#i just hope that it gets some stuff into words that others have been feeling without just saying 'homestuck bad'

[justmeinadaze]

Hi lovely!! I want to start off by saying how TALENTED YOU ARE, genuinely you are my favourite writer on this platform for Eddie and Steve LOL

I was hoping we could get some more of pornstar! steddie as it is my literal favourite ( Maybe something where the reader is innocent and hasn't had much or any sex and asks them to teach her stuff or something? ) I don't know, if you feel up to writing it you can add anything you want!!

Again, absolutely adore you and your writing, and I hope you are having a wonderful day!!

xo Cherry 💫

A/N: I changed this a bit. I hope that's ok. I didn't want it to be too close or similar to Corroded Corpses "Boys On Film" (Check it out! Its amazing!)

Thank you for your compliments <3. I love you!

Warnings: Pornstar Steddie/ Plus Size Fem Y/N, established relationship, best friends to lovers, SMUT (dirty talk, 'teaching', facesitting, 69, pretty lady on top). FLUFF. Mentions of reader never having been on top because of her size (brief), she does have some reservations but they squash that.

Word Count: 2786

Steddie Asks/ Donate to Me

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on a minute, little lady.”, Eddie practically shouts as you roll your eyes and Steve laughs through his teeth. “You’re telling me that you’ve never ridden a guy before?”

“Ok, this was a mistake. Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything and keep watching your dirty movie alright?”, you sigh completely flushed with embarrassment.

The three of you had been best friends for so many years and you were never once shy around each other. You had seen them naked and vice versa, openly told the other about any sexual experiences you had or were currently having, and they even opened up to you about signing up to be in a porn film, bringing it over a few months later to show you the finish product. 

But when it came to other aspects of your relationships, you kept things to yourself especially after they beat up one of your ex’s for calling you a “fat slut” when you two got into a fight. 

“No, no. Please, go on. I’d love to hear more because I don’t understand why any man wouldn’t want to watch you bouncing around on top of them.” Again, you tried to shy away but Steve grabbed your hands and moved them away from your face. “Come on, honey. I’m serious. No teasing.”

“I mean…look at her…”, you smile hoping your tone sounds playful as you gesture towards the screen. “I mean…”

“Yeah. That’s a person…Wait…are you an alien?!”

“Stop it, Ed. Yeah, Y/N. We see her…I don’t see a difference though.”

“Really, Steven? You don’t see ANY difference?”, you sass as you get to your feet and place yourself by the tv screen. “NOTHING at all?”

“Are you trying to tell me the reason you’ve never been on top is because you’re curvy?”

“That’s a nice way of putting it, Eddie, but let’s be blunt here. I’m a fat girl. I’m too heavy and add in the fact that no one wants to see my…everything…jiggle.”

“Speak for yourself.”, he mumbles under his breath. 

“Did someone tell you this or is this you?”, Steve asks a bit more forcefully than he meant to. “Because we’ll fucking kill anyone that fucking lied to you like that. If it’s you then we can just spank it out of you.”

Both men smile when you giggle.

“Do you know how? To ride a dick, I mean.”

Your eyes narrow Eddie’s way as he nonchalantly places the beer bottle in his hand on the table beside his bed. 

“I mean…there’s not much to it…I imagine. Why? Wanna teach me, porn star?”

“We can if you want us to.”

Your gaze shifts between theirs waiting for the punch line followed by their infectious laughs that make you feel warm inside and out. But it never comes as they continue to stare at you with their wide, expressive eyes waiting on you to decide. 

“Why?”

“It’s not like we’re making love or anything. We’re just…teaching…It will be like how we were on set except there’s no camera.”

“We know we’re not your type anyway.”, Steve jests as he reaches out to lightly hit your knee. 

“Who says?” That grabs their attention as their heads fully snap in your direction. “I mean, we’ve never really talked about it but I always thought I wasn’t your type. Personally, I think you’re both sweet, funny, attractive…I guess.”

They laugh gently at your joke as you smile their way. 

“Ok!”, Eddie claps his hands loudly together as he bounces off the mattress. “Harrington, you lay on the floor here and Y/N, go ahead and take off everything from the waist down.”

Your eyes widen in amusement as you watch Steve slide off the bed with zero hesitation as he does what his friend suggestions and removes his shirt before tossing it to the side. 

