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ghoulphile · 10 months ago

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janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears.

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood.

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog.

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #the ghoul smut

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felassan · 3 months ago

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EuroGamer: 'BioWare knew the deepest secrets of Dragon Age lore 20 years ago, and locked it away in an uber-plot doc'

Original creator David Gaider on how "some of the big mysteries are being solved".

Rest of post under a cut due to length and possible spoilers.

"As I write about the secrets hidden in Dragon Age's mysterious Fade, and as I uncover some of them playing Dragon Age: The Veilguard, one question keeps rising up in my mind. How much did BioWare know about future events when first developing the series more than 20 years ago? That's a long time, and back then BioWare didn't know there would be a second game, which is why Dragon Age: Origins has an elaborate and far-reaching epilogue. Why lay so much lore-track ahead of yourself if you don't think you'll ever get there? But look more closely at Origins and there are big clues suggesting BioWare��did know about future Dragon Age events. There are obvious signs in the original game, such as establishing recurring themes like Old Gods and the Blight and Archdemons. But there's also Flemeth, Morrigan's witchy mother, who's intimately linked to events in the series now - more specifically: intimately linked to Solas. Does her existence mean Solas was known about back then too? There's only one person I can think of to answer this and it's David Gaider, the original creator of Dragon Age's world and lore. We've talked before, once in a podcast and once for a piece on the magic of fantasy maps, where we discussed the creation of Dragon Age's world. And much to my surprise, when I ask him what he and the BioWare team knew back then, he says they knew it all. "By the time we released Dragon Age: Origins, we were basically sure that it was one and done, but there was, back when we made the world, an overarching plan," he says. "The way I created the world was to seed plots in various parts of the world that could be part of a game, a single game, and then there was the overall uber-plot, which I didn't know for certain that we would ever get to but I had an understanding of how it all worked together. "A lot of that was in my head until we were starting Inquisition and the writers got a little bit impatient with my memory or lack thereof, so they pinned me down and dragged the uber-plot out of me. I'd talked about it, I'd hinted at it, but never really spelled out how it all connected, so they dragged it out of me, we put it into a master lore doc, the secret lore, which we had to hide from most of the team.""

"This uber-plot document was only viewable on a need-to-know basis, he says, and only around 20 people on the team had access to it - other senior writers mostly. And even though Gaider left the Dragon Age team after Inquisition, and then eight years ago BioWare altogether, meaning he didn't work on The Veilguard at all, he believes - by looking at the events in the new game - his uber-plot lore "has more or less held up". That's impressive. What's even more impressive, or exciting, is that back then he also envisaged a potential end state for the entire Dragon Age series - a point at which it would make no sense for the series to carry on. "I always had this dream of where it would all end, the very last plot," he says, "which I won't say because who knows, we could still end up there. But the idea that this uber-plot was this sort of biggest, finite... That the final thing you could do in this world that would break it was there as a 'maybe we would get to do that one day'... There was just the idea of certain big, world-shaking things that were seeded in that arc, some of which have already come to pass, like the return of Fen'Harel." You've read that correctly: the idea to have Fen'Harel, also known as the Dread Wolf, reappear, was seeded all the way back then, way before Inquisition - the game in which he does actually reappear. But the concept for Solas, as a character who was Fen'Harel in disguise, was a newer idea. "That spawned from a conversation I had with Patrick [Weekes] and a number of other writers," Gaider says, "as an idea of 'what if you had a villain that spent an entire game where he's actually in the party and you get to know him?' Now, the god version and his larger role in the plot, yes that was known, but not that he would be presented as a character named Solas." Fen'Harel being known about means the other elven gods were known about, which means all of that stuff Solas reveals about his godly siblings - that they're not gods at all but evil elven mages he locked away behind the Veil - was known about back then too. "Oh yeah," Gaider says. "Everything that Solas tells you [at the end of Inquisition DLC, Trespasser]: it's all part of that original uber-lore - that was all in our mind." But why have so much lore if you're not certain you'll get to ever realise it? Well, to create a believable illusion. By creating an "excess" of lore, as Gaider describes it, Origins made Thedas feel like an old and believable place. A place with history, rather than a Western set that was all facade and no substance."

"BioWare also did something canny with the lore it did relay then, too: it shared it through the voices of characters living in the world, making it inherently fallible. In doing this, Dragon Age veiled its truths behind biases. The church-like organisation of the Chantry proclaims one truth, while the elves and dwarves proclaim another. Sidenote: you can experience this yourself through different racial origin stories in Dragon Age: Origins. This way, there's no one, objective, irrefutable, truth. "To get the truth, you kind of have to pick between the lines," Gaider says. So even though elven legends are coming true through the existence of Solas and The Veilguard's antagonist gods, it doesn't mean that's the one and only truth. There's truth in what the Chantry teaches and what the dwarves say, he tells me, which ignites my curiosity intensely. BioWare has also been tricksy in how it's rubbed out the lore the further back in time you go. "In general, the further the history goes back, we always would purposefully obfuscate it more and more," Gaider says - "make it more biased and more untrue no matter who was talking, just so that the absolute truth was rarely knowable. I like that idea from a world standpoint, that the player always has to wonder and bring their own beliefs to it." It leads into a founding principle of Dragon Age, which is doubt - because without it, you can't have faith, a particularly important concept in the series. It's where the whole idea of the Chantry's Maker comes from and with it, the legend about the fabled Golden City - now the Black City - at the heart of the Fade. This is the very centre of the lore web, and, I imagine, it's close to the series endpoint Gaider imagined long ago. All secrets end there. Did Gaider know what was in the Black City when he laid down Origins' lore? That's the question - and it startles me how casually he answers this. "Oh, yeah," he says. "What was in the Black City: that's the uber-plot. I knew exactly. "Was it as detailed in the first draft of the world?" he goes on. "No. I had an idea of the early history because that's where I started making the world. So the things that were true early-early: I knew exactly what the Black City was and the idea of what the elves believed, and what humans believed vis-a-vis the Chantry - that was all settled on really early. Then I expanded the world and the uber-plot bubbled out of that.""

"Gaider shows me the original cosmology design document for Dragon Age: Origins as if to prove this - or rather for the game that would become DAO. The world was known as Peldea back then. I can't share this with you because I see it via a shared screen on a video call, and because Gaider doesn't want me to, mostly because the ideas are so old they're almost unrecognisable from what's in the series now. But I can tell you it's a document that's just over a page in length, and that there's a circular diagram at the top showing the world in the middle and the spirit realm ringed around it. And on that document is reference to the Chantry's beliefs about a God located in a citadel that can be found there. Gaider says BioWare knew about Fen'Harel (the Dread Wolf) 20 years ago when it was developing Dragon Age: Origins, and that he'd one day reappear. The Fade wasn't known as the Fade back then, either, but as the Dreaming, because it's the place people go when they dream - an idea that lives on still. And if that sounds familiar to any fans of The Sandman among you, it should. "I'd say The Sandman series was probably fairly prominently in my head," says Gaider. "I liked that amorphous geography that was born from the psyche of collective humanity. I'd say yes, if I was to point at something specifically, that's probably where the very first inspiration of it took root." It's a lot to take in, but it reinforces the admiration I have for Dragon Age. Just as I have when hearing about the creation of my other favourite fantasy worlds, such as A Song of Ice and Fire, I begin to understand the magnitude - and the deliberateness - of the plotting that went on. I wonder if one day the Dragon Age series will end in the way Gaider first imagined, albeit slightly altered by the many other pairs of hands shepherding it along now. What a curious feeling it must be to know, so many years in advance, where things might go. Where that end is, I don't know, but I do know we'll take a significant step towards it in The Veilguard. After all, we're coming into contact with gods who were there at the recorded beginning of it all. "Yeah - we have access to people who can tell us the truth from first-hand experience," Gaider says, "although again, it depends on what the writers did with it. But if they continued the tradition of Dragon Age, you never know for sure if Solas is telling you everything, or what you're learning is the entire truth. "But yes, some of the big mysteries are being solved. I mean, will they one day definitively tell you about the Maker? Will we crack the big mysteries of the world and just make them answered finally? And does that ruin one of the central precepts that Dragon Age is founded upon? Maybe," he says. "Ultimately, that lore, when you make it big and you hint at it and hint at it and hint at it, it becomes a Chekhov's Gun of sorts. Eventually you got to pony up.""

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #morrigan #queen of my heart #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #solas #dragon age 5 #(note: i just want a tag to start filing things under which are about the possible future thats all ^^)

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kiwriteswords · 2 months ago

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Finer Things [Aaron Hotchner x High-Maintenance!Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 6k|| AN: Here we are! This took a little longer than expected, but I think I like how this one turned out!

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, canon-typical themes, high-maintenance reader, female reader, progression of relationship, simp!Hotch, feminine reader, Jack exists but is only briefly mentioned, BAU reader, materialistic reader, Garcia the helpful friend, flirty banter, mild language

Summary: You're a stylish...arguably high-maintenance BAU agent who unexpectedly falls for your straightforward and grounded partner, Aaron Hotchner. As you both tackle cases and life’s surprises, you learn to blend your love for the finer things with his practical approach, discovering a deep and enduring connection.

Hotch’s office door clicked softly as you knocked, barely audible over the hum of the precinct around you. The frame filled almost instantly with your form—pristine as always, from your flawlessly styled hair down to the heels that added an effortless grace to your every step.

“Got a minute?” you asked, your voice as smooth and composed as the latte you held in one hand, the steam still curling lazily up from the cup.

Hotch stepped aside, allowing you entrance. “Of course,” he said, though he knew his afternoon was already crammed with meetings and reports. For you, though, he made time—something the rest of the team had noticed and often teased him about. But what could he say? Aaron Hotchner, stoic and steadfast, had indeed developed a soft spot for you.

As you settled into the chair across from his desk, Hotch couldn’t help but admire the meticulous way you organized your space on the table. Your designer bag was set precisely to the right, not a strap out of place. He often wondered how someone so particular could thrive in the chaotic unpredictability of the BAU.

“So, what did you think of the profile?” you began, breaking into his thoughts. Your eyes were bright, lively—a stark contrast to his own, which often carried the weight of the job.

“It’s thorough. You have a knack for getting into the unsub’s head,” Hotch replied, his voice firm yet carrying a hint of warmth reserved mostly for you.

Your smile widened, pleased. “I do try,” you quipped, stirring your latte leisurely. “But I think it could use a bit more… je ne sais quoi, don’t you think?”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And what would you suggest?”

“Well,” you leaned forward, the light catching your earrings just so. “If I were him, I’d be more careful about where I left my clues. Too sloppy. Maybe he needs a lesson in organization from me.”

Hotch chuckled, the sound more natural than he intended. “I think he’d be horrified at the idea.”

“Good,” you grinned, sitting back with satisfaction. “Then he’d know how I feel about unorganized data.”

Moving to the round table, the rest of the team began to filter into the office for the briefing, and Morgan threw a teasing glance your way. “Looks like Hotch is getting his daily dose of high maintenance,” he commented, a playful smirk on his face.

Prentiss elbowed him lightly, smiling in your direction. “Leave them alone. If anyone can get Hotch to lighten up, it’s her.”

Hotch cleared his throat, signaling the start of the briefing, but he couldn’t deny the truth in their observations. You brought a lightness to his often too-heavy life, a splash of color to the monochrome routine.

As the meeting progressed, your contributions were not just insightful but infused with a vibrancy that lifted the somber mood typical of these sessions. Each time you spoke, Hotch found his attention drawn not just to your words but to the way you expressed them—with a confidence and a flair that was uniquely yours. When you directed a comment towards him, accompanied by a playful raise of your eyebrows, there was an underlying challenge there, as if you were coaxing him out from behind his well-constructed barriers.

Your laughter, light and unguarded, filled the room at one point when you poked fun at the unsub’s choice of hideouts, suggesting even you could find a better hiding place during your shopping trips. The team chuckled, and even Hotch’s lips twitched into a smile—your cheer infectious, your presence undeniably compelling.

As the team began to disperse, you lingered over your notes, your meticulous nature evident as you aligned your papers and recapped your pens with a precision that spoke of a deeper need for order—a trait Hotch could appreciate, perhaps because it mirrored his own.

Hotch watched you, the way the light caught the highlights in your hair and the meticulous care you took with even the smallest task. He remained in his seat, an internal debate raging within him. He was the Unit Chief, always in control, always composed. But around you, those walls he meticulously maintained seemed less formidable, more permeable.

Finally, he stood, his decision made, propelled by a force he hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. Approaching you, he noted the slight surprise in your movements as you looked up. His voice, when he spoke, was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something more, something deeper.

“Dinner tonight?” he asked, the invitation hanging between them, heavier than the casual manner he attempted to portray.

You paused, a pen still in your hand, and met his gaze. The flicker of surprise was quickly replaced by a slow-spreading smile that warmed your eyes. “Trying to keep up with my high standards, Hotch?” you teased, the challenge back in your voice, but this time it was laced with an unmistakable warmth.

“I think I’m ready to try,” Hotch replied, his voice low, honest. The corners of his mouth turned up in a rare, genuine smile that seemed to reach his eyes, softening the usual hardness there.

“Then it’s a date,” you declared, your voice light but carrying a weight that filled the room with a promise of something new, something thrilling.

As you gathered your belongings and left, your heels clicking assertively against the floor, Hotch watched you go, a sense of anticipation building within him. It was a feeling foreign yet exhilarating, stirring something within him that had lain dormant.

He realized then, as the distance grew between you, that what the team jokingly called his ‘weakness’ was perhaps his most profound revelation. In you, Aaron Hotchner found not just a challenge but a vibrant counterpart who could match his steps in life’s intricate dance. With you, the future seemed less daunting, more vivid—colored by the finer things, in every possible way.

Since that first dinner, a subtle shift had occurred in the dynamics between Hotch and you. What started as a casual outing evolved into a series of clandestine meetings, each encounter deepening the bond that was swiftly becoming an integral part of his daily life. The secrecy was necessary—not just for the sake of professionalism within the team but to preserve the unique world that had begun to flourish between the two of you.

Hotch found himself anticipating your texts, which often popped up on his phone with playful emojis and witty remarks about everything from case files to the peculiar habits of their local barista. You managed to make even the mundane seem amusing, and Hotch, ever the stoic leader, found his day brightening with each notification.

One evening, as Hotch returned home from a particularly grueling case, he found a small package at his doorstep. Inside was a high-end espresso machine—a gift from you, complete with a note: "For your home office, so you can enjoy a proper latte without braving the outside world. Think of me when you use it." It was both a luxurious gesture and so quintessentially you, blending high maintenance with thoughtful consideration.

Hotch couldn’t help but smile as he set up the machine in his kitchen. It wasn’t something he would have ever purchased for himself, but now, brewing a cup in the quiet of the morning, he found a new appreciation for the ritual. It reminded him of you—how you’d insist on the perfect temperature, the ideal foam-to-espresso ratio, details he’d once overlooked but now found endearing.

At work, these small infiltrations into his life were becoming more apparent. You had taken to adjusting the small things around him, straightening the papers on his desk, sometimes replacing his usual stark office supplies with items that had a bit more personality—a stapler in polished chrome, sleek and efficient like the espresso machine, or pens that wrote so smoothly he found excuses to handwrite notes he would typically type.

Hotch had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that your influence was a welcome one. It was as if you were slowly coloring in parts of his world that he hadn’t even realized were so monochrome. And when you both sat down at the round table, reviewing case files together, the subtle touches—the way your knee would gently brush against his, or how you’d share a quick, knowing look over a shared inside joke—added layers to their days that Hotch hadn’t anticipated but found he no longer wanted to go without.

One afternoon, caught in a rare moment of downtime, Hotch found himself at the local shopping center, standing before a display of designer ties. He remembered you commenting on how a splash of color could brighten his usual ensemble of dark suits and somber expressions. With a critical eye, he selected one that was a soft shade--something that would match your eyes, he thought, a private acknowledgment of the space you were coming to occupy in his life.

That evening, when he wore the tie, the team didn’t miss the change. “Look at Hotch, finally taking some fashion tips from the best,” Morgan teased, nudging you as you both arrived for the briefing.

You shot Hotch a playful wink, and he responded with a slight nod, a silent conversation passing between them. Yes, you were changing him, but perhaps, Hotch considered as he adjusted the new tie subtly, this change was not just inevitable but necessary.

For Aaron Hotchner, known for his rigor and restraint, the gentle invasion of your high-maintenance habits into his disciplined life was less a disruption and more a revelation. Each new preference, each shared secret, wove a richer tapestry into his days. And as he looked across the table at you, he realized with a clarity that surprised him, that these threads, once so foreign, were now essential to the fabric of his life.

The rarity of a day off was not something Hotch took lightly, especially with Jack away on a Boy Scout trip. He had considered a quiet day at home, perhaps catching up on some reading or simply enjoying the peace. However, as he was contemplating his solitary plans, you texted him about your own plans for the day—getting your nails done, a routine you indulged in every few weeks.

"I’m off to maintain my high standards," your message read, accompanied by a laughing emoji. "Care to join me for a change of scenery?"

The invitation was unexpected. The thought of spending his day off in a nail salon was not something Hotch would have ever considered before meeting you. Yet, the idea of accompanying you, of sharing in something that was a part of your routine, held an appeal he couldn’t deny.

"Sure, why not?" Hotch texted back, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he imagined your reaction.

At the salon, you greeted him with a bright smile and a quick peck on the cheek. "Never thought I’d see the day Aaron Hotchner steps into a nail salon willingly," you teased, leading him inside.

The salon was a buzz of activity, a stark contrast to the usual seriousness of his work environment. You introduced him to your nail technician, a friendly woman named Lisa who greeted him with a warmth that seemed to radiate throughout the room.

