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photo1030 · 5 months

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Pls do a fic or smthing where readers old guy friend finds her and they reconnect and they’re both crying and Arthur is like who is this and reader is like he’s my closest friend from home I haven’t seen him in ages and Arthur is all jealous kinda

Hi, Kids!

So sorry for the wait. Life has been busy, but I've been plugging away on this one. Thank you so much for this "ask"! This was actually an idea that I had for my regular "Arthur x reader" fic, so I was happy to oblige. I wrote this to coincide with my reg fic and I decided to go more angsty than smutty for this one, so I hope that is OK for the Anon who asked.

**Special thanks to @readingcoco for beta-reading for me. Your help was priceless.

LEATHER AND LACE - SAY HELLO TO AN OLD FRIEND

Summary: Arthur is none too pleased when you run into an old friend from your previous life.

*This is not my image. This belongs to Rafa on Pintrest. Beautiful work there.

Masterlist

Tagging: @daisybvck

The banging of an anvil echoes heavily in your ears, the deafening ringing thumping in your brain. You and Arthur have wandered into the busy town of Cripple Creek to see the local farrier. You have spent the last day hunting and while coming down through the valley pass, your horse, Blue, had thrown a shoe. Never one to neglect your horse, you insisted Arthur take you into the closest town to get him some attention immediately.

Now, Arthur is a firm believer in taking proper care of one’s horse, as a man’s horse means his survival. But the way you fuss over this spoiled animal as if he were your child causes Arthur to just chuckle and shake his head at you.

Coming out of the farrier’s building, you shield the sun from your eyes as you look around at the townspeople. The area seems pleasant enough. It is a depot location for one of the railroad lines, so there is a lot of traffic. People are coming and going, always in a hurry to go somewhere or nowhere. But always in a hurry to get there all the same.

You passed several pungent livestock farms on the way here, but now you can inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh air being pulled into your lungs. A slight breeze kicks up, lifting the soft tendrils of hair that frame your face to sway gently in its wake.

Arthur looks over as he lights his cigarette, amused at how your eyes roll closed and your whole body relaxes in a rare moment of peace and quiet. He really should get you out of that camp more often. Maybe he’ll hold off a bit on returning home, and the two of you can spend some more time alone together.

You can feel the bulk of him leaning in closer to you as his gloved hand runs down your spine to land on the small of your back. “Well, what do ya think? Should we get a room for the night or just rut about in the woods like we usually do?”

Your lips pull into a smile at his suggestion, and when you open your eyes, you are met with Arthur’s twinkling suggestively at you. Your face immediately brightens as you turn your body into him, hands finding their way to his broad chest. Your fingertips play with the upturned collar of his faded black button-down shirt. Giggling with excitement at the idea, you push up onto your tiptoes, your nose flirtatiously inches from his. Arthur’s hands settle comfortably at your hips, his arms enfolding you.

“Y/N? Y/F&LN, is that you?”

A vaguely familiar voice distracts you from answering Arthur’s question, but you can’t quite place it. Turning your head in confusion, you search for the source, and suddenly, your eyes widen with recognition.

“Robert?” Your gaze lands on a tall, slender man making his way through the crowd towards you. He is well-dressed in a blue and gold brocade vest and has auburn hair neatly combed back. He’s sporting more facial hair than you remember, giving him a distinguished look. He’s a bit older now, but you’d recognize that wide, toothy smile anywhere. An unexpected shriek of excitement escapes your lips as your hands slip away from Arthur. “Robert!!”

Arthur stands there dumbfounded as he watches excitement overtake your whole body as you run into the waiting arms of this mystery man. Who in the hell is this person? And why did you just abandon Arthur to embrace him like that? You and this strange man hug each other tightly, laughing and smiling as if God himself had gifted you each other.

“I thought you were dead, Y/N!” the man exclaims, holding you at arm’s length so he can take a good look at you.

“I thought you went to Europe! I thought I’d never see you again!” you laugh incredulously. Shaking your head in wonder, you throw your arms around the man’s neck again.

Arthur stands quietly, eyebrows knitted together, lips pulled into a thin line. He doesn’t like this one bit. The only person he’s ever seen you this excited over is him. Arthur’s fingers tap impatiently along his belt where his hands sit idle, as he waits for you to finish this reunion. Eventually, he clears his throat to try to turn your attention back to him.

Finally remembering yourself, you turn towards Arthur. “Arthur, this is Robert, my best friend.” Arthur’s eye catches how your arm eagerly loops around the man’s elbow. “We knew each other as kids. We grew up together back east!” You continue to gush as you present your old friend to your current lover. “Robert, this is Arthur.” You motion to the mountain of a man standing to your right.

Robert’s face lights up as he boldly strides closer, extending his hand out to shake Arthur’s. “So nice to meet you, Arthur!” His voice chirps with bravado and swagger, instantly making Arthur’s skin crawl. When Arthur doesn’t reply with the same enthusiasm, Robert turns back to you, eyebrows raised with curiosity. “So, is this your…husband?”

A slight giggle comes from your lips at the suggestion. “No, we’re not married. But he is mine.” You smile proudly at Arthur, your hand reaching over and squeezing his. Arthur smiles down at you as his body drifts slightly closer to yours. His strong arm snakes around your waist until you rest protectively against him. When he sees you beaming at him, it sets him at ease a bit with this intruder and he tries to relax a little.

“Robert, is it? Well, Robert, looks like you and Y/N go way back, huh?” Arthur asks, trying not to come off as annoyed as he feels right now.

“Oh boy, do we. We used to get in all kinds of trouble together.” Robert waves his hand in emphasis, then reaches out to tap your arm. “Y/N, remember when we used to sneak out and stay up ‘til 3:00 in the morning?”

You cover your mouth in embarrassment. “God, if my father ever found out what we were up to, he’d have taken a belt to me for sure!” you roll your eyes.

Robert’s dark eyes fall upon you with a sweet and nostalgic look, one held with affection of a time long past. “Used to be you and me, spitting off the edge of the world, right?” He leans over to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from Arthur and into his side.

You smile affectionately back at your friend, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. You and me.”

‘You and me’ - The phrase sticks in Arthur’s brain, a phrase you should only be using in reference to him… not some other random fella. His lip curls into a slight sneer of contempt, however, you are too caught up in the camaraderie with your friend to notice.

“We need to catch up! Come on, let’s get a drink and a bite to eat. I want to know everything that’s been going on with you since we last saw each other,” insists Robert, tugging on the sleeve of your white cotton tunic.

“Oh, yes!” You turn towards Arthur. “Can we, Arthur? We have time, don’t we?”

Right now, Arthur wants nothing more than to get you away from this man, this town and everyone else in the world. But he can’t say no to that wishful look on your face. He doesn’t have the heart to crush your hope. That has always been Arthur’s weakness: he can never say no to you.

“Fine, I guess we got some time to spare,” Arthur reluctantly agrees, trying to hide the disdain that threatens to break through his patient facade. You clasp your hands together, giving a little hop of excitement.

The three of you turn to head down the side of the street, with you and Robert chit-chatting incessantly the whole time. As you stroll along, Robert explains how he has become a lawyer and is traveling to California to take care of some estate affairs for a prominent family. He is just stopping for a layover in Cripple Creek to catch a connecting train.

Instead of going to a saloon, you reach a little restaurant along the main strip in town and head inside. Robert orders a bottle of the best liquor the bar has to offer, and you all sit around a table as he proceeds to tell you of all the gossip from back home.

Robert is so animated and full of life and fun, not caring at all about the judgmental looks of others as he loudly tells you anecdote after anecdote. But he’s always been like this. For as long as you’ve known him Robert doesn’t care what anyone thinks and therefore is free to do as he pleases. This is something that you have always loved about him and why you were such good friends when you were younger. He was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy upper-class world. And to be honest, you always had a bit of a crush on him, too.

“So, David and Clare got married, you know,” he smirks. Of course, Robert is referring to your ex-fiance who you were betrothed to, who, as it turned out, was sleeping with your friend the whole time.

“I figured as much,” you reply dismissively.

“Huge obnoxious wedding, of course.” Robert waves his hand with a flourish.

You huff out an unimpressed chuckle. “I figured as much,” you repeat again.

“Wasn’t even six months, and the rumors were flying about his infidelity.” Robert laughs at the absurdity of it. You roll your eyes and take a large swig from your glass. “You dodged a bullet there, my friend.” Robert gives you a wink.

Arthur has to stifle a snicker at the irony of the man’s choice of language.

“Probably should’ve just married you myself,” smiles Robert. The statement makes you blush a bit under Robert’s affectionate gaze. But it is a statement that sets Arthur on edge.

Arthur patiently pretends to listen as you and Robert continue to laugh and joke about old friends and the social scene you left behind, the pair of you growing more and more chummy, until eventually, you find yourself resting a hand on Robert's forearm as you speak. Arthur clenches his fist tightly under the table, his eyes staring at your fingers and watching as they absentmindedly dance along Robert’s arm. It is not intended to be a flirtatious move, as it is a mannerism that you often do when you are excited about what you are talking about. But it is an action that Arthur resents all the same right now.

You try your best to involve Arthur in the conversation but to be frank, you are discussing people and places that he has no frame of reference for. The only thing that does pique his interest is the way Robert keeps referring to you. That certainly has Arthur's attention. But he has to be careful. He can see how happy you are and doesn't want his temper to burst your little bubble. However, if he had his way, he would be grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the closest hotel to make you forget your own name, let alone another man's.

Arthur hates that you have this “other language” and bond with someone who is not only outside the gang, but outside his class altogether. He’d forgotten where you came from and what you’d given up to be with the Van Der Linde gang and him along with it. And this conversation with this ghost of your past only confirms it. Arthur tries not to glare at Robert as he takes in the man’s fine clothing and clean hands that have probably never seen a day of labor in his life.

The whole thing is a harsh reminder that Arthur may not only be holding you back in life but actually pushing you down.

“So,” Robert finally turns his attention away from you, ”What do you do for a living, Art?” Robert asks innocently.

The very sound of Robert’s voice makes Arthur bristle. “The name…is Arthur,” he grits out. “And it’s none of your damn business what I do.” At this point, Arthur wants nothing more than to plant his massive fist in this pompous fool’s face.

You instantly pick up on Arthur’s annoyance. You can see his steel blue eyes set hard as his fist clenches around the glass in his hand. Arthur’s head tilts slightly to the side as he watches Robert, and you know from experience that he is measuring the man up. Robert is only being nice, ever the extravert, but he has no idea what sort of man is sitting across from him.

“Easy now, Arthur,” you chuckle nervously as you pat his burly forearm. “Robert is only asking out of curiosity.” Arthur shoots you a look that you can’t quite place. “Arthur does a little bit of everything,” you quickly answer Robert to avoid further awkwardness. “He’s done bounty work, loan collecting, things like that.”

“Interesting,” muses Robert.

“Well, I’d rather be an honest sinner than a lying hypocrite,” asserts Arthur as he levels his gaze across the table at Robert.

“I assume you work with horses quite a bit, too, then?” Robert pushes as his eyes roam up and down over Arthur.

“I do.”

“Figured as much. You seem pretty ‘rough and rugged’ like the cowboys we read about back in the city.” Arthur’s eyebrows knit as his mouth turns into a slight frown. “Oh, I don’t mean anything by it, friend! You look fantastic!” Robert insists. “In fact, I couldn’t be happier for Y/N. Looks like she’s got herself a real man. Those sniveling, uppity simpletons back home were never her type.”

“And I assume you are?” Arthur asks. This causes you to look at him questioningly.

“Me? Oh, no. We were never like that.” Robert waves the comment off, not reading the underlying meaning of Arthur’s question.

“He’s right. Being married to Robert would be like being married to a puppy,” you joke, trying to lighten the ominous mood that Robert is thankfully oblivious to.

“True. But, you have to admit, we would have made quite the pair, wouldn’t we?” Robert leans over and nudges you in the side with that wide smile of his again.

Arthur roughly grabs his glass of whiskey and throws it back, the bitter liquor hitting his throat, before he slams the glass down onto the table.

“What are you gettin’ at, there, Robert? Hmm? You think Y/N would be better off with you than me? Is that it?” The icy stare that Arthur throws at Robert is cold enough to frost the windows of the room. His chiseled jaw sets tightly, his body tense as if about to explode. Your stomach drops as you realize that Robert has indeed crossed a line with Arthur, whether he has intended to or not. And you find yourself at an impasse: do you stand by your man, or do you defend your oldest and dearest friend?

Finally, seeing that Arthur is not amused by his antics, Robert takes the hint and clears his throat nervously. “Well, it has been so wonderful to catch up with you, Y/N!” He stands up from the table and adjusts his vest, running his hand over his hair to make sure everything is still in its place. You and Arthur stand as well in anticipation of the farewell. You are reluctant to say goodbye to your friend, and Arthur is anxious to leave.

The three of you silently file out of the little restaurant together and onto the busy sidewalk.

“I truly hope we can do this again sometime soon, Y/N. Maybe if I swing through these parts again, I’ll reach out.” Robert says hopefully.

“I’d like that, Robert. Please do.” You affectionately place your hand on his arm. “I’ve missed you quite a bit since I’ve been out here.” You give each other a tight hug, one that lasts a bit longer than Arthur’s liking. But then again, Arthur doesn’t like anyone touching you for any reason.

“Arthur, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Robert smiles and sticks his arm out to shake Arthur’s hand again, which he reluctantly does. Arthur’s large hand dwarfs Robert’s as it clamps down extra hard. “Take good care of our girl, yes?”

“Sure,” Arthur deadpans. “Our girl.”

Robert gives you both an awkward smile and turns to head back down the street towards the train depot. Your eyes follow him as your chest feels heavy at having to say goodbye to a part of your past.

When you turn back to Arthur to thank him for his patience, you are met with his hard face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he snaps.

Sighing in exasperation, you cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t give me that.” You knew this argument was coming.

“Just that you seem awfully close with that Robert fella.” The contempt in Arthur’s voice is not lost on you.

“Well, yeah, he’s my best friend.”

Arthur’s jaw clenches just a bit more at your answer. “Uh-huh.”

Your head tilts slightly to the side, eyes narrowing as you study him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like I said, you two seem awfully close.” His voice drops low and slow, almost spitting out the words like a spoiled piece of meat.

“That’s because we are. He was the only true friend I had, Arthur.” You shuffle your weight from hip to hip, becoming increasingly uncomfortable under Arthur’s scrutiny. You suddenly feel like one of his marks.

“Uh-huh.” Arthur’s simple responses quickly escalates your annoyance as you watch him pull a cigarette out of his pocket, striking the match on the nearby building with enough force that the wooden stick almost snaps between his fingertips.

“Oh my God, are you jealous?” you ask, disturbed at the turn in the conversation.

“Nope.” Dipping his head down, his eyes are hidden by his dusty, worn hat as his fingers bring the cigarette back up to his lips.

“No?”

“Alright, maybe I am,” he suddenly spins on you, face turning crimson. “Maybe I don’t like how excited you get to see another man. Maybe I don’t like you all laughing and smiling at someone else.”

Your heart begins to pound in your ears, taken aback by his surge of anger. “Arthur-”

“Don’t!” he barks at you. “Just…don’t! I can’t compete with that, and you know it!” He points his finger accusingly at you.

“Arthur, I'm not asking you to compete with anyone! In fact, there’s a reason why I left all that behind.” You step towards him, arms raised to embrace him, but he blocks your hands with his own.

“Save it!” And he storms off, leaving you standing there on the sidewalk. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, leaving you queasy. A storm of guilt, frustration, and yes even anger, rages inside your chest. You wrap your arms around yourself as you try to make sense of what just happened.

“Damn it, Arthur,” you mutter.

—---------------------------------------------------

Rather than chase after him, you decide to leave Arthur be and give him time to cool off. There’s no talking to him when he gets like this, as it usually escalates into a fight if you push it. You feel awful for making him feel bad, as you are well aware of how self-conscious he is. But then again, what about your feelings? You have every right to visit with an old friend and a dear one at that. Yes, you know how it looks. You and Robert always did have a special bond that bordered on the flirtatious side. But you love Arthur. And he knows that. You love him with a depth that could swallow the stars. And you are getting tired of having to constantly prove that to him.

After an hour of wandering the local shops to stall for time, you decide to find Arthur, knowing exactly where you’ll find him. Your boot heels click along the worn floorboard of the porch outside of the saloon. You can hear the chatter and piano music coming from inside. You look through the window, eyes searching for your target. Between the small sea of dusty hats and hulking shoulders, you catch sight of that familiar form that you seek.

Walking into the building, your hands roll over each other, fingers intertwining, as you take a shaky breath when you approach Arthur at the bar. You glide onto the stool beside him, fidgeting slightly to get comfortable. He sits quietly, still brooding with a menacing vibe radiating off of him. You motion to the bartender, who walks over when he catches your eye. “What’ll it be, Miss?”

“A beer, please.”

“Comin’ right up”. It only takes a minute for him to grab a bottle and set it next to the coin you’ve already placed for him. His thick, ready fingers pick it up off the bar top with a pleasant nod of approval as he sets about his previous task.

You spin the bottle between your fingertips, looking at Arthur from the corner of your eye. “So, are we going to talk about this?”

He continues to sulk quietly, lifting a shot of whiskey to his lips and downing it in one. His jaw clenches at the sting of the cheap liquor, but he promptly pours another shot into the diminutive glass, the bottle half empty at this point.

“Alright, fine.” You take a swig of your beer.

“Where’s your ‘friend’?” Arthur grunts without even looking at you.

“Robert is about to get on a train.”

“Mmhmm”.

“Arthur-”

“Alright, look, I’m sorry,” he interupts, slicing his hand through the air as if to end the argument right here. “Please don’t make a big deal outta this.”

“What were you worried about? That I’d run off with Robert?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he blurts out bitterly.

“You can’t be serious?” Your face twists up in shock. He only answers you with a snort of derision. “Arthur, I was excited to see an old friend. That’s all,” you stress emphatically. “You have to remember, I am surrounded by your people, your family, all of the time. This is the first time I’ve seen someone from my previous life.” Your tone unwittingly begins to take on one of annoyance as you try to plead your case. But it is an argument that is falling on deaf and angry ears.

“I’m sorry, I thought the gang was ‘your people’, too,” he bites back. Arthur can be a reasonable man until he is provoked, and then reason doesn’t factor in at all.

“Well, they are,” you backpedal sheepishly at his harshness. Your gaze falters to land on the bottle in your hands before attempting to meet Arthur’s again. “But you know what I mean. You can’t be angry because I was happy to see someone from my life that, heaven forbid, didn’t involve the Van der Linde gang.”

Artur just pouts in silence. You are getting really irritated at this point, but trying to remain calm and not cause a scene.

“So you’d just let me run away with Robert rather than talk to me and ask me to stay with you? Is that it?” you huff.

“Couldn't help but notice how excited you were to hear about everything back home. Almost like you miss it. Pretty damn clear after your little visit today that you don’t even belong here. Maybe you should.” And another shot gets poured into the glass.

Damn it, and there it is. The thing that always seems to be present in your relationship: the idea that you still don’t belong, even after all this time and everything that you’ve done. Arthur still doesn’t see you as “one of them”. And it is a sting that doesn’t sit well with you at all.

Your eyes begin to well up as you try to fight the lump forming in your throat. ”I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Your lips tremble slightly with emotion, a mix of betrayal and anger swirling and bubbling up inside you like one of Pearson’s stews.

The very insinuation is hurtful to you. You have turned your life upside down for the gang and for him. And yet, it seems it will never be enough. It’s as if you are being punished for having a decent life before you were thrust into this new one. You didn’t fit into society back east, and it seems you still don’t fit here either.

“Stop with the theatrics. I ain’t in a mood for it.” Arthur slings back another shot of whiskey.

“You really are an ass sometimes, Arthur,” you stammer in disappointment.

He immediately slams his shot glass down on the bar, shattering it. The action startles you, your eyes shooting wide open. Arthur finally turns to face you now, his eyes burning into you so intensely that it causes you to cringe. You know damn well that you’re not perfect. But, it always made you feel special that Arthur seemed to think so. But the look he’s giving you right now is plain enough for you to know that he no longer believes it.

And the wounded expression on your face enrages Arthur even more. The sight of you cowering like a lamb to slaughter because of his anger is too much. He’s furious at the everything right now: you, Robert, this town, and more importantly, himself. He grabs the whiskey bottle on the counter and whips it at the wall, sending shards of glass flying into the thick smokey air to rain down onto the immediate vicinity.

With your breath shaking, you slowly stand and back away from him. For the first time ever…you are afraid of him.

The tumultuous noise alerts the bartender, who promptly yells at Arthur. “Hey, watch it! You gotta problem, you take it outside! Don’t be causing a ruckus around here!” He shoves his thick, meaty finger towards the doors.

“Mind your own goddamn business ‘fore I give you a problem!” Arthur shouts back, now standing as well, leveling his gaze at the bartender.

With Arthur distracted by the barkeep, you turn and push your way through the now-curious crowd and make a dash for the door.

Your feet clumsily carry you down the steps as you sprint into the street, eyes watering and hands trembling from anger.

“Hey! Hey! (Y/N)!” It doesn’t take long before you hear Arthur’s gravelly voice hollering down the street for you.

“Leave me alone, Arthur!” you shout over your shoulder, not even bothering to turn around. Tears of anger are dangerously close to flowing as you walk even faster, your arms pumping back and forth to propel you further down the road. But Arthur is quick to catch up to you with his long strides.

“Where you goin’?” You can hear him quickly stalking up behind you, his spurs jingling heavily in the dirt of the street.

“Doesn’t matter, right? I don’t belong here, remember?” You throw his words back into his face with such a biting tone. “Maybe I’ll see if there’s a seat next to Robert on the damn train!”