“Are you…are you sure? I don’t…”

“Hey.”, the metalhead coos in a much softer voice as he takes you hand and guides you onto your feet. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Just say the word. We’ll still love you.”

“You promise? I don’t…I can’t lose you two.”

With a tender smile, Eddie cups your face in his hands and brings his lips to your own for a tender kiss. 

“We’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. Cross my heart.”

“And hope to die.”, Steve adds as his fingers comfortingly caress your thigh.

“Well, let’s not go that far.”, you tease, trying to keep the mood light as you remove your shorts and panties. “Now what, Mr. Munson.”

“Oooo I like that.”, he jokes as he guides you to your knees, watching as the other man falls flat on his back and runs his fingers through his hair to push it way from his face. “Ok, now, whenever you’re ready, I want you to place both knees on either side of his head and—”

“You want me to sit on his face?” Eddie’s grin grows as he nods. “I’ve…I’ve never done that either—”

“I figured.”

Smirking, you lightly punch his chest causing both boys to chuckle before suddenly feeling soft kisses trailing up your thigh as Steve sits up on one of his elbows. 

“It’s ok, honey, trust me. I can handle it and if something’s not right I’ll tap your leg three times.”

His beautiful amber eyes watch you carefully as you exhale, allowing you all the time you need before you gradually crane your neck to kiss his lips. 

“Good girl. Come on.”, the former jock praises as you allow them to maneuver you till your lower half was hovering just above him with your hands balancing on his chest and his cling to your thighs. 

“Can, um, can I have a bit more vulnerability?” Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at your question till you gesture with your head at what you want, laughing as he leans over to unbutton Steve’s jeans to pull them down his ankles. 

“Ay! Be careful down there. I’m not a rag doll.”

You smile as he scolds the metalhead but you can’t help it when a shaky breath leaves you as his admittedly large cock tries to push through the hole in his boxers. 

“Is she turning you on, bud?”

“Fuck off, Munson. It’s just… Y/N, your pussy smells good.” Lifting his head, he presses his nose between your folds and your eyes roll back as his wide tongue follows. 

“God, you look so fucking sexy, sweetheart. N-Now, go ahead and roll your hips a-against his tongue. You can use his chest for balance if you need to.”

Doing as he instructed, you rolled your hips forward, whimpering when he grazed your clit down to your entrance, just barely dipping in before pulling back. You tried again with a bit more confidence causing Steve to groan underneath you as his mouth closed around your little bud.

“D-Did…did I hurt you?”

When he shook his head, he let go of your bundle of nerves with an obscene slurping pop that had your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“No, baby. Fuck, you taste like heaven. You can push down harder if you need to. I’m ok.”

Baby

They’d never called you that before. Hearing it now drove you crazy as your nails dug into his chest and grinded your body against him. 

“Atta girl. You like that? You like hearing him compliment you like that?”, Eddie murmured as he pressed his nose into your cheek and left feathery light kisses along your skin. 

One of Steve’s palms released you and you both watched as he dug into his boxers to free his cock, collecting the copious amount of precum leaking from the tip to use as he stroked himself looking for a much-needed release. 

“O-Ok, fuck, now, I want you to bounce on his tongue, babe. Use your knees to lift yourself up a-and come back down till you feel him deep in that tight little pussy.”

You tried to do what he commanded but there was some self-conscious part of your brain that was terrified of hurting the boy beneath you. Eddie noticed your trepidation, hastily gripping your jaw and turning your eyes to meet his. 

“Don’t. Don’t think about your size or what those other fuckers told you. He said he’d tell you if he needed to stop. Do you not trust him?”

“N-No, I do. I do.”

“Then why are you hesitating?”

“I’m sorry.”, you pant as you push yourself up straighter and utilize your knees to do what he instructed. As your body came back down, Steve’s thick, large tongue filled you so completely that you felt like you wanted to cry from pleasure. “Fuck, Steve. N-No one’s ever…been this deep…”

“You haven’t had me yet, sweetheart. Now, make yourself cum.”

After licking his fingers, Eddie reached between you and matched your rhythm as he messaged your clit. You were suddenly overwhelmed with euphoria as the coil snapped and Steve arms quickly wrapped around your middle, holding you in place as you rode out your high. 

“Good…good girl. Let him lick you clean, pretty girl.”

Your body twitched as you fell against him, his tongue still devouring you but now at a much slower pace. Your heavy eyes glanced towards his length that was now firey red and you couldn’t stop yourself when you carefully circled your fingers around him. 