As Lisa started on your nails, you chatted animatedly about the colors and designs. Hotch found himself pulled into a conversation about the merits of various shades—a discussion he never thought he’d have, yet here he was, weighing in on whether 'Midnight Blue' was a better choice than 'Stormy Grey'.

"You know, you could get something done too. A manicure perhaps? It��s quite relaxing," you suggested, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, considering it. "What would the team think if I showed up with polished nails?"

"They’d think you’re embracing the finer things in life," you replied with a laugh. "But maybe just a clear coat. We wouldn’t want to give Morgan too much ammunition."

Surprisingly, Hotch agreed. As Lisa began to work on his nails, he found the experience unexpectedly soothing. The gentle handling, the focus on something so trivial yet intimate, was a stark departure from his day-to-day life.

"So, how does it feel to be pampered?" you asked, watching him with an amused expression.

"Strangely relaxing," Hotch admitted. "I can see the appeal."

As Lisa finished, you both sat under the nail dryers. Hotch looked over at you, taking in the relaxed ease of your posture, and the genuine smile on your face. It was these moments, he realized, that he cherished deeply—the simple pleasures shared, the barriers between professional and personal blurring into something beautifully ordinary.

"You know, I’m glad you invited me," Hotch said, his voice soft amid the hum of the salon. "It’s nice, sharing this part of your world."

You reached over, your hand finding his. "I’m glad you’re here, Aaron. It means more than you know."

As they left the salon, Hotch felt a lightness he hadn’t experienced in a long time. The day had been uneventful by most standards, yet for him, it was a precious insight into the everyday joys of the person who had unexpectedly become his closest confidant.

The team's discovery of his relationship with you was as inevitable as it was unintended. It began one morning when Garcia, ever observant, noticed the faintest of smiles on Hotch’s lips as he read a text from you. It was nothing overt, just the subtle lift of his mood, but it was enough to pique her interest.

“Spill it, Hotch. You’ve been smiling more these days,” Garcia prodded as they gathered in the briefing room, her tone teasing but her eyes sharp with curiosity.

Hotch, caught slightly off-guard, managed to maintain his composure. “It’s just been a good morning,” he replied smoothly, hoping his nonchalance would deflect further inquiry.

Garcia, however, was not so easily dissuaded. “Uh huh,” she hummed, giving him a knowing look but dropping the subject in the presence of the rest of the team.

The next clue came unintentionally from you during a case briefing. You were discussing a particularly challenging aspect of the case when you casually mentioned a small detail—a detail that Hotch had shared with you in confidence during one of your dinners together.

As you spoke, Reid’s head tilted slightly, his brow furrowing in that characteristic way when he was putting pieces together. “That’s an interesting observation,” he remarked, glancing between Hotch and you. “Not many would’ve caught that.”

Hotch met Reid’s gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. Reid’s expression softened into a subtle smile, and he nodded slightly, turning his attention back to the files in front of him.

Morgan and JJ were the next to catch on. It happened in the field, during a tense moment when you instinctively reached for Hotch’s hand. It was a brief touch, meant to be reassuring, but Morgan and JJ caught the action from the corner of their eye.

Later, as they regrouped at the SUV, Morgan clapped Hotch on the shoulder. “You know you can tell us, right? We’re family here,” he said in a low voice, his look pointed but friendly.

Hotch simply nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “I know, Derek,” he said, grateful for the support he knew they would offer.

Prentiss figured it out during a late-night coffee run when she saw you both at a small cafe, your heads close together, laughing softly over shared stories. She didn’t approach, respecting your privacy, but the next day, her smile was a bit wider when she greeted you both.

“It’s good to see you happy, Hotch,” she said quietly as she passed by his office, her words meant only for him.

By the time Rossi found out, it seemed that most of the team had already accepted the new dynamic with characteristic adaptability. Rossi, ever the father figure, simply raised his glass to Hotch during their next team dinner, a silent toast that spoke volumes.

“You’ve got a good thing, Aaron. Don’t let the job get in the way,” Rossi advised later, when they were alone, his voice low and earnest.

Hotch appreciated the wisdom; knowing the balance between personal happiness and professional duty was a fine line to walk.

As the team gradually discovered the relationship, what surprised Hotch most was not the fact that they found out, but the ease with which they accepted it. Their teasing was gentle, their support unwavering, and in their acceptance, Hotch found not just confirmation of his feelings for you but also a deeper appreciation for the team he considered his second family.

In this newfound openness, Hotch realized that his relationship with you did not weaken his leadership; rather, it enriched the very fabric of his life, both at work and beyond. With each passing day, as you both navigate the complexities of a relationship built amidst the demands of the BAU, Hotch found himself not just accepting but embracing the vibrant color you brought into his once-monochrome world.

The integration of your meticulous routines into Hotch's daily life was gradual, almost imperceptible at first, until one day he found himself deeply enmeshed in the particulars of your high-maintenance habits. What began as playful observations soon became cherished moments of his day, each routine offering a glimpse into the meticulous and vibrant world you inhabited.

Every evening, as you both prepared for bed, Hotch would lean against the bathroom doorway, watching as you engaged in your elaborate skincare routine. The array of creams, serums, and tools was impressive, and he'd often raise an eyebrow in mock incredulity as you explained the purpose of each one.

“Do you really need all of this?” Hotch would ask, his tone light and teasing as you applied a night serum with precise, practiced motions.

“Absolutely,” you’d reply without missing a beat, your reflection in the mirror smiling back at him. “It’s about maintaining standards, Aaron. You of all people should understand that.”

“I thought we were just going to bed, not preparing for a photo shoot,” Hotch would retort, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile.

“It’s called preventive maintenance,” you’d say, tapping the side of your nose with a finger. “One day, you’ll thank me when we’re both ninety, and I still look seventy.”

Hotch couldn’t help but laugh, the sound mingling with the soft notes of the evening. He had to admit, there was a certain peace in these nightly rituals, a tranquility that had seeped into the crevices of his once rigid routine.

Sometimes, you would catch him watching and pull him into the routine, applying a bit of moisturizer to his face with gentle, coaxing motions. “You’ll feel better,” you’d assure him, and he’d comply, not because he believed in the miraculous claims of the products but because it meant more moments shared with you.

On weekends, the rituals would extend to mornings. You’d take your time selecting an outfit, coordinating accessories and makeup with an artist’s eye for detail. Hotch would sit on the bed, coffee in hand, offering the occasional nod or hum of approval as you held up two nearly identical pairs of shoes, asking for his opinion.

“What do you think? The matte or the glossy?” you’d ask, holding them up for him to see.

“The matte,” Hotch would decide after a moment’s consideration. “It’s subtler.”

“Subtle,” you’d repeat, considering this. “I like it. Subtle but effective. Kind of like you.”

The routine wasn’t just about vanity or upkeep—it was a dance, a way of you expressing yourself and inviting him into your world. Hotch found himself missing these interactions whenever you were at your own apartment. The bathroom felt too empty, the mornings too quick and utilitarian. He missed the scent of your skincare products, the sound of your voice explaining the benefits of jasmine oil, or the way you’d ask his opinion on things he’d never considered before.

Even his morning routine had adapted; where once a quick shave sufficed, he now found himself opening your moisturizer, the scent a comforting reminder of you. It was a small concession to the routines you loved, a way of keeping you close even when miles apart.

Through these shared routines, Hotch learned more than just the importance of exfoliation or the difference between matte and glossy finishes. He learned the value of slowing down, of savoring the quiet moments together before the chaos of the day set in. Each ritual, each routine you shared, wove deeper connections between them, turning mundane moments into cherished memories and in doing so, seamlessly blending his life with yours.

With your birthday on the horizon, Hotch was well aware of the intricacies involved in selecting the perfect gift. Your independence and flair for purchasing exactly what you wanted, when you wanted, left little room for him to dazzle you with something unexpected. Yet, the desire to surprise and delight you was strong; he wanted to be the doting boyfriend who could still manage to sweep you off your feet.

One morning, as he was choosing a tie for work, you playfully suggested one that would "match beautifully with my purse—if I had the right shade." The comment was offhand, perhaps even forgetful of the collection you already owned, but it sparked an idea in Hotch's mind.

Later that day, armed with determination, Hotch sought out Garcia. He found her busy at her workstations, screens flickering with data.

"Garcia, could I get your help with something a bit more... personal?" Hotch began, hesitating slightly as he ventured into unfamiliar territory.

Garcia swiveled in her chair, her expression instantly shifting to one of eager attentiveness. "Of course, Hotch! What do you need? Secret admirer codes cracked? Background checks for mysterious suitors?" she quipped, her tone light.

"Actually, I need advice on buying a purse," Hotch admitted, and briefly explained the situation.

"A purse? Oh, for you know who?! This is going to be fun!" Garcia clapped her hands, her earlier levity shifting into focused enthusiasm. "Okay, first things first, we need something as unique and classy as she is. Let’s dive into the world of designer handbags."

Garcia guided him through various high-end brands, explaining the appeal of each. "These are timeless," she pointed out, scrolling through an array of sophisticated designs. "But knowing our girl, something with both function and a high fashion quotient would be ideal."

Hotch listened, absorbing details about textures, colors, and what each brand symbolized. They finally narrowed it down to a few choices, each one reflecting a different aspect of your personality and style.

"This one here," Garcia pointed at a sleek, modern satchel with minimalist design but luxurious detailing, "seems like it could be the perfect accessory for her. It’s stylish but not ostentatious, much like how she approaches her work and personal style."

"It looks great," Hotch agreed, imagining how it would look draped over your shoulder. He made a mental note of the bag and the brand, deciding to do a little more research before making the final purchase.

"Good luck, Hotch! She's going to love whatever you choose because it's from you," Garcia smiled warmly, giving him a thumbs-up as he thanked her and left.

Back at Hotch’s apartment, as you both moved through your evening routine, Hotch found opportunities to subtly probe for more of your preferences without giving away his intentions.

"So, if you were to splurge on something frivolous, what would it be?" Hotch asked casually as you were both settling down with a glass of wine.

"Frivolous?" you chuckled, giving him a playful look. "Isn’t everything I buy somewhat frivolous to you, Mr. Practicality?"

"Perhaps," Hotch conceded with a smile, "but indulge me."

"A purse," you said after a moment, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "A really good, outrageously and stupidly expensive purse that makes me feel like a million bucks when I carry it."

"Sounds like a worthy investment," Hotch replied, his tone teasing but thoughtful. Your eyes met, and there was a spark of something that went beyond the casual banter—a shared understanding and appreciation for these little confessions.

Hotch tucked away every piece of information, each helping him build towards the moment he would present you with the perfect birthday gift. It was more than just a purse; it was a symbol of his attentiveness to your desires and his wish to celebrate everything you were.

But the birthday Hotch had planned for you was supposed to be special, a day to celebrate you in style, with every detail tailored to your liking. Instead, duty called in the form of a particularly tough case that dragged on much longer than anyone had anticipated. The hours turned into days, and by the time it was over, everyone was exhausted, physically and emotionally drained.

As the team began packing up, you sighed heavily, the weight of the last few days evident in your slumped shoulders. "I just want to go back to my apartment," you murmured. "I ran out of clothes, and I forgot half my skincare stuff in the rush out."

Hotch, who had been hoping to salvage what was left of the day, felt a twinge of disappointment. "You could grab what you need and come back to my place," he suggested, trying to keep his tone light, though concern etched his features. He’d go to your place if he could, but Jack was waiting for him.

You shook your head, fatigue lining your face. "I'm just so tired, Aaron. Let’s just celebrate tomorrow, okay?" Your voice held a note of finality, but also a plea for understanding.

He knew he should let it go…give you the space you needed, but a part of him—the part that had been quietly contemplating a more significant step in your relationship—spoke up. "I was going to bring this up over dinner," Hotch began, his voice steady despite the chaos of the day, "but maybe this is the right moment. You and your... elaborate routines should just move in with me."

Your fatigue momentarily gave way to surprise. "Do you know what you’re getting into? My high maintenance might take over your space," you teased, a faint smile playing at your lips despite the exhaustion.

"Yes," Hotch said firmly, his gaze intense. "I know exactly what I’m getting into, and I love it. I miss it when you’re not there."

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, your smile grew, and the weariness seemed to lift slightly. "You really want me and my half a suitcase of skincare products moving in?"

"Every last bottle and brush," Hotch confirmed, his voice softening. "It’s part of who you are, and I want all of you every day. Not just on good days or birthdays, but every challenging and tiring day too."

Your eyes softened, and you stepped closer, leaning into him slightly. "Okay, but we’re getting a bigger bathroom cabinet," you stipulated, your tone light but sincere.

"It’s a deal," Hotch agreed, wrapping an arm around you. The case had taken much from you both, but at this moment, a new door was opening—a commitment that promised to blend your lives in ways beyond shared cases and briefings.

As you both headed back, the weight of the case still lingering, there was a new undercurrent of hope, of shared futures and bathroom cabinets, a testament to the resilience of your bond.

You decided to pick up a few essentials from your apartment and spend the night at Hotch's place--now your place, too, despite your tiredness. Hotch, feeling a mix of relief and excitement, drove you to your apartment, waiting as you gathered your things.

Inside, you moved efficiently, albeit with a tired grace, packing your cherished skincare products and several outfits. Hotch leaned against the doorway, watching as you filled a small suitcase with what seemed to him an elaborate array of potions and tools. Each item was carefully selected, a ritual that he found both fascinating and slightly amusing.

“You sure you’ve got enough there for just one night?” Hotch teased lightly, his eyes twinkling with humor.

You glanced over your shoulder, a playful smirk on your lips. “This is the streamlined version, believe it or not. You might have to rent the apartment next door.”

“I’ll consult the landlord tomorrow,” Hotch quipped, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile.

Back at his apartment, as you began setting out your skincare products in the bathroom, Hotch watched for a moment, his mind returning to the gift he’d carefully hidden away—something he hoped would make your day a little brighter after the tough case.

“Hey,” Hotch called softly, capturing your attention as you meticulously arranged your items. “I have something for you. I was saving it for a proper celebration, but I think tonight is as good a time as any.”

Your curiosity piqued, you followed him to the living room, where he retrieved a small, elegantly wrapped box from a drawer. Handing it to you, he watched as your eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and anticipation lighting up your features.

You unwrapped the box with a gentle precision, and as you lifted the lid and saw the purse—a beautiful, designer pocketbook that perfectly matched the sophisticated style you cherished—your expression transformed into one of sheer delight.

“Aaron, this is beautiful,” you breathed out, carefully pulling the purse from the box. You admired the craftsmanship, running your fingers over the smooth leather and the detailed stitching.

“It reminded me of you,” Hotch said, his voice sincere. “Elegant, practical, and incredibly stylish. Happy Birthday.”

You looked up at him, your eyes shining not just from the beauty of the gift but from the thoughtfulness behind it. “I love it,” you said, stepping closer to wrap your arms around him in a heartfelt embrace. “Thank you; this is the best end to a rough day.”

Hotch held you close, his heart swelling with the joy of seeing you so happy. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you smile like that,” he murmured into your hair, feeling the weight of the case and the fatigue of the day finally begin to lift.

As you pulled back slightly, still holding the purse, you teased, “Does this mean I get a new purse for every rough case?”

“Birthdays,” Hotch corrected with a gentle smile, his gaze softening as he added, “You make it incredibly hard for me to spoil you more than I already wish to.”

You laughed, a sound that Hotch had come to cherish deeply. “I’ll try to be less self-sufficient in the future,” you quipped, clutching the new purse a little closer as if it were a treasured award.

“I wouldn’t change a thing about your independence,” Hotch replied earnestly. “It’s one of the many things I admire about you. But allow me the occasional indulgence of spoiling you, especially on days like today.”

The purse, an elegant and thoughtful gift, lay between you on the coffee table, symbolizing not just a celebration of your birthday but of the new phase in your relationship. The evening settled into a comfortable rhythm, the earlier tension from the case dissolving into the background as you both enjoyed the simple pleasure of each other’s company.

With the challenges of the case behind you and the warmth of your shared space around you, Hotch felt a profound sense of contentment. This was more than just a birthday celebration—it was a reaffirmation of your partnership, a testament to how deeply your lives had intertwined.

As you both relaxed into the sofa, the conversation drifted from light teasing to deeper, more introspective topics. Every so often, your hand would brush against the purse, a physical reminder of Hotch’s affection and attention to what brought you joy.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you said again, your voice lower, more reflective as the night wore on. “For understanding me, even when I think I don’t need anything.”

Hotch reached over, his hand finding yours, squeezing it gently. “You don’t need to thank me for that,” he murmured. “It’s just another part of our journey together. And I’m grateful for every step we take, side by side.”

The purse remained on the table, a beacon of new beginnings and mutual understanding, as you both shared the quiet comfort of knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns

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wrystia · 22 days ago

Text

cut that!! spencer agnew x fem!reader (fluff/est. relationship) wc: 932

"welcome back, we are playing the classic clue game. but the catch is that one of us is the killer and must try to throw the others off from figuring out who it is, what they used, and what room they did it in..." you start off the video, fixing your bowtie and straightening your glasses, "i'm your host professor plum and welcome to my classroom."

"that was so corny holy shit," angela immediately exclaims, laughing as she lowers her head off to the side, making sure she doesn't hit the table.

it was either the way her laugh echoes through the room or the absolute exhaustion that you were feeling from the busy week but you broke out in laughter as well. you look to your coworkers who are also holding back laughter and running their hands down their faces. “i’m never introducing a video ever again,” you shake your head against the games table, laugh subsiding.

“i don’t know i thought it was pretty good.”