“Like hell you will!” Arthur yanks on your arm, his grip painful like a vice, spinning you around.

But before you can even think clearly, your hand flies as if of its own accord, and you hear the sharp smack land across his cheek, cracking in the air before you feel the sting against your delicate hand. Arthur’s head snaps to the side from the strike, his eyes twisted shut from the impact.

Gasping, your eyes shoot open in shock as your hands immediately cover your mouth. You stand there, silent and trembling. Your chest heaves with broken breathing and choked sobs as you take a few steps back from him. You hate him so much right now. Not because of what he’s said, although that is bad enough, but because he has pushed you to this point. You never, ever want to hurt him. Arthur is dearer to you than life itself. You had never imagined raising a hand or weapon to the man you so desperately love, and yet, he has pushed you, backed you into a corner, to do so.

“Oh…I’m sorry,” you utter, the sound barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.” Your eyes are glossy with unshed tears as your unwavering gaze never leaves his face, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. As you blink rapidly, a tear finally escapes your lower lash to cascade and roll over your hot cheek.

Arthur freezes before his gaze slowly turns back to you. But what he sees shocks him. The very sight of you in your heightened state almost breaks his heart in two. Shame coats his insides as he realizes his jealousy has gotten the best of him. And the pain and fear in your eyes is worse than any bullet to the gut, rocking him to his very core.

Arthur’s expression journeys from one of rage to shock to one of absolute remorse. He says nothing, which begins to terrify you even more. Arthur is known for his temper, even taking his frustrations out on you when needed. You pride yourself on the notion that Arthur may be difficult to handle but never for you. You have always been able to read him, to know his mind better than himself, which is why he relies on you so greatly. You set his world to right when it goes off-kilter. But now, you feel a great divide between you. You stare at him with no idea of what will happen next.

Arthur’s strong arms extend out towards you as a silent apology. But instead of falling into them, you shrink back from him. He halts immediately, turning his palms up in surrender. But slowly, he steps a bit closer to you. Arthur reaches out again, wrapping his hands carefully around your biceps. He can feel you tremble slightly under his fingertips.

Regret sits heavily upon his brow. You can see the self-reproach embedded into his eyes as he stares into yours, searching for forgiveness that he prays you’ll grant him.

Your eyes leave his face, a silent understanding settling between you as you focus on the buttons of his shirt, watching as his chest rises and falls with his calming breath.

With a deep sigh, he silently escorts you into the privacy of the immediate alley, gently pushing you back against the siding of the post office.

“You’re mine.” Arthur does not say this out of anger or possession. Nor has he faltered into a blubbering mess. He simply utters the statement as pure fact, no question.

“Am I?” you stammer. Your eyes lift to search his, looking for any doubt that may still linger.

“You sure as shit are.” Arthur’s voice is low but carries the loving undertone you always take refuge in as the slightest hint of a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“Really? Ten minutes ago, you were ready to let me walk out that door. Told me that I shouldn’t be here.”

Arthur pulls his lips inward at the dismay in your quaking voice. “I shouldn’t ‘ve said that. That was me being a goddamn idiot. But, it is true, ya know. You don’t belong in that gang, Y/N. I keep tellin' ya you’re too good for it. You deserve the finer things in life, things like Robert can give ya.”

Your shoulders fall with a painful sigh as your eyes gently drift shut again. You are so tired of having this same conversation over and over again.

“But,” he continues, “I do want you there. I want you with me. I need you, Y/N. We need you. It’s selfish, I know.” His chin bobs slightly in acknowledgement. “God forgive me, but we do.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Arthur. I want to belong somewhere. And to someone.” You look at Arthur with an almost desperate expression on your face. Your whole life, you’ve been floating like a leaf in the wind, bobbing about with no particular place to land. You thought you had finally found your place, your home, with the Van Der Linde gang, no matter how unlikely it seemed. And when Arthur threw it back in your face, it was like being pushed off a cliff to free-fall backwards with no one to catch you.

He lifts his rough hand to cup your face, his thumb ghosting over your cheek. “I won’t ever let you go, Y/N. Not ever. Not even if someone else comes along.” Your eyes begin to flutter again as the feeling of his skin on yours reassures you. You wrap your own hands around his wrist, holding his hand in place as you lean your face into his warm palm.

“Arthur, I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. The way you make me feel when I look at you is why I could never look at another.” Your eyes sparkle brightly in earnest, the last of your tears rimmed along your lashes.

He only hesitates a moment before he pulls you close to him. He secures you safely against him where you belong, your chest pressed up against his as powerful arms coil around you to lock you in. Arthur lowers his face to nudge your nose with his before planting his lips to kiss you slow and deep, taking your breath away.

When his lips separate from yours, Arthur briefly rests his forehead on yours before pulling back to look into your face once more. His eyes are intense and reflect a deeper shade of blue than you’ve ever seen. A wolfish grin begins to emerge under that peppered beard stubble as his finger tucks a rogue strand of hair behind your ear.

“Like I said, Y/N, you…are…mine.”

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic

379 notes · View notes

futureplayboibunnie · 1 year

Text

‘’TENSION’’

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

18+

- it’s been a hot hot minute but i’m back (still got exams rip) but i just couldn’t help myself, i’m far too obsessed with Hotch atm. my tortured serious detective heart can’t take it. i deliberately made this so fucking long cause i love the tension before the smutty smut. love u guys i’ll be back more consistently soon xx

The sky turned black and it felt like you lost yourself in the cool damp night, staring at nothing but a blaring white screen sitting at your desk praying for this unnerving blankness to end. Even when flying back and the case is successfully solved and profiled, the paperwork that you promised to Hotch earlier was calling to you and you didn't have the chance to call it a night like your fellow teammates. So you sat hollow-eyed at your desk, writing up the events of today. You did have a choice in the matter though- to smooth over the endless tension with Hotch, your boss. Every time you remember any sort of interaction with him, your eyes crease and your brows furrow involuntarily- it was as if there was a heavy feeling in your chest, not from sadness or insult but a tight frustration you couldn't seem to bury no matter how strong your intentions were.

It was only you here in the bullpen and only Hotch brooding in his office, your glassy eyes flicked every so often to see him through his blinds sitting at his desk. It was so late and your brain was turning to white noise and heavy thumps, your clear thinking was fleeing you every minute you sat at your desk. You pondered walking in and talking to him. Confronting him over the events that sent the frosty tension biting down your spine.

The group sat around, unfocused and loitering from desk to desk discussing anything other than the case at hand which wasn't a prudent choice considering you were the newest addition to the team and you couldn't afford to have a bad rap sheet, especially when your boss was the Aaron Hotchner who has a severe attitude and a nerve made of steel- so if you crossed him, he would make it apparent that your behavior would not be tolerated and if it repeats...the consequences far outweighed the risks. Even though you've been here for a year, the tension between you and Hotch hasn't eased, in fact, they froze over tenfold. But it didn't matter because you were just as bitter. You couldn't help it slip out sometimes, just because you were new it didn't mean that you were a people pleaser that was a doormat to anyone with $800 real Italian leather shoes, namely Hotch’

It was difficult to deny that he was…attractive. He moved in silence and it was deafening, he was cold and distant but your intrigue was impossible to quell- he was hot. And completely unlikeable.

And before you knew it, Hotch was right in front of you, with a discerning and severe look on his face that you couldn't seem to shake. All of a sudden, Prentiss and Reid had wandering eyes that looked around elsewhere as they walked away like children trying to hide. Shit.

‘’Agent, a word please.’’ He instructed in that soft yet firm voice of his, knowing that it wasn't friendly and it wasn't insulting- just so fucking polite. It was in this cool middle ground that was filled with grit and tender resentment- unconventionally paradoxical and entirely inconvenient. You shot Emily and Spencer a worried look and their eyes also mimicked your panic and uncertainty, giving a shrug back at you.

You stood proud, however, squaring your shoulders upright when you followed his lead back up to his office, your only view being the back of his tailored suit. Damn, his shoulders were…broad.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

A million self-referential questions flew through your head like a million comets in the sky.

Did you offend him?

Did you make a comment that messed up his view of you forever?

Does he think you can't do your job anymore?

Is he going to transfer you?

Replace you?

Like the polite asshole he was, Hotch left the door open for you and motioned you to take a seat before he was sitting behind his desk waiting to interrogate you and catch you out. You could handle this though, you weren't afraid of him. You sat cross-legged awaiting his charred words but he took a moment to study you.

Hotch wasn't a man that mixed business and his own personal opinion. Subjectivity was the downfall of many leaders of this team before him and he absolutely didn't want anything to change now. This was the sole reason he had been giving you a hard time through the guise of being mistrusting of the newest addition to his team...though it was easy to admit that he didn't trust you, he barely knew you- he glared at you through lifeless and surveying eyes.

‘’I wanted to inform you that your case reports for the previous case haven't been handed to me, the deadline for it was last night and I don't appreciate tardiness.’’ Hotch scolded you with a flatlined voice that was threatening if you listened to it right- you were a profiler, of course, you picked that up.

‘’I completely understand that sir, but I wanted my account to be more detailed and diligent.’’

‘’Why is that?’’ He was inspecting you further and you felt like you were under a microscope.

‘’Because I was the one that shot the unsub.’’ Your voice was heavy even though you knew this wasn't a good excuse. Reid and Morgan once used this excuse to delay the paperwork but it never worked, it only earned them a verbal tongue-lashing on how paperwork deadlines are important as it allows records and cases to be fully sealed, you couldn't move on without finishing them. You internally winced and your neck burned with regret at saying that. It wasn't like this was the first time you shot someone.

Hotch just stared at you, he should be down your throat about these things but he was finding it difficult to draw the line between being your boss and his own personal feelings he was beginning to harbor for you. This all started when you first started a year ago- when you first walked into his office he was taken aback by your hard-angled features and your tight lip, most people who join the BAU have a tendency to fall into two categories with Hotch: completely persistent and overbearing bootlickers that actually defy his orders or moody lone wolves that don't know how to work in a team. You didn't fit into either of those boxes. He couldn't help but align himself with you- as if you were like him. Although what surprised him was that you smiled and laughed in a way that he never did, when you finally were aware of the dynamics of the team, it teased out lightness and ease within you. He'd grown to be fond of your smile, he liked seeing it. Which was odd because when you were with him, your face went hard. Like you were challenging him and his authority.

‘’You're a very talented agent. And an incredibly smart and diligent profiler. You make a very good addition to this team for someone that I haven't worked with for very long but I can't work with people who don't place the same value on paperwork and fieldwork respectively. I'll give you leeway on this occasion but I need you to be good at paper trails as you are on the field.’’

You felt your mouth drop open slightly, like unloose hinges on a door that just got slammed. All the breath was knocked out of your lungs at his not-so-subtle compliment, your ears pricked with heat at the fact that you never heard anything this heartfelt come out of Hotch's mouth, especially regarding you.

‘’Thank you..I-‘’

‘’Please don't blush, the accolade is very much deserved.’’

Hotch was somehow keeping his cool which was a much-needed miracle from the universe. Even though the flush that stained your face somehow made it even more beautiful, he'd like to see that rose pink everywhere else...all over your body. You weren't challenging him now, you were like putty in his hands and it was incredibly jarring to see, but not unwelcome at all. He liked that the one small compliment affected you so, it didn't need to take a profiler to see it clear as day. It was apparent to see that your thoughts were affecting you physically, your thumb was incessantly rubbing the side of your pointer finger- your tell.

‘’I appreciate that Aaron-‘’

‘’-Sir.’’ He reinforced in a thick and heavy voice, correcting the term. You were always supposed to use 'sir' or 'Hotch', you'd never called him Aaron before and your lips curved slightly into a frown

Every time you were getting close to him, he cut you off and built up those walls again. It soured your mood and your brow furrowed again. You got up and leaned in slightly before standing upright.

‘’Sir.’’ You squared your shoulders and readjusted your posture before leaving.

‘’I'll get it finished by tonight.’’ You said huskily, annoyed and frustrated.

What was even odder is that your feet had a mind of their own, the silence was overwhelming you and it felt like you were about to smack your head against a brick wall when you stood outside of his office and knocked.

The tension was taking over you and you needed some form of clarity.

‘’Come in.’’ Hotch stated politely before looking up from his writing and letting go of his pen. You stood there, incredibly confident in your stance and he had to suppress raising an eyebrow.

‘’Y/N. What can I do for you?’’ His voice was low, heady and so damn sexy…almost suggestive.

Just looking at him made electricity shoot through your shoulder blades, his tie was slightly loosened, and his hair was a little more scuffed than usual. Hotch's gaze was scorching, to say the least, it was a complete 360 from the hard discerning eyes he gave you when you were in his office.

‘’Sir, I feel like my work is being compromised.’’ You said very matter-of-factly, arms crossed as you leaned against his door to prove that you mean business, that you were tired of this tap dance with death. Hotch paused to study your statement.

‘’How so?’’

'I'm having trouble handling this tension between you and me.’’ You breathed, finally finding the words that didn't completely reveal how badly you wanted him.

‘’Which kind of tension?’’

‘’You know which one, you're a profiler. Figure it out.’’ You snapped and Aaron was completely taken aback, this was absolutely the kind of attitude that he wouldn't put up with but on this occasion, you seemed desperate and he's never seen you like this before. It wasn't a wake-up call...it was a calling. Hotch just studied your purpose silently- you stood there so sure yet doe-eyed and needy for an answer you had doubts you were going to get from him. He wanted to be honest, so he was.

‘’The kind of tension that makes me want to bend you over my desk and fuck the attitude out of you?’’ Hotch asked you to clarify it for him, just to make you squirm a little more- and like clockwork, you did. He watched your chest swell as you breathed in and out, your eyes widened a little bit but you suppressed it in a second but they were dilating intensely, your brows raised, and your lips parted to let out a sharp breath. The telltale face for shock and arousal. ‘’I don't think you want me to come up with a suggestion on how to help you at all, you've got it all figured out for yourself.’’ Hotch saw right through you, your mind was buzzing with outlines of unfinished plans and outcomes of this entire situation. Right now you could only see one: him fucking you like an animal.

‘’You gonna profile me?’’ Your face was stern but your voice was sweet. Your eyes were begging for him to surprise you and leave you hanging for more.

‘’You want me to?’’ His tone. His voice. It was like pure sex.

‘’Mhm.’’

‘’Come here then.’’ Hotch bit the bullet, he was drunk on this, and he wasn't thinking clearly- but why did it feel like the solution to his problems was becoming clearer and clearer?

Your legs turned to jelly and your knees started buckling in a fit of electric tingles but by some pure miracle, your feet found their way over to Hotch, ending up in front of him behind his desk, eyes locked in a perpetual battle between the tampered down tension and the heady desire

‘’I figured you've outlined a profile of me in your head already.’’ You breathed in an attempt to open up his head for him but like always, he was never revealing his thoughts- he just stared down at you

‘’You pretend you're not nervous around me.’’ He remarked coolly. ‘’You put on a facade that is actually convincing, it's probably an attempt to remain professional but the tension is getting to you, and you hate not having control. What I find interesting though is that you put on this facade but you so shamelessly give me fuck-me eyes when no one else is looking.’’

You remained tight-lipped at his deduction but internally you were losing your mind. ‘’I think I've been pretty good.’’

‘’You are good. But you can't take it anymore.’’ Hotch reaffirmed but then spun it back around on its head.

‘’I can't?’’

‘’You can't. You want me but you don't want to compromise anything, but now the idea of me fucking you is becoming less and less insane.’’ His face was completely serious and your heart was beginning to hammer.

‘’You seem sure of yourself.’’ Who were you kidding? Hotch could see right through you, your confidence was wearing away. He just gave you a small knowing smirk, you liked it when he was flirty (which was the rarest thing on Earth) but then, suddenly, he flipped back to being professional.

‘’So Agent, is there anything else you came to me for?’’. He tilted his head to the side.

He was acting fucking professional- as if you weren't just a few feet away from each other and like the palpable attraction wasn't swinging through the air. You scoffed at his face.

It was late, your inhibitions were fleeing you with every scattered moment. There were so many blips of weakness you were attempting to reign in but you took a deep breath so you didn't crumble under his hard gaze.

‘'I'd like to request a transfer.’’ You blurted without thinking it through. Hotch thought that your face looked defeated.

‘’Transfer? Why?’’ Hotch's brows furrowed and creased at your ask, his lips thinned. He hated the idea of it, but his personal feelings aside, you were an incredible addition to the team- you were bright, insightful, and a necessity. He feels that it would be a big mistake on your part.

But, isn't this right in the long run? This...tension...between you may affect your work in the field. The more you think about it, the less avoidable it becomes.

‘’Or would you prefer a resignation?’’ You joked, your pearly whites peeking through in the light of his office and he thought you looked beautiful under it- though he was slightly irked by your callousness

"Don't give me that.’’ He said curtly and it made your eyes narrow into his; his gaze darkened intensely, and those heady pools of brown were something you could drown in endlessly. You wouldn't mind at all.

‘’Well, I think I've already covered why I want to.’’

Hotch stood silent for a moment.

‘’Come home with me.’’

You hid your shocked face well but your pulse was thundering underneath your increasingly heated skin, you swallowed sharply and your eyes widened a little but still enough for Hotch to catch onto it. Those simple words he uttered made slick form between your thighs already, you couldn't even begin to imagine the physical things he could do to your body to make you feel good.

"Hotch...I-‘’ You breathed, you bit your lip to conceal your bashful expression but the blush and the light dancing in your eyes gave you away. You let out a sharp exhale in a fruitless attempt to attain some sense of dignity but when your gaze met his, you knew he was being perfectly serious and it made you gulp again.

His eyes were eager and you couldn't deny him any longer, even though the idea of him fucking you on his own desk in his own office was something out of a wet dream- you'd settle for some wine at his place. Maybe he could take it as a body shot, the idea made your legs tremble.

The next thing you knew is that his thumb and index finger were hooked under your chin so you could meet the intense stare that you would simply crack under.

‘’Please, baby.’’ Hotch whispered the pet name.

Fuck. That was enough to do you in, enough to make you give into any demand he asked of you. You were actually considering getting on your knees, right here, right now

‘’Okay.’’ Since you agreed, your nervousness seemed to dissipate.

Excited didn't even begin to cover it.

During the car ride back to his place, Hotch had to suppress the urge to let his hands glide over your thighs and clamp onto them. You were wearing a skirt. He could've just easily touched your skin, and let his fingers dance around your panties before slipping them in to see just how wet you really were. But he tampered down the pulsating urge, he kept stealing glances at you. You looked confident now, the woman he's grown to know and work with was here to stay- he'd get that changing in no time. He'd make this whole facade of being a tease shatter beneath your feet, the idea made him smirk and it temporarily occupied his mind while driving. Your air was simply intoxicating to Aaron and it was making him lose his focus on the road.

Neither of you spoke on the way there, and when you both arrived he offered you his hand. Your jaw wanted to fall straight to your feet, fucking Aaron Hothchner, your boss, was offering you his hand for you to hold.

Your tongue glazed over your lips as he lead you to his apartment, mouth salivating with every step. Hotch hadn't felt this strongly about anyone in so long, the tension between you two was just brewing and bubbling and now neither of you had the means to stop it- it was all just waiting to burst into an eruption of passion.

You were both experts in behavior. You both wanted each other, it was clear as fucking day. But you were both stubborn and unmoving. Unrelenting. Perfect.

Hotch opened his door and the ambient lights encompassed the entirety of the apartment, it was nicely furnished and it was apparent that he was a clean freak. It translated from work to home. Hm. Note taken. He closed the door and you both flung your bags into a dark corner, you didn't know what to say or do so you just flirted with him tirelessly.

‘’Wine?’’ Hotch offered, his face brightening just a little. He watched intently as you breathed and leaned in on his kitchen counter, discarding your jacket

"Hm. I drink red.’’ You lied.

‘’No, you don't.’’ His voice was low and gritty but it was evened out with a knowing smirk.

‘’Perceptive.’’ You stated impassively, not trying to indicate that you were affected by the fact he noticed your habits as if it wasn't his job to do so. Hotch poured out white wine for you and fixed himself a bourbon.

You watched and surveyed him with a certain and unmissable fixation. He shrugged off his blazer and started loosening up his tie and undid the first button but he didn't fully take it off. Lord. He was fit as fuck, his broad shoulders...his arms...his fucking hands. You felt so safe with him, it's not like you needed his protection but while you were in his presence, you felt secure and looked out for. The thought made you bite your lip.

Hotch sauntered back over to you with an aura of confidence, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. He stood leaning opposite you after he handed you your glass. The ambient light made his hard features even more chiseled, it was almost romantic.

‘’So, did you want me here to ply me with alcohol just to make me change my mind?’’ You flirted as you took a scarce sip.

‘’No, just wanted you to be mine for a night.’’ He said honestly and it made your thighs clamp together but your expression was still that of smugness

‘’Hm. Since we're being honest now…’’ You started brusquely. ‘’I think I've wanted you to fuck me since I first walked into your office.’’

Hotch raised a discerning brow at you due to such a brash statement, it was unexpected by not surprising. ‘’Well, each of my thoughts about you…have been improper.’’ He said truthfully, his lips curling slightly.

You always seemed to have a knack for disarming him and he'd be a bold-faced liar if he said he didn't enjoy it. But his mind was wandering.

He was distracted with the last case the team took, he was concerned with the idea of you at the center of it- obviously. You partook in the role of pretending to act like the unsub's preferred victim, using the good old tactic of flirtation during the interrogation in which Hotch stood outside looking in through the glass. You hated appealing to this sadistic prick's preferences but you really didn't have a choice, you could practically feel Hotch's glare intensify even when you couldn't see him. He stood outside with Rossi watching in on the interrogation you were conducting.