“Ah, fuck.”, he whined at the sensitivity, seemingly on the edge of a release. Raising your head, you spit over his tip causing his head to hit the floor with a little thunk as he absorbed the feeling of your palm stroking his length. “Fuck, her hand feels good. Her pussy t-tastes amazing, Ed. It’s everything we…”

You couldn’t hear what he mumbled to Eddie as your lips fully enveloped him and all you good manage to absorb was the throbbing of his length on your own tongue. Steve’s fingers tangled in your hair as his hips thrust upwards and you allowed him to use your throat as he chased his high. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck…fuck! M’gonna cum.”

His seed spurted its warmth as he grunted in pleasure above you. After swallowing everything he had to give, you kissed his tip and he lazily man-handled you around till your face was level with his so he could passionately kiss your lips. 

“Are you ready for your second lesson, Y/N?”

At the sound of his strained tone, your gaze shifted towards Eddie who had his cock in his hand that now look just as red and angry as Steve’s had.

“Yes, Mr. Munson. I’m ready.”

Smirking at your answer, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms and climbed back on to his mattress with you on top of him straddling his waist. As he reached for the pack of condoms on his bed side table, your hand extended out to stop him. 

“I’m, um, I’m on the pill. I mean if you want to.”

Blinking, you noticed his confident demeanor faulter slightly. 

“Are you sure? With everything we do…on set and…”

“Are you safe?”

“Yeah, yeah, princess, I’m clean. I…we just understand that…you may have a viewpoint of us…”

Placing your palms under his ears, you softly kiss his lips as your thumbs caress his cheeks. 

“Did someone tell you this or is this you?”, you echo their words from earlier. “Because I’ll kick anyone’s ass who—”

“Yeah, yeah, ya dork.”, he jests as he playfully smacks your behind. “Ok, I’ve, um, I’ve never done it raw so…if your pussy is as good as Steve says it is…I may ruin this particular lesson by busting too soon.”

Giggling at his now nervous demeanor, you lift off your shirt and toss it towards the other boy who catches it midair before throwing it on the floor near your pants so he can climb in beside you both. 

“I like this bra. It’s cute.”, Steve compliments as his fingers trace the black lace while Eddie’s own hands rub up and down your sides.

“Whenever you’re ready, baby, just slide down onto my dick. Take your time, there’s no rush.”

Nodding, Eddie holds his shaft as your entrance hovers just above him. Just the warmth alone that’s radiating from your cunt has his cock twitching before you slowly begin to descend onto him. 

“Shit.”

“What? Did I do s-something? Am I—”

His ringed hand clasps over your mouth as his other keeps you in place. 

“No. You’re not too heavy. Stop thinking about all that bullshit. Fuck, I really am going to fucking cum before she even moves.”

Steve grins at the man’s words as he winks at you reassuringly. Knowing that he’s alright, you continue to lower your body, taking him in inch by inch till you feel him fully sheathed inside you. 

“Eddie.”

“How does it feel, baby?”

“So…deep. Feels different…better…”

“Go—Go ahead and roll your hips.” You do as he says, repeating your movements you had done with the other boy causing an electricity to shoot through you as his cock grazes something inside you that you weren’t even sure was there. 

“Oh my god.”

“There’s the spot.”, he whispered. “Take over, Y/N. Balance on my chest and hit that spot, baby girl. Fuck, your pussy is squeezing me so tight.”

While you ride his length, you don’t notice the way your tummy jiggles or that from his angle you may not look flattering. All you can focus on is him and how he feels inside you. With every press of that button, you whimper and mewl his name causing you to clench tighter to him as he groans at the sound of you moaning. When you’re finally able to open your eyes to look at him, you notice his chocolate ones are zeroed in on where you two connected as his hands absently guide your movements on your waist. 

Occasionally, his gaze shifts to your breasts as he licks his lips at the sight and desperate to please him, you reach behind you to undo the clasp, throwing it to the ground. Leaning up towards your chest, Eddie wraps his mouth around one of your nipples and your fingers thread through his hair as you grind your hips against his. 

“So fucking beautiful. Cum for me, baby.”

Pushing at his chest, you chase your high and he bites his bottom lip at the sight as you finally truly take over. Your body shudders as your rhythm stutters and your pussy quivers as you come undone. It’s more than Eddie can handle and his grip becomes almost bruising as he guides your sloppy movements till you feel him empty deep inside you. 