“you’d think anything was good spencer, you literally tried to get me to say ‘and what room they did it in.. and by ‘it’, i mean… murder’. like that isn’t even cornier,” you look over at him, knee pressing against his under the table.

he smiles widely at the comment, looking back at you with a similar getup to yours. however, his suit is less fashionable than yours (and considerably more green). his glasses even crooked in a way that makes you want to correct them like you would do any other way. fingers grappling at the temples and fixing them just before pulling him in a kiss. however, you restrain yourself, simply shaking your head.

“that’s actually true, i saw them writing it with the pencil in the editor’s room,” shayne brings his fingers together, dressed like wadsworth, his usual smirk lining his lips.

you shake your head lightly, trying to take in the absolutely insanity that the room has become. none of you were running on enough sleep, filming nearly everyday that week and then finishing off today with a long shoot. you try to keep your composure, but the lack of sleep was getting to your head. “thank you for the info, wadsworth… but how about we start with our first guess, mrs. white. use your bob and roll that dice,” you set them in front of angela.

the following rounds went rather easily, gathering information from the different sources. your paper was mostly filled out with information that would either screw you over or could win the game. looking up from your paper, you scan each of their faces, watching as shayne rolls again. “okay, so i’m in the kitchen. i’d like to make my guess. it was professor plum in the living room with the rope,” he looks over at you, grabbing the small envelope.

making eye contact with shayne, you feel your lips curling into a smile of success. pursing your lips you hide it and wait for him to look at the cards. as he pulls them out he keeps his eye contact with you, only looking down when the cards are all out. much to your knowledge, he was completely wrong on the murderer part. “i called it initially! i got completely thrown off,” he stuffs them back into the envelope, tossing it back towards the game board.

“well it seems we have had our first false accusation and our first power outage?” you joke, watching as one of the crew members turns off the lights.

as shayne situates a knife under his armpit, you can see fake blood on the handle and the blade. looking back towards spencer, you give him a soft smile, grabbing his hand under the table. “if you were the murderer you wouldn’t kill me, right?” you whisper, leaning back into your seat, raising your eyebrows.

“no promises babe, but i would kill you last, if that’s any consolation,” he whispers back, knowing all of this will be cut for time.

his eyes roll within the darkness, something you can only tell by the whites of his eyes. however, his thumb also rubs along the back of your palm, a soothing motion that comes to a slow start as someone counts down to continuing. pulling your hand back to the table, you sit up. the light flickers on and there sits shayne slumped in his seat. the knife sticks out, as well as his tongue.

angela immediately starts to giggle as she notices his tongue sticking out. it absolutely breaks the immersion but you can’t help but join in in her laughter. shayne lifts his head up from his seat, furrowing his eyebrows. “really? i die and you all start laughing, feels especially cold because i know who killed me.”

“hey, you tried to make accusations and the killer got scared, honestly i think that’s your own fault.”

“wow, victim blaming babe, that’s real mature of you,” spencer casuals calls you out, accidentally using one of the many pet names you share. looking at him with wide eyes, you immediately look back at the camera, hand doing a striking motion at your neck.

“cut that!! you’re ridiculous,” you shake your head, bringing your hands up to rest your face in.

the crew and ‘talent’ already knew about your relationship, and you’ve done this plenty of times. but there’s still something so special about being able to be playful and still keep it between you. so, while you’d love to tell the world, you’ve said ‘cut that’ more times than you can count.

#spencer agnew x reader #smosh x reader #smosh games #smosh #smosh spencer #spencer agnew fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer agnew #spencer agnew imagine #smosh fic #smosh fanfiction #spencer agnew fanfic

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grimmsbride · 3 months ago

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would you be willing to write for daisuke and a chubby fem reader... can be fluff or nsfw hcs idc either way I love he sm and your writing for him is perfect 😭😭😭 if not feel free to ignore :) have a great day !!

FOR HER [ daisuke x chubby!reader | hcs ]

fluff & nsfw headcanons surrounding daisuke and his lovely, chubby lover

notes / when ever i write i always try to depict reader as chubby it warms my little heart. & i’m so happy you requested this- i’ve been trying to avoid headcanons but this ask was too good to pass up! & i’m so happy i got a request! ty sm anon <3 as always please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes i’m low-key half awake

FLUFF

- First off I firmly believe Daisuke is fluid in what he likes, which also means the size of his partner. I genuinely think he wouldn’t care how “big or small” they are, as personality is something he’s after.

- But your beautiful appearance was of course a plus.

- You were an intern under Anya, meaning you frequently came into contact with Daisuke. Whether it be him lightly injuring himself or you conducting an evaluation ( under the guidance of your mentor ) the two of you have grown to get along, your age & mutual interests being a factor.

- Slowly though, that affection grows romantic as time passed. I mean, Daisuke’s a young adult trapped on a ship with a beautiful woman his age— how could he not fall for her?

- It doesn’t help he’s obvious as hell to the other crew mates. Always staring at you or after you, quick to greet you each morning, glancing at you when a joke is passed just to hear your sweet laughter. Daisuke is enthralled and it’s not surprise to anyone — except you.

- Maybe you’re naive, maybe focused on your tasks? Maybe you just failed to notice. Either way, you were a little more than clueless to his lingering feelings.

- Even when he’s sharing his stolen sweetener, allowing you to play on his game boy, or even being rather touchy — hugs & accidental grazes — you’re truly lost to what he wants.

- Only when Daisuke accidentally lets out a “God, I’m in love with you..” when you beat a level on his game did you catch a single clue.

- From then on the two of you begin your relationship, Daisuke all to eager show his love for you. Always close to you, checking in on you when he can, even sharing food when he realizes you hadn’t had a break — he’s a doting partner no matter what.

- Daisuke also likes to give you that gaudy shirt he wears when he can, feeling just a tad bit a pride when you wear his clothes — even if it’s a little tight, he doesn’t care.

- Though once Jimmy does make the off chance about you “stretching out the boy’s clothes” which makes you a little reluctant to wear them again.

- Daisuke is quick to shut that down though, declaring even if you purposely ripped it to shreds he truly wouldn’t care— a shirt really means nothing compared to you.

- From that point on Daisuke makes it a habit to compliment you, your size, everything. He doesn’t care, but realizing you do fuels such behavior. At times his compliments are questionable but his loving face surely makes up for it.

- “You’re so big and perfect, [Name].”

- “Daisuke… [sigh].. thank you.”

- After work and showering Daisuke always makes his way to your room to cuddle, alternating between little spoon and big spoon. When he’s big spoon he’s usually closest to the door, tugging you right against his chest and laying his face into your neck. He likes to whisper tiny thoughts he has or even a simply “I love you” once in a while. Sometimes you have to tell him to quiet down from how sleepy you’re getting.

- If you’re big spoon Daisuke’s face is definitely in your chest. Like.. right against it, arms wrapped around your waist so you don’t move. Sometimes you complain; scared he can’t breathe, but he’s quick to shake his head— basically declaring he’s fine.

- During that though, Daisuke may just shake his head a little too much— which causes you to playfully flick him for the perverted behavior.

NSFW

- Covering yourself up won’t really fly with Daisuke as his hands are everywhere. Grabbing your thighs, breasts, stomach, anywhere and everywhere— he isn’t turned off in the slightest by the extra meat or marks lining your hips. He quite likes tracing them with his thumbs whenever he’s deep inside you, pressing into the indents whenever he’s close.

- Daisuke isn’t the best with words but if he notices you are insecure, he is happy to reassure that you are perfect to him through actions.

- A not so secret, dirty secret; he would probably want you to smother him. Like, full weight on his face with him eating you out. Is it logical? No, but when it comes to you — in a sexual setting — the man is thinking with his dick rather than his mind.

- “Su.. I’m going to squash you.”

- Daisuke is shaking his head rapidly in response, on his knees in front of you and practically pleading.

- “Please, please! Even if I die it’s the best way to go!” Or some nonsense like that. With more coaxing you eventually give in, of course making him promise he’ll deliver two firm pats to your thigh if it’s too much.

- Having you above him, smothered in your wetness, plump ass on his chest— well.. he’s coming untouched. Hands gripping your hips so fucking tightly he’s leaving his own marks, moaning right into your cunt, whilst his hips are left to hump the air.

- And if you praise him? Oh his eyes are rolling back, completely drunk going as far as whimpering right into your sex

- Even when you’re finished the man doesn’t let you up until he’s satisfied, which isn’t until you’re practically whining for overstimulation. But once he’s done you’re quickly hopping off him, assuring he’s fine and not in pain.

- Sure, Daisuke’s neck hurts just a little back — which he blames on work when questioned by Anya — but like he said, it was totally worth it.

- Moving on, between Daisuke being able to lift himself in the vent ( and through it while injured ) + being on the baseball team, I like to think he’s strong in his own right. Not ridiculously strong, but strong enough.

- And by that I mean he’s not at all phased with moving you how he wishes. He’s gentle yet firm, pressing you into positions, turning you into others— when you let him take the lead he takes care of you, making you forget your size entirely.

- Daisuke also seems like the type to purposely grow stronger just to ease your worries — which to him are silly —.

- Speaking of positions, Daisuke purposely doesn’t do doggy unless it’s a quickie— simply because watching you from behind like that; ass and thighs rippling with each thrust, he’s coming in seconds. He’s always embarrassed and you have the tendency to tease him about it, much to his dismay.

- Lastly if you’re a particularly dominant person he’s all for it. Yes, let him lean back into your soft body whilst you jerk him off— he’s palpable and completely yours to play with.

- The man especially likes wrapping his lips around your nipple while you jerk him, followed by your soft words. Ranging between praises and teasing remarks; Daisuke is coming in seconds.

- Or having you ride him is even better, seeing you in all your glory like that is enough to push him over the edge.

- Truthfully though Daisuke seems like the type to handle a chubby partner in more ways then one.

#black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black tumblr #black!reader #chubby reader #poc writer #black reader #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke mw #mouthwashing daisuke x reader #daisuke x you #daisuke x y/n #reader x daisuke #daisuke x female reader #intern daisuke #daisuke x reader smut #daisuke x reader #daisuke #daisuke x chubby reader

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tan1shere · 3 months ago

Text

Save Me

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: I know I got inspired by something but I can not remember- it mightve been from the show I just finished I dunno BUT I hope you all enjoy this angsty Rollercoaster 😁

Summary: Your life wasn't as colorful as it may seem. When you reunite with an old girlfriend you were finally able to get out of the hell hole. She took you away from all the harm. She, saved you.

Warnings: angst ! - happy ending duhr, abusive partner, ptsd - think that's it, lmk if I missed anything !

Tags (forgot to do this oopsies) @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @brat-at-the-disco @iluvapplesxh @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu

Masterlist

"Fine, whatever I'm too tired for this."

Those were your last words as you open the dark brown front door. It was the Christmas holidays so everything was hectic. Your life, family. Your supposed partner. Partners were suppose to be in everything together. You truly wanted to be but Bri, was far from any of that. You have been going out for over 6 years now. First few were wonderful, then the reality kicked in and you saw her for her true self. A fucking bitch. But you couldn't just leave. You couldn't and it was stressing you out. There was two main concerns.

One, she started getting crazier as years led on. So you had zero clue what she might do if you leave. Two, there was a bigger thing in your life that had your main focus. You couldn't, not right now. So you had to suck it up. Three words you despise. But it had to be done. It was another day of arguing, oh joy. This time you just couldn't handle sitting around the house moping because of her harsh words. Her horrid temper. It reminded you all to well of your father. Someone who you had finally got out of your life, only to be replaced with the exact replica. "My mistake." You breathe.

It was cold, you had grabbed the first jacket on the coat rack before you left. You needed something to drink or a place to hide out that was warm. And far away. You open the door to a little Cafe. Heading over and ordering a hot chocolate. One of your favs. You grab it, going to turn around when you were face to face with. "Oh sor- Billie?" Your head tilts, looking at all her features. Yup it was her. "Y/n? Oh my God, it's been years!" She gives you a hug, dipping down just a little. You were shorter than her, than alot of people actually. Maybe that's why you always felt so weak, so inferior.

"I know, how are you?!" You say with such a wide smile, you missed her. You think about her often. But like most high-school relationships they never tend to last. She eventually got famous, being bigger and amazing. She had moved in the process, which you couldn't do. You loved your home town. So ofcourse everything left on good terms. Mostly. You did hurt for months after. She truly was your bestfriend too. So to loose both at the same time, hurt a fuck ton. Maybe you never truly got over it. "I'm actually doing very well. You?" You think for a moment. "Yeah, peachy." Peachy?

You internally face palm. She didn't really seem to pick up on it though. Or maybe she did but she just wanted to leave it. "What's been happening in the years?" You both go to sit down at a empty table to chat. "Well." You start but stop for a moment. What do you even say. Do you mention your girlfriend, your home together. Your daughter. Yeah. That's the 'thing' you've been worried about the most throughout all this. "Well, I uh. I met someone. We've been going out for just over 6 years. We have a place together and yeah." You didn't know if you could tell her. Was it weird? Even if it was some high-school relationship. You and Billie had been dating for about 8 years. It wasn't just some silly thing.

How would she react. Billie was amazing with kids. Even back then she was just the sweetest, silliest around one. It warmed your heart. And that is who you pictured yourself with. Pictured marrying having your own children with. But no, it's gone horribly. Bri isn't great with kids. Never horrible to Carley, near incidents. But you'd never ever let that happen. Sure you let her tread on you, horrible to say but thats who you were. You haven't always been like this. It's her to blame honestly. She ruined you. But you'd kill for your daughter. You two had a special bond, super close. Maybe that angered Bri more.

"How about you? Now that you're massive everywhere. Do occasionally hear your songs from time to time my-" You cut yourself off. "Friends all love it too." She smiles at you. "Things are good, hectic but amazing. I think about you alot you know." You look at her, her eyes. Those same eyes that you fell inlove with. As you do you realize that feeling never left. "I do also, there isn't a day you don't slip my mind." A comfortable silence was in the air for a moment. Something you had missed between the two of you. So soothing.

No screaming, no arguing. You and her kept talking about anything and everything, when your phone starts blowing up. Texts, calls. You hadn't noticed at first until Billie says something. "And I thought I was the famous one." She laughs. But her eyes linger on your lockscreen. It was some child. You quickly pick your phone up. "Just probably emails and such from work." She nods. "Hey, speaking of that. What do you do now?" You smile wide. "Office work at the moment. But, it is leading up to what I want to do." She now smiles. "You always were very driven." - "Wonder who I got that from." You say, still having a smile on your face.

With work. Her and your job. You hadn't felt much recently. Kind of empty. Depressed. It was hard keeping everything together for everyone else. But not for your own well being. Putting on fake smiles forever. But now, now you were genuinely smiling. Something Billie has always succeeded in doing. Whenever you were sad. Instant cheer up was her. Her hands go to touch yours. "Let's keep in touch this time. Please. I have to go but I'd love to catch up properly next time." You reluctantly nod. "Yes ofcourse. I should probably go too. Get to these texts and such." You both stand going to give one last hug before leaving.

She still smelt the same. God you felt like crumbling, crying. Letting everything out. You cry alot actually. No one sees it. Whether it's a little one at work, or at night while bri is out somewhere. Drinking. Carley had caught it once. You tried telling her it was just a sad movie you had watched. You hated lying but the less she knows the better. She needed parents who loved her. Who didn't fight infront of her. She pulls back putting her hands on your head. "It was good bumping into you." - "Like wise."

Bri.

Where tf did you go.

Get home for fuck sakes. We can sort this out.

And pick up Carley. I'm not doing it.

"I'm not doing it, you do it because you don't do anything all day, while I sit on my fucking ass drinking. Blah blah. Blah." You grip the steering wheel letting out a dry breath. What has this life become. You saw it differently. You had managed to get the dream job. But in reality that wasn't happening. Another thing you lied to Billie about. Your boss was an asshole. Another one in your life. She treated you poorly. Which was interesting because you were the one making the good money, you made a bunch. Bri? She doesn't do anything no job. You then get distracted by the radio playing one of Billies songs. You turn it up.

Scoffing at what one it was 'Lost Cause' "What perfect timing radio." You laugh a little, how ironic. Deciding to clear your mind and sing on your way to pick your daughter up. She was having a little play date with a friend from school. Once you get there she's already out and coming in to see you. "Hi mama!" She says cheerfully. You smile so wide. "Hi pumpkin, had fun!?" She nods, putting her seat belt on. You were so proud when she came home saying she had a friend. Carley is quite a shy girl, like you when you were younger. So it was such happy news when she came to you super excited. "Her mums really nice too, you'd like her, and oh my God they have fun snacks." You smile. "I bet I will, that sounds so fun baby."

You get into the house, afraid. You never ever dreamed of being afraid to step into your own home. But you had Carley. Bri would never ever do anything infront of her. You made sure of it. "Go play love, dinner will be ready soon." She runs upstairs and that's when shit happens. "Where the fuck did you go?" You sigh, going into the kitchen. "I went to go clear my head. You know what that's like." She shakes her head. "For nearly an hour?" You stay quiet, getting things set up. "Answer me damn it." - "Yes for nearly an hour." She stares at you. "I want steak." "Didn't plan on doing that tonight." You mumbled. "What was that?" A quiet sigh leaves your lips. "Yes babe. Steak it is."

That's what it was usually like. You'd always avoid arguments. You couldn't bear it. Not only because you hated being yelled at, but you never wanted Carley to hear. She shouldn't have to hear such things about her parents. Bri goes back over to the couch. God you were miserable, how did you attract such fucked up shit.

