupted, causing you to both instinctively rip your hands away and put them at your sides. It didn’t appear that she noticed anything but your heart was still racing and you could tell his was, too. 

You ate your food quickly, avoiding eye contact with him as he nibbled on pieces of toast. You only seemed to have two types of moments with him; ones where neither of you could think of any words, or ones where words flowed out of you like a poet. You felt like you could tell him anything, but at the same time you were afraid to say anything. 

“I think we should go,” he quietly muttered after you had finally finished a majority of your food.

“Um.. is everything okay?” 

“This… this is really bad, Honey. What is happening now. It cannot be happening. I apologize for any inappropriate actions I’ve made since we’ve met. I would offer to step down and let someone else take this roll but I spent weeks training on how to protect you, and I don’t think you’d be safe with anyone else. I hope that’s okay with you.” 

You stared at him in awe, a sick feeling overcoming your stomach. You shook your head for a moment, trying to think of the right words to respond with. He was right, this was stupid, and an extremely self destructive act. Besides, nothing had even really happened, and it was probably way better to shut things down now before it went any further. So much of you didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to not know what a life with him could be like. But you thought about your family, your life, and knew it wasn’t smart, or safe.

“You’re right, um, yeah. That's okay. I think it’s smart to keep you on, especially with the trip coming up.” 

He nodded in agreeal, pushing his food away in disgust. You wondered if he felt just as sick as you did, just as heartbroken and miserable as you were. You knew one thing, for sure. That he was just as lonely and disappointed in life as you were. He was living in the same boat you were, and maybe that’s why you connected so easily. Sharing a common pain, it was easy to feel drawn to him. But you had to draw the line, as terrible as it was. 

“Let’s go back home.”

The next few weeks went by uneventfully. There was nothing new to report on Hotch, or Aaron, as he now insisted you called him. There were no passing glances, no secret touches. You had both controlled yourself, and it was much easier than you thought. You were starting to wonder if the attraction was all circumstance, and there was nothing of real sustenance to your ‘relationship’. His touch still existed in your dreams, though. That was one place where you couldn’t control your thoughts. Every morning when you woke up, the thought of you in his dreams made you wonder. 

Today was the day you finally left your trip, and you were flying out to San Francisco now. You sat eagerly in the airport, a crowd of men surrounding you, Aaron sitting at your side. He would accompany you in first class, and the rest of your night guards would scatter around coach to keep an eye on anyone suspicious. You had your headphones in, trying to distract yourself from the upcoming flight. You were quite a nervous flyer, and you were feeling exceptionally overwhelmed today. You couldn’t wait to get seated and have a drink, something to calm your nerves. 

You were leaving pretty late, and would arrive pretty late as well. When you got in, you were all going straight to the hotel and preparing for your first presentation tomorrow. You boarded quickly, being one of the first allowed to get on the plane. Aaron held on to your carry on bags, and his, and followed you into the cabin. The rest of your guards stayed behind until it was their turn to board. Luckily, nobody had seemed to notice or recognize you on the flight, yet. You were hoping it would stay that way, as you were utterly exhausted and weren’t in the mood for small talk with a stranger today.

“You all buckled in?” Aaron asked as he placed your bags in the overhead storage bin. 

“Yep, all safe and secure officer,” you giggled, leaning your head back in the large seat.

“Sounds good,” he smiled, taking his seat next to you and buckling himself in. You sat and scrolled through your phone mindlessly as the rest of the plane boarded, watching your night guards pass you by and give Aaron a slight thumbs up when they passed each other. You faked your way through listening to the emergency instructions, pleasing Aaron as he urged you to pay attention. The plane finally started moving and you settled into your seat, your nails digging into your palms as you prepared for the ascent.

Going up was always terrifying, but what you weren’t expecting was the turbulence as you headed into the sky. There was a storm coming in, and the pilot mentioned it might be bumpy until you get high enough. The shakiness was torture, but an unexpected drop in altitude made you jump and latch onto Hotch’s hand in instinct. Your fingers were locked with his, squeezing tight as the plane leveled out and you caught your breath. 

“Sorry about that, folks,” the pilot spoke over the intercom, his voice light and cheery as if nothing just happened. “Should be clearing out of this storm in a minute or so. Keep buckled.” 

You looked over to him, your hand still clutched in his, your heart finally coming to a normal rhythm. He was staring down at your hands, the remembrance of your touch sending him somewhere he was desperately avoiding. 

“I’m… it was an accident, Aaron. I’m sorry,” you mumbled, trying to pull your hand from his, but his grip was locked around you. 

“Nervous flyer?” He joked.

“Yes. I hate it.” 

“I fly all the time,” he assured, your hand still in his. “You know you’re more likely to die in a car than a plane?” 

“I’m not so much nervous about dying as I am getting stranded on an island like Lost.” 

“Weren’t they all dead in the end, anyways?” 

“I never got that far, but that still doesn’t sound ideal. The whole point of death is to not have to deal with life anymore.” 

Your hands were still linked together, his thumb now tracing circles on the back of your hand. His leg moved closer to you until you were touching, the closest you two could possibly get while sitting in a plane. It was in that moment that you realized whatever you had been trying to avoid with him was no longer unavoidable. You had reached a new level of intimacy, a door was opened that could not be closed. 

“Aaron…” 

“I don’t like that. I like Hotch,” he teased, his eyes twinkling as they met the dim overhead lights of the plane. 

“Hotch… are you sure you want to keep touching me?” 

His eyes widened at your voice, and he instinctively ripped away his hand and pulled his leg from you. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather a thought. 

“Do you want a drink?” You asked, trying to change the subject. 

“I can’t, I’m working.” He turned forward and looked at the stared at the screen on the back of the seat. You decided not to say anymore, clearly realizing the moment had passed and there was nothing left to be said. 

A flight attendant came by shortly after and you finally got your well deserved drink. Hotch stayed silent, watching you sip the forbidden liquid and get slightly more calm with every sip. You had two more before finally falling asleep, the exhaustion of anxiety taking over. You woke up when you felt your ears pop as the plane began descending. You bolted up with alarm, Hotch watching you quietly. You couldn’t remember if he looked over at you after you woke up, or if he had been watching while you slept. 

“We’ll be landing soon.”

“Can I have some gum?” You motioned to your ears, cringing in pain. Hotch handed you a stick of mint gum from his bag, which you chewed happily as you watched your descent into the night. The lights from the city were beautiful, and you felt extremely happy to be back doing what you love, in one of your favorite cities. You had always wanted to move here, but your father would’ve had a heart attack if you weren’t within 20 minutes of him. 

The plane landed on the ground with a jolt, shaking you awake. You looked to Hotch, who was already turning his phone on to inform your family that you had landed safely. He spoke swiftly to your dad, assuring him that he would let him know when we arrived at the hotel. You watched his every move, the way his lips moved with such assurity at every word he spoke. He knew you, everything about you, truly. He was the one person in the world that was 100% dedicated to you. He would die for you. Holy shit. Maybe you had a bit too much to drink. 

“You ready to go?” 

“Uh, yeah, let’s.” You stood up quickly, without paying attention, and slammed your head right on the overhead. “Shit,” you groaned, holding on to your forehead in pain. 