‘’I don't like her being in the same room as him.’’ Hotch stated tight-lipped and impassive as always.

Rossi just turned his head and regarded him with a knowing look on his face, he scoffed at Aaron.

‘’What?’’ Hotch questioned, his brows furrowing as always

‘'You've been distracted recently, now I know why.’’

Hotch contemplated you in your presence, you were feeling playful and flirty whereas he was focused and hypervigilant. He couldn't help but be...worried about you. Even though the unsub fit the profile indefinitely, the team had no physical proof that warranted his arrest so you had to let him go. You had to stay later than everyone else to fill out the interrogation report at the P.D. After you were finished, you took your SUV and went back to the hotel you were staying at and parked your car. Although you were aware and diligent, you didn't expect to be blitzed from behind as you got out of the car. It was the same guy you took into custody- but thank God you got out of his aggressive hold and shot him in the kneecaps. You were bound to be shaken up and Hotch just wanted to make sure that you were doing okay. He was yanked out of his thoughts and tethered back to reality as your hand shot up to loosen up his tie, just to be closer to him, to feel his air.

‘'Hm- I always liked these-.’m You mumbled playfully, your face inching closer to his. But suddenly, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you even closer to him, his callous apathetic hand gripping your skin. You couldn't help but let out a sigh, your breath sweet like honey on the vine.

You felt exposed when he stared deeply into your alluring eyes, they provoked such a visceral reaction from him, it was making him feel helpless but he was a master of not showing it.

‘’What is it, Hotch?’’ Your free hand went to his should to assert a hold on him, like he you.

‘'The suspect that tried to attack you...I should've stayed and left with you.’’ His voice was confined with regret and a fit of bubbling anger, and his eyes darted away as if he was too ashamed to look at you considering what he could've prevented. His grip on your wrist loosened as you softly grabbed his face to look at you again. ‘’I don't know why I-‘’

‘’Hey, hey. Look at me...’’You breathed. ‘’I appreciate the chivalry of you being worried about me...but I feel safe with you. And I've spent a lot of time wanting you from a distance and I can deal with that during the day...but at night- I can't help but need you.’’

Although you didn't want to admit it, he was right to be worried. With this job danger was a welcome guest, lives are lost and wills are constantly battled and challenged but within that, the danger makes you realize how precious life is, how waiting does more harm than good, and how trusting your gut is key. The danger makes everyone on the team aggressive, especially you and Hotch. You've lost count of how many rows you've gotten into between each other because of this, within that there have been far too many moments where you've been this close to kissing the lips off of him in an argument. He's hot either way but that attitude is something else- and you reveled in it. Hotch examined your tantalizing face that was etched with a certain sincerity he hadn't seen in a long time, he hadn't felt this sort of desire in lightyears. It was a spark he was sure he was missing before you came into his life.

‘’Aaron. Call me Aaron.’’

It's like his eyes were talking, but you didn't know what they were saying.

‘’I'm special now?’’ You mumbled with a determined passivity. His glower was hard and you could practically hear his brain buzzing.

‘’I'm not a toy.’’ He enunciated in that enticing low and heavy tone of his, you were afraid you were going to lose your inhibitions already, he let go of your wrist and gripped your cheeks, jutting your face upwards. ‘’Stop playing with me as if I am.’’

You didn't let him finish his delicious threat, you captured your lips with his in a searing kiss, one that didn't even make you feel guilty for breaking procedure. You were playing God with Hotch and he knew it perfectly well but he had no objections, he'll be so careless to say he'll deal with the repercussions in the morning. He knew after this one taste of you, he had to have you for the night, even if it was just for one singular, holy night. His massive hands flew into your hair, raking through thick strands as your mouth seeks to find his - you tasted like a fiery embrace in the dead of night. Sweet like sandy beaches with that strong sting of a lemon being dripped onto a blood wound. Hotch, in all his serious purpose, reminded you of a stiff drink in general. He tasted like heady bourbon too.

Hotch started getting impatient now, he intertwined his fingers with your as and dragged you to his room. It was like a hot flash and then you were suddenly there, too possessed by your need for him to profile his fucking room. You were too flustered by a dire lust. He unexpectedly, stilled you both by his bed and grabbed you by the jaw, and jutted it upwards, his grip was ironlike.

‘’Take off your clothes.’’Hotch's tone was much different than his actions, it was polite yet dark, calm yet brutal. He was a walking paradox, and you wouldn't mind spending the rest of your days trying to figure him out. His eyes were scorching and burning into yours

‘'I was hoping you would do it.'’ You whispered against his lips, his nails biting into your skin a little more.

He took your tease as a challenge. Aaron's hands meandered slowly to your tight button-down, slowly undoing each button and staring you in the eyes exactly until you peeled it off.

His callous hands reached behind you to tug down the zipper of your skirt and you had to tamper down the urge to just blitz him right but no, you knew he wanted to take his time with this. Drag it out. Make you needy. Make you weak. You just watched him.

‘’You're all I can think about.’’ He whispered against your lips, the admission of honesty was making your heart pound in your chest.

Your hands were definitely not idle in the slightest, they were itching to get his clothes off- you made quick work of shrugging off his blazer and quickly loosened up his tie and got it off of him, but he caught onto the fabric.

‘’No, no. I wanna keep it for later.’’ Hotch mumbled playfully and it was the kind of sound that made your ears prick up.

You didn't speak, you just smirked as you pressed your lips to his again and sunk your teeth into his bottom lip. Hotch didn't let a single moment pass before he gripped you by the waist and flung you onto the bed.

Your mind was racing and dulling to a blur, you were left in only your underwear and bra- thank God you wore a pretty set today, you had no idea what a day this would pan out to be. You. In your boss's bed. Waiting desperately to be fucked by him, you didn't know how it got to this but it did. You weren't complaining but you did have to wonder how any of this came to be, it was straight out of a dream. Too absolved in your own thoughts, you were yanked out of your thoughts when you felt his hands on your skin. He was shirtless And damn him, he had been hiding such a figure for the entirety of this...thing...you had with him. Hotch's palms outlined the frame of your body and your breath was immediately knocked out of you when he nestled between your thighs. Your hands flew to tug on his hair.

‘’You're not playing fair.’’ You moaned drunkenly, his mouth planting chaste kisses on your collarbone- you just wanted him to get you naked underneath him but he was too busy making you squirm.

‘’I never have.’’ he replied cooly. ‘’Shh. Stay still.’’ He taunted huskily, you could practically hear him smile into your skin.

‘’No.’’ You shot back almost immediately, your legs had a mind of their own.

You mustered up the strength, rolled over, and now you were on top instead. Your mouth latched onto his neck and you began suckling and kissing down, you melted at the sound of him breathless. Fuck, that sound was like heaven. Who knew Hotch had the ability to get like this? His eyes flitted shut as he savored your touch, your feel. His hands went to grip your sides and his palms felt at the skin of your hips.

‘’I like you better beneath me, Hotch.’’ You said all honeyed as you bit his earlobe. He really couldn't take your teasing anymore.

His temper began to bubble and he quickly got out of your hold and flipped you so he was on top of you again, his preferred place to stay.

‘’I said call me Aaron, sweetheart. Don't get dumb on me now, we both know you're not.’’

‘’Now you're the one that's acting as if I'm a toy, Aaron.’’ You bit back. ‘’Can't you feel how much I need you?’’ lYou were practicallywhining at him but you knew he didn't care. Hotch pulled his face back from your neck to stare into those lust-clouded eyes.

‘’Then beg for me.’’ He demanded

‘’Get me naked first.’’ You flirted. His face turned hard and his brows furrowed again and he gripped your wrists again and pinned them down on the bed. Your body was heating up and begging to be touched by him again, you felt far too clothed.

Hotch let go and ducked down between the sweet valley of your thighs to shimmy off your underwear, your scent was divine, and he couldn't wait until he had the chance to taste you but right now you were agonizing over him barely touching you- you were possessed with the need of feeling him inside you. Your underwear and bra were now just a mere pile of scraps on his bedroom floor. You reached for his belt and unbuckled it but before you could go any further he grabbed your arm again

‘’No, no. None of that.’’ He reassured with a soft voice.

‘’Beg for me.’’

Hotch trailed his lips down your jaw to stun you into obliging his commands. To his pleasure. it was working like a dream. His kisses were brutal and vour desperation was radiating off of you, the battle of wills was palpable.

"Aaron...’’

‘’I said beg.’’ He warned, the eye contact between you manifesting into a wild and untameable tension that neither of you was willing to bridle.

‘’I want you to take me, don't be gentle...please...just tell me how you want me and make me yours. I've been begging for you all this time, don't make me repeat and parrot back the thoughts I've had for you.’’ You whimpered, goosebumps trailing your skin as his fingertips traced down your stomach and to the place where you needed his attention.

It felt as though Hotch's world had just stopped spinning like it had been tipped off its axis. Your breath was sweet and your eyes were wide and guileless, sparkling with need and lust that only he could satiate. He watched you stiff-eyed and earnestly as his fingers slipped into your heat, teasingly at first but then curling upwards, your moan was unconcealable and broken up.

‘’You'll be my undoing, you know that?’’ He groaned before biting your lip, you whimpered into his mouth. His fingers were feeling at you with an expertise you had never experienced before, they were literally working magic. It was rough and soft at the same time-just like him. They were moving rhythmically, tenderly and then his thumb began sending sparks through your body when he toyed with your clit

‘’Oh God...’’ You couldn't bite back your moans.

‘'Don't scream his name, scream mine. It sounds better, don't you think?’’ He knew you couldn't answer him coherently but you proved him wrong when you grabbed at his belt buckle.

‘’In me...please.’’ It was like you were drunk on him.

Hotch could withstand anything you had on a normal day during work I hours but when he got you begging like this, he just loved your whines but he felt bad for dragging it out- it looked like you were on the verge of crying, tears of pleasure were pricking in your eyes. He had to give into such a polite demand. You didn't even have the time to look down but you felt him, pulsating and huge. He pushed inside of you with no prior warning.

‘’Aaron...I can't take it.’’ You grunted, eyes unable to stray away from his as your nails dug into his broad shoulders.

"Yes, you can. You'll take it.’’

You quite literally had to accommodate to his massive size, he was fucking massive- not that you had any doubts, but the thought has crossed your mind on many occasions and you hated it. Now you were taking it from him.

‘’How do you feel now?’’ He questioned, the back of your head was dug into the pillow, your chin jutted up.

‘’What?’’ You sounded frazzled and it made him want to laugh.

‘’The tension...between us...’’ He panted, his thrusts pumping into you, your bodies colliding violently.

‘’We're not on your desk, are we?’’

Hotch didn't respond, he just sunk his teeth into your jaw and it made you cry out. Your nails were digging into his skin and he was completely absorbed into this outlet, he definitely didn't mind this happening over and over again. Your moans became louder and louder, you couldn't help yourself, he was eliciting all of these reactions out of you. He never pulled his punches and this isn't an exception- he was just so damn skilled, it was all so intricate, like he knew exactly what buttons to push to make you go fucking insane. He was quite the profiler indeed, the thought made you smirk.

‘’I don't know if I can keep going.’’ You whined, brows tenseing enough to make your head pulsate. ‘’Fuck….’’

‘’It's okay...just stay with me. You can do that for me, can't you?’’ He cooed at you and it sent shockwaves down your body, you nodded and poulled him into a searing kiss.

You couldn't say no to him, no matter how hard you tried. The collision was forceful, passionate, completely and utterly tangible through every cell in your body. Hotch could feel you tightening up around him, suffocating his cock perfectly and setting a high dose of adrenaline in his aching veins. You couldn't hold out anymore, it was becoming infuriating. A scream ripped from your throat, broken plea, a frazzled response that you could no longer contain. You reached your high far quicker than you had hoped for but, how could you hold out? It was Aaron fucking Hotchner. Your release felt incredible to the point where your eyes screwed shut, Hotch was entirely pleased to have you in such a state. He wished he could frame that expression and put it on his desk. While he finished, he kissed your lips and then kissed the bridge of your nose up to your forehead. Fuck, this switch up from roughness to tenderness was...nice. For the first time in a long time, you felt wanted. Hotch rolled over and you held onto him, your head perched on his chest.

You both stayed silent for a while. Breathing in and out. Watching the rise and fall of his chest. His arm enveloped you and his fingers began desperately tracing unintelligable patterns on your bare skin.

Breathing in and out.

Eyes fanning shut.

‘’Hm. I like fraternzing.’’ You said softly and you could hear Hotch's subtle chuckle, he was so clearly amused by your blatant rule breaking. Only you would be so callous.

‘’Funny.’’ He replied with a raise eyebrow.

‘’Tension leading to this is so fucking cliche.’’ You groaned, rolling your eyes at the idea but what could you say...you secretly found yourself enjoying it.

‘'How many times have you thought about rugby tackling me during an argument?’’ He smiled, gazing wantonly into the dark catalysts of your eyes when you hung your head up.

‘’Many ...but I wouldn't say rugby tackle. I'd say directly punch in the face.’’

#aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut #aaron hotch fluff #hotchner x reader

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familyvideostevie · 2 years

Text

crystal clear

Steve has been keeping something from you but it's not what you expect | 1.2k, fluff, fem!reader, thank you to ace for encouraging me on this one! one of my fave headcanons is steve needing glasses, so here we are.

"Christ," Steve mutters, pacing around his room. He keeps picking up things and putting them down, running his hands through his hair. "Shit." You sit on his bed, waiting for him to tell you what's wrong.

"Baby," he says, reluctantly, "have you seen my glasses?" He's not looking at you as he says it, so he can't see your eyebrows shoot up.

"I'm sorry, your what?"

"Are your ears clogged or something?" he says lightly. As if he could stop you from asking questions.

"Steve," you say, getting off the bed and walking to where he stands searching his desk. "Your what?" He sighs and finally looks at you, wrinkling his nose.

"Don't be mean," he groans. "My glasses. I'm getting a headache, should put 'em on." He rubs a hand down his face and you can see the tension in his jaw.

"You are impossible," you chide. You brush your fingers over his temple as if you could take whatever pain he's feeling from him. "Let me help look. But you have to tell me what I'm looking for since I've never seen them before." You flick his nose gently. He rolls his eyes at you but smiles and leans down to press a quick kiss to your mouth.

"Brown leather case," he says. "Check the car, maybe? Keys are in my pocket." You dip your fingers into the back of his jeans, palm unnecessarily spread as you maintain eye contact. His cheek twitches and he fights a smirk as you make a show of digging for the keys before pulling them out and twirling them around your thumb.

"Handsy," Steve says. "Eyes on the prize, baby. Get it?"

"You're hilarious, Harrington," you deadpan before heading downstairs to his car. His pain can't be that bad if he's still making horrible puns, but you want to keep it that way. The BMW sits in the drive and you pull open the driver's side door and look around the interior. Scuff marks from your shoes, a soda stain from Dustin that you took the blame for, one of Robin's hair clips. You bend a little to get closer to the mats and that's when you see it: a brown leather case trapped under the passenger seat. You fish it out and pop it open to find a simple pair of silver wire frames, one lens thicker than the other. Steve often tells you that his brains have been so scrambled he could be on a diner menu, but you really didn't know it had affected his vision. Sometimes he gets headaches, sure, but usually he just calls you and you lie in the dark with him, stroking his hair.

"Found 'em!" you call as you go back into the house. "They were under the seat." Steve is leaning against the kitchen counter, clearly having decided you'd be successful.

"Should've known. I've been wearing them when I drive at night." He reaches for the case but you swat his hand away and step into his space. You remove the frames from the case carefully and reach up to perch them on his face. He holds very still, mouth turned up at the corner.

"Oh god," you say once they're on. Your palms rest on his chest. "Christ." Steve looks worried for a second, hands coming to rest on your hips, fingers a little tight over your shirt.

"What? What's wrong?"

"You are unbelievable," you scold, making sure to keep it light and teasing. "It's so unfair how glasses only make you look hotter."

Steve groans, throwing his head back and shaking it a little before laughing. His hands loosen and his thumbs sneak under your hem to rub warm circles on your bare skin.

"You think so?"

"Don't be modest, Steve. You have to know that this whole thing --" you wave your hand over him -- "is just..it's...I'm blushing just looking at you!"

"Okay, okay, I get it," he says. Despite his reputation and his history, Steve takes compliments like a kid taking cold medicine. He pulls one hand off of you to run it through his hair and you have to fight to keep an embarrassing noise in your throat, moving your fingers to his belt loops instead.

"What didn't you tell me about them?" you wonder out loud. You're not mad, you just want to understand.

"Honestly, I forgot," he shrugs, cheeks pink. "I swear. I've only had them a week and I keep losing them."

"Do you need to wear them all the time?"

"Yeah," he mumbles. His free hand comes back to toy with a strand of your hair. "I should. When I'm driving or at work or reading...not that I do much of that. But if I do it without them I'll get a headache." He sighs. "Been knocked around one time too many, I guess."

You frown at the reminder of Steve's pain, of all the things he's suffered through because he's brave and kind and good.

"We should get another pair so you have two, just in case. I'll carry one around." The pretty flush spreads down his cheeks to his neck.

"Really? You'd want to?"

"Course, Steve. Gotta keep that pretty head of yours good and healthy." You poke him on the forehead. The glasses make his eyes impossibly big, and they are warmer than usual, so mesmerizing you don't know how you're going to deal with this every day. He blows a raspberry at your staring before taking the frames off and setting them on the counter.

"Hey, you just said you need to wear those --" He presses one hand into the small of your back to bring you even closer before hovering his lips over yours. You always keep your eyes open as long as you can before Steve kisses you because every second you get to look at him feels special, feels like you have to savor it. But your lids flutter close as he slots his mouth over yours and that sound you tampered down before finally escapes. He smiles when he hears it, nose brushing yours as he makes sure to kiss you thoroughly. Perhaps too thoroughly for his parent's kitchen in the middle of the day, but you'd never complain. He releases you and you're a little dazed as he puts his glasses back on, looking entirely too pleased.

"Do things look different?" you ask before wincing at how stupid it sounds. It's his fault anyway -- your brain is fuzzy from his closeness, even still.

"A little," he replies. His smile is soft, lips pink and pupils blown. He brings his thumb up to brush across your own swollen lower lip. "Helps with this eye." He gestures to the one that's been blackened almost too many times to count.

"Do I look different?" This question is softer, a little more serious. He studies you for a second, tilting your head left then right, pretending to think on it. His gaze travels across your brow and down your cheeks, documenting every hair and freckle and mark as if he didn't already have them memorized.

"Nope," he says finally. "Always been able to see you clearly, baby." You flush to the tips of your ears, your chest a warm mess of fondness and love.