Ever since Billie left that day years ago, you'd been a mess. You were blind to everything. She kept you grounded and once that was gone. You didn't know what to do with yourself. Lately you've been sleeping alone. How lovely, sometimes it was. Having the whole bed to yourself. Others, it was just lonely. Tonight you wanted to revisit those times, reminisce on old memories. "Mama?" You hear Carleys small voice. "Yes baby?" She comes over to you, getting on the bed. Or trying to. "I just wanted to say night, whats all this?" She picks up a Polaroid of you and Billie. "Old photos of when I was in high-school." - "Who's this mama?" You look at the photo she had in hand.

"Just an old friend sweetheart." She nods. "She looks kind of familiar." You so wanted to tell her about it. But you just couldn't. Carley actually adores her music and has many merch pieces in her room. Which was what you were going to say to Billie earlier today. "Yeah. She was pretty memorable." She stares at more laid out. "What happened, why arent you friends no more?" You take a moment, getting choked up by one photo. "Uhm, just went our separate ways. She was on to bigger and better things, and I was still figuring things out." You smile at her, motioning for her to come over to you. You kiss her head. "I love you. Go say goodnight to mommy too, yeah?" She nods, going to get down. "Ok mama!"

A few days had passed and you were planning to meet Billie. You got to go home earlier that day so you decided now was the time. You met at some beach, a calm place to take a walk. "So it's the job you always wanted, the one when we were younger?" The sand was warm, calming everything inside you. "Yeah, not yet but I'm close to." Liar. "I'm so proud of you! Gosh, we both got what we wanted." Your eyes look down, it was all lies. Your whole life. "Anyways enough about me. Hows fame treating you?" She laughs a smidge. "Great but alot of the time not. Majority its amazing. The fans are sweethearts but I hate calling them that. They're just- friends I haven't met yet." You loved how warm she was towards everyone. Happy that hadn't changed in the slightest.

"Latest album has been out for months now and it's doing great." You nod. "It's probably a favorite of mine, I love all the songs. They're absolutely beautiful." She gives you a soft smile. "Thank you, it means alot coming from you." You look at her confused. "Why so?" "Because I loved your judgment years ago, you were so creatively smart. So cute with your ideas. I admired it." Your smile was loving. You haven't heard such nice things in a very. Very, long time. "Well I'm glad I could be of service." Her laugh comes back, booming in your ears. God you missed hearing it. "You still look beautiful, different. But still gorgeous." You blush at her words. "Different?" - "Well, we're all older but you just look so, elegant and-"

She chuckles to herself. "Who is this lucky woman, she should be cheering out of her mind." Your demeanor changes. "Oh stop." You then try to hide. Hide your true emotions. "I mean it! She should know how lucky she is." A silence grows. One with hanging questions, lingering. "Who was that on your phone the other day?" You look at her bewildered. "Your lockscreen I mean." Shit, she did see. "Oh, just my friends daughter." Her brows furrow. "You have your friends daughter as your lockscreen?" Nice going. "Uhhh, yeah I'm like her aunt and she's just so adorable." You just hoped she'd move on. The less she knows the better.

You were currently at Billies place. She invited you for lunch getting to see her brother again after all these years too. You were currently sitting on a soft couch, soaking up the silence between one another. Until...

"Who was that really. On your lockscreen." You smile slightly. "I told you-" "Y/n, I use to date you. I know exactly when you're lying." Everything goes still. "Do you have a kid?" You slowly nod. She looks at you. "Why didn't you just tell me?" Her voice was so soft. You hadn't heard a soft voice other than your daughters in a long time. It was just yelling, yelling and more yelling. "I just-" She gives you a look knowing you were about to come up with some pathetic story. "I didn't want you to know the real me." She laughs a little. "I already do. I knew it all those years ago and I still do. But, you have changed. You're more timid." Your eyes move, looking at her.

"Spill, come on." You sigh, shakily. "I'm not perfect, nothing in my life apart from my daughter is. I didn't want you to think less of me." Her face softened. "I could never. I've always seen you as amazing." You smile again, she always brought out the true you. Maybe thats why you haven't been yourself over the years, she was missing. "When can I meet this angel?" You freeze. "Uhm, I dunno. It's just." She waits for a reply. "I don't think that's a good idea." Shes confused. Incredibly confused. "Why?" "I think I should go." You stand up going to leave but she's quick. "Did I say something wrong?" Your head shakes. "No no! It's just getting late I should get back." Something funny was up, she had a feeling.

"Alright.. I'll text you." You hold a thumbs up scurrying out of there. She was going g to find out whatever it was you were hiding. She needed to.

Another day of arguments. Carely at school. Perfect opportunity to scream. "You're fucking stupid." - "Why now, I've got a million-" Her hand lands straight on your face. Shes only ever done it twice and it ofcourse shocks you each time. She was getting worse and it just frightened you. Who knows what could be next. "Are you talking back?" She sounded like some sadistic man. She sounded exactly like him. "Bri." - "That was a question darling." You cringed inside, swallowing. "No.." She hums. "Good. This argument is stupid, just get back to cleaning." You just wanted to scream and shout. She was insufferable. You hated how weak you'd get whenever she'd yell, it brought up your ptsd. And it made you realize why the slapping didn't bother you as much as it should.

Another thing he did. Did he train her or something it was like being a kid again. Your childhood being relived.

There was a knock on the door but the vacuum cleaner cleared that sound out. Carley on the other hand was in the living room right next to it. She gets up, opening it and gasping. "Y- you're Billie Eilish." She was dumbfounded, feeling like she was dreaming. "Sure am, is your mum home?" She blinks. "My mama? She's hoovering. Come come." Billie giggles at the little girls choice of words, following her into the house. "Mama! Billie Eilish is here, Billie Eilish!" You turn it off shocked. "How did you-" "I know my ways." You stop what you were doing. "What're you doing here?" Carely was so giddy it was nearly impossible to ignore. "Well I hadn't heard back, so I decide the one way that I knew I'd get your attention."

"Just showing up at my home?" You laugh a little. "I mean you wouldn't be able to escape." Carely pokes Billies hand, causing Billie to look down at her. You were so thankful Bri was out drinking. Never a sentence you thought you'd ever utter but here we are. "Ms Billie Eilish, I loveeee your music." Billie laughs again. "Shes interesting." You smile. "She's the sweetest, always so polite." Billie smiles more. "You like my music huh?" Carley nods frantically. "How do you know my mama?" Billie looks at you, not sure what to say. You bend down, wiping hair out of her face. "You know those photos I was looking at weeks ago and you saw that little Polaroid? That was her." She looks at Billie. "Woahhh you were friends with her back then?" You nod.

"You said we were friends." You stand back up. "Well yes, I'm not going to talk about relationships to her she won't really understand anyways." Billie gives you a look. "You're hiding something." You grab the vacuum. "Is this why you came over here?" She nods, making you sigh. "There's nothing Billie I promise." Carely then taps her hand again. "Ms-" "You can just call me Billie, angel." She smiles at her. "Billie, can I show you my room?!" - "Well Billie must be going soon." Her brow raises. "Am I now?" "Mhmm, so be super speedy baby." She pouts. "Naww, ok mama." Carley grabs Billies hand taking her into her room.

You prayed Bri doesn't come back anytime soon. But you doubt she would. "I have a little collection of your stuff!" Billie smiles looking at the CDs and necklaces, even a tiny little purfume bottle as that's all she'd need. The cutest thing ever is she never wants to waste it. You stand at the door, watching. "Wow you have quite a collection little miss. I'm very proud!" She giggles. Picking up the perfume. "I always do one tiny spray each day before I got to school." Billie looks at you. "She the cutest thing ever." "I know." You say lovingly. "What do you say about a bigger one? Just from me. I can give it to you in a few days."

Carleys already bouncing up and down. "Oh my God! Yayyy, Billie Eilish is giving me her perfume!" The jumping continues making Billie smile and laugh. "It's ok, really you don't have to do that." - "I'm not taking no for an answer miss thing." She puts a finger up. Making your eyes roll playfully, ending with a smile. "I better get going kid. In a few days yeah?" Carley nods, watching Billie bend down to hug her. It was so gentle and sweet. This, was how it was suppose to go. Exactly like this.

"I'm home!" Bri yells, Carley flying into her arms. "Mommy!" She smiles. "Hi my princess." You come down to see her, surprisingly not as drunk as she usually is. Damn it. You kinda wished she was because- "What's that smell." Shit. "What smell?" She sniffs. "It smells like perfume- strong one too. Nothing that you wear either." Your heart rate escalates. "Hey mommy! Guess who I met today!" Fuck fuck fuck! "Who did you meet?" "Billie Eilish!" Her brows furrow. "The singer? Now where on earth did you meet her?" 3. 2. 1. "She came to the house!" Bri raises her head looking at you. "Did she really?" Carley nods. "Well that's awesome darling, why don't you go up to your room and blast her music for me?" Fuck. "Okay mommy!"

Her little legs sprint upstairs, soon after hearing a slight boom of the songs. You go to speak but a hard slap goes straight to your face. "You said you blocked her." Shes backing you up. "I- it wasn't planned we bumped into one another in a coffee shop-" You back up in the process. "Cut her off." "Bri-" Your back hits the wall making you gasp. "I can't ju-" Her hand grips your throat. Your eyes widening. "Cut. Her. Off." Flashbacks flicker making you panic. "B-bri!" Her grip tightens. "I don't want that stupid bitch in here again, especially while I'm not here." Your eyes water from the impact her hand is causing. "Understand me?" You nod as best as you could. "Good. Dinner." And that was the last thing she uttered, heading upstairs. You fall to your knees catching your breath.

Knowing that's going to leave a nasty bruise at how harsh she was gripping. You try to calm yourself down, you had to keep going like you were fine. But it was getting harder and harder as days go on.

A few days go by, and you had completely ghosted Billie. You were more scared than you were before, that whole incident the other night was mortifying. So you sadly just listened. The bruise was still there not as evident but noticeable. You had put makeup on it to make it even more invisible. Then something you dreaded happened. There was a knock on the door and you go to open it, ofcourse it was Billie...

"What's happening? I texted you but you-" Her eyes wander. Your brows furrow as to why. Her hand goes to touch your neck. "Is that a bruise?" Fuck, water had splashed when you were doing the dishes. "Oh uh- just burned myself? With a straightener." Curse words fly in your brain, you both knew how horrible of a lie that was. "Did someone do this to you?" Your head shakes quickly. "No i-" But there was no point I finishing, Bri was right behind you. "You must be Billie." She looks at her. "Yes! You must be Y/n's girlfriend." Billie sticks her hand out, only for it to stay there.

"Can we help you." Your gaze lowers, hating every second of this moment. "Uh, I was just coming by to drop a few things off for Carley." And in the nic of time there she was rushing to the door. "Billie!" Bris teeth grind together. You Look out the corner of your eye, cringing. "Hey I, got a wholeeeee box load of stuff for you." She gasps, looking at all the different merch items. "Billie, you really didn't have to." She gives you a smile. Knowing things are strange right now. "I'll just head off, nice meeting you." The door was slammed. Making Billies head turn. She was about to leave, but she overhears.

"I thought I told you to cut her off." You look at Carley. "Go to your room baby." Her features change. She looked scared, the tone is Bris voice not only frightening you but your daughter. That's the last thing you wanted. Now you were angry. As she runs away you look at Bri. "Cut that out." She looked appalled. "The fuck did you just say?" You look at her. Little did you know this most definitely wouldn't go further. "You promised you'd never act that way infront of her." Bri scoffs. "Yeah well guess what I did. Wanna circle back to what you just said to me?" "Yeah. I told you to quit being a piece of shit, especially infront of our daughter."

This was no slap. Far from it. Her fist meets smack dab in the middle of your face. You tumble back at the impact, tripping and landing on your ass. Smacking your head hard, on a wall. You grab your face, but everything was happening fast. The door swung open. A cry was to be heard. Your mind races to that trying to get up but your being pushed back down. Now you're the one in tears. You knew those cries, and you needed to get to them. Everything blurs, your head spinning in the process. You hear a muffled voice saying something along the lines of 'you useless cunt'

But you couldn't care less, all you were thinking about was Carley. Your vision clears a bit, seeing her run over to you and hide behind you. You grip her hand, trying your hardest to stay as conscious as possible. When more smacks are heard you hide your face, hiding hers with it. You soon feel hands grabbing at you. But you were too scared to even fight it. Grabbing Carely in your arms. But it wasn't Bri who grabbed you. You were half way out the door when you realized it was Billie. She hadn't left. No words were spoken, cries from your daughter and swearing clouded your ears.

You look into Billies eyes feeling hopeless. And that's all before things went black.

Your head stirs, eyes opening a tad. You were on some couch. Your head pounded as you sit up slightly. Where were you.. But it clicks when you hear a female voice. Everything floods back. "Where is she?" You say frantically. Billie pushes you back gently. "Shes fine, she's ok. She's downstairs playing with shark." You relax slightly. But that doesn't last long as tears spill out. She brings you into her arms, holding you securely. "It's ok, you're away. You're here. You're safe." You violently shake as things become intense. Her hand soothes your back as you sink further into her touch, her warmth. This stayed that way for a good minute. Before you calm down just a bit.

"Why didn't you try telling me?" Her thumb swipes under your eye. "It's not that easy.. She was the only one I was concerned over." Billies eyes drop with sadness. "You were miserable babe. You needed to think about yourself too." "She was all that was good in my life." You say, tears silently dropping. "I didn't want to screw anything up." The tears start to resurface. "Hey hey, you didn't you're the best mother ever. She's so loved by you, even if that stupid bitch didn't. She knows she's loved. You've done great." It made you want to sob more. Not because you were hurt by her words.

The complete opposite. You hadn't heard such kind things in a very long time. "I'm here. I want to be in your life again, help you. Help raise her even. I miss you and I've never stopped loving you." Her confession makes your tears turn to happy ones. You leap forward and kiss her sweetly. "I've never stopped loving you either." Your foreheads touch, savoring this beautiful moment. "Mama?" You then hear Carleys small voice. You turn your head, wiping your tears. "Hi baby." You smile. "You're ok mama, you can cry." Your face softened, gesturing for her to come over. "You know I love you yeah?"

She nods kissing your cheek. "I don't like mommy no more. She hurt you." She hugs you tight. "I just wanted to protect you." Carley moves to stand infront of you. Her little hands on either side of your face. "You did mama." You kiss her bringing her in close. "Besides, Billie said she can be like my new mommy!" You laugh a little. "You said that?" She shrugs. "More or less." Billie winks at carley, making her grin.

Things were exactly how they were always suppose to be. You lived with Billie now, Carley having a bigger room. More to choose from. Your job was fully sorted, much to the help of your beautiful girlfriend. You felt such love from Billie. She never let you cook unless you really wanted to. Nights were always warm, sleeping beside you. Kisses for days, never ending. She's incredibly good with Carley too, which wasn't surprising. You were currently watching TV, Billie and her sitting on the floor. But let's face it, you weren't actually watching TV, how could you when the two people you adored were being so cute infront of you. "Nooo!" Billie says in the silliest way, playing whatever it was with her. This was the happy ending you wanted.

Although. So much was to be uncovered. Things left unspoken. The drama was surely not over yet.

- uhm so.. might be a new series ? This was unplanned but my brains BURNING with ideas.

#billie elish icons #billie ellish lyrics #billie eilish imagine #billie #billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fandom #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie eilish angst #billie eilish oneshot

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hp-hcs · 3 months ago

Text

• smut (?) • like a record, baby [soulmate au]—poly! simp! mattheo riddle x poly! simp! harry potter x poly! gn! reader

hey sorry i fell off the face of the planet for like two and a half months i fell back into my old hyperfixation and started a new blog just for that and lowkey forgot abt this one and kinda fell out of the fandom lmfao anywhore—

inspired by that one Dead or Alive song

tws: sort of smut? it’s mostly implied and also like two sentences and also doesn’t involve the reader whatsoever?, lowkey bottom mattheo tbh, blink-and-you-miss-it reference to potential harry self harm :(, so fucking ooc omg

not edited if you see any mistakes shhh no you didn’t

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

If I, I get to know your name / Well, if I could trace your private number, baby

Mattheo huffed, resigned. It was official; he’d finally have to talk to Scarboy.

Eight years.

Eight years of avoiding the damn boy. Eight years of ignoring the sudden sharp pains that would slice across his forehead, right where Potter’s famous scar was. Eight years of waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares that weren’t his own.

His fingers reached down on instinct to mindlessly trace the prominent soulmarks etched into his wrist. His fingertips skated over the sprawling lightning bolt mark that twisted its way up his arm, its branching lines crossing over part of his faded Dark Mark.

His fingers then marched their way across his scarred skin to the other soulmark. It was an odd black circle with a smaller red circle inside, and an even smaller circle in the center. Thin white lines following the curve of the circular shape were intermittently drawn on the black part, giving it a ridge-like visual texture.

He had no fucking clue what it was supposed to be. Neither did his mother, the one time he’d worked up the nerve to ask her about it.

Potter might, a little voice in his head whispered. He was raised by Mudbloods. If it’s a Muggle symbol, he might know what it is.