“Oh man,” Hotch mumbled, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. He reached his hand to your forehead and ran his thumb over the bump. He moved his hand down to your cheek, and looked down into your eyes. 

“It’s a little red, but I think you’ll be okay,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours. 

“That’s good,” you mumbled, the tip of your nose brushing against his. You had placed your hand to his chest, playing with the buttons on the hem of his shirt. 

He pulled away from you suddenly, shaking his head and taking a breath. He opened up the overhead and pulled out the bags, not looking at you once again. You felt your legs shaking, your heart beating, and your center throbbing at the thought of his lips. It took all of your strength to not pull him back to you and kiss him. But you couldn’t, not here, anyway. 

You followed Hotch off the plane and stood at the gate for the rest of your men. Hotch didn’t say a word to you, only waited in authority for his men to meet him. He was their leader, they did everything he said. Watching him boss them around was kind of sexy, and you felt your body aching more and more for him. Finally the rest of your team came out and met up with you. 

“I want you guys to wait for Honey’s bags then meet us back at the hotel. There will be cars waiting. I want her out of here as fast as possible, so we’re leaving now. Are we clear?” He nodded at them in clarification, and they all nodded back in agreement. They began walking towards baggage claim, and you followed Hotch the opposite direction. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Secret exit, there’s a car waiting for us there.” He walked steadily at your side, weaving through crowds and shielding you from oncoming people. A few people glanced to your direction with curiosity, most likely thinking “I know that girl from somewhere.” But Hotch rushed you out too quickly for anyone to fully remember you. You passed behind a guarded door, Hotch flashing his badge to the guards as they nodded at him and opened doors. You were rushed down a flight of stairs and out a back door, into the California night air. And as Hotch said, a black SUV with a driver you didn’t recognize was waiting for you. 

“Who’s that?” 

“One of my old men,Derek, a good friend. It’s not safe for me to be driving here. We're in good hands with him, though.” 

Derek rolled down the window and greeted Hotch, a large smile of the man's face. “Nice to meet you, Miss. (Y/N). Welcome to my ride,” he laughed. Hotch opened the door for you and you stepped in the back, him following close behind. Derek started the car and began driving, flashing Hotch’s badge as you went through various gates to get back on the road. The partition was up in the car, blocking Derek’s eyes and ears from you and Hotch. You weren’t sure why he had it up, as most of your drivers usually leave it down until asked. Maybe he just assumed you would be having a confidential conversation or something, right? 

“Thanks for getting me out safe, Hotch,” you teased, placing your hand playfully on his shoulder. 

“Of course, Honey.” He turned towards you, his head tilted as he looked down to you. He rested his hand on your thigh, his thumb teasing your exposed flesh. You shivered at his touch, his hands cold against the warmth of your inner thigh. His fingers continued to trail up your flesh, toying with you as they moved slowly to where you craved him most. You moved your hips awkwardly, trying to get closer to him, trying to get him closer to you. 

He started to play with the hem of your underwear, his thumb grabbing onto the fabric and brushing against your flesh. His other fingers slowly began to touch you, moving rhythmically over your clit. You sighed in relief, finally getting the much needed pleasure. You wanted more, you would’ve straddled him right then and there. But he quickly took his hand away, leaving you defeated and unsatisfied. You turned to him with a frown, only to find a smug grin plastered on his face. 

“Later, Honey.” He whispered, his eyes locked on yours. You nodded, excitement overtaking you as you thought of what could happen next. You turned back forward and straightened yourself out, trying to catch your breath. 

The rest of the drive was torture, craving someone so close. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself together. Right as you were starting to convince yourself to just kiss him, you finally pulled up to the hotel. Derek parked in the entrance and got out of the car to open your door. He opened Hotch’s side, first, and shook his hand as he exited the car. You got out after him, declining for him to walk around and open your door, as well. Hotch had already grabbed the few bags you did have and was holding on to them tightly. You thanked Derek for driving you and assured him you would see him tomorrow. Hotch and him said their goodbyes, and then you followed him into the lobby of the hotel. You stayed behind as he checked you in, not trying to look too conspicuous. 

Hotch walked back over to you and flashed the room keys. “Let’s get to your room, get you settled.” 

You followed him to the elevator, which was an awkwardly silent ride. You rode up to the top floor, where the Presidential suite was, no doubt. Your father always insisted you had the nicest room in the place. It was a bit much, in your opinion, but it wasn’t worth arguing with him about things like that. The elevator finally came to a halt and opened its doors. Hotch left first and you followed him down the hall to one of the suites. 

“Alright, here you go,” he said, handing you your key and dropping your bags to the floor. 

“Uh, are you leaving me?” You questioned, your eyes wide with confusion. 

“Relax,” he chuckled. “I’m right across the hall. I’m just gonna change, I always feel so gross after a plane. Why don’t you get ready for bed and I’ll check on you in a few minutes?” 

“Alright,” you grumbled, disappointed that your night with Aaron was clearly ending here. 

You opened the door to your room and brought your bags in, Hotch waiting for your door to close until he went into his own room. You laid down with a huff on the bed, sulking into the covers in frustration. What a fucking tease, you thought. You shook your head in anger and jumped off the bed, willing yourself to relax a bit before tomorrow. 

You changed out of your clothes, stripping completely naked and throwing on your silk robe before you got in the shower. You started unpacking your toiletries, placing your obnoxiously expensive hair and skin care in the shower, ready for you to use at your convenience. You searched in frustration for your toothbrush, tossing things around your bags as you looked. You felt like you’d been searching for a half hour when a knock on the door through you from your search. 

You stood up uncomfortably, realizing you were almost naked. You looked around for clean clothes, but were worried if you didn’t answer the door immediately one of those big-head guards would knock the door down. You groaned loudly and ran to the door, hoping to god you weren’t too exposed. 

Hotch was standing in the doorway, a filthy grin on his face as you opened the door. You backed away from the door and he walked in, closing and locking the door behind him. He walked up to you, his body inches away from yours. He grabbed on to the sash of your robe, pulling at the end so that the loose knot would come undone. The front of the robe spilled open, exposing your nude front. Hotch brought his hands to your shoulders and grabbed onto the robe, pulling it completely off your body. 

He brought his hand up to your chest, slowly caressing your breast and toying with your nipple. He ripped his shirt over his head aggressively, and then wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled your face close to his and kissed you, a much needed kiss full of desperation. His tongue invaded your mouth forcefully, his body taking complete and total control of yours. His lips tasted like scotch, which he clearly drank pretty quickly in his room before coming over. Maybe he needed the courage, or maybe he needed to take the edge off. Either way, the taste made you crave a drink. 

You started to push away from the kiss, planning to run to the mini bar and grab a bunch of bottles for the two of you. Hotch just chuckled, grabbed onto your wrist and pushed you on the bed. 

“Hotch, I want a drink,” you giggled, trying to evade his grip. 

“Not now, Honey. Now you want me,” he ordered, biting his lip as he looked down at you. 

“Yes, sir,” you teased, blowing Hotch a kiss. He moved down lower and spread your legs, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes. He spit aggressively on your pussy, and then dragged his tongue across your entirety. He was lapping at your clit sloppily, your body jerking with pleasure as he shoved two fingers inside of you. He started to focus more with the tip of tongue, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm, arching as they went inside to hit your spot. 