"Still pretty as ever, too," he adds. "Seriously, every day I look at you and think, how is this even allowed?" You wrinkle your nose at him before resting your head on his chest, his arms coming around you. He laughs, just happy to have this moment with you, and you can feel it, his heartbeat strong in your ear. I am so lucky, you think. Steve is thinking the same thing.

tags: @spideyboipete @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee

want to be added to my tag list for full-length (non-ask) fics? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both!

reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction

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place-called-space · 2 months

Text

it’s finals week and i’m genuinely dying trying to write all these final projects and essays for my classes but... there’s a smutty one shot idea for our favorite lawyer that’s been rattling around in my brain for ages and i’m not sure if i can ignore it for much longer🫣

it'll be my first relatively plotless one shot that i'd post on this hellsite but there's been such a drought of matty fics recently that i feel compelled to feed and water the masses

i probably won't get around to actually writing it until after this week, and we'll be lucky if i post it by the end of next week, but for now let me set the scene 🫶🏼

content warning: dom/sub dynamics (orgasm control/denial, ruined orgasm, edging), semi-public phone sex? (matt’s in his office with the door closed but it’s implied that karen and foggy are in the next room), masturbation (male and female, but neither of them actually cum), fingering, reader is ✨sexually frustrated✨ so she slips into subspace easily, body worship/fantisization? (reader has a very active imagination and she actively imagines several naughty situations with matt), reader’s wet dream (not super detailed, just mentioned in passing)

it feels like it's been weeks since the two of you have spent any real time together.

the firm has been busy with some high-paying client that they're not in a financial position to turn down, so it's been all hands on deck for the better part of the last month. matt has to leave before you get up, but he nudges you awake to say goodbye, pressing a kiss to your forehead and letting you know if he has a lunch meeting or not so you can call and hear his voice for a blessed 30 minutes.

and because the universe hates you, matt's duties as daredevil haven't eased up either. all you've been able to get out of him is that he's been staking out one of the smaller crime families in hell's kitchen that have been looking for an opportunity to gain more power. he hears whispers of smugglers and arms deals and he barely has time to scarf down some eggs and toast-

(carbs and protein to hold him over until he can turn in for the night and warm up the plate you always left for him)

-before he's sheathed in kevlar and leather, shouting over his shoulder to not wait up for him before fleeing out the roof access door.

and of course you miss him.

you used to make coffee for you both as he got ready for work, chatting idly about that crime docuseries karen had recommended and getting matt to translate the legal jargon. you'd loop his tie around his neck, tightening the knot before pulling him down for a kiss, passing him his briefcase before sending him off to work.

he'd come home after work, smiling as he came through the door because he'd been able to hear your voice from the lobby as you made dinner, singing along to one of his favorite vinyl records. soft jazz and pasta sauce and you would smother his senses as soon as he stepped into the apartment and as soon as he shucked off his shoes and set his briefcase down, he'd round the kitchen island and wrap his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling at your neck and peppering your skin with kisses, reveling in the delighted giggles you let out.

but with his new schedule, the apartment seemed so empty.

you were eating alone and washing one set of dishes, sleeping in a bed too big and too cold for just you. you missed the way his arms would wind around you as you slept, the fearsome vigilante that struck fear into the hearts of criminals throughout the city suddenly becoming a cuddle octopus, greedy to feel your skin on his.

you missed all the small, sweet things about him, the romantic moments that would make your heart melt... but you also missed the steamy, intimate moments where your hands would wander each other's bodies, unwilling to be separated for even a moment.

it had been weeks since you'd had sex, and you missed the way his cock split you open, the low, hoarse growl his voice would become as he crooned poisoned honey into your ear, the delicious mix of praise and degradation turning your brain to mush.

you could feel your own impatience building with each night you went unsatisfied, a dull ache beginning to throb between your legs as your body struggled to adapt. you'd gone from cumming at least once a day to nothing at all in the blink of an eye, and you were having trouble adjusting.

waking up to an empty bed for the third week in a row had nearly sent you into a fit, your panties already soaked through from the remnants of a blissful dream where matt had tied you up, your legs bent and spread wide as he toyed with your puffy folds, his fingers slick with your arousal as he'd slowly slid them inside you...

fed up, your hand had already dipped below the waistband of your sleep shorts, your fingers barely brushing your clit, a soft moan leaving you as your body finally got some relief-

but then your phone rang, matt's handsome face beaming up at you. taunting you.

you answered the phone with a breathy call of "matty" because you knew he'd heard you and two could play at that game, and the low octave with which he says your name makes you moan again, pleasure sparking to life in your core as you sink two fingers into your drooling cunt.

matt calls your name sharply, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"naughty girl," he admonishes, his voice somehow both sweet and condescending. "so impatient. i'd wondered how long it would take you to break, but i didn't expect it to be so soon."

you whine into the receiver, your anger melting away as you remembered you hadn't been the only one suffering these last few weeks. it must've been nothing short of torture for matt to wake up to the smell of your arousal, his rapidly swelling cock nestled against your ass, aching and eager to satisfy the primal urge to mark you in every way possible. and yet, every morning, he'd forced himself to ignore it, to take a cold shower and hurriedly get dressed, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before shuffling out of the apartment, still half-hard.

the thought only made you more desperate for him. god, did you wish he was here with you, with his much thicker fingers stuffing your pussy, stretching you out and prepping you so you could take his thick cock. you wanted him under you, breathlessly kneading the flesh of your tits as you bounced on his cock, your eyes rolling back as his impressive length dragged against that special spongey spot inside you with each smack of your hips against his, your cunt squeezing him tight and drawing out the pleasure for both of you.

but the apartment was empty and his side of the bed was cold, his scent faint on the silk sheets you both adored. a pang of loneliness hit you then, wanting his skin on yours and his voice filling your head with mindless praise.

frustrated tears stung at your eyes, but you were determined to make the most of this. you had him on the phone, you had a shot at getting what you wanted. all you needed was a few more words from him, maybe a countdown if you were lucky. you were so worked up, you could probably cum just from him reading you the new york penal code.

so you beg.

"please, matty," you whine prettily, another breathy little moan leaving you as you begin to pump your fingers in and out of your dripping pussy, the friction delicious after so long with nothing. "i need-"

"what you need," matt cuts you off swiftly, his voice so dark and commanding even through the phone that your body freezes, "is some manners. i enjoy spoiling you, sweetheart, but that doesn't mean you can cum without permission."

the whine you let out this time is significantly more petulant than before, the sound high and needy, but matt quickly curbs your bad attitude with another click of his tongue, his disapproval clear.

"don't be a brat," he says, patronizing and confident in his control over you. "just because i've been busy doesn't mean i forgot about my sweet girl."

the pet name makes your breath catch in your throat. matt hardly ever called you that. he'd always preferred the softer, more affectionate nicknames. sweetheart. darling. the occasional honey and sweetie.

but sweet girl? that coveted term of endearment had always been wreathed in coarse shadow instead of suave charm, cooed in the low, dangerous tone of the Devil.

your cunt clenches around the fingers you still have buried within yourself, though they had long since stalled their movements, and matt, damn him, somehow knows that he has you hooked, a satisfied purr meeting your ears.

"there we go," you hear him murmur, pleased. "there's my sweet girl. so good for me, i didn't even have to tell you to stop. no punishment for you, then, but you'll still have to earn your reward."

the breath that leaves you is half desire, half relief, already squirming on the bed. surely he just wanted a show, something to hold him over until the work day was done and he could come home and have his way with you. your moans would replay in his head all day, your breathless cry of his name making his cock twitch beneath his desk every time it echoed through his mind, his thoughts muddled and disjointed as he struggled to focus on the case.

"tell me what to do," you plead, your own thoughts already growing fuzzy around the edges, dizzy with anticipation of the climax he was sure to grant you. "miss you so much, matty... i wanna be good…"

matt groans low on the other line, an excited shiver running through you as you hear the barely audible "fuck" accompany the distinct sound of his belt unbuckling.

"need to hear you, sweet girl," he hisses. a shaky exhale leaves him next, and you imagine he's just freed his cock, the vein running along the shaft throbbing. the tip is probably flushed a dark pink and probably already leaking salty precome, his balls heavy and full from almost a full month of not satisfying himself.

christ, was your mouth watering?

"go on, sweet girl," matt tells you, his voice hoarse. "keep touching yourself. make yourself feel good."

far be it from you to disobey a direct order.

your fingers began thrusting once more, your low, breathy moans becoming high and whiney within minutes, not making an effort to silence yourself. matt wanted a show, so you were going to give him one, noise complaints be damned.

it doesn't take long for the knot within your belly to tighten, your body teetering on the edge of a long-awaited orgasm. you were practically half-delirious, so grateful for the pleasure that you'd already begun expressing your gratitude, your thanks garbled and slurred but genuine nonetheless.

you don't hear the mean, condescending bark of laughter, too caught up in your own ecstasy. you were so close, your forearm burning and your cunt beginning to pulse as you neared the edge, your jaw falling slack as you prepared for the monumental release of pleasure-

"stop."

your body obeyed without consciously thinking about it, your fingers slipping out of you. your poor cunt clenches and flutters around nothing, feeling achingly empty as your pleasure stalls and curdles, spoiling like milk in the sun.

you lay there for a moment, your chest heaving as you try to figure out what happened. your pussy was sensitive and tingling, still pulsing weakly with a ruined orgasm that had given you no satisfaction. you wanted more, damn it, but most of all, you wanted him.

"matty," you cry brokenly, vision blurry with frustrated tears. "why did you... why..."

Your rambling was slurred but audible to your tormenter, his delighted chuckles making you shudder.

"sorry, sweet girl," matt said, not an ounce of remorse in his voice, "but i wanna be there with you when you cum. i need to feel that pretty pussy squeeze my cock, need to hear you moan my name as i fuck you."

he lets out a strained groan, and you imagine he has his fist wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, preventing himself from reaching the pinnacle he'd so cruelly snatched you away from.

you hadn't cum, but neither did he.

you whine at the thought, your pussy still fluttering weakly. you sniffle quietly, still mourning your ruined orgasm, and there's a burst of static, like he'd just sighed.

"you did so well for me, sweetie," matt murmurs, his tone no longer mean, but warm and loving. "i know it hurts, but i'll make it up to you tonight. i'll make you feel so good, you'll forget this ever happened."

though your eyes are still glassy with tears, matt's subtle switch in temperament did wonders for your mood, the promise of pleasure soothing your wounded pride. you sniffle again, working up the courage to meekly inquire, "promise?"

matt hums again, and you can imagine the pleased grin on his face as he purrs your name, the sound of his voice making you melt.

"i promise."

a/n: my brain literally couldn’t focus on anything else while i had this mf rattling around in there. this will be an actual oneshot at some point where we actually get some gratification, maybe even a two-parter! depending on how fried my brain is after cranking out multiple 2k word finals, it could be posted in either 5 days or 5 years or anywhere in between.

i do actually like writing guys i swear 😭 but i’m a humanities major so i do a lot of writing for my degree and my free time consists of thinking about the roman empire (for my major) and reading greek philosophy (also for my major).

glad i got this out as proof of life, didn’t mean to be horny on main but there is no other valid response when it comes to mr. murdock. i hope you guys enjoyed and let me know what you think!

- estrella ★

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hongcherry · 10 months

Text

found trouble || p.sh (m)

"After not hearing from Seonghwa for weeks, you find him outside your home in the middle of the night. Needless to say, you have a lot of pent-up anger, but so does he."

🏍 Pairing: biker!Seonghwa x richGirl!Reader (afab)

🏍 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Angst, smut; Biker au, bad boy/rich girl au, friends to lovers

🏍 Warnings: reader has she/her pronouns, lots of arguing and insults, cursing, pet names (princess, baby), reader cries 😔, oral (f & m rec), fingering, unprotective sex (take the necessary precautions!), p in v, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, reader is a brat and Seonghwa doesn’t have that, pussy and ass smacking, hickeys/marks, hwa’s a bit of perv at the end oops

🏍 Word Count: 4k

🏍 Author's Note: Okay, you guys asked for it! Part two of Seeking Trouble. Big shout out to my 🪱 anon in my feedback form who was the catalyst to me actually writing a part two. The "emotionally constipated brat tamer hwa" really stuck with me LOL. Anyway, thank you for the support everyone! ♥️ Please enjoy.

ateez masterlist | main masterlist

Tossing your phone onto your bed, you let out a big huff.

That stupid prick.

It’s been four weeks since you heard from Seonghwa.

Four weeks since your last late-night trip to the hilltop outside of town. You’ve tried to contact him, but every text message and phone call goes unanswered. After a few days, you gave up trying to reach him, but you can’t help but check your phone every few hours anyway.

Nearly another week passes when you’re woken by a low rumble outside.

You’ve heard that sound plenty of times. Perhaps the familiarity is what pulled you out of your slumber.

You hurriedly climb out of bed, tugging on your night robe as you stumble to the window.

You can’t see the lights from Seonghwa’s bike, but you know he’s out there. At least, he was out there.

There’s a temptation to climb out of your window to find him; however, your path downward is nonexistent—unlike the movies. You’re not stupid enough to try either.

Instead, you quickly snatch up a pair of shoes and slip them on as you rush out of your room quietly.

It’s cold outside, and the robe you wear doesn’t warm you at all.

You wrap your arms around yourself, and peer left and right. There’s no sign of him.

You strain your ears but also don’t hear the sound of his motorbike.

Cursing mentally at your shit timing, you start to turn around. Though, shuffling to your left makes you halt.

“Who’s there?” you shout in a whisper.

More shuffling, then there’s a low voice.

“Don’t you know it’s safer to stay quiet in situations like these?”

Seonghwa’s figure appears from around the corner of your house.

“Oh, shut it! What are you doing here? Why have you been ignoring me?” you huff, walking toward him.

Seonghwa starts to remove his habitual leather jacket once he sees your appearance, but you stop him with a hand up.

“I don’t want it,” you stubbornly say.

He eyes you for a moment but goes through with his intention anyway.

His body heat from the jacket feels good over your shoulders; however, you’re still mad at him, so you shrug it off and let it fall to the floor.

Seonghwa sighs, picking it up and shaking off whatever dirt got on it.

“Are you going to answer me or—”

“Glad to know you’re still the same you,” he interrupts.

You furrow your brows. “Did you lose brain cells on your little vacation? Answer my—”

“I don’t know why you’re the one upset, you wanted the space,” he replies, face hardening at the memory from weeks ago.

Two days after the hilltop rendezvous, he got an envelope slipped under his shop’s door. In it, was a message from you stating you were tied of his boring life and to forget about whatever was going on between you two. To make it better (or worse), there was a hefty amount of cash in it.

“What the hell are you talking about, Hwa?” you ask.

“Did you lose brain cells on your vacation?” he repeats your insult earlier.

You glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No,” you reply firmly.

You scan his features. It’s hard to read his thoughts with his blank stare, but you can tell from the increased rise and fall of his chest that he’s mad.

Good.

He can stay mad.

“Here,” he pulls out a white envelope from his back pocket and hands it to you.

You take it, confused.

“What’s this?” you wonder and peek inside. Your eyes widen at the sight of cash. Swiftly, you shove it against his chest.

“I don’t fucking want your stolen money,” you hiss. “Where on earth did you get this?!”

“Are you playing stupid?” he straight up asks, to which you’re taken aback.

“You’re trying to get me arrested,” you accuse.

“No,” he growls through clenched teeth. “I’m giving back your money. I don’t need a monetary incentive to leave you alone. I’m not desperate… Unlike you.”

You blink at him, mouth dropping open.

“First, are you high or something? I never gave you this money. Second, what am I desperate for? I have more money than what’s in that envelope.”

Seonghwa shoves the money back in your hands, and for a moment, it’s like a game of hot potato with both of you exchanging the cash. Eventually, it finds itself on the floor between you and him.

“It was slipped under my shop’s door weeks ago, and from what I know, no one from your family knows about the place, so they couldn’t have framed you. None of my brothers would do this either, so,” he trails off to let you connect the dots.

You listen to him attentively, becoming more puzzled with each word that leaves his mouth.

“I didn’t do that,” you say with a shake of your head.

Seonghwa glances at the envelope with a deep sigh.

“Why are you being so difficult? Just let this end like you wanted it to,” he exasperates.

“I haven’t visited your shop in a month. That,” you point to the cause of this argument, “wasn’t me.”

You try to think of who could’ve done this but come up blank. The only thing you can think of is someone had followed you and delivered the message. But who would care that much that you hung out with Seonghwa?

Does this mean your family knows?

Seonghwa looks up, hair covering his eyes, but you don’t need to see them to know how he’s feeling. The tightness in his jaw gives it away. He’s furious.

He’s rarely gotten this upset when around you. Your brain works overtime to think of a way to calm him down.

“If I wanted to end things, I would’ve done it to your face… without money,” you say.

“Then do it.”

His tone is hard. Cold. Emotionless.

“Do what?”

“End it.”

“End this?” you try to clarify, gesturing between your bodies.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, princess.”

Although the nickname has never been a favorite, it’s never sounded so cruel until now.

“Seonghwa,” you say quietly.

He takes a step closer, and you take one step back.

He takes another, and so do you.

The action reoccurs until your back is pressed against your house’s wall.

“You want someone to take you away from this town? Find someone else,” he demands. “As I said before, Jongho would’ve itched your desire for freedom. But at this point, find someone I don’t know. Jongho doesn’t deserve to be treated how you’ve treated me.”

“What are you talking about?” You try to steady your trembling voice. Something about his words makes your heart clench painfully.

“I know you’re smart, baby. I know you know what you’re doing.”

A shake of your head.

He scoffs and moves away from your body to trek a small circle to calm his nerves. You stay pressed against the wall. You get a feeling you’re not invited to move.

“You’re so tired of this life you live. You need something new. Something–someone–that gives you a thrill, right?” he questions.

You stay quiet.

“I do that, don’t I? I give you that thrill you crave,” he continues and steps closer again.

When you don’t reply, he tilts your head to get a better look at you.

“I asked you a question.”

“You do.”

“And that’s all I do. That’s all you need me for,” he concludes.

“That’s not true,” you argue.

“It’s not? Then why do you want me to stay?”

You swallow hard.

The first response in your head is because you like him. But that’s too simple. And that’s not something you’re fully on terms with.

Your hesitation confirms Seonghwa’s already-made answer.

He scoffs harshly and starts to move away again, but you quickly reach out to grab his arm.

Something about your touch causes Seonghwa to slip out of your reach and pin your wrists to the wall in a matter of seconds. You don’t even realize what’s happening until he’s done and glaring at you with daggers you don’t want pointing at you.

“Because you want someone at your beck and call? Because you want to fuck someone your parents won’t approve of? Does that make you feel like the ‘badass’ you so desperately want to be? You want to be reckless and careless and free-willed?” he taunts. “You can be all that with someone else.”

“I only want you,” you plead, voice betraying your attempt to stay strong.

Seonghwa can see the wall you’ve built chip away. It motivates him to push onward.

“You only want me because I’m already here. If we were to end this, you’d have to start from scratch,” he says.

“No,” you say lowly, but Seonghwa ignores you. He ignores the weakness of your voice and the glossiness of your eyes.

“Or maybe you’re afraid no one will put up with your bratty attitude. You’re going to be stuck in this big mansion, playing Simon Says for the rest of your life because you’re too much of a coward to leave the nest—”

“Stop!” you cry, a few tears falling from your eyes. You tug your wrists from his grasp roughly and push his chest.

He stumbles back but still stares at you viciously.

“Did I get it all right, Yn?”

Your real name sounds foreign from his mouth, and it sparks the defiance inside you.

“No, because your brain is fucking empty,” you snarl. “You don’t know anything!”

He laughs darkly. “I got it all right because you wouldn’t be so upset if I didn’t. You’re just a rich, little—”

“I want you to stay because I like you!” you bark quickly.

That shuts Seonghwa’s yappy mouth.

His jaw clenches once, twice, then he’s rolling his eyes.

“You like the idea of me. You like the leather, the bike, the trouble, the freedom.”

You’re too mad to give a damn anymore.

You stalk toward him, giving his torso a shove with each word you spew.

“I like your humor, your laugh, your thoughtfulness, your stupid smile. I like how you let me vent. I like that you’re not faking who you are with me.”

You’re breathing heavily at this point, tears streaming down your face. Your anger is what’s keeping you warm on the chilly night. It’s what’s driving you to keep talking. To keep spilling your inner thoughts to the man before you.

“The trouble attracted me, but your personality made me stay. You and your stupid—” a hiccup. “Your stupid—”

You try to finish your sentence, but the words won’t come out. The only thing that escapes your throat is a choked sob.

Your fists are clenched in Seonghwa’s shirt, head resting against his chest as you heave.

Seonghwa’s standing still as he listens to your cries.

He came to check on you despite his better judgment—disguised as returning the money. This… This he never could have imagined happening.

Seonghwa’s been aware of his feelings for you for a while. He came to terms with them and accepted that they would only be reciprocated in his dreams. Though, now that he knows your true feelings, he’s stumped.

You sniffle and gradually pull away.

“Go,” you rasp.

You reach down and hold out the envelope.

“I may not have given this to you originally, but it’s obvious this person was right. This was going to end eventually. Why not now? Consider this payment for gas or whatever.”

Seonghwa looks at the envelope.

He does nothing for a while, and it makes you agitated. You shake the envelope and are about to repeat yourself when Seonghwa slaps the item out of your hands and grabs your extended hand.

He tugs you to him, crashing his lips upon yours so roughly it hurts your lips.

But the pain is welcomed.

The pain in your lips eases the pain in your heart.

Your arms wrap around his neck before jumping in his hold. He catches you with ease, gripping you harder than necessary.

His tongue moves quickly in your mouth, claiming it in a way you’ve never experienced before.

You’re tightening your legs around his waist when the sound of a window opening above pulls you both apart.

Your mother peeks her head out and stares down with bugged-out eyes. She calls your full name, but the effect it once had doesn’t stir in you now.

Seonghwa lets you go and starts to step away, but again, you stop him.

“Take me somewhere,” you say, ignoring the yelling your mom is doing. Soon, your dad’s voice joins hers.

Seonghwa’s shoulders deflate a little. “Some things never change, huh?”

You shake your head and step closer. “Take me somewhere so I can stay with you. You’re right. I’m a coward. I don’t want to be their puppet anymore.”

He licks his lips in thought.

“Please, Hwa,” you beg. “I’m serious. I’m ready to leave it all behind.”

Seonghwa smirks slightly, glancing from your parents and back to you. “All for some guy in leather?”

You smile, grabbing his helmet and handing it to him. He shakes his head and pushes it toward you instead. He wasn’t prepared for extra company and only has one. He would rather you wear it.

Seonghwa pushes the motorbike’s kickstand with his foot before climbing on.

“All for some guy in leather with a dorky smile,” you say as you follow suit.

“Get off that bike right now! Have you lost your mind?” your mother yells.

“I’m going to call the cops on you, young man. Kidnapping is a big crime, punishable by law!” your dad adds.

“What does he have on you, Yn? What are you doing? No—! Stop! Stop that motorbike!”

Your mom’s voice fades off into the night as Seonghwa drives off.

You’re smiling like crazy beneath the helmet. For the first time, you feel the weight off your shoulders fully. You know you’ll have to face your parent’s wrath eventually, but for now, you’re worry-free. Your shackles are gone. You finally made the decision you’ve been wanting to make. You just needed a little push… A little help.

Despite Seonghwa’s earlier warnings when you first met, you release your hold on his waist and spread your arms out. Your eyes close as you feel the wind rush past you. For a few seconds, you feel like you’re flying.

You’re liberated.

You’re addicted to the feeling.

Seonghwa moves a hand to rest on one of your thighs while he slows his speed. He can hear your laughing and cheers as he drives, and it brings a smile to his lips—lifting his spirit.

The moment you arrive at Seonghwa’s small apartment, you’re tugging off each other's clothes. You both move with haste. Your hands and mouths are all over the other. It’s as if you only have ten minutes to live.

“Fuck, I missed your mouth,” you gasp as he’s flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue fast. Two of his fingers are gliding in and out of your soaked hole, filling his apartment with lewd noises.

He hums against you as he pulls away.

Seonghwa continues to finger you open while he replies, “I bet you did. Your little toys didn’t do much for you, hm?”

“No,” you shake your head. “You feel so much better.”

He chuckles and lowers down again, licking and sucking your clit until you’re moaning his name continuously and squeezing his fingers as you come.

Seonghwa runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he sits back.

“Come ‘ere,” he murmurs and adjusts your body so you’re sitting upright on the couch—your ass close to the edge.