Fuck. He really would have to get over himself and talk to Scarboy.

~~~

I, I got to be your friend now, baby

“It’s a vinyl.”

Mattheo paused. “What?”

“The mark. It’s a vinyl.” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose where they’d started to slip down. “It’s an old-fashioned way Muggles used to play music.”

“Music? Is it an instrument?” Mattheo asked, his eyes lingering for just a second too long on Harry’s slender fingers. Potter had taken the news of being Mattheo’s soulmate surprisingly well. He’d just shrugged and nodded, saying he already knew.

Mattheo looks between his and Harry’s exposed forearms. His skin itches to pull his sleeve down, to cover up the shameful mark of his father burned into his flesh for eternity. Harry’s arm is also scarred, but in a much different way. Both bear the same circular soulmark—the vinyl, as Potter had called it—although their other soulmarks differed. Mattheo’s was the obvious lightning bolt, while Harry’s was a cigarette, puffing out a cloud of smoke that formed the shape of a snake.

And I would like to move in just a little bit closer

“Sort of,” Harry answered his original question, doing his best to explain as his fingers tracing the identical vinyl soulmark on his own wrist. “It’s just a plastic disk. When you put it on a record player, it spins, and a little needle follows the grooves. It plays whatever music was recorded onto it.”

“Uh huh,” Mattheo hummed in acknowledgment a half-second too late, too busy focusing on Harry’s fingers. Had they always looked that good?

Harry smirked and reached over, lacing their hands together. Mattheo’s skin promptly heated up about ten degrees and the skin under his soulmark sizzled with a pleasant buzz before radiating a soft silver glow.

That’s it. They were together; now, until forever.

~~~

Mattheo’s legs shook, his teeth digging into his lower lip hard enough to bleed. “A-ah~ P-Potter—”

“Nuh uh.” The man in question, currently hidden underneath a library table, pulled off. “That’s not my name, and you know it.”

“Harry!”

“That’s it. Good boy.”

~~~

All I know is that to me / You look like you're lots of fun

They refused to call it the Yule Ball this year. After all, the war was over, there was no reason to continue separating Muggleborns and Purebloods with something as silly as a school dance.

So, much to the horror of many a Pureblood parent, Hogwarts was hosting Prom this year.

Open up your lovin' arms / Watch out, here I come

Harry was having a blast. Admin had insisted on only playing Muggle music at Prom, and it had been a wonderfully painful mix of *Nsync, Outkast, and Ricky Martin.

“You have to dance with me,” Harry demanded, pulling Mattheo out onto the dance floor by his arm.

Mattheo stumbled, still not used to the odd formal attire Muggles wore. (A tuxedo, Harry had informed him it was called.) Although he’d never say it aloud, he preferred the tux over his usual dress robes. So much easier to move around in; why were dress robes ever on the table as an option?

~~~

You spin me right ‘round, baby, right ‘round / Like a record, baby, right ‘round, ‘round, ‘round

You spin around in a circle with Hermione, both of you doing your best to teach Pansy Parkinson—Hermione’s soulmate—how to dance anything other than ballroom-style.

All three of you were laughing like mad, spinning around and around until you all got dizzy.

All three of you tried to stumble off the dance floor and back to the table you’d called dibs on earlier in the night. As you’re stumbling back, dizzy, you bump into a pair of men.

Suddenly, your outfit feels a lot stuffier than it did before. You feel hot all over.

One of the men grabs your bicep to try to steady you. His hands are slick with sweat. The other also looks rather warm, his face flushed. All three of you stare at each other as a bright silver glow emanating from three people’s wrists suddenly cuts through the dimmed lights of the dance floor.

I want your love.

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #x reader #x male reader #hp x male reader #x gender neutral reader #male reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x male reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter x male reader #harry potter x mattheo riddle #Spotify

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snowrubies · 2 months ago

Text

Language Barrier

Fem!reader x Twice (mainly Sana)

Genre: Extremely fluffy and comedic

Warnings: none

Synopsis: You speak Korean perfectly, but Twice doesn't know that.

"Again? You need better staff," you say into the phone, exasperated. Your friend works in sound design for various concerts and often calls you when yet another member of the culinary or courtesy staff flakes out or quits without warning. It’s not a particularly difficult job, and the pay is decent. Plus, waiting on celebrities can be amusing—you get to see sides of them most people don’t.

"Well, you live so close, and we both know you’re not exactly swimming in plans, loser," she shoots back playfully.

"Fine, fine. Time, place, and dress code?" you reply, already rifling through your closet for the outfit she convinced you to buy "just in case."

"Same concert hall as last time. Be there at 10 AM for setup. White shirt, black pants. Bring them to change into, so you don’t ruin your good ones. Hair and makeup are your choice, but trust me—you’ll want to look good." There’s a sly undertone in her voice that sets off alarm bells. She’s hiding something.

"As if I ever try to look bad in front of celebrities," you grumble, glancing at your bedside clock. It’s 8:30—barely enough time to get ready, grab a quick lunch, and make it downtown. "Well, at least this time I have an hour. That’s better than last time’s 'get here now' panic."

"I’m learning," she says with faux innocence. Then, softer, "Thanks for doing this. See you soon."

You hang up and spring into action. First, leggings and a basic T-shirt for the commute. You pack your good clothes—crisp white shirt, black pants, and the shoes she always insists are "fancy enough." Hair comes next: rollers for quick curls while you keep your makeup simple. Neutral eyeshadow, a touch of blush, a dab of highlight—just enough to feel put together without going full glam. You're not the one under the spotlight, after all.

Time slips away faster than you expect. By the time your hair is pinned loosely at the crown of your head—not a bun, too stiff—you’ve got only ten minutes left. No time for anything fancy, so you toss hot dogs and mac and cheese in the microwave. The true lunch of champions. It’s not exactly a Michelin-star meal, but you figure you’ll sneak some of the event catering later.

You scarf down what you can grab your phone, keys, and bag, and head out the door.

You saw the signs as you were pulling into the back parking lot of the space. Your friend had conveniently forgotten to tell you just who you'd be waiting on, or even exactly what you'd be doing. She couldn't exactly hide the giant LED billboard with nine beautiful women you definitely more than recognized on it advertising tonight's concert. Even if she could, once inside the backdoor of the venue there was a staggering amount of Korean people and Hangul posted on doors and in hallways that'd give you a clue. You sent her a quick text saying where you were so she could give you today's assignment, and so you could jump down her throat for not telling you you'd be waiting on Twice. Just your favorite girl group ever.

She found you backstage by one of the many different locked rooms. "Hey best frieeend," she drew out in a singsongy way going in for a hug.

You weaved out of her hold, " Oh no. You've lost hug privileges. When exactly were you going to tell me it was Twice?"

"I said you'd want to look nice," she giggled. All part of her master plan.

"You are the worst," you muttered, trying to sound angry despite the giddy energy coursing through you. "What am I even doing? Don’t tell me I’m stuck running drinks or something."

"Relax," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "I may have mentioned you know Korean, so you’ll mostly be on standby in case they need anything. Food, water, minor stuff like that. You’re not serving tables or anything formal. Just be polite, stay professional, and don’t freak out."

"Freak out? Me?" you said with a nervous laugh. "Never. Definitely not having a full-blown internal meltdown right now."

"Good," she smirked, handing you a badge and a quick rundown of the evening. "You’ll do great. Oh, and try not to stare. They’re even prettier in person." With that, she spun on her heel and disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone to process the fact that you were about to be in the same room as TWICE.

Taking a deep breath, you clipped the badge onto your shirt and adjusted your outfit one last time. Time to get it together. No fangirling. Just act cool, calm, and totally collected. Easy, right?

You refused to just sit and wait twiddling your thumbs until they arrived. You exchanged some pleasantries with the catering people and helped them set up snack trays and water bottles in the green room for Twice. They would be here soon for a sound check. Actual sound check, not the fake two to three-song warm-up open to the VIP fans. After that, they had some time to eat and in general hang around while getting their hair, makeup, and costumes done.

The green room looked cozy but professional, with plush chairs, a makeup station, and a neatly arranged buffet table laden with fruit, finger sandwiches, and those perfectly packaged snacks you always imagined celebrities lived on. The catering staff smiled appreciatively as you adjusted the placement of a tray.

You went to go change into your nicer clothes and tiny black kitten heels. You had just enough time to stash your bag somewhere out of sight before everyone started moving franticly.

The door to the green room creaked open, and in walked TWICE.

Nayeon led the group, her smile lighting up the room as she exchanged a few words with a staff member. Behind her, the rest of the group filed in, chatting amongst themselves in soft Korean. You froze for a moment, clutching a water bottle in your hand, trying to look casual as your heart raced.

“Wow, they really went all out for this,” Dahyun said in Korean, gesturing toward the snack table. “I don’t think we’ve ever had this much fruit before.”

Chaeyoung smirked. “Dahyun, you’d say that even if it was just an apple and a banana.”

Tzuyu leaned toward Mina, her voice soft and melodic looking at the monitor in the corner. “The stage lighting looks amazing, doesn’t it? It feels so warm.”

Mina nodded, her tone thoughtful. “It’s perfect. I think the fans will love it.”

They began to spread out, scanning the room and chatting in their small groups. You tried to stay focused, pretending to adjust the water bottles while listening intently.

“Excuse me,” a gentle voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to see Sana standing a few feet away, a curious smile on her face. “Uh… water?” she asked in English, her accent charmingly thick as she gestured toward the bottles.

You quickly picked one up and handed it to her, forcing a polite smile. “Yes, here you go,” you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Thank you,” she said brightly, taking the bottle. “Nice...” She motioned toward the snack table and gave you a small thumbs-up before returning to the group.

Meanwhile, Jeongyeon had wandered toward a catering staff member, her English more deliberate but clear. “This… for us?” she asked, pointing at the trays.

“Yes,” the staff member replied. “It’s all for you. Please help yourselves.”

Jeongyeon nodded, looking impressed. “Very nice. Thank you.”

Nayeon, ever the social butterfly, spotted you lingering by the table. “Hello!” she greeted cheerfully in English, making you jump slightly. “You… work here?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes. I’m just helping with the setup today.”

“Ah, good job!” she said with a grin, her Korean accent giving the words a playful lilt. “This… all looks very good.”

“Thank you,” you managed, heat rushing to your cheeks.

As they settled in, their conversations switched fluidly between Korean and broken English, depending on who they were speaking to. Jihyo exchanged a few words with the event coordinator about the schedule, effortlessly mixing both languages.

“Soundcheck… now?” she asked, her English with large pauses but clear.

“Soon,” the coordinator replied. “You have a little time to eat first.”

“Good,” Jihyo said, nodding firmly before turning back to the group to relay the information in Korean.

The room buzzed with warmth and activity, their laughter mixing with the casual chatter of staff members. You couldn’t help but feel awestruck by how approachable they were, even as global superstars. Every interaction, whether in Korean or English, only made them feel more human—and somehow, even more dazzling.

As the group began to relax, you continued tidying up the snack table, doing your best to stay invisible. But you couldn’t help overhearing their conversations—especially the ones you weren’t supposed to understand.

“Did you see her?” Sana murmured to Nayeon in Korean, her voice low but full of curiosity.

“Who?” Nayeon replied, leaning slightly toward her.

“That staff member by the table,” Sana said, nodding subtly in your direction. “They’re really pretty, don’t you think?”

Nayeon glanced at you for a brief moment, her eyes sparkling with amusement before she turned back to Sana. “Oh, I noticed,” she said with a sly smile. “They’re very elegant. It’s rare to see someone like that working backstage.”

Dahyun, catching wind of the conversation, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “What are you two whispering about?”

Nayeon waved her off playfully. “Nothing. Just admiring the staff here. Very organized, very… visually pleasing.”

Chaeyoung raised an eyebrow, overhearing as well. “Wait, are you all talking about them?” she asked, her tone teasing as she subtly gestured toward you. “Yeah, they’re cute. I noticed earlier.”

You kept your head down, pretending to focus on rearranging the water bottles, but your cheeks were burning. Hearing them talk about you like that, assuming you didn’t understand a word, made your heart race.

Mina joined the conversation with a small, approving nod. “I agree. There’s something… calm about them. It’s nice.”

Jihyo laughed softly. “You all sound like you’re picking a favorite contestant on a reality show. Be professional.” But even she glanced your way with a subtle smile, clearly not immune to the group’s observations.

Tzuyu, ever the quiet observer, finally chimed in. “They do seem kind,” she said simply, her voice soft but sincere.

Sana giggled, leaning closer to Dahyun. “Should we talk to them more? Maybe invite them to hang out later?”

“Stop it,” Nayeon said, feigning exasperation. “They’re working! Don’t make it awkward.”

You busied yourself even more, carefully pretending you had no idea what was being said, but every word made your chest tighten with a mix of embarrassment and giddy disbelief. They thought you were pretty. TWICE thought you were pretty.

“Do you think they know Korean?” Chaeyoung asked suddenly, tilting her head.

“Doubt it,” Dahyun replied. “They haven’t reacted to anything we’ve said.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. It took everything in you to keep your expression neutral, even as their words replayed in your head.

"Should we test it?" Chaeyoung asked. "Say something outrageous and see if she reacts?"

Jihyo came over and playfully slapped Chaeyoungs arm. "Don't be mean. She's probably just nervous. Leave her be."

She couldn't let it go. Chaeyoung wandered over to you. Your hands meticulously move bottles fractions of inches repeatedly. "You...very busy hun?" She managed in broken English.

You glanced at her, smiled politely, and nodded speaking slower than normal so she could catch more of it. "Yes, keeping things organized for you."

“Good,” she replied, her tone teasing as she switched back to Korean. “So professional. I think we’re making her nervous.”

“You’re making ME nervous,” Nayeon quipped, rolling her eyes. “Stop messing around. You’re going to scare her away.”

Sana, however, seemed utterly unfazed. “But seriously,” she said, her tone lowering as she addressed the group in Korean, “look at her hair and outfit. So well put together. Not to mention her face. It’s impressive.”

Dahyun smirked. “You’re really taken with her, huh?”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Sana shot back. “It’s not every day you meet someone who looks like they walked out of a drama while setting up a snack table.”

This time, you couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips. You turned your back to them, pretending to check on the fruit tray, hoping they didn’t catch the slight quirk of your expression.

“Did she just smile?” Momo whispered, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I think she might understand us.”

“No way,” Dahyun said, shaking her head. “She’s been quiet this whole time. Probably just coincidence.”

Still, the idea seemed to spark a new level of intrigue among the group. Jeongyeon, who had been sitting quietly, glanced at you and said in English, “You… like music?”

Caught off guard, you hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Me? Yes, I do. Your music is quite good.”

“Thanks,” she said simply, her smile warm but brief. Then she turned back to the group and said in Korean, “See? She’s nice and a fan. Let’s not overwhelm her.”

Tzuyu, who had been observing everything silently, finally spoke up. “Maybe we should invite her to the show later. Watch in the wings,” she said in Korean.

“Really?” Jihyo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why not?” Tzuyu shrugged. “It’d be a nice gesture.”

You pretended not to hear, focusing on folding some napkins, but your heart felt like it was doing cartwheels. If they followed through with that idea, how were you supposed to stay composed?

Sana waved you over pulled up her translator app and typed out, 'Would you like to watch the show from backstage?' but when the electronic voice read it out in English it came out as 'Do you want to see the show behind the scenes?'

You understood it regardless. You stared at her phone then back at her then back down again and just nodded thanking her. "Really? Yes, yes, please. Thank you."

Momo smirked. "Ok, that was adorable."

Sana grabbed your hands and smiled wide genuinely happy that you seemed so interested. When she let go you scurried back to behind the table blushing like a mad woman with your fingers twirling around each other.

"I stand corrected. That's the cutest thing I've ever seen," Momo said. "Look Sana, you made her all flustered."

You refused to look up now having a convenient reason to be blushy and shy. As you busied yourself with unnecessary adjustments to the napkin display, you could feel the weight of their gazes. The warmth in your cheeks was practically radiating at this point, and no amount of deep breathing seemed to help.

“I think we broke her,” Chaeyoung teased in Korean, earning a chuckle from the group.

“Stop teasing,” Jihyo said, though her tone was more amused than scolding. “She agreed, didn’t she? That’s enough for now.”

Sana beamed, her excitement palpable. “I’ll make sure she gets a good spot,” she declared in Korean, clearly thrilled at the prospect of including you in their world, even if only for a little while.

From your side of the room, you peeked up just in time to see Sana still grinning in your direction. It wasn’t the kind of smile you’d expect from a superstar—it was warm, sincere, and oddly grounding. You managed a small wave, which only seemed to delight her further.

As the group settled into their pre-show routine, the flurry of activity grew. Makeup artists and hairstylists began their work, and the atmosphere shifted into one of focused preparation. You tried to keep out of the way, but the occasional glance or kind word from the members reminded you just how surreal this moment was.

Eventually, Nayeon wandered over, her casual confidence as radiant as ever. “You okay?” she asked in English, tilting her head slightly.

“Yes,” you replied quickly, your voice a touch higher than you intended. “Thank you for asking.”

She smiled, her eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “Good. Don’t let Sana scare you. She… very friendly.”

You chuckled softly, nodding. “I noticed.”

As the minutes ticked by, the group prepared to head to the stage for their private sound check. Just before they left, Sana turned back to you with a quick wave and an encouraging smile. “See you later!” she said in English, her words simple but filled with warmth.

You nodded, managing a quiet, “See you,” in return. As they filed out of the room, you finally allowed yourself to exhale fully. You leaned against the edge of the snack table, your heart still pounding.

As the green room emptied, the flurry of energy faded, leaving you in a blissful yet surreal calm. Twice had just been standing there, talking to you—not at you, not above you, but like you were part of the team. It felt too good to be true, but the slight ache in your cheeks from smiling confirmed that it was very real.

Still, the thought of being invited backstage for the actual concert was almost too much to process. You replayed Sana’s gesture in your mind—the way she grabbed your hands, her bright smile, the genuine excitement in her voice. It was the kind of thing you’d only dreamed about.

After the soundcheck, your friend finally reappeared, looking as smug as ever. “So? How’s my favorite ‘just helping out for the day’ staff member?” she teased, a knowing glint in her eyes.

“You set me up,” you accused, though there wasn’t much heat behind it.

“I did you a favor,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “Come on, you’re freaking out, aren’t you? You met Twice. They love you.”