“Fuck,” you squealed, arching your back as your body was overcome with pleasure. 

“Are you gonna cum, sweetheart? Are you gonna cum for me?” He growled, pouting his lips as he looked up at you. 

“Yes, keep doing that,” you stuttered. A satisfied smile came over his face, and he went back to eating you out. He focused on your clit, his tongue stimulating it in ways you’d never experienced before. Your body was almost shaking as you finally reached your climax, Hotch licking you up as you finished. You went limp, for a moment, trying to catch your breath from your high. 

“Turn around,” he instructed, slapping your thigh. 

“I need a sec,” you muttered.

“Now. Turn around, now.” His glare was intimidating, but you could still see a gleam of light in his eyes. The dominance was something you hadn’t experienced yet, but it was turning you on wildly. You nodded at him, getting on your knees and bending over. He slapped your ass with a force, making you yelp with an equal mix of pleasure and pain. You could hear him chuckle behind your back, already feeling your skin raising where he marked you. 

You heard him unbuckling his pants, and you’d realized you hadn’t seen his dick yet. You wanted to be surprised, though. You wanted to experience him for the first time inside of you. You felt him placing himself at your entrance, the tip of his dick playing with you. He started to slowly slide in, and you were uncomfortably shocked by his size and girth. You winced as he fit all of himself inside of you, feeling his length overtaking your whole body. He was by far the biggest you’d ever experienced, and you were taking a second to adjust. 

“Oh, poor Honey,” he chuckled. “Am I too much for you?” 

“No, I can handle it,” you replied in defiance. “Fuck me, Aaron. Fuck me.” 

He laughed again, taking your instruction to heart and pounding himself in and out of you, fast. It was too much at first, feeling like he was breaking you. He was so much bigger than you, he could literally overcome you. You felt his presence watching your ass as he fucked you, realizing now how hot it was that he was so big. 

“You have such a tight little pussy, I fucking love it,” he moaned, his nails digging into the flesh on your hips. His pumps were getting sloppier, each thrust you could feel his body getting more tense. He was twitching inside of you, and finally you felt his warm release fill you up. He stayed inside you a moment, both of you catching your breath. He pulled himself out and sat on the edge of the bed. You turned around and laid flat, staring breathlessly at the ceiling. 

You heard the sound of a phone, and you winced as the comfort of the silence was broken. Hotch stood up, his naked body glowing like a statue in the low light. You took in his body, examined it like a piece of art, remembered every bit. You never wanted to forget him. You didnt think you could. 

Hotch grabbed his phone and answered quickly. “What’s going on?... Alright…. Sounds good.” He ended the call and set the phone done on the desk. 

“Get dressed, make the bed,” he requested, rather harshly.

“Ugh, cmon Hotch, can I just have a second?” You groaned, flopping to your side in exhaustion. 

“Do I need to ask again? Get up, put your clothes on and make the bed. Now!” He barked. He was already searching the ground for his clothes, trying to put himself back together after unraveling with you. You got up and did as you were told, putting your robe back on and searching for pants. You made the bed to the best of the ability, although it wasn't really your strong suit. You shrugged, apologetic as Hotch gave you a disappointed look when he looked at your work. 

A knock on the door prevented Hotch from lecturing you on your cleaning skills. He ran to the door and opened it to reveal the rest of your guards. They dropped your bags off in the entryway and shared a few words with Hotch. He turned to you and started to talk. 

“First shift will start now. I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“Of course.” 

Hotch grabbed his phone and dialed a number, holding it to his ear. He waited a few seconds before the person on the other end answered. 

“It’s me. Honey is secure. I’ll check in in the morning.”

#aaron hotchner #hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotcner x reader #criminal minds

[alolowrites]

A Cry for Help

Summary: A hero finds a little girl crying and helps find her parents.

Author’s Note: I was hoping to post these drabbles on Father’s Day, but the idea slipped in my mind around 5pm and well...yeah. Guess I’m early for next year? (hahaha, but no seriously, maybe I am). 

Following heroes are Shouta (Eraserhead), Toshinori (All Might), and Taishiro (Fatgum) because they are just such wholesome dads. 

Please enjoy!

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Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead

The bubblegum music plays on an endless loop in the children’s clothing store. All the songs from the playlist mesh together as one. Not even the singers’ voices are distinct thanks to the heavy use of autotune; it drowns out the entire shop. Fortunately, Shouta has years of experience dealing with this kind of nuisance—he thanks Present Mic for that.

Shouta ignores the constant, not-so-subtle, stares from the other customers. Even some employees glance at him, their perky smiles fumbling when Shouta catches their eye. The hero knows he sticks out like a sore thumb; he dressed all drab and dreary like the weather outside.

Yet, Shouta does not care if they gawk, just as long as they don’t interfere in his personal space.

One hand glides the pastel-colored blouses along the rail. Shouta is shopping for new clothes for Eri, much to Present Mic's displeasure; he finds Shouta's fashion sense questionable ever since the cat sweater fiasco.

'A little overdramatic, much?' Shouta scoffs as he inspects a purple shirt with massive ruffles running along the sleeves. An adorable image of a kitten graces the front side and he adds the shirt in his basket.

The clothes rack on his right starts whimpering. Shouta raises an eyebrow and slides the sweaters away to see a little girl hiding inside; she seems to be around Eri’s age based on her small frame. Shouta frowns as he hears her cries.

“Hey,” the girl jumps at the gentle voice. An unfamiliar face hovers above her with a concerned expression. He kneels, but keeps a respectable distance, “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Why are you crying, little one?”

“I-I…don't…my…mommy,” she wails as fresh tears rush down her puffy cheeks, “I-I want-t mommy-y.”

“You lost your mom. I see why that makes you sad,” Shouta digs out a handkerchief and hands it over to the trembling girl. She grabs it and Shouta nods, “First, take some deep breaths…that’s it, good job. Now, my name is Shouta. What is your name?”

She wipes away her tears, “Asumi.”

“Well then, Asumi, I will help find your mother, okay?”

“Really?” A sense of hope shines through her eyes.

“I promise,” Shouta shifts his balance and extends a hand toward Asumi. Not a second later, she takes it and crawls out the dark clothes rack. Her legs wobble, and she asks if Shouta could carry her; he doesn’t hesitate and scoops Asumi in his arms, disregarding the shopping bag filled with clothes; he’ll come back for it later.

Shouta informs an employee about the situation and asks for directions to the mall security office. The entire walk is quiet with an occasional sniffle here and there. Asumi’s fingers toy with his signature wrap scarf to help ease her sad thoughts. However, one slips through and she whimpers, “Will my mommy find me?”

“I’ll make sure she will.”

They arrive at the office in ten minutes. Shouta speaks with an officer and offers to remain with Asumi until they locate her mother. An idea runs through his head once the hero spots a colorful bulletin with other children's drawings. Asumi observes the artwork and slowly opens up as she points out what she likes about them; Shouta adds his thoughts, but keeps his focus on Asumi’s answers—it works.

Shouta turns around when a frantic voice booms from the entrance. The little girl’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. He quickly puts her down, not doubting that the woman standing in front was her mother. Asumi screams, “Mommy!”