You spread your legs, reaching out with weak arms to pull him closer. He leans in to give you a sweet kiss.

He keeps his lips on yours while he presses his hard length against you, slowly rubbing it between your folds.

“Hwa,” you mewl into the kiss.

“What do you need?” he asks as he pulls away until his lips are brushing yours.

“You inside me.”

“You sure it’s not me without smart remarks?”

Flashbacks to that night whizz in your mind, and suddenly you fear he’ll leave you without an orgasm. Granted, you just came, but you still want more. You crave more.

Quickly, you clutch his sides so he can’t move away.

“No! ‘m sorry about that. You can say and do whatever you want,” you ramble in desperation.

Seonghwa smirks and angles your face upward slightly.

“See, baby? Punishments work.”

The comment makes you huff at him, pushing your nails into his skin slightly as you move your head out of his grasp. “Don’t be so cocky.”

“You gonna’ get smart with me right now, princess?” he chuckles dryly.

You stare at him, fighting the urge to snap back, but you lack self-control.

“You’re such a—”

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow in warning. There’s a small part of him that wants you to fight back just so he can punish you again.

“Sexy man.” You end lamely, ultimately deciding to comply so you can get what you’ve been craving for weeks—him.

He smiles. “Say what you were going to.”

You shake your head and tug his hips toward you, hinting at what you want. Seonghwa just moves back.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re obedient now,” he coos mockingly.

“You are sexy,” you protest with a pout.

“But I’m also what?” he prompts.

You sigh, relenting, “You’re also an arrogant asshole.”

There’s a sharp pain against your cunt without warning.

“Repeat it.”

“Seonghwa,” you whine loudly. “Please, just need you inside me.”

“Repeat. It.”

“You’re an arrogant asshole.”

Seonghwa gives another slap against your aching pussy, then rubs your clit fast, causing your hips to buck.

“This arrogant asshole is going to fuck you until you can’t even say those words anymore.”

You don’t get the opportunity to reply as Seonghwa pushes his cock into your walls.

Your mouth falls open at the sensation, heading lolling back.

Seonghwa wastes no time as he starts moving his hips immediately. The stretch of his cock has your mind going muddy, words getting jumbled together to form incoherent sentences.

“My poor baby,” he murmurs and slows down, exchanging speed with power. “Been all alone in her big mansion.”

You whine at his words, remembering how alone you felt when he was away. How needy you were for his touch in the late of nights. Nothing could ever replace his touch, no matter how hard you tried to imitate it by moving your hands the way you remembered him doing.

“Missed you,” you mumble.

Seonghwa kisses your pouting lips.

“Needed me to sneak in and fuck you dumb, right?” he continues, and you nod.

He chuckles, thrusting in particularly hard and earning him a loud gasp from you.

“I always wanted to fuck you in that fancy bed of yours,” he confesses with another powerful snap of his hips. “I probably would’ve had to stuff your pretty mouth with your underwear to keep you quiet.”

“I wish you did,” you say breathlessly.

“Maybe we can make that happen when we get your stuff,” he smiles, pace becoming languid.

“You think they’d let me take stuff their money bought me?” you huff.

“Who says we need their permission?”

“I rather not be arrested by my family.”

“I doubt they’ll arrest you,” he laughs softly.

You shake your head. “They’re crazy. You never know.”

“We’ll work something out,” he promises.

At some point, you couldn’t decide if a relationship with Seonghwa was worth leaving the world you were familiar with behind. Though now, with him in your arms and completely in your heart, you know your answer.

You would happily give up your elegant big room for Seonghwa’s minimal small one.

Seonghwa ducks his face to give you another kiss, then he’s picking up his speed. Your body’s being pushed up the couch, and there are a few times Seonghwa grips your hips to readjust you.

“No one else, but me, right?” he pants against your ear. “You’re mine now?”

“Yes. Just yours, Hwa” you reply, walls squeezing around his thick cock as the pleasure builds inside your tummy.

Seonghwa reaches one hand down to circle your clit while the other pushes your chin up so he can have easy access to your neck. Before, he wasn’t allowed to mark your skin in case your family saw it. Now, he could do whatever he wanted.

Your eyes close, moans falling past your parted lips at all the pleasure Seonghwa is giving you.

“Wanna’ come,” you beg, pulling his body close. “Please let me come.”

Seonghwa can’t help but chuckle at how whiney your voice sounds. He knows you’re thinking about the last time on the hilltop.

“Show me how badly you want it,” he says, and then flips you both so you’re straddling his lap while he sits on the couch.

You don’t let the sudden position change distract you; your hips move as soon as you’re balanced.

Seonghwa groans lowly, one hand resting on your hip while the other goes back between your legs.

You’re rolling your hips so fast that your body aches quickly, but you push through the pain because the high you’re chasing is greater than that.

“Fucking my cock so well, princess,” Seonghwa praises.

You moan in response and soon, your legs are giving out and you’re collapsing against his chest as pleasure washes over you.

However, Seonghwa doesn’t let you rest as long as you wish. He’s pushing you onto your knees in front of him, pumping his cock rapidly.

Your hands rest on his thighs and you lean in, mouth falling open for him to use.

Seonghwa takes the invitation without a second thought—gliding his length between your lips and moving your head as he pleases.

His moans are getting louder the closer he gets to his climax.

The sounds of him hitting the back of your throat cause him to push you off as he releases over your chest.

“You missed,” you frown, glancing down at the white liquid scattered across your breasts.

“No, I didn’t,” he smirks. Despite knowing how much you love the taste of him, he couldn’t let you get away with the names you called him earlier.

Seonghwa bites his lower lip as he stares at the mess he made. “Could have you walk around like that for hours.”

You groan and push at his thighs lightheartedly. “Fucking perv.”

He laughs, offering you a hand to help you up.

“You wouldn’t like that?” he questions playfully.

“No!”

“Hm, sounds like a new form of punishment then,” he hums, more to himself.

“As if! You’re not making me waltz around your apartment covered in your cum.”

Seonghwa says nothing, but the smirk plastered on his face tells you he’s very serious.

“Not today,” he reassures. “Let’s get cleaned.”

You decide not to argue—partly because there’s a high chance he will conduct his new punishment idea—and nod, following him to the bathroom. However, something peeking out of the pile of discarded clothes catches your attention.

You make a quick detour and pluck out the once-white envelope.

Seonghwa turns to watch you when he notices you’re not behind him.

“You took this?” you ask, surprised.

He gives you a lopsided smile. “It’s mine after all.”

“I’m with a thief?” you laugh.

He shakes his head and takes the envelope out of your grasp. “No, I just take what’s mine.”

With the last word, he places the item down and pulls you against his chest.

“Oh? Do you?” you tease and move your arms around his neck.

“You disagree?” he asks.

“No,” you smile.

“Thought so,” he chuckles, pecking your lips. “Now, let’s go. I’m getting cold.”

He starts guiding you to the bathroom, but you turn to glance back briefly to look at him.

“Weakling,” you taunt.

As soon as you turn around, there’s a smack against your ass that has you stumbling slightly. Seonghwa makes no effort to stabilize you. Thankfully, you don’t actually fall.

“Get your ass in the shower, or I’ll tie you up and leave you with my cum over you,” he threatens, a devilish smile forming on his lips.

Your eyes narrow. You want to disobey him, but the better part of you knows better.

At least for tonight.

A/N: Again, thank you for the love you all gave this couple ♥️

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

taglist: @nina-at-any-time, @jexizia, @ssaboala

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

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especiallythewomenandthechildren · 7 days

Text

As If Destiny (part fourteen)🌹

Part 13🌹

A/N: it's been a hot minute, I'm sorry! I was swamped with AP tests and all that nonsense so I haven't had time (or mental capacity) to write. But I have cooked up something! Is it good? Well isn't that up to you dear reader? I hope you enjoy it and forgive me for the wait (and spolier: no coryo😔)! much love!!

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"You look horrible."

You would have retorted to Arachne's comment, but it was true. You did look horrible, and Arachne was blurry. Watching the world speed by in a blur wasn't a concern until you turned your head from the window and the mediocre train car was hazy splotches of color.

"And you look like a pale orb."

Your mind was being split with a migraine, and it felt as if the flood was rushing to your brain, even though you were sitting straight up. These symptoms, which included chills even in the heat-packed train car, had suddenly overtaken you. You played it off as motion sickness because you had no other reason to believe otherwise. Arachne was not so convinced, but she kept her suspicions to herself.

"Well, at least lay down before you hurl on my shoes. I really like this pair."

Your response came in a series of grunts and grumbles as you covered your face when the pain intensified. Arachne closed her leather-bound book while concern broke through her stone-faced expression. You leaned your head back against the headrest as you opened your eyes only to shut them out of the burning pain that accompanied the light.

"Where am I going to lay down exactly? There isn't enough room on these seats."

Ara rolled her chestnut eyes, a motion you obviously missed but could so tangibly feel.

"There is a real innovative mechanism called laying on the floor."

The words were surprising enough that you dealt with the pain as you peeled your eyes open enough for a dubious squint at your friend.

"I didn't even know you knew that concept existed."

You awarded the reason why you narrowly missed the midnight-colored book Arachne threw at you to your natural instincts rather than the still hazed vision of yours.

"Hey, damsel in distress here! A few days out of the Capital and you've lost all sense!"

Your most posh and eloquent voice was composed by the little giggles and breaks as you teased the redhead. She watched on as your joy was interrupted by a fresh wave of pain, earning the otherwise silent car a few winces. Arachne got up, walked straight across to you, and peeled one hand off the side of your skull.

"You're District now, Ace. Get comfortable with the uncomfortable."

She led your throbbing body gently to the ground. You thought she would step back to her original seating, yet Arachne has been one for surprises lately. As the pain washed backward into your mind, your eyes stared straight up at the beige ceiling of the car even with the squirming and huffs of Arachne filling your right ear.

You held in your laughter in paralysis for as many moments you could grasp before they broke through their capture within your throat. Your eyes were still trained on the ceiling as your body rattled with laughter at the clear discomfort and possible regret radiating off Arachne's body.

"Somebody is clearly feeling better." Arachne's reply was a sour grumble, but you joyfully met it with a blinding smile in her direction.

"Oh, but how could I not when the Arachne Crane is willing to lay on the atrocious floor for silly old me—OW! Stop attacking me!"

Well, and of course, the only natural reply was yet another slap to your abdomen from the smirking redhead.

The two of you stared up at the ceiling in an air of harmony. Silence has been more foe than friend in recent times, yet in those moments of peace, it was a readily accepted companion. Your eyes were strained at the ceiling, ears to the rumble of the tracks beneath you, and your heart was not with you but in shreds somewhere in District Eight. You closed your eyelids against the thought, but it reached into every corner of your mind and being. Though, before you could physically beat it out of you, the train began to slow.

Arachne was quick to get up and confirmed your arrival with astonishment capturing her pale features. You sat up and used your friend's outstretched hand to pull yourself up, catching a glimpse outside the window.

The train station was littered with a sullen and soot-covered population fluttering around. The distance was consumed by coal mines and smoke painting the sky a sickly shade of abuse. Grey was the only word to describe what crossed your vision. The sky, atmosphere, and people.

Both you and Arachne stepped outside and seemingly into your pasts. The hunger in the eyes. Paleness of the workers' skin. Ever-present tears latching onto the populace's eyes. It was a scene you and Arachne were all too familiar with. Before you, district-born citizens shifted into long-dead Capital residents. You were no longer the woman you forged yourself into but that little scared girl. The grey was not from the coal but rather the gloom of expired misery.

"Come on, Ace."

Arachne's voice was soft as her eyes trained on your vacant face. She lightly nudged you towards the direction of the transport cars for the rest of the scientists and peacekeepers. Your footsteps felt like molds within cement as you made your way across the train platform.

It was all in due time, you think. Every experience you've ever had with trains was all in regards to this district in which you now inhabit. District Twelve seems to be the only certainty within your life.

Nothing but pure curiosity flowed through you as the transport car made its way to the base. The sky was prepared for storms, causing the color to match the houses, yet the trees from the midway forest stood out. No matter how many faces or buildings you passed, your eyes were trained on the woods. Woods that held such deep secrets. And bodies.

The base was a large complex of several buildings as well as a series of courtyards currently filled with training peacekeepers. You and Arachne made your way into the main building and were impressed. Not by any architectural feats but the lack of pearly marble the Capital prides itself in.

You and your assessing companion had to split up into two different lines for registration, although you both would be filling the same role as researchers here. Arachne made her way to the front of the alphabet while you settled into the section for the latter half. You had a good while before you reached the registration table, so you spent your time once again analyzing your surroundings.

The area was far greener than the area surrounding the train station. The thought of how the foresters' area must look when the sun shines crossed your mind. Brightness in Twelve invariably shifted your thoughts to Lucy Gray Baird. Casca Highbottom was a cruel man, but would he add to the fresh scars of the underdog winner? Unbeknownst to you, your thoughts were painted crystal clear upon your face.

"If you are planning an escape route from here, I would recommend the trees."

Your trance was broken by a smooth voice. You spun around and were met with glistening hazel eyes belonging to an admittedly handsome man with freshly buzzed hair. Just one simple statement and reality was crashing hard around you as the realization that all of the past days' events were real.

You were disowned, outcast, and banished to the District that martyred your family and its sanity. Unfortunately, the silence that was a byproduct of your epiphanies was mistaken as disregard by the striking man. His smile turned shy while an awkward laugh escaped him.

“Uhm, that wasn’t very specific, was it? I am still getting used to the forests surrounding me.”

The boy, who couldn't have been more than a year or two older than you, scratched his neck while he avoided eye contact with you. It finally dawned on you that an actual response is expected from you and this boy was the first human you've spoken to in the past few days besides Arachne. As much fondness you hold for her, it is refreshing to hear another voice. You looked directly at him and gave him a kind smile.

“I am going to have to get used to it as well, though the advice seems pretty sound. I’ll end up somewhere, even if it is in a circle.”

His hazel eyes snapped back to yours as soon as he heard your voice (fortunately) not belittling him or insulting his awkward statements. The line moved up a handful of people in the span of your miniature conversation. You walked forward along with the line and when you turned back to face the brunette, your faces were mere inches apart.

Your eyes met his hazel ones as you hastily backed up in panic as you sought your rings to provide you comfort. Now, you were the one avoiding eye contact and coughing while trying to rid yourself of your reddened cheeks. Accident or not, the proximity felt like yet another reminder of your new twenty years of loneliness. Or possibly less, as Arachne tries her best to convince you.

“Uhm, I - I am so sorry! There was someone moving past me and I tried to make room and—”

“It’s okay, I promise.”

He was clearly sweet and shy, although a bit graceless. Though it wouldn't be too bad to make some friends in your home for the next three years. His cheeks burned with unbearable heat as he tried to move past the prior fumble between the two of you.

“Well, those are beautiful rings.”

You had completely forgotten about the jewelry you still had been messing with to calm your nerves. Your eyes moved to look at the one you currently had your ring finger looped through, and it was no surprise to see the riveting snowflakes shine in the fluorescent lights. Though you tried to fight it off, somberness overtook you, but you were able to manage a timid thank you as you were hypnotized by the ring filled with promises of the past. Unfortunately, the poor boy couldn't help but continue the unintentionally one sided conversation.

"You must be from the Capitol."

After mentally cursing yourself for losing your attention again, your eyebrows scrunched in curiosity at the boy's quick assumption.

"Am I so obvious?"

Your voice was a mixture of astonishment and vulnerability. Worries about standing out like a sore thumb and what consequences that might result in began poisoning your mind but were slightly calmed by this odd boy's laugh.

"I haven't been here long, but even I know that people in Twelve don't have jewelry like that. Plus, most scientists here are from the Capitol, so it was easy to guess. Not to mention other—uhm—attributes."

The last note was a bit peculiar but was easily surpassed by embarrassment. You hid your face behind your hands as you groaned in mortification.

"Ugh, you must think me vapid and insolent!"

Only a few more aspiring scientists and Peacekeepers stood between you and the table now, yet your eyes were still covered in humiliation that was only intensified by yet another chuckle from the boy.

"Yeah, no, out here in the Districts, we don't use those words either."

Yet another groan rumbled through your throat as you tried to fuse your hands to your face. However, your plans were foiled as a light shoulder bump sparked intrigue. Those hazel eyes were the first sight to grace the world outside your palms, and the second was his tender smile.

"Don't worry too much. Just hide your clearly expensive rings and steer away from words straight out of a dictionary. Do they make you guys recite from the dictionary out there? Give me five synonyms for embarrassed. Oh, wait, no—did I just accidentally insult the Capitol?"

And like that, the dread that had overcome you began melting off as you earned a chuckle of your own, which he met with a charming grin, although the concern about his possible offense made it slightly tense. You quickly tucked your rings beneath your shirt and scribbled a reminder into your brain to find new articles to fidget with.

"You know what? Some might be studying it as much as our textbooks for increasingly niche words to insult others."

There was only a girl in front of you now with dark red hair and freckled skin as you and your companion giggled. He was the first to stop as he looked to you for confirmation that he wouldn’t be hanged for laughing at Capitol residents, albeit with one of their own. A sweet silence accompanied you both when you looked up at the taller boy in interest.

"Well, now since you know where I am from, it's only fair I get to know the same about you."

A look of longing and sadness swam through his earth-toned eyes. He looked off into the distance while squaring his shoulders as if to carry mountains of weight upon them.

"Two."

You had always been good with words, but they failed you at that moment. Not only did Sejanus race through your mind, but his fallen friend turned tribute, Marcus. Was there any chance that this boy knew either of them?

"Next!"

Your gaze met once more, but all further inquiries ceased as an opening appeared in front of a middle-aged blonde woman with deep brown eyes. No time could be wasted in any aspect related to the Capitol, so you swallowed your curiosity and made your way forward. Though you never did get the boy's name.

The woman looked exhausted from clear years of service, and her voice only added to her evident exasperation. She asked the expected questions of what your name was and took your fingerprints as she gave you several forms to fill out while her head remained down, writing furiously at a stack of papers.

"Y/N Vaun, ma'am."

While you knew your surname was infamous in the Capitol, you were shocked at the sudden movement of the woman’s head upwards. Seconds passed as her gaze just burned into your being while you could do nothing more than avert your own sight elsewhere. The woman quickly regained her professionalism and swiftly retrieved a small, pristine white envelope. The texture was fine and could be from nowhere else than the Capitol. A claim supported by the evidently formal handwriting on the front displaying your name.

"It's an honor to have you here, Miss Vaun. You must be something special; that letter comes straight from Casca Highbottom."

The man's name was enough for you to stop all movement. Your fingers paused, your breathing ceased, and your eyes froze in place. Of course, the Hunger Games creator wasn't done playing games with you yet. Yet, if there was one thing you needed to master to survive here, it was a facade. So, you swallowed your anguish and gave a polite smile as you finished up all your forms.

You flew through them, especially compared to a young black-haired and tanned boy next to you who was one of the many illiterate. Just as you finished the last signature and handed off to the aging woman, you noticed Arachne appear in the corner of your right eye. In the corner of your left, you searched for the hazel-eyed boy from before, though all searches were fruitless as he was nowhere to be found. You grabbed your uniform, ID, and other important papers and made your way to your friend, and thankfully, bunkmate, as Capitol researchers only had to share their rooms with one other peer.

"Getting bribes already, Ace?"

Arachne joked as she nodded towards the pearly envelope that stood out from your other items. You responded with a swift jab to the side and a loud "hush!" The look in your eyes was quickly understood by the redhead to stall any further questioning till the hopefully, safety of your room.

You both walked out into the central courtyard and made your way to the scientist quarters in the west, opposite the Peacekeeper quarters in the east. You watched a regiment of the latter-mentioned group run past the two of you, guns in clear sight causing anxious breaths to ripple through your lungs.

Though, you attempted to remind yourself that you were seen as one of them. Not a threat. Due to the events of the past week, it had been hard not to keep an eye out over your shoulder. However, the arrival to your room was smooth and as soon as your door was shut, you wasted no time before throwing Arachne the envelope, which she caught swiftly. You let her examine it for herself as you looked around the room that you would be calling refuge for the next 36 months.

It was small yet not cramped. The walls were a bland grey and the floor cold cement. Directly opposite the door was a central window that pointed towards the woods, as your room was in the back of the housing complex. You threw yourself down on the right grey and metal-wired bed, leaving Arachne to settle into the one across as she grappled with the paper within her hands.

"Congrats, you are officially his number one favorite victim to mess with."

Your groans of frustration were confirmation that Arachne’s words were far from helpful. You got up from your sitting position and snatched the envelope out of her hands and began pacing back and forth. Whatever was in the envelope, it wasn’t good.

"Maybe he felt generous and gave you some money. Or a postcard from your home that he banished you from. Or maybe some spare morphling—oh, who are we kidding?"

You leveled her with a glare of equal disappointment.

"That was unnecessary and cruel."

"Just like the Hunger Games, right?"

Her words were a surprise, no doubt, but Arachne is full of them nowadays. She is District Twelve after all. And willingly! You looked down at the handwriting of the Games' inventor and huffed. Might as well get it over with.

In one expeditious movement, you ripped the envelope open and pulled out the equally as extravagant paper from its hiding place. You couldn’t resist the urge to quickly unfold the paper and read it in an instant. In all truth, that was all it took to read the articles of the letter.

It was a truth Arachne quickly found out after your scoff that piqued her intrigue even further as she made her way to read over your shoulder. Then it was her turn to scoff at the words written. You stood in place, rereading the letter’s contents over and over again while she walked over to the window.

"Just to be clear, he only hates you and Coriolanus because you look like your dead parents?"