You hesitated, debating whether to admit how much you’d overheard. “They were… really nice,” you said carefully. “And, uh, they invited me to watch the show from backstage.”

Her eyes widened, and then she burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you’ve been here, like, two hours, and you’re already besties with Twice? That’s iconic.”

“Stop,” you groaned, but her laughter was infectious. “I don’t know how I’m going to keep it together. I mean, Sana literally held my hands, and Nayeon asked if I was okay, and—” You cut yourself off, realizing you were rambling. “I’m doomed.”

“You’re not doomed,” she said, grinning. “You’re lucky. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position right now?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I know, I know. It’s just… overwhelming.”

“Well, get used to it,” she said, clapping you on the back. “Because you’re about to have the best night of your life.”

The hours passed in a blur. You helped with final preparations, making sure everything in the green room stayed tidy and well-stocked. The buzz of the venue grew louder as fans began arriving, their excitement palpable even from backstage. The Twice members returned briefly to grab drinks and snacks, their energy shifting into show mode.

Each of them had a way of preparing—Jeongyeon hummed quietly to herself, Jihyo went over notes with a staff member, and Sana, as bubbly as ever, flitted around the room, checking on everyone, including you. Every interaction, no matter how small, leaves you feeling more grounded in the moment as if this surreal experience was meant to happen.

Finally, it was time for the concert. True to her word, Sana guided you to a spot near the wings where you could see the stage without getting in anyone’s way.

“You okay?” she asked again, her tone light but genuinely concerned.

“Yes,” you replied, giving her a small smile. “Thank you.”

Her face lit up, and she gave you a quick thumbs-up before joining the others. Moments later, the lights dimmed, and the roar of the crowd filled the air. You watched in awe as the members took the stage, their presence electrifying. It was one thing to see them perform on a screen, but witnessing their energy, precision, and charisma up close was something else entirely.

From your spot, you could see not only the performance but also the little interactions between the members—the quick glances, the shared smiles, the subtle nods of encouragement. It was a side of them the audience rarely got to see, and it made the experience all the more special.

As the show went on, you found yourself completely immersed, cheering quietly from the sidelines and feeling a sense of pride for a group you’d admired for so long. When Sana caught your eye mid-performance and winked, you nearly melted on the spot.

By the time the concert ended, you were on cloud nine. As the members came backstage, still buzzing with adrenaline, Sana made a beeline for you.

“So? How was it?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Incredible,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for letting me watch.”

She grinned, leaning in slightly. “You’re welcome. It was fun.”

Before you could respond, the rest of the group began filing in, offering you nods, smiles, and even a few casual “thank yous” in passing. Nayeon gave you a quick pat on the shoulder as she walked by, and Jihyo offered a warm, “Good job today.”

As the chaos settled and the members started winding down, your friend appeared again, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

“See?” she said, nudging you. “I told you this would be the best night of your life.”

The post-concert buzz was palpable, with staff bustling around to pack things up while the members of Twice cooled down, chatting amongst themselves. You stayed in your corner, observing quietly, savoring the memories of the night.

You were carefully arranging water bottles on a nearby table when chaos erupted. A loud crash sounded from the other side of the room, followed by the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps. One of the backstage doors had been flung open, and a man—clearly not a staff member—was charging toward the group of idols.

Everything happened so fast, but instinct kicked in. You spotted him barreling toward Sana, whose back was turned. Without thinking, you shouted in Korean, "Be careful! Behind you!"

Sana turned just in time to see the man, her eyes wide with alarm. Fortunately, security was already on him, tackling him to the ground before he could get any closer. The room erupted in frantic murmurs, staff rushing in to ensure everyone was okay.

Breathing heavily, you looked around to see Twice staring—more specifically, at you. Jihyo was the first to speak, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. "Wait… you can speak Korean?"

You froze, realizing what had just happened. There was no hiding it now. With a sheepish smile, you nodded. "Yes… a little."

Nayeon let out a loud laugh, slapping her thigh. "A little? You just spoke perfectly!"

Dahyun looked equal parts impressed and amused. "So, you understood everything we said earlier?"

Your cheeks flushed, and you ducked your head slightly. "Yes, I heard it," you admitted, bracing for their reactions.

Momo clapped her hands together, looking delighted. "Why didn’t you say anything? Do you know how awkward we were being?"

Sana stepped closer, her expression a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Then… did you hear when I said you were pretty earlier?"

You nodded, your face growing hotter by the second. “Yes, I heard that too.”

The group exploded into laughter, their teasing and playful remarks blending together. Jihyo shook her head, a fond smile on her face. "You’re amazing. You stayed so quiet this whole time."

Chaeyoung grinned mischievously. "So you did understand when I said something weird, huh?"

Trying to lighten the mood, you shrugged. "I was just trying to focus on my work."

Tzuyu smiled softly, her voice calm amidst the laughter. "And you protected us. Thank you."

Her sincere words seemed to settle the room, and Sana reached out to gently squeeze your arm. "Really, thank you. Because of you, nothing bad happened."

Though the teasing didn’t stop entirely, it took on a more affectionate tone. They were clearly impressed—and grateful. As the night wound down, you couldn’t help but feel like the bond you’d formed with the group had deepened unexpectedly and unforgettably.

The room gradually settled as the adrenaline from the incident ebbed away, leaving only the warm hum of conversation and soft laughter. You busied yourself by tidying up the snack table, partly to distract yourself from the knowing glances and teasing smiles still coming your way. Your face was burning, and you couldn’t meet their eyes for too long without feeling like you might combust.

Sana was the first to approach you again, her usual playful smile tinted with genuine shyness this time. She tilted her head slightly, clasping her hands behind her back as she hesitated before speaking. "Um," she started in Korean before switching to English. “You… very brave. Thank you.”

You waved your hands in front of you, flustered. "It—it was nothing, really. I’m just glad everyone’s okay."

Sana giggled softly. "No, you were really cool." She glanced back at the group, who were all watching the interaction with varying degrees of amusement and encouragement. “Uh… do you… have phone?” she asked hesitantly, her accent adorably thick.

You blinked, caught off guard. “My phone?”

Nayeon, who couldn’t resist jumping into the moment, called out in Korean. "You might as well ask for her number!"

Sana whirled around, her cheeks pink. “Unnie!” she scolded before turning back to you, her bashfulness now painfully evident. “I mean… number? For… talking later?” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, her confidence faltering.

Your heart was pounding as you fumbled for words. “Oh, um, yeah, sure. I can—yeah.” You pulled out your phone, your hands trembling slightly as you unlocked it and handed it to her. Hopefully, fast enough she didn't realize your wallpaper was her.

Sana quickly typed her number in, then smiled shyly as she handed it back to you. “Text me… sometime?”

Before you could respond, Dahyun chimed in with a sly grin. "Should we invite her to our group chat?"

Momo snickered. "Don’t overwhelm her."

“Maybe,” Sana said, glancing at you with a playful smile before joining the group again, leaving you standing there with her number saved in your phone and a heart racing faster than it probably ever had.

As the evening wound down and the group prepared to leave, several of them waved and offered warm goodbyes. Sana lingered just a moment longer, catching your eye as she gave you a small, almost nervous wave. "Good night," she said softly before disappearing with the others.

You stared at your phone again, the contact glowing on the screen like a dream made real. This was a night you’d never forget—and perhaps, the beginning of something even more extraordinary.

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fuctacles · 3 months ago

Text

<< 10 | - | 12 >>

Robin finds them sprawled on the grass, resting after their play break. Steve notices her first, his head raising and tail wagging excitedly, though he doesn't move from his spot warming Eddie's thigh.

"Steve?"

That's when his friend realizes what got him so excited and he waves to Robin as she spots them in the middle of the yard. Their eyes meet and he knows she's surprised to see Steve in his other form again, but she doesn't say anything. Their werewolf friend yips happily and stands up, away from Eddie's petting to greet his best friend.

"Hello, Buckley."

"Hello, Munson." She puts her hands on her hips in a perfect mirror of Steve. "I see you two are hard at work?" Robin quickly folds when Steve sits at her feet, his tail moving so fast it is barely visible. She squats down to scratch around his ears. "Hi, dingus."

"Exactly, and we're taking a well-deserved break right now," Eddie says with a smile, sitting up. "The barbeque is out and cleaned up, and we're almost done with the pool and chairs," he sums up their work so far, pointing vaguely to where everything is.

"Damn, it's like you don't need me at all, huh?" she asks mostly towards Steve with a tilt of her head. He nibs at her fingers in retaliation before trotting away. "Hey, I was joking!"

But Steve picks up the ball still lying next to Eddie's leg and brings it back to Robin. She looks at him in confusion, so Eddie quickly swoops in with an explanation.

"We were playing fetch!"

The yellow, damp ball falls away from Steve's mouth like he might have just gotten self-conscious about the thing. But Robin takes it in stride, grabbing the toy and straightening up. Her friend quickly forgets his inhibitions and straightens up, hyperfocused on her raised hand.

"Fair warning, I'm not the best thrower. But I guess I can't be much worse than Munson."

"Hey!"

She proves her words seconds later when the ball barely misses his head and Steve jumps right over his body, making him yelp.

"Jesus H Christ you two!" he yells at them, but is genuinely happy for his friend enjoying his dog form without second guessing himself.

He idly picks at the grass, observing them and dodging Buckley's shitty aim, wondering how he would feel if he could shift to a creature loved by everyone and with simple needs and ways to express himself. It sounds freeing, but he likes too many things his opposable thumbs can do, like playing the guitar, petting a dog, or playing fetch.

Does Steve have things he needs his thumbs for? Is he still playing basketball? Maybe Eddie could teach him the guitar. Or Maybe Steve just needs a healthy balance between human and animal treatment.

Eddie is so preoccupied with his thoughts, that the next ball Buckley throws boinks right off the side of his head.

Steve skids to a stop in front of him, eyeing the skittering ball like prey, but in the end, jumps up to Eddie and starts licking at the sore spot, while Buckley yells her apologies in the background.

"Okay, okay, I'll live! It's just a flesh wound!" he laughs, while Steve's hot tongue is ruining his already questionable fringe. The dog boops his cheek with a cold nose and goes to pick up the ball. Eddie takes it as his clue to stand up and fix himself up a bit.

"It pains me to say it, but I guess it's our sign to get back to work," he sighs, dusting off his knees. Steve shows up next to him, eyes huge and the ball between his teeth. "Nuh-uh, man, we can play more later. We gotta finish the yard today so we only have the food to worry about tomorrow."

Steve huffs, the ball falling from his mouth with a sad thump, but he walks away towards the house, bumping Robin's leg on his way to the back door. While he disappears inside, Eddie jogs up to her.

"Hey," he says again. "I'm trying to help Steve out of his funk."

Robin raises her eyebrows.

"How?" she crosses her arms.

He suddenly feels uneasy, shifting his weight while trying to give his theories and plans shape. There's no one better to talk it out with than Steve's best friend, so he pushes through.

"Well, he likes how we treat the dog-him, so I think we should treat him more like that on a daily basis. You know, scratches, praises, and shit," he looks up at Buckley hoping he doesn't sound completely insane. "So he likes being human a bit more."

She hums, glancing back at the house.

"You're right," Robin says to his surprise. It's not something he hears often. "Though I think it works best with you."

"What do you mean?" he asks with a frown.

But she waves him off, turning to where Steve is emerging through the back door wearing loose sweatpants and with his hairy chest on display.

"Robs!" he greets his friend with a grin, gathering her for a side hug that quickly turns into a friendly chokehold.

Eddie hopes Buckley can sense his menacing glare despite their roughhousing.

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1

@stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible

#steddie #shapeshifter steve harrington #werewolf steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #mine #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #wereshifter au

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chickren · 3 months ago

Note

Do you think Jaime has any idea of Brienne's affection for him during AFFC/ADWD? Or does he still believe Brienne's in love with Renly?

lol

i mean, i joke a lot about her negging him into falling in love with her, but i honestly think she kind of accidentally did?

so, no, i don’t think he knows she’s in love with him. i don’t think he has a fucking clue. to be fair, she didn’t know either the last time they saw each other before pennytree.

you have to remember how their last two interactions in storm went down. first, jaime has her arrested after loras accuses her of renly’s murder. jaime does this to protect her, but brienne doesn’t understand that and she looks at him with eyes full of hurt, thinking he betrayed her. and jaime is borderline apoplectic that she would believe that of him.

then they both carry those emotions into their final asos scene in the white sword tower. jaime’s still smarting from her low opinion of him and is determined to prove to her just how wrong she is about him. his little plan backfires spectacularly. he finds out she still thinks he’s absolute scum, that her opinion of him is perhaps worse now than ever.

as for brienne, she is genuinely confused about what’s happening when she goes into the white sword tower scene. she understands jaime is trying to get loras to drop his accusations, but she has no idea why he’s doing anything he’s doing for her, and she has a hard time trusting people even in simple circumstances. and then jaime makes things worse by being so caustic because she hurt his feelings thinking he betrayed her. the funny thing is, brienne does walk out of the white sword tower scene with jaime vindicated in her mind. from that point on, she talks herself into trusting him, even when she has doubts, until the end of feast where she believes in his sincerity and his good intentions enough to full-throatedly defend him against accusations of villainy.

but jaime is privy to none of that. the last message he got from her was that she thought he would try to bribe her to kill sansa. she tries to backtrack from that accusation in the moment but he’s emotionally checked out of the conversation at that point, melted into a puddle of toxic jaime goo.

so by the time they meet again in dance, they’re in this weird position where i’d argue brienne is probably more ready to accept that jaime could have feelings for her than he is to accept that she has feelings for him. just the fact that someone with brienne’s life experience can bring herself to wonder what jaime would do if she cried on his shoulder tells me she has a slight clue he feels something.

but jaime really doesn’t have anything to hang onto that would indicate brienne has feelings for him. lol, i mean anything nice or good she’s done for him are things he could write off as basically being her job.

the only caveat to jaime’s knowledge of brienne’s feelings for him is that he does know she is physically attracted to him.

after loras leaves them in the round room, brienne is awkward and hesitant when jaime compliments her, and then she flounders trying to compliment him back. compare it to the bathhouse scene where we know from brienne’s pov that she was very attracted to him but jaime didn’t really clock it. here, he notices. she’s “flustered.” she wants “to flee.” even if he doesn’t explicitly diagnose the cause of her slightly bumbling reaction to seeing him in the white cloak inside his own head, i think he knows. mostly because he’s still just arrogant, smooth-talking jaime at that point, as opposed to later when she emotionally disembowels him in slow and painful stages and he turns into a wounded animal.

to me, the way he notices brienne’s physical attraction to him is not dissimilar to the way he describes amerei frey’s interactions with him. he never explicitly thinks that ami’s hitting on him, but it’s obvious that she is, and it’s obvious that he knows she is.

also important to note for the white sword tower scene is that jaime deliberately gets dolled up in his full kingsguard kit for brienne, and then sits there like a clown for fucking hours waiting for her to show up. so, of course, he’s paying extreme attention to her reaction to his efforts.

but everyone thinks jaime is hot, so it’s also understandable that he wouldn’t take that to mean that she actually likes him.

(he did want to make sure she knew he was hot, though.

he wanted. to make sure. she knew.)

now. if jaime finds out brienne was ready to die for him? well. he’s not an idiot. this whole thing could turn around real fast. so—

tl;dr - do i think jaime has any idea of brienne's affection for him during feast/dance?

his angst about her physical attraction to him is 0%

his angst about her emotional attraction to him is 100%

[as jaime has amply demonstrated, he is constitutionally incapable of taking her feelings for renly seriously and i doubt he’d start now]

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #asoiaf #anon #chicky gets anons #i don't have an ask tag just an anon tag #although this account is empty so probably more anon than anything

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violetflowers55 · 1 month ago

Text

Hot & Cold - Chapter 2

(Dr. Phosphorus x fem!reader)

Synopsis: Falling asleep in a luxurious castle was supposed to be easy, yet you couldn’t. At least until ran into Phosphorus in the kitchen - or rather until he fell through the ceiling. Of all the ways you considered to tire yourself out, he was certainly not one of them, yet it turned out to be the best way.

Notes: Sorry this is so long, I tried to keep it short but obviously failed! If you didn’t read Ch. 1, it’s not needed for Ch.2, it just provides extra backstory. As a heads up, this chapter takes a very different turn from Ch.1. This chapter is mostly smut

CW: Burning/ Burning kink, ass slapping, dom!Phosphorus (kinda)

Chapters 3-7 now posted!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having spent so many years sleeping on a hard ass prison bed, you thought sleeping in the luxurious castle beds would be easy. Yet, no matter how many times you repositioned yourself, you couldn’t get comfortable. It was far too quiet; you had become accustomed to the constant clanging and shouting of prison. The mattress and pillows were too soft, something you never thought would be a problem. After hours of laying there, trying desperately to sleep, your stomach growled. With a groan, you got up, hoping maybe some food would put you to sleep.

It took some wandering to find the kitchen, but eventually you did. The servants in there froze as they saw you enter. Who they were making tea for at one in the morning, you had no clue.

“Uh, hi, sorry, I just wanted some food?”

One of them slowly moved over the the pantry, revealing a smorgasbord of snacks.

“Wow… thank you.”

He simply nodded and returned to preparing the tea and biscuits. You picked up some kind of snack bar. It was labeled in Polkostani so you weren’t really sure what it was, but it looked good. Just as you were almost finished with it, the ceiling above the kitchen island collapsed. The servants ran away while you watched as Flag and Dr. Phosphorus fell through, landing on the kitchen table. When Phosphorus sat up, he cracked his neck into place, and you couldn’t deny how unbelievablly hot it was.