“Asumi, sweetheart!” She kneels and embraces the little girl with a bone-crushing hug. Mother and daughter reunite at last, much to Shouta’s relief. Once the mother stops attacking Asumi’s face with her kiss, she stares at the quiet hero and smiles, “Thank you for finding and keeping her safe, sir! Thank you, thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Shouta shoves his hands in his pockets and crouches to meet Asumi’s eye level, patting her head, “You’re a brave girl, Asumi. It was nice meeting you.”

Asumi rushes to give Shouta a bear hug, catching the hero off-guard for a second. He returns the gesture, a faint grin creeping above his scarf. Asumi grabs her mother’s hand again and happily skips away, but not before chirping, “Bye, Mr. Shouta!”

Those three words keep his heart warm for the entire day.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Toshinori Yagi/All Might

Toshinori overlooks the quiet sea at Takoba Municipal Beach Park. He enjoys coming here on his days off to get lost in his thoughts. The retired hero once again admires Midoriya’s remarkable efforts to clean the area—he’s come so far.  

The waves barely touch the grainy sand, and a seagull soars above in search of food. Other people from around the neighborhood stroll through the beach as well. Even so, the locals do not pester him, and Toshinori is grateful for this, inhaling the natural scent only Mother Earth could produce.

A little cry catches his attention. Toshinori whips around to see a little girl wandering down the beach and rubbing her eyes. He may not be All Might, but the heart of a hero still burns inside him. Toshinori cautiously approaches the girl and calls out, “What’s wrong, young one?”

She stops in her tracks and peeks at the tall man. Toshinori finally gets a good look at the child and notices how red her face is. The girl’s body shakes like a volcano as she bawls, “I-I can’t find my daddy-y!”

“Oh dear,” Toshinori frowns and crouches to the child’s eye level. He gives a comforting squeeze on her shoulder, which somewhat stops the crying. Her head bobbles as she breathes rapidly and snot oozes down her nostril. Toshinori fishes for some tissues in his pocket, “Here, my child. You must feel very scared, but everything is all right, because I am here.”

“C-can you help find my d d-daddy?”

“Of course,” Toshinori nods and asks, “What’s your name, little one?”

“Asumi.”

“And how old are you, Asumi?”

“Five,” she sniffs while showing Toshinori five fingers, “But I’m turning six soon.”

“You are? That sounds exciting!”

Asumi cocks her head once her sadness subsides, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Toshinori, but you can call me Toshi,” he answers, and Asumi relaxes at the sound of his gentle voice. As the former Symbol of Peace stands up, he extends his hand to Asumi, who instantly grabs it. Toshinori feels how dainty and fragile her hand is. His, on the other hand, is rough. Sometimes he forgets it's like that after years fighting off villains, including All For One. Asumi’s innocent eyes gaze up, and he smiles, “Let’s go find your father.”

Toshinori walks in the direction she came from; hopes to find her father if he retraces her steps. The blonde man makes small talk to keep Asumi occupied. Her mouth is like a running waterfall as she shares everything she likes to do: playing on the swings, making songs on her toy instruments, baking cookies at home—It’s a wide range. Toshinori listens to every word, including the time she found a worm and named it Wormy; Asumi wrinkles her nose, “Worms are so squishy.”

“Yes, they are,” he chuckles before feeling a slight tug, “What’s the matter?”

“I see my daddy!” Asumi hops like a bunny and points to a frantic man wearing a red scarf. Toshinori suggests to get closer since he wants to make sure this person is her father. Asumi nods, and the two head forward. Once a few feet away, Asumi squeals, “Daddy!”

“Pumpkin!” He collapses on the sandy beach and nearly stumbles backward when Asumi crashes into his chest. Toshinori feels his heart stir at the beautiful reunion. The father finally glances over Asumi’s shoulder and gasps, “All Might! It’s an honor to meet you, sir!”

“He helped me find you, daddy!” Asumi bounces on her tippy-toes.

Toshinori coughs into his fist, “I found her crying nearby and realized she was lost. There was no way I could leave such a poor girl all alone.”

Asumi’s father scoops the child in his arms and gives a slight bow, “Thank you, All Might, for bringing her back. She’s very adventurous and tends to wander away a lot.”

“Daddy, his name is Toshi!”

“All Might is my other name, young one.”

“I like Toshi more,” she says with no room for arguing. Her word is final.

The retired hero grins, “I like it, too.”

“Yay! Okay!” Asumi claps and waves, “Bye, Toshi!”

“Goodbye, Asumi!” Toshinori watches as the father and daughter pair walk away, the little girl rambling everything that happened to her. Once they disappear from his view, Toshinori realizes how quiet the beach is. Surprisingly, he misses his conversation with Asumi—they are wild and full of imagination.

He hopes they’ll cross paths once again.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum

If there is one thing Fatgum loves the most, it’s doing hero patrol during a food festival. His nose catches a whiff of yakitori grilled over a charcoal fire. Each skewer is seasoned to perfection and soaked with a healthy amount of tare sauce. Fatgum buys five sticks, but regrets not grabbing more after he inhales all of them in one go.

Luckily a fresh batch of takoyaki calls his name. He arrives at the booth and chitchats with two older men who cook up a storm. Each crispy ball flips faster than Fatgum could blink—a technique that never fails to impress him. The hero bids farewell once he receives his order, promising to visit again before the festival is over.

As Fatgum swims through the crowd with his delicious street snack, he overhears a faint cry on his left. The hero hastily swallows his takoyaki and steps toward the wooden boxes. Peering over, Fatgum raises his eyebrows when he spots a little girl cowering behind them. She notices a large shadow looming over and snaps her head up.  

Fatgum pouts at the sight of her tears, “Whoa there, what’s a lil gal like you hidin’ out here all alone? Ya’ hurt, buttercup?”

“I…lost…my…mommy-y…and dad-dy,” she hiccups in between each word, her loud sobs piercing Fatgum’s weak heart. A determined look briefly crosses his face before he hurries past the boxes to be near her. Out of nowhere, the girl feels a gentle pat on her head. She pulls away from her damp knees.

“It’s okay, buttercup,” Fatgum soothes the broken child, “I’m a hero, and I’ll help ya’ find your parents. Does that sound good to ya?”  

She meekly nods.

“Okay then,” he hums with a soft smile, “My name is Fatgum. What’s your name?”

“Asumi…”

“What a precious name!” Fatgum beckons for Asumi to come forward. She wipes the tears away on her forearm before crawling over and holds his warm hand. Stepping away from her hiding place, Asumi shrinks behind his leg when she realizes how crowded the street is. Fatgum glances down and asks, “Do ya’ want me to carry ya,’ buttercup? I promise to ya’ safe, ‘k?”

She nods before being scooped up in Fatgum’s arm. Asumi is like a frightened kitten who clings to the jolly hero for dear life. He doesn’t mind and gives her a comforting squeeze. An idea soon pops into his head as he shows Asumi the last takoyaki, “I want ya’ to have it. Food always makes me feel better when I’m sad.”

Asumi takes a tiny bite and beams—it’s delicious. As time passes by, she slowly comes out of her shell, which makes Fatgum happy; he keeps her entertained with fun games like “I Spy” all while trying to locate an officer. Asumi eagerly points to a food stall selling taiyaki, and Fatgum wastes no time buying her the sweet treat.  