Your bitter laugh was a sign enough of the ridiculousness of this whole situation and the cruelty of Casca Highbottom. No matter the reason, it was only fact that Dean Highbottom wished hell upon Coriolanus Snow and, by association and loyalty, you. Your eyes trained upon the words once more as you tried to make sense of them.

South of society and North of the reminders. The woods are full of blood's secrets.

You make your way to Arachne’s post by the window. Looking out to the rows and rows of trees, whether fortunately or not, the meaning of the words opened up in your mind. You turned your head to Arachne, who was already looking your way, and had a smile of exasperation upon your lips yet mischief in your eyes.

She already began shaking her head against whatever idea you concocted. Letter in hand and dread in place, you try to poke at the last bit of light you can grasp.

"Ready to take a hike?”

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It was mid-afternoon, and the sun began slowly breaking apart the clouds as you trekked through the woods, a disgruntled Arachne following.

“Of all the districts, you just had to be sent here?” She grumbled rhetorically while smacking a branch harshly out of her frowning face.

You were ahead of her, trying to analyze your surroundings for any type of so-called “reminders.” A small blade was in your hand as your focus centered on the plethora of tree trunks. You had no idea what you were looking for, but you knew Dean Highbottom. If there was one joy in the man’s desolate life, it was using the dead to torture the living. Ghost stories were his favorite pastime.

Your family's ghosts lived within these woods. Their blood became the fertilizer of the sturdy trees. The rabbit hole within your mind brought you nothing but fury until you were the one throwing all caution to the wind as you hit branches and cut trees in your way. The turn in your behavior was picked up instantly by Arachne, who rushed to your side, narrowly avoiding tripping twice. She gently put a hand on an outstretched forearm and forced you to look at her.

Not a single word came out of her mouth. Only patience radiated off of her as she waited for your explanation to ease her worries. You huffed as you looked up to force the tears inside.

“I know who I am going to find and what he has become.”

No name was mentioned, and there was no need. Arachne had also suspected Highbottom's ploy. Otto Vaun had been butchered with these very trees, and hard physical proof of your brother's death was the punishment you were sent to Twelve for. Arachne wasn't often someone people looked to for comfort, nor did she wish to be. However, after finally reconnecting with you, she wanted to be at least somewhat of a pillar of solace.

She went in for an attempt at a hug until you were saved from her unpracticed embrace when her eyes caught onto something strange. Arachne lightly gasped, causing you to follow her line of sight, and strange no longer became the right word. Sinister was the only description you felt fit.

A thick tree stood in contrast to all those surrounding it as its bark was not the casual brown it ought to be but rather a dismal grey. In the center of it was a charcoal black outline of a body, and upon closer inspection, bodies due to the varying lines around the arms and head. Upon the sides were fingernail marks clawing at the bark in deep grooves. It did not even smell like the rest, but rather of fatality.

Stillness and silence overtook the woods as you and Arachne were hypnotized by the macabre display. The pair of you were so fully absorbed that a movement was heard in the leaves, and you were on high alert. You quickly readied your blade and scanned your eyes over the area. You were unsure of which though horrified you most: a possible Peacekeeper who would rat you out for your unsupervised and unapproved excursion or an unfriendly local.

The sound began jumping from area to area along with your heart rate as you couldn’t stop your head from continually swiveling. It came continually closer, which naturally pushed you and Arachne back to the base of the grotesque tree.

You felt it hit your back, causing you to turn and feel the panic and fear of the sight all over again as you let out a small scream.

You stumbled back from the burnt bark only to be met with the source of your initial fright, a little brown rabbit who quickly hopped away at your appearance. Yet another small yelp of surprise pushed past your lips, causing Arachne to laugh as she stepped towards you.

“How you survived the arena, I don’t understand.”

Your arm was already instinctively pulling back to land a punch on her arm when a voice appeared from the leaves above you, causing the taunting girl to scream herself. Hypocrite.

“I knew you weren’t from the Seam! Too jumpy.”

A young yet self-assured voice spoke. The voice belonged to a young girl with dark curly hair, tan skin, and eyes that felt all too familiar. However, your interest was quickly recaptured as another girl appeared and voiced her opinions.

“If it makes you feel better, I said you were too pretty to be from the Seam.”

This girl’s voice was sweet and honey-like, reminding you of a certain charismatic singer and victor. The two girls, who seemed to be around 12, got themselves comfortable and fully visible as they sat upon some branches.

The one with curly hair was wearing a pair of dusty dark brown pants paired with a worn-out dusty blue blouse. Her blonde companion was dressed in a colorful textured pink and white maxi skirt with a baby blue blouse as well. You stared at them curiously while Arachne was in her natural state of suspicion and intimidation. The pair stared down at you expectantly, and when neither you nor Arachne spoke, their eyes lit up as rapid-fire questions were asked.

“So where are you from?!”

“How did you get here?”

“Have you been to any other districts?! What are they like?!”

“Why are you here?”

“Are you guys friends too?! Have you ever been to the Capitol?! Ooo are you from the Capitol?!”

“No way, look at the scars on her neck. That doesn’t happen in the Capitol.”

You had no control as your hand involuntarily covered the aforementioned scars. Arachne didn’t like this one bit and couldn’t keep the edge out of her voice.

“You know nothing about the Capitol.”

The possibility of even just one of you being from the Capitol should have caused the girls to take heed and for them to leave when they could. But the pair weren’t known for their social awareness.

The girl of certainty jumped down, quickly followed by her sweet-smiled friend. You just watched as she walked towards you and no matter how fast your reflexes, you were too stunned to stop the girl from poking your forehead. She moved away immediately, yet you swatted the vacant air, staring at her for some sort of explanation that might somehow excuse the odd action. She shrugged as if it was completely normal.

“My dad sees fake people all the time. I thought maybe I could too!”

The excitement in her voice did nothing to reason her appearance rationally. You’ve only ever met two other District Twelve locals, and they were Jessup and Lucy Gray. Jessup's silence was understandable, and you excused Lucy Gray's oddities due to her Covey affiliation, but now you are starting to think this is normal District behavior. If so, the next three years are going to be something.

It was then that the blonde noticed the forgotten letter in your grasp.

“Ooo, what's in the letter?!”

You cleared your throat and tried to move past their questioning to ask some of your own. You nodded toward the tree with the ghastly marks. The two looked at it as if it was not different than the rest until it clicked in their head. They began speaking over each other until the one with familiar eyes began explaining.

“Ah, it's one of my favorite relics - that’s the right word, right?” She looked to her friend for confirmation, who giddily nodded her head. Both you and Arachne shared a look: this was going to be an interesting tale.

“Back in the war, the Capitol wasn’t good at dealing with the woods, so they started burning them down! The poor birds. So our soldiers got fed up, and whenever they got the chance, they tied them and did the same thing!”

Her ecstatic voice got you both lost as you tried to assure what she was saying. In addition, you started oddly feeling ice prickling your skin, yet there was no change on the surface. The local picked up on your confusion and was quick to confirm your suspicions.

“They sent them in flames! But you know what's funny? This tree outlived them all hahaha!”

Arachne was able to swallow the brutal practice easier than you, muttering something about “poetic irony.” She turned to gauge your reaction and instantly snapped into action.

Your eyes became glossed over, looking more like ice than your normally lively eyes. Your skin paled, and you were shivering. The second Arachne grabbed a hold of you, you fully lost consciousness.

“Was it the talk about fire or trees?” the dark-haired girl asked casually and was swiftly smacked upon her neck by her friend.

“You killed her! We are so going to be next! Rowan!”

The girl-Rowan, tried to play it off with a scoff and shake of her head.

“I didn't kill her! It's allergy season!”

Arachne was done with both of their likely endless banter and snapped orders.

“Stop bickering! Call someone and now!”

The two looked at your still-shaking body and swallowed. The blonde, who was still nameless to the two of you, turned to her friend in urgency.

“Go call your brother!”

Rowan was immediately against that as the fear overtook her eyes.

“No, absolutely not! Go call your sister! He will kill me if he found out!”

“They both will kill us when they figure out we actually did commit murder!”

Arachne was impatient and more than irritated at their lack of urgency.

“I will be the one committing murder if one of you doesn't alert someone immediately.”

Yet again, they turned to each other and pointed.

“Rowan, go!”

“Maude Ivory, go!”

Then, to the relief of Arachne's blood pressure, a man who looked only a few years older than you appeared, carrying what looked like a handmade bow and a quiver of arrows.

He noticed the two screaming girls first as he addressed them.

"What have I told you guys about yelling in the woods? Someone will find you—”

The words died on his tongue as he took in your cold and shivering body. Arachne, like anyone else, assumed the shock was from seeing an unconscious body on the floor. Yet, Rowan wasn’t unknown to the man and had been feeling some sort of connection to you.

“Wait, yeah! She does look like—”

“What did you guys do now?!”

The panic was evident in the dark-haired man as he tried to think of ways to explain the situation if any Peacekeepers were to walk upon them. The tone in his voice was warning enough not to press it, but the girls never really cared for warning labels.

“We were curious! We’ve never seen her before and she doesn’t look from Twelve! I think she is from one or two.”

Rowan exclaimed while Maude Ivory's voice was quick to refute.

“I think she is from the Capitol!”

“You better pray we aren’t!”

It was then that the three of them remembered or noticed that Arachne was sitting right there, cradling your body that had stopped shivering yet was ice cold. She felt for your pulse once more and it was slow, far too slow. The look evident in Arachne’s chestnut orbs translated the severity of the situation and was all the man needed to start moving. He crouched beside your body still within Arachne’s arms. He gestured to take your body but the Capitol girl was hesitant.

“We are researchers at the base, it would be safer to take her there.”

Just the mention of the base had the man shaking his dark unruly locks in opposition. He emphasized to Arachne that she had already broken several of their rigid rules by going out into the woods without proper training yet. Self-preservation was also a factor in his case because, well, he wasn’t the most favored person in the District. Arachne wasn’t sure why she agreed to let him take you back to his nearby cabin, yet here the five of you were.

The man sprinted to the cabin, busting open the door in the process. He set you upon an elevated cot while directing orders to the young girls. Maude Ivory was to grab a tin to start a small fire and Rowan to grab all blankets and thick material possible.

Arachne was never medically gifted so she stood out of the way while the house was enveloped in panic. The man was steady as he continued to check your pulse and ensure your chest was still rising. Maude Ivory and Rowan both returned with their allotted tasks completed, seemingly always in perfect synchrony.

Once both girls returned, he made eye contact with Arachne and ordered her to continue checking your well-being. He stepped into a small kitchen just opposite the room you were set in. Arachne could only assume that it was a living room of sorts yet the cot made her think it was also a bedroom.

She sat beside you while the girls tried to ensure you were warm and took in the state of the house. It was messy, small, and unorganized. There was dirt on the floor, leaves stuck within the cracks, mud on all the surfaces. But what caught Arachne’s attention were the tens of varying colored and shaped papers posted upon the wood walls.

The man quickly returned with an odd-colored tea and a towel, quickly dabbing it inside the tea and placing it upon your forehead. The redhead was subconsciously making her way to the decorated wall and was met with messy yet intricately detailed drawings. Her eyes scanned each one, bafflement exceeding the prior. It was only when she landed on a drawing that was of a woman Arachne knew all too well.

She whipped her head in the direction of the man, whose focus was still on you. Arachne kept her distance as her tone became just as icy as your being.

“Who exactly are you, white knight?”

Maude Ivory and Rowan both cocked their heads at your words while the man only creased his eyebrows, puzzled by her words. She took a calculated step forward and the Arachne Crane of only a few weeks ago came back alive. Arachne didn’t appreciate being played and that dislike extended to people playing with you. Though any interrogation was silenced as you began waking up.

Your eyes fluttered open and as soon as reality hit you, you picked your head up only to smash it back down in frustration. The move immediately frightened the suspicious man and Arachne, who rushed to your bedside to ensure you wouldn’t do the same move. You were quick to smack their hands away from you as you sat up, clearly displeased with the past events.

“I’m fine, I don’t need to lie down! I’m sick of being sick.”

Arachne rolled her eyes at your lack of self-concern while the man’s brown eyes creased in bewilderment. You looked around and noticed the prior two girls and the room, this likely being their home. It suddenly hit you that the man was a new addition to your little group. You nodded to him and gave a quick “nice to meet you,” seemingly unfazed.

After examining you herself, Arachne decided you were good enough to make the trek back and as far away from the man as possible. She pulled your arm harshly, causing you to stumble from the layers of blankets and clothing upon your now warm body. The force caused your necklace of rings to fly out of your shirt as well as nearly smashing into yet another man who just appeared.

This one was much older, hair already graying and eyes sullen. His skin was scarred and calloused. He didn’t smell much better than he looked. However, as your eyes connected, you noticed a similarity. A memory. The detail struck you both as he gasped.

You feared you did something or possibly hurt him so you started checking for wounds when his dry hand reached out and gently lifted your chin upwards to his now glossy and pooling eyes. His eyes mirrored yours in shade, a similarity you’ve never shared with anyone besides your own blood. He took you in as tears were let out, his hands shaking with the force of his sobs. Your mind was flooded with theories and questions, all of which you didn’t know what to make of.

You felt a cold metal on the side of your face and gently took his right hand away to reject an insane possibility screaming within your mind. Though, as you looked down at his hand, all of reality crashed down along with your knees. It can’t be possible. It cannot be possible.

The man followed you to the floor, the both of you crouched and you joined his crying. You pulled your necklace up to his finger. Side by side, two rings, of a lost era, proudly displayed the house of which you were the only remnant. Or so you believed.

A stag with vines surrounding was the notorious family crest of the Embridges. Your mother’s family. You looked back into the man’s eyes and he was no longer just a man.

“Uncle Alreic?”

You felt the air being ripped out of your lungs as he crushed you within his embrace. He soaked your hair with tears and followed it with patting it down. Alreic rocked you back and forth as if he let go just a fraction you would disappear.

Time was no longer a concept as he held onto you and you had forgotten the spectators until the young man with dark curls crouched beside you two. He lightly nudged Alreic’s body away from you until he could meet his eyes. You expected him to be upset but instead, his eyes lit up from their glossy state.

“Look Otto! Look, I told you you would see your mother again!”

Your breathing stopped but not because of a strong hug, but emotional destruction. You looked at the boy who was called Otto then back to the man who declared him such. It was then that you finally knew why Highbottom sent you here.

It would have been far too easy, far too gracious to let you off with just their graves. You have to deal with the resurrection of fatality’s pain.

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let me know what you guys think:)

@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹@darlingisntit 🌹 @scarletstarrs 🌹

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tired-biscuit · 1 year

Note

Imagine giving General Kiba a handjob during an important meeting- 👀👀

18+ fem!reader / cw: mentions of alcohol and risk of getting caught. royalty AU. there's tension between kiba and shino in this one!!

series masterlist

mead tastes better than you thought it would.

absent-mindedly staring at the dancing flames of the fireplace that's situated right across the great table you currently sit at, you consume the honeyed drink from your glass in small sips.

fine ladies such as yourself usually don't drink alcohol in order to obtain their graceful poise and elegant speech, you know this, however ever since your father had married - sold - you off to a war general instead of a duke, or at least a nobleman who'd know how to dance and use his utensils properly, you've since abandoned that particular idea.

so you sit there; in your 'i carry my own knife strapped to my belt like some heathen, instead of using normal silverware' husband's study. the study, which he lets you in only as of late, and which you've just realized looks absolutely divine, even if its visual does come off a tad bit blurry around the edges of your sight whenever you blink.

readjusting in your chair, you drag your gaze from one end to the other. the walls are decorated with tasteful art which he definitely did not pick or hang. the furniture, made out of wood that you suspect is surely walnut, pleasantly compliments the suave style of the entire space. incense burns in one corner, smelling prominently of sandalwood. it fills your lungs with warm hints of amber and worn leather.

it's all very male, the atmosphere, and as the minutes pass, the heaviness of it turns you somewhat dozy. truth be told, you could fall asleep right then and there, with your cheek laying flat against the table, dreams riddling your thoughts in no time. especially when you'd have thickly sweet mead warming your veins throughout the entire night, and you'd already managed to slip off your shoes just a moment prior.

wiggling your toes deeper into the carpet, you let out an appreciative sigh at how the rich material brushing against your bare soles feels astoundingly more intense than usual. being tipsy is great, you discover, and the carpet is thick and in the colour of a deep maroon red; its purpose only meant to add further to the already overly-sophisticated ambience of the room that doesn't suit the wildish personality of the general at all. you suppose that it's because he hasn't been using the study for long enough yet, but who knows?

still, you don't pay much mind to the thought as the feverish shade plays with your drunken brain the moment you dip your chin down to inspect it more closely. toes tightly curling, it's like your feet are touching molten steel from how warm and soft they've suddenly gotten, and it doesn't take you long to realize that you have no way of cooling them down.

the heat sits not on your skin; it instead brings your blood to a simmer.

your husband doesn't address the weight of your foot when you rest it on top of his boot underneath the table. with his nose nearly buried in copious stacks of maps and documents all representing your thriving nation that's ruled by the iron fist of your father, kiba has been ignoring you completely for the last three hours or so in order to strategize and prepare for his next campaign.

the war is over, he's won it - that is why you're here, after all - and yet he still works and plans ahead of time to foresee the next challenge that could possibly be thrown his way. it's a trait you catch yourself feeling slightly surprised by, perhaps even fond over; one that you wouldn't necessarily appoint to a careless brute like him.

he's all different kinds of clever than what you're normally used to, you realize. when he focuses, it's rather on anticipating attacks and finding ways to efficiently counter their assisting blows, than on poetry and music and the arts and just plain literature.

you've never seen him read a book, even if there are plenty in the library downstairs and inside this study alone. much less encountered him drawing something other than charts to place his platoons and battalions of soldiers on, and the childish-looking rabbits he sometimes scribbles for you to make you smile. philosophy is almost surely a foreign term to him, all he cares about is the bite of the fight.

so perhaps that, along with all the scheming and planning he does with his stoic advisor now, proves to be the reason as to why he hadn't fussed at all and had merely brushed you off with a quick wave of his hand when you'd whispered to him that you intend to pour yourself a drink. and a second. and later, a third.

either that, or he's slowly getting used to you actually having a mind of your own, and is letting you do whatever you please with it just so that you'd let him do his job in return.

but alas, your mind is bored. terribly so.

and standing next to your chair, with his arms spread out firmly on the table and his broad shoulders slumped, he looks mighty appealing as well.

applying further pressure to his boot, you watch as the bridge of his nose scrunches slightly at the contact. he doesn't say or do anything besides knitting his brows together, but by the time you repeat the action for a second time, way more persistently at that, he finally lifts his gaze from the group of small figurines he's been obsessively rearranging all across the map, and turns to look at you instead.

the moment your husband's attention moves onto you, his military advisor clamps his mouth shut; finally ceasing his seemingly-endless assessment of the area they've chosen to put the phantom-soldiers on, and that you've been forced to listen to for the last aeon or so.

well, not exactly forced, per se. you're in here by your own decision; because you've nagged kiba about wanting to see what his line of work looks like.

so whilst you're still trying to get used to the sudden silence to fall upon the room, you give a fleeting glance to the soldier that stands across from you, now. he's tall, fair-skinned and lean. handsome but guarded, as far as you can tell, since he doesn't even look at you, much less acknowledges your presence despite that you're of noble blood.

privilege doesn't seem to matter to military men. to him, you're just another woman amongst many. a mere breeding mare, as disgusting as that sounds.

your husband used to be just like that.

"yes, princess?" the man in question asks, putting your train of thought to an abrupt halt. when you whip your head to the side so that you can look up at him, you're able to tell that he's tired almost straight away. you can hear it in the prominent drawl of his voice and see it in his eyes. he's fed-up even if he loves to work, and it makes your brow furrow with concern.

"i-i... uhm," your tongue stumbles and you fall silent for a moment as heat steadily begins to creep up your neck. if it's because of the alcohol or the sudden racing that the sugary pet name invokes in your heart, you do not know. still, you swallow hard and calm your pulse down just enough to say, "i'm sorry, i just wanted to suggest if we'd call it a night...? you seem tired and it's getting quite late anyway, and-"

your voice fades into nothing for a second time around when he chooses to move. he's slow but everlastingly robust as he sighs and plops down onto the chair that's right on your left. his body slumps against the finely-carved details in the backrest and you try to pretend that you don't notice the visible cord that pushes against his neck when he moves to stretch it from side to side. try to play ignorant at how he spreads his legs underneath the edge of the table and sits as if he comandeers the entire room.

it's probably because he does.

he rubs at his eye now, all sleepy and laggard, and uses the other one to look at you. "let me just figure out if the terrain we chose is passable, and then i promise you that we'll head straight to bed." he blinks, then. fights back a yawn because he hasn't been sleeping well for nearly a week straight. "does that sound all right?"

a blush sears your face at his words, its warmth making your cheeks feel like they're tingling as you turn away and indulge in your sudden bashfulness. he might be a smooth talker or maybe you're just drunk, but goddammit; the fact that he's actually willing to put in the effort to settle on an agreement almost regularly now, lights your entire body on fire.

you're changing him for the better day by day and your lips keep tugging upward at the corners because of it, especially when you say, "yes, that's fine by me."