A moment later, Flag hit him with a frying pan, Phosphorous blasted him, and the next thing you knew some device was sitting at your feet. It displayed images of you and your fellow monsters, and you quickly realized what it is.

The two men stared at you, frozen, waiting to see what you would do. You bent down to pick it up, thinking about how much trouble you could potentially be in if you smashed it right now.

“Don’t be an idiot… hand it over,” Flag warned, taking a step towards you.

“Yeah, don’t be an idiot,” Phosphorus echoed, reaching his hand out.

If you smashed it, there was a chance you could go free. But there was a greater chance Waller had some kind of main control board back at Belle Reve, and you’d end up back in isolation before you could even escape the castle. Reluctantly, you handed the device over to Flag.

“Richard?” the princess appeared in the doorway, a concerned look on her face. Flag turned to look at her before scolding Phosphorus.

“Phosphorus, you idiot! You think Waller would give me the only remote? You’d be hopping around like a Mexican jumping bean for days if you escaped, or if I told her about this. I’m not here to torture you. We’re supposed to me on the same damn team,” he sighed, shaking his head, “Just get back to bed, the both of you.”

It was a bit hard to take him seriously when he had no pants and an oven mitt on, but you obediently trudged up the stairs, with Phosphorus coming up behind you. As you walked, you started to notice your ass feel a bit extra warm.

“For fuck’s sake, stop staring at my ass Phosphorous.”

“Kinda hard when it’s right in my face,” he laughed, “You may have just betrayed me, but you still have a great-“

Reaching the top of the stairs, you spun around, grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie and pulling him close.

“I did not betray you. I don’t owe you jack shit. And if anything, I just saved your ass from being tortured by Waller. Not to mention, you nearly ruined my-“

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs stopped you mid sentence.

“Come on,” you whispered, dragging him to the hallway the bedrooms were in, since that’s where you were supposed to be. Still holding the collar of his hoodie, you pulled him in closer so he could clearly hear your whispered voice.

“If you try something like that again, I will fucking kill you. We need to earn Flag’s trust to escape, and I can’t have you fucking up my plans. We earn their trust, watch and wait, and eventually they’ll slip up. Destroying one control device won’t do shit, the chips have to be deactivated. So if you ever try to pull a stunt like that again, I’ll throw you under the bus and make sure the whole team turns on you. Got it?”

You held him there, watching as your words sunk in. His smile seemed to widen, and he looked you up and down, cocking his head to the side.

“Wow. Smart and hot. I like it.”

You instinctively took a step back, but still held his hoodie. Your cheeks warmed up, and this time you knew it wasn’t because of his heat.

“F-fuck you,” you stammered, trying to hid the butterflies swirling in your stomach.

“Oh, come on, there’s no way you decided to walk around in this,” he stepped closer, pinching your satin nightgown on either side of your waist, “and didn’t realize how fucking hot you look in it.”

Suddenly, you realized just how close the two of you were. His face was barely an inch away from yours, and the heat radiating off him did nothing to cool you down. His fingers on your waist electrified you in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. A moment passed, the tension between the two of you rising as he waited for your response. Just as you almost snapped out of it, as you were about to let go, he leaned in, pushing you back against your door with his lips. You thought kissing him would be hard, yet his lips were soft, even with how passionately he was kissing you. A soft moan escaped you as you let go, wrapping your arms around his neck. The feeling of his whole body against you electrified you, making your body yearn for him. He reached behind you, opening the door into your bedroom and pushing the two of you inside.

As you stumbled back into the room, he locked the door behind you two before pulling you to the bed, his lips never leaving your mouth. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him. Just feeling his hard pelvis against your own made you even needier. You moaned into his mouth, rocking and grinding against him, desperate for more friction. His hands explored your body over your nightgown, which only made you want more.

“Phosphorus, please,” you begged in between kisses, “touch me.”

He pulled back slightly, creating an almost unbearable space between the two of you.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” his voice was soft and earnest, in a way you’d never heard him speak before.

You smiled softly. “My home planet has a sun 10x bigger and closer than Earth’s. I’m always freezing, and my skin is impenetrable. You couldn’t hurt me if you tried,” you leaned back in, hoping he took your challenge.

His grin grew wider, and the flame atop his head seemed to grow. He leaned in again, kissing you even more passionately, fast and hard. His hands slid down your bare thighs before sliding back up to grab your ass under your dress. He squeezed each cheek, hard, eliciting moans from both of you. The feeling of your skin burning only excited you more. You wrapped your legs around him, grinding faster, trying desperately to get the release you so wanted. Between your legs, you felt a body part you weren’t even sure he had grow and harden. He groaned into your mouth as you readjusted to rock against his cock, positioning yourself so his tip rubbed against your most sensitive spot. His lips traveled down your neck, the softness of his kisses balancing out the slight burns he left. One of his hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you in closer so your chest was flush against his. When he reached the base of your neck, he lightly bit down, sucking at your skin.

“Oh, Phosphorus,” you moaned, reveling in the multitude of sensations spreading across your body.

Suddenly, he flipped you, laying you on your back and positioning himself between you legs.

“Alex,” he said, leaning down towards you, “I want to hear you moan my real name.” As he finished his sentence, he slid his hand down your body, landing where you most desperately wanted him to touch you. Still cautious, he rubbed you over your underwear, rubbing quick circles on your clit. Involuntarily, you obliged his request, the sound of you moaning his name filling the room. You gripped his hoodie like your life depended on it as he leaned back down to trail kisses down your neck and chest. He reached his free hand up to pull down your gown and reveal your tits to him. His tongue flicked your nipple before sucking on it, and you bucked your hips up towards him. It all felt so good, but you wanted more.

Taking the hint, he slid his fingers into your underwear before pressing them into your entrance. They were hot, and you never knew that could feel so good.

“Fuck, yes Alex, please,” you begged, trying to move your hips so his fingers would go in deeper. He let out a low chuckle, amused by your neediness.

“Your wish is my command,” he replied before plunging his fingers deep into you. He lifted his head from your chest to watch as you cried out his name over and over again with each thrust of his fingers. His fingers were long and hard, and the warmth of them gave you indescribable pleasure as he fingerfucked you. The way he pounded into you was almost too much to take, and soon you succumbed to the feeling. You tightened around him, crying out and grabbing him tighter as you came. He chuckled, slowing down but not stopping.

“You’re so pretty when you come for me.”

You gasped for breath, yet still ached for more. “Alex… Alex, please, I want- oh-“ Before you could finish your plea, he began bending his fingers quickly inside you, hitting your pleasure point.

“What was that?” He teased, clearly enjoying seeing you unravel beneath you.

“I want… I want you,” you managed to get out through gasps and moans. His smile widened a bit, and he picked up his pace.

“Come for me.” He demanded, holding your chin in his other hand.

His pace was brutally fast, and it was easy to oblige as an intense feeling of pleasure overcame you. You tightened around him again, liquid spilling out of you as you climaxed. Without letting you catch your breath, he flipped you over onto your knees. positioning himself behind you. His hands lifted from you for a second to drop his pants, making you realize just how good his hands felt. You ached in his absence, and moaned when placed them on your hips again. He slid his cock between your legs, letting you feel how long he was and sending shivers up your spine before he pushed inside you.

“Oh, fuuuckk,” he groaned, “you feel so fucking good.” He thrusted his whole length into you, slow, enjoying how your wet pussy felt around his cock.

“Ohhh Alex!,” you practically screamed as he filled you up. He groaned in return, gripping your hips even harder. It burned slightly, but the heat felt good as he fucked you. He pounded into you with a force that would probably break any human, your body shaking forward with each thrust. His pace picked up, thrusting into you fast and hard. You buried your head in a pillow, trying to muffle your screams so as not to alert the others. He grabbed your hair, pulling your head up, and slapped your ass hard with his other hand.

“I want to hear every noise you make. I want to hear you scream my name while I fuck your brains out,” he growled in your ear, slapping your ass again for good measure.

Just that was enough to send you over the edge. You gripped the sheets, knuckles turning white as you came on his cock.

“Fuck, it feels so fucking good when you come on me baby” He let out a deep moan, releasing your head to hold your hips so that he could fuck your even harder.

Cries of both of your names filled the room as he reached his own climax. He thrusted into you hard, causing you to immediately cum again as you felt him spill into you. When he finally pulled out, you collapsed, breathless. He laid down next to you, also trying to catch his breath.

“Wow. That was…”

“Amazing,” you sighed contently, rolling over to lay on your back. He shifted closer to you, innocuously wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You were too blissed out in the moment to remember why you hated him, and curled up closer to feel warm. He fidgeted with the strap of your nightgown for a moment before deciding to speak.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm… well, you did make me cum four times, so I guess you get to ask a question.”

“Does that mean I can ask four questions?”

You looked up at him. “I usually kill men after sex, so don’t push your luck.” It wasn’t really a hard and fast rule, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Well, that’s grim…” he paused, a little taken aback, but impressed by your ruthlessness, “I was wondering… why did you come to Earth?” His voice was soft, like he was worried the question might incite you to kill him.

You sighed. Of course he had to ask your least favorite question. Usually you made something up, some witty remark about your home planet not having enough banks to rob. But for some reason, you felt like opening up for once.

“I didn’t leave my home planet. I didn’t choose Earth,” You fidgeted with the strings on his hoodie, unable to look at him, “I was exiled.” He stayed silent, waiting to see if you were going to tell him the rest.

“I’m not like other Siclons. Even on my home planet…I’m a monster. I shouldn’t look so human. I shouldn’t be able to turn my skin to steel. I shouldn’t…,” you voice broke as you spoke, but you were determined not to cry in front of him, “They offered me surgery to “fix” me. But I didn’t want to be fixed. So, they sent me away. Found a planet where I could blend in. Dropped me off in a Gotham alley and left.”

Tears streamed down your face, dripping onto his hoodie. “I was only fifteen Earth years old.”

He was quiet for a moment, gently squeezing your shoulder to comfort you.

“So… that’s why you turned to a life of crime?”

That snapped you out of it. You flipped over, facing away from him. “You got one question. That was it.”

“Hmm,” he repositioned himself to spoon you, wrapping his arm around your waist, “So if I make you cum four more times, then you’ll tell me?” His voice was teasing, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You loosened up, letting yourself being held by him. With his warm body wrapped around you, finally you could sleep.

#dr. phosphorus fanfic #dr. phosphorus x reader #dr. phosphorus #dr. phosphorus smut #dr. phosphorus x reader smut #x reader creature commandos #creature commandos fanfic #i just really love the idea of him burning handprints into your ass

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hazashiovo · 11 months ago

Note

Omg that kuvira sub req was lit! Could you do one for Zuko please? Maybe after he’s become fire lord?

I decided that instead of writing nsfw, to just make it angst to fluff. Sorry that it's not what you asked for ,but this is what I got.

Genre:Friends with benefits to enemies to lovers ,angst to fluff,

Tw: mentions of trauma, burning and leaving a scar.

Zuko x Fem reader

Ever since you ran away from Zuko to help the avatar restore peace to the world,you kept thinking that he would let go of you.

But no, you can't catch a damn break, since you ran away he's been chasing you. He swore to find you.

How? You have no clue. But you never doubted his devotion for this cause,you knew that Zuko had that burning will in him.

I mean,you were his soldier,and things between you two were...complicated.

Sometimes you would have heart to heart conversations. Maybe about your life,or what you would be in the future, and other times it was just making out after a stressful day. But you never did more than that,he wanted you ,and you wanted him but there was always something holding you back.

Now this is something that fuels Zuko, his need for revenge is powered by those moments between you two. And not only that,but if he finds you he also finds the Avatar. Which is the perfect reason for him.

You get to be punished for treason,and at the same time he would finally have his honor restored. That's what he says to himself at night. It's not like he wants more.

So for months, almost a year he searched for The avatar,and for you,each time you managed to slip right trough his fingers.

The last time he saw you was at the northern water tribe,when he tried capturing Aang you fought Zuko while Katara protected the younger boy. Zuko knew he could do so much damage to you,but he simply couldn't.

You unfortunately lost,after all Zuko was stronger than you. You both knew it,but it never stopped you before.

You tried talking to him,you always thought that if you got a chance you would be able to at least get him to think of another way,a better way. Maybe this way things wouldn't be so complicated between you two.

But no matter how much you tried,he was just too stubborn.

You tried putting a fight again,he was so angry that he didn't even realize with what force he sent that fire at you,not even throwing you a second glance.

Too blinded by anger,now that you weren't in his way anymore he went for Aang.

If you wouldn't have blacked out you would've saw the way Katara fought the prince,after all he harmed you, and wanted to take Aang away.

You woke up on Appa,Katara was tending to your burn mark, trying to completely heal it.

"I'm sorry (Name),but it's going to leave a pretty big scar here." Her hand would lay on your shoulder comforting.

It was rough looking in the mirror,but you started getting used to it. The bad part was when you started having nightmares of your fight with the prince,the burning feeling awaking you in cold sweat.

You healed with time, fortunately for you,the prince and you didn't meet again after that. You split from the team,it was necessary for you to find a way to heal the scar that Zuko left in your mind.

Imagine the shock on your face when you finally got reunited with your friends.To see Zuko there was something you never expected. Deep inside you knew he could change but never actually thought he would.

He would be so awkward, and yeah he would talk to himself, trying to find the right way to apologize to you for hunting you down and kicking your ass. It was also this little thing, he never realized how much you affected him when you were around until you left,and it drove him mad. Never quite understanding why.

He kept his distance from you, mostly because he didn't really know how to approach you. It's not that he's as mad as he was before when you betrayed him, but it's still awkward.

So you two just stayed away from each other. The group could see something was up with you two,I mean they knew about your scar and journey ,but Zuko didn't.

Nobody told him about the scar he left on you back then, and you never confronted him about it.

One night when you wanted to take your mind away from all that's happening ,you found yourself in the lake near your camp.

A swim would do you good.

Unfortunately for you ,that's what the young prince also had in mind.

He was left speechless once he saw your naked form in the water. A certain part of you got his attention,your back.

There was this big part of your shoulder all the way to your waist that was just burned.

And then it clicked, when he fought you in the north water tribe,he did this.

"Stop staring." You speak,loud enough for him to hear you, getting deeper into the water so your back would no longer be visible to his longing stare.

"I wasn't staring." He turns his head away embarrassed,his face hot just thinking that you caught him staring at your form. He acted like a pervert. How could he be so stupid?

Zuko quickly took off, not allowing you to say anything else.

He spent the night thinking,about you ,your scar your body. It annoyed him so much that all he could think was you.

So he left the next day with Sokka, on a mission to free Sokka and katara's dad from a high security prison. Totally no big deal.

Each day he spent there he hoped he could get you off his mind,but no matter how hard he tried you were just stuck on him.

Let's just say that he had some pretty unusual taughts while he was locked away.

After he saw Sokka with Suki he got this weird feeling, it was some inside him pushing him to be this way,with you.

So there he was,back at the camp with a complete mission, trying to find a way to speak to you. And he couldn't really bring up the last time he saw you, 'Yeah I saw you naked and I stared at you, wanna date?' no way in hell, unless he wants to be seen as the biggest creep ever.

"Mind if I sit?" Zuko's eyes dart up at you,he didn't even hear you coming her.

"No one's stoping you." You sit down next to him, noticing how he quickly looks away.

"It's been a while huh?" Your eyes look up at the dark starry sky, hoping he's willing to talk to you.

Zuko furrows his brows, searching for the right words to say. He never had to think so hard while talking to you,why is it so hard now?

"I won't bite if you say something." You nudge him with your elbow, sending his thoughts away for now.

"Listen,I'm really sorry for what I did to you back in the north,I was just so blinded by my desire for honor that I was willing to cut trough-" your lips stop Zuko from saying another word, already hearing what you wanted.

He's sorry for hurting you,and he admitted that he was blindly chasing something useless,and that's all you wanted to hear from him.

He whidens his eyes for a second,finally realizing what's happening he cups your cheek with one hand and closes his eyes, kissing you back.

You break the kiss, looking at his face for any sign of reluctance. But all you can see in his eyes is this soft look,it's really cute.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to hear that from you." You whisper, afraid that if you would speak any louder you would break this comfortable feeling around you.

He smiles, closing his eyes. All this time he thought so much , wondering how your next interaction would go,or what would you say to him.

He missed the kisses,soft ones were his favorite,but the making out had a tool on him too.

"I missed this." He speaks,hand trailing down your lip, carefully touching it.

"I never thought you'd forgive me." Zuko allows his head to meet with yours gently stroking your cheek.

"Thank you for becoming a better version of yourself."you smile, placing your hands on his wrist in a gentle manner.

"Okay what's going on here?" Sokka looks at the two of you like he witnessed a war crime. Did he drink cactus juice without realizing??

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't write Zuko smut yet ,I'm sorry 😭

#atla x reader #avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla #x reader #fem reader #zuko x reader #prince zuko #zuko atla #atla zuko #zuko x fem reader #sokka #aang #katara #toph #reader #fan fiction #reader x character

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beomcharms · 5 months ago

Text

moths to a flame ✧.*

pairings : beomgyu x reader

genre : childhood friends to lovers (idiots to lovers mostly)

warnings: a little bit of kissing but mostly just fluff, suggestive

wc : 1.6k

a/n : this is just a short and sweet fic for beomgyu because i miss talk x today :)

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

“And you thought this would be a good idea ?!” you huff out pulling on one end of the tent.

“Shut up” Beomgyu mutters from somewhere on the other side. “Tiktok made me believe it was a good idea to go camping with your friends”

The sun sat on top of your heads and the heat was unbearable. Beomgyu had picked you up today morning for a surprise hangout. Little did you know, he was trying to grill you alive.