After the quick pitstop, they continue their leisurely stroll through the festival until a guard post emerges from the tumultuous sea. Fatgum notices a police officer jotting down notes from a man consoling his wife. Maybe they’re Asumi’s parents, he thinks and is proven correct when Asumi yells, “Mommy! Daddy!”

“Asumi!” Both adults rush toward Fatgum, cutting their conversation short with the police officer. They weep tears of joy when their daughter squeals in her mother’s arms. Asumi’s father enthusiastically shakes the hero’s hand, “Oh, thank you, Fatgum! My wife and I will forever be grateful that you brought our little Asumi back, safe and sound.”

“Oh, no need to thank me! A hero has to keep everybody safe and happy,” Fatgum flashes a smile that is as bright as the sun, “Even the little ones!”

Both parents thank Fatgum once more before they take their leave. Asumi squirms in her mom’s grasp to stare over the woman’s shoulder. The little girl waves her half-eaten taiyaki in the air and shouts, “Bye, Mr. Fatgum!”

“Bye, Asumi!”

Such a precious cinnamon roll. 

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Thanks for reading!

#shouta aizawa #toshinori yagi #taishiro toyomitsu #eraserhead #all might #fatgum #dadzawa #dad might #bnha imagines #fat gum #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

[seoulnotes]

Love Is Not Over — knj

Inspired by lyrics from Love Is Not Over by BTS

Track 2 of The Playlist Series

S Y N O P S I S | Namjoon wants a divorce; he fell out of love. y/n has one request for her to sign the papers: Namjoon has to act like the husband he once was for the last month of their marriage before he stopped caring. Is 30 days long enough to save love?

P A I R I N G | Kim Namjoon, reader (y/n)

G E N R E |��angst (a lot), fluff (a bit) ; PG-13

W A R N I N G S | none

W O R D C O U N T | 4.5k

사랑이란 아프고 아픈 것

이별이란 아프고 더 아픈 것 같애

니가 없으면 나 안될 것 같아

사랑해줘 사랑해줘

다시 내 품으로 와줘

—

Love is so painful

Goodbyes are even more painful

I can’t go on if you’re not here

Love me, love me

Come back to my arms

You already knew what the bound papers Namjoon gripped were as he approached you at the kitchen counter before he had set them onto the countertop.

“What is this?” You feigned ignorance as if you hadn’t discovered the bound papers hiding in Namjoon’s dresser a week prior when you were doing the laundry. It wasn’t a good hiding place. Although, the words in bold at the top of the front page were mocking you far more now as Namjoon set the papers before you.

You were hurt having found them hiding, but now that they were glaring at you on the countertop you just cleaned, you couldn’t help the way your heart shriveled just a bit within your chest.

It was an inevitable end that was coming and it had finally arrived after months of apprehension.

For months, he slowly distanced from you, bit by bit. You felt him slipping away, losing hold on promises he bound himself to in front of both your families. He rarely even touched you anymore.

It started with the little things like your kisses or hugs. He didn’t return them the same at first and then he stopped altogether. Then he slowly spoke less to you. You thought it was because of stress or work, but you couldn’t have been farther from it. A normal stressed filled month never went this far.

He distanced himself so far away you couldn't pull him back even if you tried. And you did, so much. You wondered if there was someone else.

“How was today?” It took enough built up courage for you to speak with him as he walked through the doors. You tried to uphold a smile on your lips as an offering from you.

“Fine,” just one word without even taking a glance towards you to acknowledge your presence.

“Did you eat yet?” Another attempt.

“Yeah.” It made you look at the plates set on the counter with cling film around it. You made dinner for two, but only one person was home.

He continued to walk further down the hall and you trailed behind him with just a bit of courage left after the initial rejection. He laid down on his back.

You leaned against the doorframe. “Are you okay?” Perhaps it would be your last try at trying to talk to him.

“y/n, I'm really tired,” just four words and you knew he didn't want you there. It was probably the most he had spoken to you in a while.

With that, you turned to walk back. When you thought you had reached a far enough distance with a door in between, you crouched down as your vision became blurry. You were defeated; his rejection was enough to shut you out of your attempts to reconcile what was broken.

You let it out. All the built-up frustration came out in cries you attempted to muffle with your hand.

Maybe he had heard it, but either way, he didn't do anything about it.

When enough time passed and you felt more numb towards the matter, you emptied all the dishes on the counter and went to bed. Next to him.

You slept that night with a lovely dream. You dreamt that he would hold you close like he used to with his arms slung around your waist as he pressed tightly to you.

If you dream hard enough, you would be on cloud nine and would feel a slight warmth around you as if he was holding you.

But the next morning you woke up to his side empty.

“I want a divorce.” His words were laced with utter gentleness as if speaking to a child. He knew what he was asking of you. “Just look through the terms and change anything if you need to.”

“Why? Do you have someone else?” You felt pricking in your eyes and that familiar lump in your throat, but you forced yourself to speak.

“No, I don’t,” there was a firmness in his voice. He was telling the truth leading you to further question how things got this way.

“If you can’t tell me why, I can’t accept this.” The lump at the back of your throat became harder to swallow and it was near overpowering the stability of your voice.

“I-,” it seemed the words were hard for him to get out. They were stuck at his throat, unable to be formed by his tongue and he paused.

You knew what he was going to say before he even began the first syllable.

He didn’t love you anymore. You wished you knew what had gone sour.

“Please y/n, please do it for me?” His tone was begging.

This was the most you had spoken to each other in months and it was him asking for a divorce.

At the end of the day, human selfishness was stronger than human logic. Instead of allowing him a chance to escape your marriage which no longer brought him happiness, you turned your body and stood from the chair.

For so long you had wanted his attention, for you both to be in the same room. At this very moment, you wanted nothing but the opposite, to be alone and away from him.

As you turned your back to walk away, you said quietly, “I want to be alone, please.” You took the divorce papers and went down the hall to the guest bedroom.

With yourself locked away, you allowed your emotions to take over and the tears to fall.

What had you done for this to go so wrong?

He'd peek into the room when he came home once every day to check on you. You made sure to avoid him with times that aligned with his schedule. You left the room when he would be out for work and slipped back in around the time when he would arrive home.

The first couple of days were avoidance out of hurt. You cried and cried, but you did it quietly when he was home.

After the initial tide of emotions, you began to briefly look over the papers considering. Those days, you slowly began to abandon the avoiding. You did what you wanted to do and he didn’t bother you.

You caught him at times, eyes glancing towards you, probably noticing the dark circles that formed from nights of not sleeping or the redness of your eyes, and you swore his eyes hid worry as his hand went to the air to reach out to comfort you. He’d catch himself mid-air and then rush to slide his hands back into his pockets.

One day, he came back to see you out of bed and sitting at the counter. Laid out in front of you were the divorce papers and a black pen.

You slid the papers to his view. You had crossed out all of his terms. You crossed out all the terms that gave you anything he was giving you out of pity. The house, your car, you didn’t want any of it.

“I don’t want any of it.”

His eyes held confusion as they began to gloss over what you scribbled next to it. It wasn’t anything of value or you could trade for money after the divorce; it was more like a deal.

He can get what he wants and you can get closure.

Then it would be fair for both of you.