"good," he mumbles, taking note of the beam before he turns his attention back towards his aloof-looking subordinate. "now, where were we, shino?"

shino, as you've just learned is the advisor's name, quirks a dark, inquisitive brow at the exchange he's just witnessed. the man before you doesn't remember his general ever acting this considerate around anyone, much less a woman.

it makes his eyes dance between you as he clears his throat. "if i may suggest," his gaze goes back and forth again, "that if the lady wishes to retire for the evening, she should be free to do so? we've still got a lot of material to go through, and disturbances like these aren't of any help when it comes to making a decision, i'm sure."

disturbances.

your heart drops right down to the pit of your stomach. the fact that the word affects you is hard to hide; embarrassment makes your face burn once more, because now you've got your husband's thigh firmly pressing against the side of yours underneath the table. his knee bounces in a quick rhythm that doesn't help calming you down, but one bump to your leg reminds you to keep your spine ramrod straight and your chin held high.

when you look at him from the corner of your eye, there's a small smile playing on his lips. and yet, his voice sounds like it's being grit out through clenched teeth as he says, "i don't know what kind of wife you've got back at home, but mine sure isn't a disturbance; as you've so kindly put it."

"i understand that, sir," shino says, his voice remaining perfectly flat, "but she-"

"the lady suggested that we should perhaps put a halt on this thing, because she can tell that i'm fed up and fucking tired," the other man cuts in, pinching the bridge of his nose with his scarred fingers. "and as far as i can tell, that's not a disturbance; it's rather affection coming from a caring spouse. besides, she has a point. what fruitful decision had ever been made by an exhausted general?"

the advisor's eyes narrow as your own shoot wide open. your heart insists on fluttering back up towards its rightful place, even as shino says, "i don't seem to recall you ever being this careful during the planning of a campaign before... usually you're more than eager to run headfirst into battle and i have to be the one stopping you."

"well, i've got more important things to consider and worry about now. much larger things are at stake," the general replies, brushing him off with a simple gesture of his hand. "now, go fetch me that book you were talking about earlier; i think i saw it in the bookcase over there by the window. after we skim it, we can call it a night so that we're all happy."

he makes it sound like an order, not a request. and sure enough, his advisor is still a soldier, so he quietly obeys as he pushes away from the table and turns his back towards you both whilst heading towards the bookcase at the other side of the room. you don't miss the subtle albeit frustrated tick in his jaw as he does so. it makes you muse.

meanwhile, kiba uses the chance to press a hasty kiss to your still-warm cheek. the sudden affection nearly makes you audibly gasp, but you're fast to stifle it down even if the mead in your belly tells you not to.

instead, you place your hand on his thigh and don't dare look into his big brown eyes as you mutter a meek, "i'm sorry."

"eh? what on earth are you sorry for, princess? you were just looking out for me, were you not?" he rasps, his voice no longer sharp, but playful. "besides, shino should be the one apologizing for acting like a stuck-up cunt towards my goddamn wife."

"oh, you can't just-" a small giggle bubbles up your throat at his blatant cursing. you're quick to cover your mouth with your other palm, but a fraction of it still manages to slip out. he can't deny it anymore; the sound jumpstarts kiba's very heart.

he doesn't tell you this, but he's growing more fond of you with each passing day. you bring sunshine and warmth into his existence by merely existing yourself. slowly figuring out a functioning dynamic that works well between you, sharing a bed and sometimes a bath, having someone to talk to late at night, receiving little signs of affection; it all makes him feel like life is worth living. like he's worth living for.

so it's no wonder why his hand cups your chin and he whispers, "so... could i perhaps get a little kiss? as a reward for being such a good husband?"

you're clearly flustered, because now you're looking at him from underneath your lashes as you mumble, "now?"

"mhmm," he purrs, draping his free arm over the backrest of your chair. "right now."

"but what if your advisor-"

"you know that book i mentioned earlier?" he interrupts, leaning in even closer. he smells like a forest; deep and rich, earthy. it titillates your senses.

"mm," is all you offer in answer. god, you're so drunk that the heat between your legs is pulsating in his presence. it's becoming almost unbearable, you feel like a whore despite that he's your husband.

he glances towards the other man in the room, whose back is still turned towards you as he keeps searching the bookshelves. "...well, i might have forgotten to mention that it's up in my bedroom because i'd been reading it just last night."

you blink, clearly surprised. "you read?"

"only when i have to." he glances across the room again before he licks his lips and says, "but the point i'm trying to make is that he's gonna be searching for it for a long while, so i think it's safe to say that a kiss would go entirely unnoticed."

you sigh at this, but succumb rather quickly. it might be because of the alcohol that's still coursing your system or because of his coaxing and urging, but by the time your lips press against his own softly, aiming for a simple peck, he's quick to immediately turn it into something deeper.

he just likes you so much. and can you blame him that he wants a little bit of loving from the person he admires, after the tough, absolutely draining week he's had? he's just so needy.

and he's also a messy kisser. your whimper is silenced when he pushes his tongue inside your mouth and licks your teeth with the swift arrogance of an assured male. he angles your head by pressing his thumb underneath your chin and sucks on your bottom lip until it starts to feel awfully tender and bruised. you can feel the slight grazing of his unnaturally sharp incisor every once in a while as he continues to taste you. it's enough to drive a woman completely mad.

especially because you can feel him hardening just underneath your palm, now. it seems that your treacherous hand had decided to act upon its own selfish desires whilst you were too busy handling his tongue in your mouth, and had inched higher up his leg until it'd finally settled on the now-prominent bulge that resides in his pants.

by the time you pull apart for air, his cock is already pushing against the buttons and there's a string of saliva connecting your panting mouths. his cheeks are flushed, brown eyes glazed as he releases his hold on your chin and swipes his thumb across your lip to get rid of the spit there.

"we shouldn't-" you start, but he silences you by wedging his thumb between your plush lips and pushing it into your mouth, right to the knuckle. you can see his pupils dilate when your first instinct is to suck on it.

"fuck, you've got such a good-lookin' mouth; but i can't... just..." he mumbles somewhat dazedly now, his voice hoarse in that appealing way that tells you he's horny out of his fucking mind, and so quick, too. he inhales a sharp breath, shaking his head as if he's trying to gather his thoughts before he focuses on you again and rasps, "just stroke it. over my pants."

when you give his advisor a sidelong glance, you're relieved to find out that he's still stubbornly searching for the book in hopes of not disappointing his superior. but unfortunately for you, your husband isn't pleased with you directing your attention on another man at a crucial time like this.

"hey... look at me, princess," he taps his fingers against your cheekbone and presses his thumb onto the flat of your tongue, making you wince in surprise when your throat tightens in answer. "i need you to stroke my cock, all right?"

all you do is grunt in response. the sound comes out muffled.

"it'll just look like we're whispering to each other. you know, as a married couple does from time to time," he inches closer, his way of speaking urgent. "i promise he won't notice a thing."

he's gotten so desperate now that he's even wrapped his hand around your own and started moving it up and down his length. when your grip tightens around his clothed cock, you watch in awe as he bites his lip to suppress a groan.

his arm is still resting on your chair's backrest when he pushes forward again and nearly covers your body from sight with his own. hunching his back, he tries to hide the way his ribcage expands whenever he sucks in breaths that grow deeper by the second. you can feel the film of sweat on his forehead when he rests it against your own.

"sir? i can't seem to find the book," shino starts. your heart nearly gives out at the sound of his voice, it's like lightning flashes throughout your every cell.

"keep lookin', i'm sure it's in there somewhere," kiba bites out immediately. all polite talk has ceased to exist.

"but-"

"that's an order, soldier."

you push his thumb out of your mouth with the help of your tongue to chide, "that doesn't seem really convincing! if he turns around, it'll-"

"look like we're gossiping," kiba persists. you nearly squeak when his fingers dig into your gown and rest on your thigh. "like a married couple; just like i've said."

"h-hey-"

"just keep going," he hisses. his eyes are so dark that it makes you fear they'll swallow you whole, and as if he can sense your growing anxiety, he forces his gaze to soften a bit before he adds, "please. you're doing such a good job and i really want this."

you're scared of getting caught because you're supposed to be representing the image of innocence, but truth be told; you're also impeccably thrilled at the same time. he feels big in your hand; fat and heavy and warm between your fingers even over the layer of fabric. every time you squeeze him over his pants, he twitches and bucks his hips right into your touch just to gain more friction.

"fuck yes, princess." every breath is ragged. "that's it... gonna make me cum so fast."

"shh! keep quiet."

it's kind of sweet, how evidently he needs you. but it's also lewd.

the things this man's libido makes him do is unbelievable. it's only been a couple of days since he's last made love to you, and here he is; with his sanity nearly crumbling down to its pillars whilst teaching you how to give him a not at all subtle, under-the-table handjob even if there's an audience nearby. you can't believe he's willing to risk his rank or fall subject to despicable rumours for just a mere touch of your hand.

either he's absolutely delirious, or he's a fool in love. but nevertheless, by the time shino at long last admits defeat and confesses he's unable to find the book; he's also sated.

and as for you; well, let's just say it's hard not to laugh at the knowledge that your husband's pants are sticky with cum when you excuse yourself from the table and he's stuck in the study, rearranging his little toy soldiers.

#this turned out way more detailed than i anticipated but oh well jdjdjdjdj #i love him ur honour #kiba smut #kiba x reader #naruto smut #biscuit's royalty au #biscuit drabbles

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singularattitudeofasafetypin · 2 years

Text

Meet Me in the Pouring Rain

Masterlist

Summary: Hawkins has had a heatwave for weeks on end, when it finally rains, Eddie and reader dance in the storm.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: none.

A/N: I think this is a drabble? I'm not actually sure what constitutes one but it's fairly short and there's little to no plot. Also, if you squint, I was vaguely influenced by this scene from The West Wing. Idk I just really like thunderstorms and got this idea in my head, so I wrote it! I hope you enjoy!

Please don't copy my work!

The sun beat down on Hawkins. Exhausted residents cowered in their homes; windows flung open in a futile attempt to cool them down. The streets were deserted, shops closed early, not a single car on the roads, even the local pool was all but empty. After almost a month of muggy, baking heat, no one had any energy for anything!

It could have been a ghost town.

Nowhere was safe from the merciless temperatures. Far away on the outskirts of town, the dilapidated trailer park wasn’t much different. The earth was parched and cracked and the grass was a sickly straw colour.

While everyone else could take refuge inside, Eddie’s trailer trapped heat like a furnace. The two of you lay sprawled in the meagre shade of the picnic shelter on either side of the bench. Eyes closed, not talking, your fingertips brushing.

Eddie had finally shed his leather jacket, a sure sign the scorch was unbearable. He was clad only in a light t-shirt and ripped jeans, hair pushed off his neck and falling over the side of the bench. Both of you had kicked off your shoes long ago hoping it would lend relief but nothing seemed to. There was only heavy, humid heat.

Conversation forgotten; your brains were soup. ‘It’s too hot,’ and ‘When, please, when will it end,’ were the only thoughts you could form.

At least you were going to suffocate together. You stroked your fingers against the back of Eddie’s hand and pictured the small smile that graced his lips. He groaned softly, which you took to mean either, ‘I love you,’ or ‘Make it stop!’ You went with the former.

People always said Hell was coming to Hawkins and if the temperature was anything to go by, you believed them. What you wouldn't give for even a breeze!

In that moment, or perhaps it was centuries later, something changed. You couldn’t exactly explain it. A feeling? A buzz in the air? A taste in the back of your mouth? You sat bolt upright.

‘Eddie?’

He groaned again. ‘Eddie, it’s going to rain!’

‘No, it’s not!’ he slurred, shifting to get comfortable, ‘They’ve been saying that for weeks! It’s a cold-hearted lie!’

‘I’m serious!’ the feeling had filled you with a new sense of vigour. You climbed over the table and him and started wandering about, staring at the sky with your hands outstretched

‘Come back!’ he complained, ‘I want to die in this sweltering wasteland together!’

‘I can sense it!’ you insisted.

Eddie squinted at the sky, there was maybe one cloud, two if you counted that weird pale whisp of nothing! ‘You’re delusional!’ he retorted; you paid him no heed. ‘At least put your shoes back on! You’re gonna get glass in your feet or something!’ he tossed your sandals in your direction, covering his eyes with his arm and turning over.

‘Come on! Come on!’ you muttered, ‘Ha! I felt it!’

‘It’s a mirage!’ he teased half-heartedly.

‘Come on!’ you went on.

‘Lie back down!’

‘Any second…’

He grumbled your name.

‘Now!’

A crash of thunder split the silence and the sky opened. Eddie nearly fell off the bench, spinning to see your wet grinning face.

‘Woah! What else can you do?’ he scrambled to his feet.

‘I didn’t even know I could do that!’ you giggled at your hands as though they held magical power.

Cool, refreshing rain hammered down on you, splattering when it hit your skin. ‘Come on!’ The two of you scrambled to put your shoes on and raced out into the downpour.

Rolling grey clouds had materialised from nowhere, darkening the landscape; it felt like a whole ocean was falling on the dry, brittle town. You ran through the shower, feet splashing, laughing at the top of your lungs. The scent of petrichor filled your nose. You were wet through in seconds and Eddie wasn’t far behind. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his shirt clinging to his chest. He was laughing too.

An especially loud crack of thunder made you scream, then convulse into a fit of giggles. Eddie caught up to you, grabbing you from behind and spinning you around to shrieks of delight. You were flying, drunk on excitement.

He set you down and pulled you round to face him. Nose to nose, water streamed down your faces. Staring into each-other’s eyes, he cupped your cheeks in both hands and kissed you. It wasn’t the first time you’d kissed Eddie by any stretch, but every time managed to feel different. This one was invigorating, full of relief after so long being forced apart by the heat. It felt just like a movie. Everything was right again, the earth quenched and your love replenished.

The wind began to pick up, tossing spray into your eyes while you danced and jumped in puddles like little children. He kissed you again and again between euphoric giggles.

You were drenched to the bone when a brilliant flash of lightning split the sky. You yelped in surprise and Eddie grabbed your hand, dragging you, still laughing, inside.

He shut the door but the rainstorm drummed on the roof of the trailer so hard it might have broken through. Though the wind rushed and whipped the fragile walls, making the battered trailer creak and groan under the buffet, you never doubted your safety.

Leading you down the hall Eddie pulled open a draw, handing you some dry clothes and starting to change himself. You pulled on his warm, dry t-shirt breathing in its comforting smell. You took turns squeezing your water-logged hair over his bathroom sink, drying it carefully with a towel. Eddie pulled you into bed, finally able to wrap you in his arms and sleep soundly.

The window was cracked keeping the rain out but letting in the fresh, rejuvenating air in. You closed your eyes, Eddie’s warmth a comforting embrace. Raindrops plinked over the roof, gurgled along the ground, and dripped off of ledges, soothing and guiding you to sleep. Thunder rumbled a million miles away and lightning still flashed but you snuggled into Eddie’s chest, safe and sound from the storm.

***

Thank you so much for reading! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! I really hope you enjoyed it!

Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson drabble #amber writes

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daeyeol4you · 10 months

Text

The Chay Rewatch Ep 9

Ep 1 & 2, Ep 3, Ep 4, Ep 5, Ep 6, Ep 7, Ep 8

Ep 9 - Kim is so whipped while somehow still being emotionally constipated

Time: 10:22 – 12:11 – songwriting boy

Kim’s Outfit: An olive-green jacket, a white shirt, and the return of the white pants

Why does no guitar in this show have a guitar strap?

Chay’s song breaks Kim’s writing block, Kim’s written tons of music before, but now Chay is becoming his muse, taking over the one outlet Kim allows himself

The emotional shutdown Kim forces himself through once he realizes how happy even the memory of Chay is making him. He can’t allow himself to be weak because any attachment to Chay is a weakness, but even that fails because immediately he’s back to smiling while he plays

Kim is so inspired to write even while he’s very clearing trying to cut Chay out of his brain, he’s trying to write his feelings out so he can go back to being cold, untouchable Kim

Korn really did screw up all of his sons emotionally – commitment issues to spare

Time: 29:46 – Macau Spotting

Macau scaring the absolute shit out of Pete, what a little shit

Macau’s Outfit: Another sweater vest with orange and blue stripes with tan pants and white shoes

Macau and Vegas definitely planned this, and Macau is so happy to be causing mischief

Wingman Macau you will always be famous

Macau going on and on about the sermon to tease Pete only to fall asleep immediately, what a mood

Time: 39:24 – 40:03 – the guitar pick!

Not me immediately trying to analyze all of the details of Chay’s room

There’s a bottle of milk on his desk – again I’m sorry I laughed this is a funny bit

The towers of CDs behind Chay speak to how Chay isn’t just into music because its fun, he’s put a lot of effort into appreciating music

The ukelele is cute

He has a jar of I think paper stars on his back shelf – I only mention this because there are a number of different meanings to lucky paper stars but the one I know best is that if you fold either 1,000 or 2,000 (depending on the tale) you can get a wish (you also can give the stars to someone you love) I also know some do it for luck – which Chay has interesting thoughts about luck as we know

Chay creating the guitar pick with his own two hands – my art kid Chay agenda is so real

Chay’s outfit: I’m 99% sure that Chay is wearing a Geto (from Jujutsu Kaisen) shirt. Chay anime fan confirmed

Geto is an antagonist from Jujutsu Kaisen, and I view him as a tragic figure who was once good but due to the evils of his job and the abuse he saw, turned evil. Later on, his body becomes a vessel for further evil

Chay’s friend is named Ohm! I so forgot about this bit I won’t lie

Chay really had been hoping it was Kim. He may have left the next step up to Kim, but he’s still so hopeful that Kim doesn’t leave him behind. He’s for sure getting impatient about it and is planning his next move on his target – sorry crush!

Chay ignoring Ohm draws up a lot of my ideas about how private Chay is about everything. He allows others to see just the surface of everything going on with him, but he tends to be very private about his thoughts and interests. Its not a lack of confidence. I just think he learned early on that sometimes speaking up about everything can be a burden (particularly in his relationship with Porsche) you have to work to get his more internal thoughts

And Chay chooses this! At any point he could put down the guitar pick and answer his friend’s invite, who probably knows something is up with Chay just not what. He’s very tunnel-visioned when he chooses a path, but he doesn’t feel the need to tell anyone else that

Chay doesn’t hide or lie about his emotions and thoughts usually. He just doesn’t always say them out loud. There’s a difference trust me

Time: 49:48 – 53:04 – Chay’s version of gift giving

Chay’s Outfit: a grey crewneck with white and blue paint splatters over a black shirt with the same pendant from the song scene

Kim’s outfit: a studded black leather jacket paired with a white shirt and blue jeans. His necklace this time is a blend of two different chain types (partly made of safety pins I think?) with his regular silver earrings and rings

Chay breaking into the rehearsal space – child I was just praising you for leaving the ball in Kim’s court, please stop waving red flags! You are such a concerning young man

Chay is so cute no wonder Kim is okay with the stalking, also who is this friend Chay keeps getting this info from (please just be stan twitter please that’d be so funny)

I love how this scene gets presented from behind the glass of the recording booth, the slow zoom-in on the two as the scene progresses

Kim’s calm responses to this are so dynamic when placed next to Chay’s which are full of excitement and nerves

Gosh the zoom-in when Chay presents the box – beautiful

“This is limited edition. You’ve got the only one piece in the world.” – how long do you think its been since Kim received a genuine, heartfelt gift like this?

Compare this gift to Kim and the guitar. Kim bought an incredibly expensive guitar for Chay, but it was to buy his way into the house. There was more manipulation than thought put into that gift

Whereas Chay made that pick himself adding even greater meaning to the gift. Chay isn’t trying to manipulate Kim, he’s genuinely just staying true to himself by confessing and giving Kim the pick as thanks. Chay’s always been upfront about his emotions and intentions with Kim which is very refreshing

of course Chay passed - he's very talented

“From now on I won’t have any excuse to see your face.” “Can I bother you one last time?” – that’s such a cute statement, plus it also goes to show that Chay gets that Kim is trying to cut him off and will accept it after he says his piece (Chay respects boundaries! I am ignoring his stalking for right now!)

I love Chay’s fidgeting here, very genuine and doesn’t feel forced

KIM’S FACE WHEN CHAY SAYS HE LIKES HIM! He knew but was not prepared for Chay to actually say it

Chay’s rambling about making an oath with himself – he is so good! He is so emotionally healthy & confident! (I am ignoring the red flags about his stalking right now!)

I know some people were disappointed about never getting a ‘real’ kiss, but I like this cheek kiss. Chay’s still young compared to Kim, and Kim holds a lot of power as his tutor as well as how many secrets he’s keeping from Chay. A kiss on the lips would have been marred by that and would have been uncomfortable when looked back on. This kiss works for them, it's sweet and it’s a foundation for the two of them to build on

During this scene, there’s this large empty space between Kim and Chay. Chay stays respectfully away until Kim breaks the divide and kisses him. It was always going to be up to Kim to choose what to do next

THE MUSIC!! THE HUGS!! – Kim is so not a hugger, but for Chay he lets it happen, twice! This is the same man we see bullying bodyguards and murdering people! The duality of man indeed

Shoutout to Tankhun for his open and honest defense of Porsche – truly a man who knows that open communication is necessary (unlike his brothers)

Overall Chay Rating (Chrating) – A

This ep definitely goes everywhere, but we get a good amount of KimChay development as well as a Macau appearance. I’m glad we got solo scenes from Kim & Chay before they saw each other as it laid the groundwork for the confession scene, very well plotted. Chay being so truthful to himself as well as Kim’s emotional breakthrough was very refreshing

#kprewatch2023 #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #porchay kittisawat #porchay pichaya kittisawat #kim theerapanyakul #kimchay

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goldeneyedgirl · 3 months

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can't believe my dumb ass misunderstanding the hybrid jasper thing and the fact that you were talking about vampire jasper in the og hybrid universe actually resulted in such a beautiful thing thanks a lot to your galaxy brain and i'm sorry but now i'm one more anon disturbing you til death to have more of this concept !!!!!!!!!!