“Gyu are you really pitching it back there ?” You shout at him.

“Yes you- ahhh” you hear him shout and you rush out to the other side, letting the tent collapse.

“What- what is it?” You ask frantically while Beomgyu jumps about.

“A big fucking giant ass bug just flew in- THERE IT IS” he screams hiding behind you. You look carefully and you notice a beetle making its way towards your boot. You give it a stomp and kick it away. Now, you were not one to kill insects but you knew Beomgyu wouldn’t calm down unless he was sure it was gone.

“There, it’s gone” you sigh while he continues to hover behind your shoulder.

“My saviour” he says and looks at you with such admiration that you feel less annoyed with him.

“Let’s watch that YouTube video again” you tell him and huddle over his phone together.

Somehow it’s always been like this. Beomgyu and you had been best friends since, god knows how long. You knew his fears and likes like the back of your hand. He was loud and obnoxious and annoyed you to no end, but Beomgyu had a sensitive side to him, which was why you stuck with him. Once Beomgyu liked you, he stuck to you like gum.

-.-

It’s almost evening by the time you set up the tent and you both sit outside completely exhausted.

“I can’t believe we will have to take it all down in a couple of hours” you mutter.

“Shh… let’s not talk about that and honestly I think it might actually collapse before we have to dismantle it” Beomgyu tells you placing a finger on your lips and you look at him.

Sometimes it hurts to see how beautiful he is, inside out. But Beomgyu always looked like he had no clue about it which irritated you. He could have girls and guys swooning over him and yet be completely oblivious to it.

College began in a week and the summer break was almost coming to its end.

Your friends would often joke about how Beomgyu and you would ‘breakup’ once college starts and sometimes it would get to you, you couldn’t imagine a life without him.

Beomgyu had surprised you with his college application though. He didn’t tell you but he had applied to your same college and had got in, for which you felt extremely grateful for. College in itself would be a scary experience, and you thank god you’d have Beomgyu by your side.

-.-

“What would you do without me ?” Beomgyu laughs as he grills the meat. You patiently wait for it beside him, your only job being cooking the ramen. You were a terrible chef and ramen was your only saving grace.

“Hey! I have all the other talents just not cooking” you huff out. “Besides I have you to grill my meat Chef Choi”

“Hmm” he murmurs “I’m going to ignore the inuendos there” and you slap his shoulder.

“Think about it, you can do the cooking and I’ll keep the bugs away” you tell him and Beomgyu smiles.

The sun was setting and despite your complaints you had a great view of the sunset. It was pretty and healing and you felt drunk in coziness.

“Have you talked to your roommate yet ?” Beomgyu asks you. You had gotten separate dorms and Beomgyu had already taken a liking to his roommate. You on the other hand was terrified of reaching out.

“I’ll figure it out” you mutter at him. You had seen her photo and she looked pretty intimidating.

“I’ll text her for you, hand me your phone” he tells you holding out his gloved hand.

“Fuck no” you say. You were a coward, not a loser. “Gyu don’t worry about it, I do much better in real life, than online” you tell him.

“Alright” he tells you going back to the grilling, “I don’t get it” he says.

“What ?” You ask him, opening the ramen pot. It was close to being done.

“You are shy around everyone else but me” he huffs out.

“That’s because I’ve known you since I was three” you remind him. It was true. Beomgyu was the only person around whom you could breathe easy and let yourself be. You had terrible social anxiety and if it weren’t for him you are pretty sure you wouldn’t have any friends.

Beomgyu cuts up the pieces of meat while you turn off the stove and pour the ramen into the bowls. You hand Beomgyu the chopsticks before sitting down beside him.

There is a few moments of comfortable silence as you slurp down your noodles. Beomgyu seems lost in thought and you let him be.

-.-

It’s almost 7 by the time you wrap up the dishes. You wait outside your tent, which had collapsed only once before you managed to put it up again, with your coffee.

“This was fun” you tell Beomgyu softly.

“Yeah” he says. He’s been awfully quiet since dinner and you wondered what happened.

“What’s wrong ?” you finally ask him nudging his shoulder so that he’d look at you.

“Nothings wrong” he tells you but you continue looking at him and he rolls his eyes. “Well, don’t I ever make you nervous?” he huffs out.

You blink back in surprise. He was still thinking about that ? Beomgyu didn’t make you nervous… he made you flustered.

“Uh… not really” you tell him, trying to diffuse the growing tension.

Beomgyu leans in closer and you look away, “Not even a little ?” he whispers and you shiver a bit.

“No” you tell him pushing him away but he doesn’t budge. Beomgyu leans closer still and you have no option but to look at him.

“Not even when I do this ?” He asks you cupping your cheeks and squishing them, making your lips pout while you shake your head in disagreement. You can feel the heat on your face.

“You can’t lie to save your own life” Beomgyu grins and you hide your face in embarrassment. Beomgyu pulls your hands away from your face, holding it in his own and you look down.

Beomgyu tips up your chin to make you look at him and he has the widest grin. “You are cute” he tells you before leaning away and you try to steady your rising heart rate.

“And I like you” he adds. “Maybe even disgustingly L word you”

“What?” You ask in surprise.

“I thought it was pretty obvious” he tells you in his own casual way, while you try to figure out what just happened.

“Wait” you tell him, turning his face so he’d look at you. “You like me?”

“Duh” he replies, trying to look calm and collected but you can tell he is nervous taking note of his pink ears. You smile at him and then nod your head.

“Aren’t you going to say it back ?” Beomgyu whines and you shrug your shoulder.

“Well if it’s so obvious, why should I ?” You tease and Beomgyu pouts at you, “Come on, just say it” Beomgyu huffs and you almost laugh.

Beomgyu turns away in annoyance and the sight is so familiar to you, that it fills you with warmth. Even when you were kids, Beomgyu would pout and turn away to not look at you when you fought. Sulky boy.

“Hey” you call him tapping his shoulder, but he refuses to look at you.

“Beomgyuu” you whine pulling on his jacket, “Ofcourse I like you too” you tell him shaking his shoulder.

“You are just saying that” he mutters looking at the trees.

“Come on look at me” you tell him pulling on his arm and he finally turns to you.

“I like you too you dork” you tell him, holding his face and the tiniest of smiles play on his lips.

“And do I make you nervous ?” Beomgyu asks you.

“You make me wild” you tell him, leaning in giving him a soft kiss on his cheeks.

Beomgyu turns your head to capture your lips. The kiss is so soft and gentle and Beomgyu cradles your head and holds you like you are the most precious thing ever.

You lean away and look at Beomgyu again. He is full on smiling and his whisker dimples are so cute that you can’t help but kiss his cheeks again.

There is a sound of a crash and you both turn around. The tent had managed to collapse again.

So much for a romantic ending to your day.

-.-

EPILOGUE-

A day ago,

Beomgyu sits in his room, scrolling through TikTok’s. College started in a week and he thinks this would be the perfect time to confess to you. He just doesn’t know how.

Beomgyu knew you would hate it if he did something big. And he doesn’t want to do something clichè. He had asked his friends and all of them gave ideas which got progressively more worse.

Beomgyu sighs and continues scrolling. He passes a few when he comes across a TikTok of a couple on their camping trip and a bulb turns on in his head.

Camping. Sounds perfect. Except he didn’t have any equipment. Maybe Kai would have something.

And maybe, just maybe things would work out.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

🎧 i really hope you enjoyed reading this fic, if you did please leave a like/reblog or leave a comment it helps me out a lot, xoxo 🎧

#beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x y/n #txt beomgyu #beomgyu fic #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu au #txt au #moablr #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #txt #beomgyu x female reader #beomgyu soft hours #beomgyu soft thoughts

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hpgal · 6 months ago

Text

DC x DP : Those Glowing Green Eyes

CW: Blood, Gunshot Wounds, Violence

TLDR: Danny is on the run from the GIW and ends up in Gotham heavily injured where he gets found by a gun wielding vigilante.

Word Count: 2313

Everything hurts.

But when did it not?

But this time it wasn’t just injury number 67942 causing these aches and pains, though it did contribute to it. The mental anguish of being ran out of my own home and turned away by those I loved. Because I was a ghost. That pain was worse than the wound in my side.

Now the GIW is chasing me across the country and my last scuffle with them left me hurt worse than ever. They’ve been pushing hard this time around, new toys, more numbers. It was ridiculous. Seeing my own family there made me hesitate when they jumped me too. I didn’t react, just stared in horror as my own mother aimed a gun at me and my own father cheered her on.

Despite it all, I am still convinced there is hope. That there was. But when she pulled that trigger, all hope was gone.

Now, that leads me to the present. Somehow I escaped and now was walking around with a gunshot wound in my side, a bum wrist and I think a head wound in an unknown city. Thank The Ancients for the luck I had with a portal to The Ghost Zone being nearby. I fell through it but had to immediately find another door to the mortal realm when I saw Vlad nearby, who has also been hunting me since this began.

So here I am, in a dark, dank city. The ectoplasm here is toxic as hell and tastes like multiple smokers' houses smashed together and death. Night was falling and it got cold here fast. That could just be my core or it could be that I am slowly bleeding out. That was unclear at the moment.

Either way, I walked the street looking for shelter, mostly ignored by others or simply stared at. Honestly, I did not mind, I didn’t want the attention. Even with the toxic ectoplasm here I could heal up quickly and bounce back to the Ghost Zone to expel the toxicity of it with the help of the feeder ghosts and be good as new. It was abundant here, not nearly as much as Amity Park but it was a close second. That little fact told me this city reeked of death which meant it was probably also dangerous.

Maybe once this whole my parents and the government trying to murder me passes, I could come back here and purge the toxic ectoplasm as Ghost King. Because that is the only thing left for me to do, become Ghost King since my human life seems to be over. I have no clue what there is left for me to do with everyone I loved and the U.S Government wanting me dead

Too bad I can’t fully exercise that power of King until I come of age next year. I could’ve resolved this and just hid in the Ghost Zone for the rest of my undead life. Vlad wouldn’t be able to touch me then. Curse my stupid half alive and half dead existence, no other ghost would’ve had to wait but the council likes to be a pain in my ass. Probably in spite of Clockwork in all honesty, I half joke to myself.

My mind reels as I think about home, my friends, even Vlad. All of them had turned overnight. Even Jazz, though she showed hesitancy at every turn. Their eyes seemed to have a tinge of red when I saw them attack me for the first time, reminding me of Freakshow and his mind control abilities. That was the only thing I could justify holding out hope. But I didn’t see that in my moms eyes this time when she shot me.

Even Vlad switched from the whole crazed rich fruit-loop routine of trying to make me his son to attempts on my life. By the Ancients, if he were there this last attack and not in the Ghost Zone, I would’ve been dead. I had no doubts about it. It was pure luck that he didn't notice me in the zone.

I grimace as I continue walking, holding my side, warm blood seeping through my white shirt and the bandages I put on it already. My vision and mind feel foggy as I turn a corner, instantly clearing for a moment when my ghost sense activates, sending a shiver down my spine, hair standing on the back of my neck.

Now?

Really?

I nearly groan both in pain and frustration at this change. I look around pissed off only to find a guy in a red helmet across the street. My entire being on edge as I see him. He didn’t look like a ghost but he gave the impression of having an association with ghosts. He had higher ectoplasm in his body than normal. Even more so than most Amity Park citizens. For a second I thought I saw the flicker of a core but just as quickly as I saw it, it goes away.

Could he possibly be possessed?

The gears turn in my head as everything screams at me that he is bad news regardless. The moment this masked man steps towards me, I muster all the energy I can and start to run, my decision being made. There was no way I could fight in this condition. Every inch of my body, my muscles scream at me for this. My side burns and my vision is blurry at best.

I risk a glance back to see him following and pick up speed. Grateful for my inhuman abilities still being of use despite my injured state. It’d be easy to go ghost or phase through a wall on a normal day but this was not normal, even for me. There are so many ways I could lose this guy but no, I keep running, oblivious to anything except the urge to escape this new, unknown threat.

Him following me all but confirms my suspicions that he is bad news. I mean I saw those guns on his side. They could be loaded with anti-ghost bullets. I’ve been shot once today, I do not plan on doing that again. Ever. He has to be a hired gun by the GIW is the only explanation to this.

At some point in the chase, I look back to see he is managing to keep up with me, which in hindsight made so much sense with my injuries. I turn right only to find this was the wrong choice. Because of course that would be my luck today. I screech to a halt, nearly crashing to meet the dead end head on, a brick wall separating me from escaping. I lean against the wall in frustration before turning to see if he was in the alley yet.

I could just phase- ”Demon brat what have I told you about stepping in my turf?” Damnit.

I am so tired. I am trapped. I am injured. This day just freaking sucks.

I glare at him with as much intensity I can muster. If only I could use my powers, scare him away. Now that he was closer it was clear he was a human who experienced death. Not a ghost. Not a halfa like him, just a human. But if he did that then the GIW would be sure to find me again in no time. And the stranger called me a demon brat. That has to be some sort of slur to ghosts, although I am not familiar with slurs for ghosts. Is that even a thing?

I shake the thought away and focus on him. I look him up and down, taking in his appearance and movements, ready to fight back.

Despite the mask covering his face, I could feel this stranger looking at him up and down despite it being dark. Maybe his mask had some sort of night vision built into it. He was assessing and judging him. And I was doing the same to him between the glares, my superhuman night vision letting me miss nothing in this dark space.

He looked like what I imagined a human vigilante would look like. Except 10 times scarier like he wouldn’t care if he helped civilians or not. Maybe this guy was just here for an adrenaline rush or some other bullshit reason a normal human would act like this. The red mask was intimidating, he was well built and tense, ready to pounce on him like I was on him. Except he wasn’t fighting death itself right now so he for sure would win without me using powers. Maybe he is a hired gun by the GIW with how he is sizing me up.

The vigilante takes a step towards me, “Woah, woah, you're bleeding.” he seems to hesitate but I glare back up to him like a feral animal. This had to be a trick right? The care and concern in his voice wasn’t real.

I backed up against the cool brick wall behind me, sinking into a low stance, ready to jump and fight back. I let the wall support me where it could and where it couldn't, I sucked it up with gritted teeth. I had faced worse before. If I died here I’d probably become a full ghost anyways so I could haunt his ass for the rest of his life, exercising the full power of Ghost King just to be petty for the inconvenience. Serves him right for the scary vigilante routine. Too bad for him, I am scarier and I would not fall for cheap tricks.

I try to make myself as intimidating as possible. Hell, the blood seeping from my head and how ready I was to fight probably made me look like a feral, wounded, animal right now. I mean that is what everyone else thought I was anyways, right? I bare my teeth at him, my canines most definitely unnaturally pointed.

“Seriously, kid? Two can play this game.” The man takes a step closer, I watch, calculating.

Then his eyes glowed green.

At least that had to be what happened under the mask. I felt the surge of ectoplasm being used when it happened and I snarl at him in response. This would be a harder fight than I thought. How did I miss the ectoplasm tainting him, enhancing him this way? The fact he could willingly do it meant he was trained and well versed in his abilities.

Well shit.

He seems taken aback at my response, not expecting me to not be frightened. Well tough luck buddy. “I can do that too.” I say with venom dripping off my tongue between gritted teeth, not willing to let this guy get the best of me.

I look up at what I presume are his eyes based on his mask and allow my own eyes to flare neon green, brighter than his. A show of power and dominance that some ghosts use to avoid a fight. Maybe I could avoid this fight entirely if he had the innate understanding many liminal beings had when experiencing this with or without knowing what it means. Either way it was clear he knew something.

“I have been hunted, shot, maimed, and tortured by much, much worse.” I threaten. “You do not scare me. And I sure as hell am not going to go down to a nobody like you.” My vision continues to blur and darken at the edges as the adrenaline from the chase starts to wear down, the rapid heart rate pumping my blood much faster than I need it to be to prevent blood loss as more blood seeps from my wounds. That little trick took more energy from me than I anticipated.

The unknown man looks at me, his body language indicating he was confused and concerned. I nearly wanted to laugh but I needed all the energy in case I had to fight. “Shit.. you’re not Demon Brat. Kid,” he starts, his body relaxing ever so slightly, “you need help, let me help you.”

The man takes another step forward, holstering a pistol. When did he draw that to begin with?

I flash my eyes again, a bit weaker this time as I feel my legs start to buckle under me. No. Not now. I can’t go down now. Panic welling up inside me as I growl at him and try to steady myself against the wall.

“Go away,” I muster, throat dry, “this isn’t your problem.” I manage to say as my last attempts to get him to screw off.

The man takes another step towards him, now in arms reach, “Look, I know a doctor who might be able to help you. She-” I stumble a bit and he reaches out ready to catch me, still keeping from touching me, “Shit- kid. She won’t turn you away. She can help. She doesn’t share the identity of her patients. She treats the Bats. You can trust her if not me”

My body shakes at his words. Or maybe I was shaking the entire time. God it was so cold now. Almost as cold as being dead for real. And man do I have experience with that. My entire body felt so heavy and aches everywhere. It was almost peaceful, in a way. Except I hated how dark my vision had gotten and blurred.

Something about how he speaks and acts, I decide in my haste, wanting to not die a second time to trust him. My body relaxes, no longer ready to fight him. Was it a bad idea? Probably but I did not want to die in an alley this time. My vision darkens and the last thing I remember is falling into his arms as my answer to him.

Please help me, stranger.

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A/N: This was a fic I planned on writing but got burnt out after writing the first chapter so I figured I'd post it here, maybe it'll motivate me to continue it.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp crossover #dcxdp #dp x dc #ghost king danny #dp au #jason todd #red hood #danny phantom headcanon #gotham #infinite realms

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