For one month, your last month before divorcing, you both will act like that last month was the first month of your marriage, when things were right. You will act as if there isn’t a divorce, just like how you used to be.

“Just one month. That’s all I want. At the end of 30 days, I’ll sign it.”

To be honest, he was looking at you as if you had grown three heads. “y/n, one month is not going to fix what is broken.”

You shook your head. It would be a dream if that could happen, but you knew reality better than that. “That isn’t what I want. I just want closure so I could remember the end as happy.”

Even if it wasn’t real, at least to pretend to love me for one last time.

That’s what you really wanted to say, but it sounded too pitiful coming from you who was basically asking him to play husband for one last time. At least for one month, you'd receive the love that was once lost; even if it wasn't real.

After a drawn-out moment of silence, Namjoon met your eyes. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“I have one more request. Every day, carry me to bed for this last month.”

It received another strange look, but he nodded. You honestly didn’t think he would have agreed and in some time, you would have signed the papers regardless.

That very day started the 30 days and you were beginning to think it was an extremely terrible idea.

Namjoon forced everything he did that day with you. It was as if you were both strangers, he didn’t know what to say to you when you ate dinner, leading the air to hang in thick silence and the worst came when he had to carry you to bed.

You were both sitting on the sofa. “Do you want me to stand? Would that be easier?”

To be honest, despite the divorce lingering in the air, the entire situation was quite humorous.

He shook his head and turned towards you. He bent down to slide an arm behind your knees and another arm behind your back.

“Hold on or I’m gonna drop you,” he half-joked with a quiet chuckle.

You obliged and looped your arms around his neck. “You’re out of practice,” you joked back.

Unfortunately, the words didn’t sit well and Namjoon answered back in a still tone. “I suppose I am.” With that, he moved towards the bedroom and gently placed you onto the bed.

He disappeared into the attached bathroom and reappeared moments later, dropping onto the bed beside you.

You supposed sleeping in the same bed every night was also a part of becoming a husband again. As much as you wanted to ask for more, asking for something like him sleeping with you in his arms would just be ridiculous.

When the one week mark rolled around, the routine wasn’t as awkward as the earlier days. This morning, Namjoon woke up before you and snuck out of the room.

When you woke up, you were surprised it was by his hand gently shaking you and the first thing you smelled was coffee.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” his lips curved into a smile and he offered the mug of coffee towards you.

“Coffee? For me?” You were still in your sleepy state, sitting up, and blinking a couple of times to adjust yourself to the situation.

“Coffee in bed, for the both of us,” he added and handed you the mug.

It was warm in your hands. You took a sip; you had not had his coffee in nearly half a year.

Namjoon walked around to his side and slipped in next to you leaning on the headboard. “I suppose it is fair that we have coffee in bed for these couple of weeks since we used to do it all the time.”

You knew what he was really trying to say behind those words.

Yes, you used to have coffee in bed every morning for as many mornings that would allow between both of your work schedules. The real meaning was when he used to wake you up every morning with a hot cup of coffee. He did that and he did it every morning, never missing one.

When you went on vacation or stayed away from home, he found a way to get instant coffee or bought coffee from any shops nearby to surprise you in the morning.

You nodded. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Yeah, I forgot how nice this used to be.”

He thought you were referring to the coffee. You shook your head. “Thank you for the coffee, but thank you for agreeing to do this. I know it’s kinda ridiculous and you might think I’m trying to make you love me again, but it’s not really my intention.” I don’t think that’ll happen anyway.

“I just wanted a nice conclusion you know? That we both said a proper goodbye and remembered the good things better, fresh in our mind, instead of the bad things.” You took another sip of coffee.

“If I’m being honest, I’m glad you chose to do this,” he mused.

While other people liked to spill feelings and nonsensical thoughts over wine or alcohol, you both liked your mornings with coffee in bed better. The comfort of warm sheets and a nice mug of coffee brought peacefulness to your minds. You didn’t mind sharing your thoughts with him and he didn’t mind sharing his thoughts with you.

Guess that was one thing that had never changed.

It was the weekend and that meant your days off. It also meant Namjoon’s days off if there wasn’t anything on his schedule.

Weekends you both had found were the hardest in all of the days of the week to spend with each other. During workdays, it would be a simple dinner, a couple of hours of watching T.V. or spare time, and then off to bed. You really only spent a couple of hours together for the weekdays.

For weekends, it meant the entire day that you had to spend with each other.

At least it was the middle of the month and you were set to do many tasks including laundry from the past week, cleaning the entire house, and shopping for the next two weeks of groceries and other things that you were out of.

“I’ve got some errands today. I mean, you could come with or just do something by yourself.” You swiped through shirts in your closet and chose one.

He was sitting in the bed behind you as you pulled on the shirt you’d wear out.

“Joon? Got an answer?” You began to button your shirt.

“I’ll come with,” he offered, though it took him a seriously long time to answer such a simple question.

No, he had been too distracted, watching you and you noticed realizing that it had been months since he had seen that much of you.

“It’s not something you hadn’t seen before,” you teased. “Or touched.” Which prompted his face to turn a shade of red.

“Groceries!” He attempted to diffuse his own humiliation with a laugh and darted towards the front door.

You realized the intimacy in your marriage had been missing for a long time. You missed the intimacy of Namjoon loving you and all of you. He made you feel confident in your own body when he used to remind you how much he loved every inch of you.

You shook your head and followed him to the door. Now was not the time to be bringing up things you might begin to long for when the divorce was still on the table.

All the while driving to the store, you had the urge to reach over and grab his hand, but you refrained.

Shopping with someone other than yourself proved to be another thing that had gone in your marriage. Groceries on the weekend used to be a two-person job.

It was nice to have someone push the cart behind you while you went searching through every aisle for the items on your list. It was amusing to see the spark in Namjoon’s eyes when you went into the snack aisle and him wanting to fill the rest of the cart with snacks.

“We can’t survive off snacks!” You began to laugh as he swiped numerous items from the shelves.

It felt normal today. It felt normal because this day wasn’t forced. Namjoon didn’t force himself to be your husband again; he naturally began to fill the role.

At the beginning of the 30 days, you almost signed the papers and escaped your own terms. The awkwardness that was yet to overcome was almost unbearable, but falling into this old routine became normal again.

You wanted a conclusion, to end this happy and full of good memories. Instead, you were a dog that was being led on, treat after treat, and you didn’t want this to end. You came to realize you missed all the things that used to be every day in your life. You came to realize that you wanted this so much that you made this ridiculous deal up so you could get it again.

30 days later, you felt the dread of 12 PM hitting the following day. What you had feared had happened: you didn’t want to let it go.

However, at 12 PM, you would take a pen and sign those lines on the divorce papers as promised. It was only fair for you to complete your end of the deal.

Thankfully, the one thing that could potentially have you unraveled completely didn’t occur.

Thankfully, Kim Namjoon had not kissed you.

“Ready for bed?” You attempted to muster a smile.

Namjoon had not shown any sign of dejection for the impending date. He only continued to work towards completing his part of the deal of being your husband again.

“Yeah,” his lips curved slightly as he approached you.

His arms were quick to slide behind you and your knees and pick you up from the ground.

“At least you’re not as bad as before when we started this,” you joked.

Namjoon released a chuckle, throwing his head back slightly. You joined him, releasing a small laugh yourself.