No, Anon. You gifted me with your galaxybrain thoughts. This concept has eaten away at me. I love fucking with the dynamic between Alice and Jasper, and the idea that he's some fucked up, mutated version of a hybrid because Maria crossed his path will feed me for a long time.

I'm still fiddling with how I want to approach this - there's the 'rewriting the canon story beats'. Or there's more of a Jasper-version of Hybrid which is... tempting. I could have fun with that.

But for now, here's some more from the ficmas version!

He wants to trust Alice.

But it’s hard. Nothing good has ever come from trusting a vampire. Or a woman.

Everything about her seems to be designed to lure him in - her big eyes, the sweet and hopeful smile on her face, the way she fusses with her gloves and hat and shoes. She smells like good things, safe things that feel like he dreamed them once. He really does want to trust her.

But he can’t.

The room that she’s rented for them is small but clean and warm. He wasn’t expecting that. Or the fact there’s a weather-beaten suitcase with clothing for him on the bed.

“It was easier to tell the landlady that you were my husband,” Alice says apologetically, as she takes off her coat and hangs it up. “If we’d traveled as siblings, more questions would have been asked.” There’s a tarnished brass ring, held on with a slip of paper, on her left hand that she slips off and into thin air. “She has assumed you were a soldier, which will work in our favor.”

He nods dumbly. Cover stories are nothing new, and this one is sturdy. But it makes him feel like he’s caught in a net and he can’t get free if everything turns sour with all the details already figured out for him. He wishes he knew if he could trust her.

Alice watches him for a moment, and she looks almost sad before she gestures to the suitcase. “Take what you need - the washroom is at the end of the hall. If… if I fetch you some food, will you eat?”She sounds oddly tentative making that offer but he nods. He’s not sure what he will eat - he existed on human blood for so long that human food only does so much; it is essentially medicinal, to keep him healthy and functioning. He can go for weeks, if not months, without much more than a few mouthfuls of water but it will take its toll.

But the blood… the blood he needs to stay in control.

In the washroom, he finds the case is very precisely packed - two outfits for him, all in dark colours and folded neatly, along with a comb and a razor. Soap and towels are provided in the washroom, thankfully. She’s even found him a set of pajamas that smell like soap flakes and dust. But underneath his things is a filmy pink scarf, separating another layer of clothing, and he cannot help but peel it back to see what else is packed in this suitcase.

There’s a threadbare yellow dress with mismatched buttons; a grey sweater that looks miles too big for Alice; a beige slip with a torn strap hastily pinned; a little pouch with an ancient-looking hairbrush, a dirty lipstick, and a brown leather notebook tied closed with some ribbon.

The notebook looks as old as he is, and he feels oddly guilty as he reaches for it. But he opens it and… maybe he can trust her.

The first few pages are letters. Unsteady and uneven, in a small, cramped hand; practicing over and over again until the letters become words. Mostly ‘Alice’ and ‘Jasper’ and ‘Cullen’. Leaning to write until it looks like the hand of someone her age and not someone who seems to have taught themselves.

And then little drawings - he’s stunned to see himself in many of them, drawings the size of postage stamps so as not to run out of pages.

A few sketches of clothing - dresses and coats and shirts. Lists of items, as if her memory cannot retain things. And then, almost in the middle of the book, it becomes … it becomes something he feels like he shouldn’t have seen. Notes on him, for him. Things to remember, things to know. Things that her funny gift has seen.

Can’t get cold or wet.

Doesn’t like milk.

Sleeps!

Pages and pages of notes to herself about him. And instead of being creeping and unnerving, like being watched in the dark, he found it… sweet and endearing, a clumsy gesture of goodwill.

She wasn’t lying when she said that she had been looking for him, waiting for him.

When he goes to put her things back in order, hoping that she won’t realize he intentionally looked through them and just messed them up pulling his own things out, he finds a dirty bit of cloth. There’s mud and old blood on it, and he pulls it out to see exactly why Alice has kept it.

It’s a torn, dirty garment. Not a dress or a shirt, but shapeless. The blood runs down the left side - a distinct pattern. He doesn’t need the lingering scent of venom to identify it, not with the blood splatter the way it is.

This was the garment she died in.

#alice cullen #jasper hale #anon #asks #my fic: hybrid jasper #alice being hopeless at human things #jasper being so tired and malnourished he's not thinking straight #just shenanigans

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livrere-green · 6 days

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i’m curious—what’s ur specific experience of genderfluidity like?

Oh— There's a lot to say about this, honesty but I'll try to be concise.

I think my first crisis about gender happened when I was around 10/11, but to establish some points:

I came from an old-fashioned family. I was obligated to take etiquette classes when I was a kid (piano, oratory and calligraphy too).

I didn't have a voice over what I could wear in my daily life as a kid. I just had the school uniform. It included an skirt, a cape, a hat and sometimes a coat. And my other clothes that were all curated by my mother

I also had all the toys and things traditionally related to me, as an AFAB person. Dolls, and a room with pink walls.

However, when I was 10, all of it started to finally annoy me. I grew progressively detach from traditional feminine things, and I didn't understand why (honestly I never asked myself that question at that time). I just felt like an outsider, and it was worst at school (it was a catholic school for girls).

It lasted for years, but at least since I turned 13, I had more freedom over my own style and gender expression. As a consequence, I didn't experience those years normally, I didn't learn to do makeup, or to go shopping, I didn't attend normal parties, or felt interest about dating (boys). I didn't feel like a boy either, it just felt safer not to define myself into any of those categories. I was just... some thing.

I stayed in that lane for a long time. My gender expression was pretty much androgynous, I cut my hair short constantly (since I was 16) and I started telling everyone that fabric is fabric while buying clothes or opted to go shopping with my father because he gave zero fucks about the section I was picking clothes from.

I wasn't aware that there was a name for feeling more like one thing one day, and more like the other after some time. That changed during the pandemic, and in 2021 I was back in a more feminine vibe, and it hit me hard because I felt lost, I mean, I wanted some things as skirts and make up, and— You know, I just never learned those things, and it was incredibly confusing, but I managed to catch up (it was weird af at first).

From that moment to now, a lot of things had change. I mean, I started to understand myself a bit more, to create my own style, to experiment with gender expression a lot, and there's so many silly things I discover that just make my brain go "is this gender?"

It has been a long long journey and still, I know it's going to keep begin like that for me, constantly changing, oscillating even.

Fun facts:

It doesn't matter if I'm going with a more masculine/feminine/androgynous vibe, I always walk like they taught me when I was seven, and it never goes away, i hate it a bit now.

The first time I feel like my gender was truly gendering was when I tied my uniform tie by myself (younger girls had ties with elastic, only the older ones were allowed to have real ties), and that day I was wearing the cape and a pair of patent leather shoes. It just felt okay.

Sometimes I have huge crises about what to do with my hair, it was short for a lot of time and just last year I let it grow... It's still complicated (before I also used wigs when I felt like my hair was too short for the way I was feeling).

I guess that's all I can say for now, I know is messy, but that's exactly how confusing it is sometimes.

Thank you for the ask 💚

#liv answers #asks #isthei 💫#mutuals

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awaytobeunshaken · 1 year

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Angstpril 2023 - Day 11: Self-Sabotage

“Why?” Ashton hasn’t said much in the days since they awoke. It had been hard to form words, though he’d understood what Milo told him. The daze, however, between misplaced memories and the concoctions Milo had drugged them up with and whatever the fuck was going on with their brain, was making a mess of Ashton’s coherence. He could manage ‘why?’ though.

“It was my fault,” Milo told him. “Job was my idea. Figured if she was dealing in some weird-ass magic shit maybe I could negotiate a share of it. Too big a target. Wasn’t worth it. You shouldn’t have had to die for it.”

Ashton accepts the explanation and tucks it away, too tired to do much more with it. It’s much the same explanation they might have given, in Milo’s shoes. It’s a few days before he asks it again. He’s a little more coherent now, able to complain about the food and ask for more water and let Milo know whatever’s in those drugs might make his body feel great but they leave his mind barely there. And somewhere in between a bland lunch that Milo insisted would be best for now and the project Ashton had been working on, modding an old leather jacket Milo had found while poking around through the trash dumped in the Hollow. “Why?”

“I told you.”

“I’m not talkin’ about you Milo. I mean all of it. Why you out of any of them. Why are you here when everyone else is gone?”

ao3

“Didn’t want to leave any evidence, didn’t want to leave a trail. I told them they should get out, lay low; wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to do anything for you, but no reason they should all have to take the fall for it.”

This time Ashton can see the lie, the bite of anger in Milo’s eyes, but again he doesn’t have the energy to press them about it.

“They didn’t leave any word,” Ashton says, deadpan, a few days later.

“There wasn’t time,” Milo answered, but they don’t raise their head from their work.

“Fuck this. I need a drink.” They open the door.

“Ashton, wait!” But Ashton’s already gone. His bones are screaming as he winds his way through Fownsee Hollow; the drink’ll feel good. And not fuck with their head the way Milo’s shit does. He jams his hands into his pockets. Of course, no coin. Left to quickly to grab any, not that they have any to grab. The Hexum job was supposed to set him up for a bit, and glancing at the spider-web of gold across his shoulder, Ashton realizes that’s not entirely untrue. But they can’t exactly dig it out of their skin to pay. He’s gonna be stuck finding a pocket to pick like a fucking child.

The climb out of the Hollow has never been easy, but now it’s excruciating. Ashton stops a few times on the way up, and once they reach the top they sink to the ground unmoving for a good fifteen minutes. Gone. They must have helped bring him back to the Krook house, though; there was no way Milo dragged him back there all by themself, right? And no message, no forwarding address? No, that was good, safer that way, nothing for anyone to track. It was fine.

Ashton half wondered if Hexum might be holding them, or already turned them over to the law… but no, she’d be using them as a pawn to track down him and Milo. And honestly, if they’d gotten away after what Milo had described, the Nobodies must have managed to do the same. They were away and safe by now.

All there was left to do now was to keep it that way. And that’s what brings him back to the outside of Jiana Hexum’s estate, at the front door this time, pulling on the bell.

#angstpril2023 #critical role #fanfic #day 11 #self-sabotage #cr3 #ashton greymoore #milo krook #cr fic #my fic

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jennyandvastraflint · 7 months

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Very glad you rebloged the ask game, I was hoping you would :D I hope you don't mind that I am sending too many questions. Just pick whichever ones you'd like to answer!

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about Your beauty never ever scared me? Answer it now!

(11. Are you partial to a certain character/pairing or are you more equal-opportunity? If you are partial to any character/pairing, why do you think that is?

just kidding, I know the answer to this one but feel free to talk about them anyway <3)

20. If you wrote a prequel to Lizard Queen, what would it involve?

22. Who is your favorite character in The Knight and the Dragon and why?

47. If the pirate/mermaid AU (all together or each part on their own) was a pair of shoes, what kind would it be? Describe the shoes.

and

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

So I'll be guided towards the next thing to read again ;)

Thank you so much!!

Okay, let's see!

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about Your beauty never ever scared me? Answer it now!

I think the inspiration for it in the first place! I technically wanted to write a Beauty and the Beast-inspired story, but halfway through planning I abandoned a lot of these aspects in favour of including a bunch of characters as cameos. (I kept the rose, though it had a different use.) It was very intriguing to explore a human curse (something I've now explored a bit, but always from Jenny's POV, as I realise. I'll shed light on Vastra's POV at some point in a different fic I think)

(11. Are you partial to a certain character/pairing or are you more equal-opportunity? If you are partial to any character/pairing, why do you think that is? Okay we all know I'm extremely partial to my wives XDD I *will* make everything about them (yes ik it's annoying <3 But this is my account heheh), and will include them even in other works for a bit at least. It is 100% because I relate a lot to many aspects of them - the fun of Jenny's horrible parents, queerness, and the isolation they both feel to name some of them - and I'm well-aware of it XD Also my brain chose them as my special interest years agooo.)

20. If you wrote a prequel to Lizard Queen, what would it involve?

Oh, I have two answers for this... Either Vastra getting cursed in the first place and navigating life as a tiny lizard (maybe she meets Strax somehow just because.), OR the story of Jenny's mother and what happened to her. (As a sequel, I'd look at Vastra finding the ruins of her realm.)

22. Who is your favorite character in The Knight and the Dragon and why?

I'm obviously in no way biased because a) I wrote it and b) it has the wives, and since choosing either of them feels like cheating, I'm gonna say... Out of the rest of the cast, Ada? I think. I loved bringing her character to life in a different setting, especially since she's a character I very rarely see anywhere (and she had potentialll!!!) Her story can be adapted beautifully, and I feel like she would flourish with a job or hobby like that, working with herbs and healing. I'm definitely going to include her in Turn Loose the Mermaids btw!

47. If the pirate/mermaid AU (all together or each part on their own) was a pair of shoes, what kind would it be? Describe the shoes.

You really went with this one, hu... Okay, I'm thinking leather boots, worn, been through quite a lot, but very solid shoes you can always rely on. They're a pretty inconspicuous brown, a bit broken in parts but fixed up. They go almost up to your knee, hugging your legs very comfortably. They're also padded so they keep you warm in even the darkest winter nights. The laces on the sides have been added later to help the boots stay together, and they have beautiful jewels in different shades of green on the side that shimmer in the sun.

I hope you like this description!! XD

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

I have a bunch for this, I think XDD (Especially since archive-locking my fics my kudos have declined a lottt)

The first one would be A Lonely Place, which is a sort of Fantasy AU for the Paternoster Gang! I love how I came to explore pollution and environmental destruction in it, and also how Jenny and Vastra - in this at least - reluctantly grew closer. (Please they are such disasters especially in the beginning)

Then my Turn Loose the Mermaids series in which Jenny's family are a bunch of shitty scammer pirates, and Vastra is a mermaid (and later can shift). The first two parts are out rn, and I hope to write more of it soon-ish (uni is killing me I'm so sorry)

There'd also be my winter rose in which one Silurian goes splash in a river when it's very cold :D I love how that literally was my prompt for writing it...

And last but not least, I want Popcorn to get some more views! It's a Strax-centric fic (I knoooow, there's not much interest in that, but give my boy (gn) some love) set shortly after Demons Run, and it takes a look at Strax dealing with silence and peace after... well, a lifetime spent only in war zones? The Doctor gives him a way to cope with that, but it escalates a little. It was I think my first full Strax-POV fic, and he honestly has such a unique and intriguing view (which I wish Big Finish would explore instead of once again reducting Strax to comedic relief like the show already did :/)

Yeah, I think that's about it for now? I can't think of more specifically for this, but I'm leaving you a few more recommendations I think you might like! Rapid Fireee

you're the closest to heaven that i'll ever be

The Case of the Egg Thief

Sick fics for Jenny being sick (watch you sleep.), and Vastra being sick (Sleepy little darling, snuggle in tight) respectively!

Meeting Torchwood Paternosters meet vicious, sadistic Torchwood sapphics from Victorian England!

Right, I'll end this here now (it may have taken me almost the entire lecture btw to write this while paying attention as well) and I hope you are satistifed with all these answersss

#ask game #doctor who #madame vastra #jenny flint #jenny and vastra #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

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beea-idiot56 · 11 months

Text

Chapter 6 - Care free, live free

What happens when a person who has been diagnosed with extreme anxiety and had "retired" from volleyball finds themselves coaching a team full of guys who are a little too loud for their comfort(especially the ginger)?

‘Slow burn? ✔️ smut?❌ they/them pronouns?✔️ forced?❌ Childe x Reader Volleyball AU Wattpad Link Prologue link(Tumblr)

y/n climbed into the car, not knowing how to sit in this new environment, not wanting to be too comfortable and coming off as rude, or too stiff and making the air awkward. Childe definitely kept his car well made, the mats were vacuumed recently, the air freshener was shaped like a volleyball, the seats were coated in a nice black leather with no imperfections. The car itself was slightly crampt. Childe had his legs pushed against the steering wheel and he had to tilt his head far to get in the car. It made y/n wonder why he got this car if it was so small. Its not like he was tight on money, being a professional volleyball player and all.

As if reading their thoughts childe smiled and looked at them, his eyes crinkling at the edges, “its a little small but i like it like that. Plus it was my siblings dream car and i wanted to get one so they could ride around in it.” he smiled, and y/n couldnt help but smile too.

“Thats so…” they looked to find the word that was stuck between their lips, it was unable to escape their brain, “you?” they laughed a little, tilting their head to the side.

“Whats that mean?” childe laughed, leaning back against the seat and looking at them with an offended expression resting on his features.

“I dont know!” y/n laughed rubbing their face, not knowing how to put their thoughts together. “Its just, something i shoulve expected from you. To get a car too small for your long legs and then say its for your siblings. Yknow? It deserves a word that means something, and the only example of a word would be, you? Not as in the description, but the person. Childe. I- sorry im not making much sense…” y/n let their words run off, unable to justly explain their thoughts and emotions in a way that didnt require a three hour lecture. It might of been the college life in them, huh?

“No youre fine! I think i get you! Like how the feeling of anxiety mixed with shyness contrasted with confidence in a way that creates this… abomination? Is just the way to explain you, without explaining you. Or like how i expect you to coach kids volleyball but still say youre not cut out for coaching my team?” he laughed before turning forward, leaving y/ns throat dry. How was he able to understand the words that fell from their mouth and yet be so off the mark as to what they meant?

“Hey! Those are two different age groups! Its easier to teach little kids because theres more to teach!” Y/n switched the topic over to coaching, not wanting to draw attention to the way he called them an abomination. The feeling of dread filling their lower stomach and giving birth to a bug they knew would eat at their brain if given the chance.

“And yet you still do a fantastic job at both” childe spoke, a teasing tone slipping into his voice that accompanied his eye roll, but they both knew it was all in good fun. y/n felt a thick layer of blush lay across their cheeks in humble awkwardness. They just laughed a bit but looked down at their shoes that laid against the floor mats. In the weirdest way possible, it just felt right. Looking at their feet compared to the floor. The way their legs pushed against the middle console and door, or the way their back slid into the seat. And for some reason it felt natural when childe reaches over and handed the aux cord to y/n, a smile present on his lips and words in his mouth that y/n was far to zoned out to understand. But that didnt stop them from navigating to the playlist they knew that both y/n and childe would like and pressing play, letting the feeling of the music vibrating in the speakers overcome their senses and the feeling of wind in their hair as childe rolled down the window.

For some reason they were not uncomfortable. They were able to put their elbows on the console without worrying if they were overstepping boundaries. They didnt mind humming the lyrics to the songs they knew and bobbing their head to the beat of songs they hadnt memorized yet. It all felt natural, like a fever dream that they woud have in the middle of the night when sleep didnt come easy.

Was this what it felt like to be happy?

The thought echoed in their brain as they looked at the passing trees and buildings. Ease rolled off their shoulders and brought them comfort. The sun hit them right on the cheeks, like the many years before. The small bumps of the pot holes and rocks on the road was easy to get lost in, the vibrations sending their brain into a land of thoughts. For once the thoughts weren't even negative. Y/n was so used to having to block out their brain, in search of solidarity and comfort in silence. The music that usually flowed from the speakers of earbuds was what did that. However, now, they found themself in a car, comfortable with thinking. For some reason the answer to the question was easy to come,

Yes. They smiled a little, they didn't need the greatest party, or a first time to be happy, the small sound of childe singing lyrics and the view of the car door caging the sky was enough to be happy. It was almost criminal that someone who was so full of energy and loud noises, things that y/n often found to be anxiety inducing, their heart would race usually, sometimes they’d find themself crying simply from being overwhelmed,,, and yet, now? They found themself yearning for this feeling to continue.

It felt just as criminal that the moment had to end when childe pulled into the parking lot of a busy bar. The sounds of people chatting and clashing together glasses of beer rang forth, drowning out the music that played from both the bar and the vehicle they sat in.

“I hope you don't mind us coming here, it's the only place with burgers that doesn't cost a liver and kidney to go to” childe laughed, scratching his neck nervously as he turned off the car.

Suddenly, the feeling of relaxation seemed more like a corset, choking their stomach and bringing their senses to everything but the air around them. y/ns eyes danced from person to person that they could see through the windows. Then immediately to their reflection. The thought of brushing back their hair isn't even needed before they had been running a hand through the locks upon their head. Even when childe climbed out and stood by the car waiting for them, they couldn't help the feeling of dread cross over their senses. The furrowing of their eyebrows wasn’t enough for a microscope to see, but it was enough to set in stone that they knew in their heart that they wouldn't enjoy themselves here.

However, could they say no? The look of happiness on Childes face brought them to resist the urge to take the keys and steering wheel and simply run. The blue in his eyes almost as inviting as the ocean, beckoning y/n forward with a call. Y/n wanted nothing more than to lose themself, yet, the sound of pool balls hitting the edges of a table brought them back to the earth they hated so much.

“It's alright!” the sounds and words were out of their mouth before they tell themself not to submit. They had opened the door before their hands stopped shaking, they had already walked up the flight of stairs before they were even able to calm their heart rate. As childe opened the door they couldn't help but gasp, the air full of smoke and regret and day drinkers filled their lungs and brought them into a clench that was already there. How were they supposed to say they wanted to leave before they even sat down? How was y/n supposed to stop and beg childe to turn so that they'd go somewhere calmer? I'll pay! They screamed in their head ill pay! Please let's just leave. Yet, the words never left and soon they were staring at a menu with almost nothing but burgers and fries and pizzas.

A/N: super short chapter :00, but its good bc the next chapter is super fucking long. (i actually finished writing that, TODAY!!! i just posted it on wattpad and now im posting the 6th one here :"D.

Im also going to post the chapters on twitter via links, i think thatd be rlly cool hehe. so like- feel free to get check that out. its @A_idiot56

Anywayyssss, make sure to eat, sleep, and drink water! i love yall <3

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