He hasn’t moved yet. After silence settled, he took steps towards the bedroom.

Each step felt like they were taking longer than before, but you weren’t sure if it was just in your head. You subconsciously let your arm fall onto his chest, wanting to be closer if it was even possible with him practically carrying you.

You breathed in a deep breath and noted to remember the way he smelled, a lingering scent of his cologne, the laundry detergent that you used to wash your clothes, and… peaches?

“Did you use my body wash?” You rose your head to look at him and realize that you stopped moving. Turning your head, you were met with your bed and you waited for Namjoon to place you down.

Except he didn’t budge.

“Aren’t you gonna put me down?” You asked with slight humor in your tone after he didn’t move for another minute. You placed a gentle hand onto his shoulder to grasp his attention.

“I don’t want to.” He spoke so quietly that the words were barely audible to you.

You felt a frown tug on your lips. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of responding or repeating himself, he shook his head as if to get rid of whatever was lingering in his mind. He gently placed you onto the bed, but when he was leaning down to remove his arms, he lingered for a second longer.

He wanted this closeness. He shifted his eyes to you and the confusion knitted on your features at his strange actions tonight.

He disregarded your confusion and allowed him to truly see you for the first time in a long time. As his eyes roamed your face, he remembered how beautiful the girl he fought for so hard was.

He remembered your eyes that were always bright like stars reminding him to be hopeful and find the best in anything. He remembered that he hated it when he saw tears in those beautiful eyes because they would dull with the tears washing out any ounce of happiness. He remembered that he was someone who made you cry like that.

His eyes flitted to your lips and remembered the feeling of kissing them. Most importantly, he remembered the way they moved when you spoke or curved into the most beautiful smiles that anyone who saw them might be charmed. He remembered he fell for that smile.

He remembered the curves of your face and how bare the side of your face looked right now because he was used to having his hands caress that exact spot. He wanted to do it right now and subconsciously, he did. His hand raised in the slowest motion and you didn’t stop him when they gently caressed your face.

You didn’t stop yourself from leaning into his touch even though you know you shouldn’t. He was just having a moment and you didn’t want to believe it was anything more than that.

This was a level of intimacy he had not felt in a while and he came to the conclusion that he was partially to blame. 30 days of trying even if it was pretending in the beginning, it made him feel again. Pretending brought back memories, actions like riding a bike, ones that you didn’t use in a while, but they were built in.

Along the way, he realized one of the faults was that he stopped trying. He stopped giving and kept taking. At the same time, it led him to lose the feelings that came with giving.

Taking gets too boring after a while.

He took advantage of the term marriage. He got too comfortable.

“Joon?”

He moved slightly as if you reeled him out of his thoughts once again. You wished you knew what he was thinking.

Instead, he leaned his head towards yours. You stayed frozen; he was not about to do what you least wanted.

He did; he did the one thing that would release you of any control you had over the situation.

His lips were on yours.

He didn’t hold back the emotions that he no longer kept a chain on and deepened the kiss.

It felt like poison yet if the kiss was poison, you wanted to get drunk on it. You lost control over yourself for a second, kissing back and having your hands grasping his hair and sliding down his neck and his back. The feeling that your fingers had longed for and the lips you longed to feel against your own.

Then the leash came back.

You pulled away quickly out of his hold. Shame caught a hold of you and you frowned. Honestly, you were angry. Angry that he would mess with you like that. “Don’t kiss me like that. No, don’t kiss me at all.”

He ducked his head as if just realizing how far his emotions took him. “I’m sorry.”

You wanted to ask him why he was doing this. You want to know if your own hope was fulfilled; you bit your lip to stop the questions from surfacing.

You didn’t want empty hope. It was better to let curiosity be.

Instead, you just slipped the covers over you and turned away from him.

You were already awake when Namjoon brought your coffee the next morning.

It was silent, but not like before. The silence had weight.

“You don’t want to sign it,” he spoke beside you.

“Do you want the truth or something to make you feel better?” You didn’t want to make it sound so harsh, but your words had a bite to them.

“I think the truth and what I want to hear to make me feel better would be the same,” he said, nothing but honesty in his tone.

You didn’t like that he was using riddles. They only made you feel hopeful he wanted the same as you, but he was too scared to admit it.

“What would that be?” You questioned. You wanted to hear him say it.

“That you don’t want to sign it. That after 30 days, you found that this was not a worthy conclusion. That this was not something that put your feelings to rest,” he said. “That you still feel something after this month.”

“You’re right. All of it.” But you couldn’t bring it in you to turn your head to show the truth in your eyes. You were leaving your feelings vulnerable and for all you knew, he could be playing a cruel joke.

“y/n, I don’t want the divorce.”

To hear him say it, you didn’t know why you felt anger rising within you. He was the want who wanted this. He was the one who put you through months of hell and self-doubt that you weren’t good enough and brought divorce onto the table.

The remaining love you nurtured the past month was like cold water splashing onto the fury you felt.

“You’re the one who wanted it in the first place,” bitter. Now you really couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“And it’s my fault. In 30 days I realized I still love you and I let that slip from me.” Namjoon knew that whatever he wanted to say, they would never be good in words, but he was willing to try.

You were conflicted because the work of trying to bring yourself to face the fact that you were going to divorce the one person in the world you would never, was being shattered by this decision he came to face.

You were prepared to give up some of your happiness and out of love, give him freedom and happiness. You didn’t want him trapped in this marriage even if you still loved him.

Now he wanted to stay.

But you wanted him to stay. After 30 days, you’ve come to remember the feeling of being loved again and giving love. You didn’t want to let that go.

You didn’t realize opposing thoughts ripping through your mind made your heart ache so. It was crumbling within your chest.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon’s voice was weak. He didn’t know if even he would forgive himself for having brought up something like divorce only to take it back. “I know I stopped trying and I know I put you through hell, but,” he paused because you reached under the blanket to grasp his hand.

He was asking for a second chance to start over and you were willing to give it.

“We can try,” you said. For the first time in this conversation, you brought your eyes to meet his with confirmation in them.

It was something that wasn’t nothing. Of course, you wanted to give it to him. You just had to tread on the thin sheet of trust you had for him now and hope it wouldn’t break below you as he slowly worked to bring that trust back again.

Namjoon knew he would have a lot of work to bring things back to what once was if it was even possible.

Subsequently, that afternoon, the divorce papers were shredded and you both began to try once again to fix your marriage. This time, both parties were aiming for the same goal.

a/n

i don’t know how to feel about this one guys, is it angsty enough lol? 

yours truly, Selene ♡

#bangtanarmynet #bangtanfairygarden #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts namjoon #bts rm #bts angst #namjoon scenarios #bts #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #bts x you #bts x reader #w: love is not over #w: the playlist series #writing

[radbutsafe]

ALL FUCKIN 35 OF THEM SKLNWESDJFPXO

I SHOULDVE EXPECTED THIS FROM YOU

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

A three! I think I’m mid range cause I ain’t terrible but there is still shit I gotta improve and grow in my writing

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

to manifest what canon won’t give me and to write more! (though yes it is mainly about the smooching and the— I’ll stop there LOL)

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

Hm! My weird research details? I’m that “fun fact, did you know...” in my fics sometimes LOL! I plan on giving a penthouse for erina in a fic and I went through penthouse listings in Japan for floor layouts and locations💀 my research gives me inspo and depth to stuff I think I lack in comparison to others sometimes.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

In terms of fellow fic writers, one of them I can’t name here but she’s an inspiration with her exceptional gift for prose period and her lovely skill at comedy! I want to be as funny as her when I write, I love her ironic situational humor. Other fic writers are @takoyakitenchou, @royaldragonsevgisi15 who I always love sharing ideas with and motivate me to create more! For non-fic writers it would be V.E. Schwab, Leigh Bardugo, Oda, and Horikoshi! The last two may be mangaka, however they are writers as well to create their stories! The depth these creators have given their worlds and interesting characters theyve given life to are all what I aspire to be like!

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

so far uh?? hm everything I’m currently writing are wips lol!! im proud of my wip that has been nicknamed ‘soma panics’ that is a multi-chapter fic that spans like probs 20 plus chapters maybe

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

dialogue! it’s so much fun! and character thoughts. I’ve said to people I may be better suited for script writing

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

I think it’s description, of like setting and showing action. also an expansion of my vocabulary LOL

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

erina! I think it’s because canon has shown us many of her different faces and range of emotion.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

SOMA!! chill ass mofo whos more carefree compared to the common shonen protagonist! for other shokugeki characters I’m not sure just yet because I haven’t flexed my fingers enough for the rest of them.

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

I guess I should say romance cause that’s what I mostly write LOL!

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

sorina and I try to get them to smooch eventually KEK and yeah it’s..usually romantic fluff lmao

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

HONESTLY ALL OF THEM but “soma panics” is my brain child

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

pretty sure it’s digimon....

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

currently shokugeki no soma!!!!

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

uhhhh I guess SNS? LMAO fandoms...all have their quirks to them.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

characters cuddling!!!! or getting the urge to smooch!!!!

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

unrequited love GOOD FUCKIN BYEEEEEE

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

I have plot ideas thst can be wild potentially but so far nothing fits this criteria so far that I actually have written.

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

depends on the fandom, but if written well, all of it!

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

shippy 100% like I said I like smoochin

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

romantic is...*drumroll* SORINA! platonic, soutaku and erina and alice!

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

Sometimes! There are times songs will be on loop and times I just shuffle a playlist. and if I’m writing in random bursts it’ll be with no music but it really does depend lmao I think music is when I’m forcing myself to write?

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

completely independent ideas, I’ve realized in the past prompts shoot me in the foot often unless I luckily figure something out. but I’m often driven by my own sporadic self interest with shitty ping ponging attention

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

multi-chap I guess cause I can post without being finished LOLLL but tbh can I really answer? I haven’t finished anything.....

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

I can’t answer this question imo because I haven’t finished a fic yet so technically stuff could all fit in the one fic?

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

MYSTERY AND CRIME! I love the genre and I have plot ideas once a blue moon but I can’t dive in because I want to make details that work and reduce plot holes where suspension of disbelief isn’t as needed. I need to study it more (I need to study all the details for any of my fics imo to be confident sometimes LOL)

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I don’t think I can say one comment was the nicest because I’ve gotten comments that have given me quite the smiles to my face many times! I know this is a cop out but it’s true!

IS WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY UNTIL REINA SENT ME THE FOLLOWING ON DISCORD LIKE TWENTY MINS AGO:

and also rad. i am never this vocal about my emotions like EVER but this needs to be said your fics are obviously far from perfect, as are mine and everyone else's. but the thing about your works is that they're so well-sanded that it's impossible to find any rough edges or faults in them in terms of cohesion to a plot. your cast is never OOC and the amount of effort you devote to developing your takes on the characters as accurately as possible is unimaginably awe-inspiring.

BITCH I WANNA CRY 😭

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

I’d like to believe I take it often well to try and improve because that’s always my goal. if someone is rude lol that’s not constructive snd is unhelpful. If I disagree with criticism I’ll explain why !

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Not yet, but I have some plot ideas I think will let me test this.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

F L U F F.

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

elliott fuji, a japanese-american award winning photographer who is erina’s boyfriend in ‘soma panics’ which..causes soma’s panic LOL he’s 30 with slightly wavy black hair. I still haven’t pinpointed his personality just yet...he kind of humble brags for sure an artsy fucker and flirts maybe I’ll make him a lil shy though. he teaches sometimes, and becomes an adjunct photography professor in Tokyo so he can be with erina.

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

a cook is unfashionably late in realizing his feelings.

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

I am a slow. so slow. motivation who is she? I also write out of order, unfortunately a bit too often.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

this should be for the fic ‘soma panics’ it’s either megumi or satoshi talkin to him rn, I’m leaning towards satoshi

“You thought she would always wait for you, didn’t you Soma-kun? To always welcome you home.”

Soma drags his palms down his face and groans. He doesn’t like this at all. He doesn’t shy from confrontation but this is a whole different ballgame. Soma doesn’t play any ball.

“I guess..?” Is his reply, because he thinks he isn’t sure how to answer that.

“You guess?”

Just being questioned again is enough to crack Soma’s pathetic facade as if it was dropped chinaware and he lets out the longest sigh.

“No.”

Coming home means coming home to Nakiri Erina too.

Nakiri Erina is his forever.

this is @takoyakitenchou’s excerpt she’s most proud of that I’ve written, which is also from you guessed it, the long fic soma panics

SOMA: I am, I mean I will be, I swear I will always come home to you, not spend as much time abroad, once I’m done with work I’ll come right back. I’ll make sure to message you. Nakiri, I’m in love you with you. Maybe for a really long time. You know how I say I dedicate my food to you? My dad—my dad said that the key to become a good chef is to find someone to dedicate your cooking to. A special someone. For my dad it was my mom, you know? For me it’s...

(this is a good piece of dialogue tbh so I am also proud of this)

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I’ve mentioned it throughout this but the WIP I’ve nicknamed ‘soma panics’ is something I’m super excited to write, but it’s going on slowly...and almost completely out of order. out of all of my writing it showed off that particular habit of mine, along with “what is this, a shoujo manga?!” though the latter is currently being written chronologically now that I’ve posted chapter one and is pretty solid in direction. it was originally supposed to be a one shot but I got impatient and wanted to post at least something for the sorina / soueri fandom.

however, because ‘soma panics’ (I won’t call it that LOL) is my baby I want to keep true to my rule of refusing to post it until I have a draft of the entire fic finished and I’m satisfied with the main points pretty much. due to my writing out of order, I’m worried I’ll change my mind about scenes or want to reflect things in earlier chapters for later ones etc etc

I joined the SnS fandom extremely late, as season five was airing. I was a fan of the manga five years ago and dropped it because I forgot to check for updates when I caught up 😔 I really want to bang out the different fics and aus for sorina that I have before the fandom fizzles out entirely but tbh I’m writing for myself, I’m manifesting what I want to see and I’ll just share it with all my friends to read if no one else will. cause I’m slow broski I dunno what writing fast even is like LMAO I do really want to write faster though, so I can contribute more and let the words free from the discord dms....

#ask meme #ask rad shit #writing #writing by rad #fanfic #reina girl u put me thru it I swear lol #thank u for sending!! #ur amazing!!!!