“F-Fuck…oh, careful, pretty girl.”, he coos as you wince when you try to lift your body off his. “Can, um, is it ok if I hold you like this?”

Smiling, you nod as lay your head under his chin and he circles his arms around you so he can play with your hair. 

“In a minute we can take a shower and get you clean.”, he whispered as they both listened to you steadily breathe.

“Am I your type?” Confusion paints both their features and you push up on your knees so you could see them both. “You said you weren’t my type but I said that you were. Am I yours?”

Their gaze shifts to each other before Steve chuckles under his breath. 

“You didn’t hear what I said, did you? I said that your pussy was everything we ever talked about it being. That’s not all we talk about though. You’re kind and strong—”

“Sarcastic as fuck.”, Eddie cuts in making you laugh. 

“You’re so gorgeous, honey. When we were shooting our scenes we, uh, we pretended she was you.”

Both men sit up with the metalhead holding your body to keep you against him. 

“If you want this to be a onetime thing we understand but if not…”

“We’d like to take you on a date.”

“Maybe give you some more lessons.”

“Hey now. I’m sure I can teach you both a thing or two.”, you giggle as they beam up at you with nothing but care. “Ok, as long as you can promise me that no matter what I won’t lose you. You’ve been my best friends for so long and I love you so much.”

Placing his hand on the back of your neck, Eddie guides your lips to his. 

“What did I say, babe? We’ll always be here, no matter what. Cross my heart.”, he grins as he does the gesture over his chest and Steve follows, finishing it by grabbing your cheeks in both his massive palms to kiss you. 

[rafesangelita]

heyy everyone, i just wanted to come on here and say a few things regarding a lot of plagiarism that’s been going on, along with some other points that i feel inclined to speak out about. before i start this post, i just want to preface this by saying that i am in no way speaking about anyone in particular, this just applies to the general community, and i think it’s important to not be so divided, especially amongst each other. so many writers in this community are so incredibly talented that unfortunately, copying and stealing of work has become a regular occurrence. below are some topics that i believe needs to talked about and acknowledged in some way.

stealing of au’s and concepts + the claim on concepts and au’s that already exist:

there is a huge difference between creating an au and introducing something completely new that has never been done before in a fandom, or ever for that matter, vs. introducing a concept that has already been around and existed outside of a fandom and bringing popularity to it/making it more well known, thus, kind of lighting a fire and inspiring others to write for it as well. this goes for plot lines, !readers, different versions of !rafe (example: frat!rafe, dealer!rafe, etc..), prompts, and the list can go on. there’s so many original au’s and concepts out there, but there’s also a lot of stuff that’s already been done before that isn’t considered ‘original’, which means it would’t call for the need to be credited for in the first place.

the difference between being ‘inspired’ by someone else’s work vs. publishing a remake and often times NOT crediting the original writer:

no matter what the instance is; being inspired by someone’s work, or publishing your own version of the same original concept by someone else, YOU SHOULD ALWAYS ASK THE ORIGINAL WRITER FOR PERMISSION FIRST. if they tell you yes, CREDIT them, if they tell you no, COME UP WITH SOMETHING ELSE. if you’re ‘inspired’ by someone, your work should not be similar to theirs in a way that the plot, !reader, !rafe, prompt, etc.. is being used in the exact same way as their original work. you could only be ‘inspired’ so much before you’re just paraphrasing a fic, it truly gets to a point.

DIRECT communication:

this would fix most, if not all, of the problems in this fandom. feel like someone is copying you? (using exact, word for word, lines from your writing pieces?) DIRECTLY confront them. feel uncomfortable with the similarities between your work, or works, and another writer’s? DIRECTLY express your concerns with your valid proof. feel as if your layout is being copied and you’re not being given credit? DIRECTLY, kindly, ask for someone to start doing so. politely messaging someone will never make you confrontational or problematic, INDIRECTLY making rant posts that are throwing disses at someone without messaging them about the situation first is what does that. INDIRECTLY speaking out about someone hoping they’ll see it and know they’re the one being talked about doesn’t make the matter any easier when it really all could be resolved with a single message. PLEASE JUST TALK!! we are all (mostly) adults..

note: i say this with only one exception in mind; if you see anything like this and you make the active decision not to make shady posts, acknowledge the situation, confront a person, or simply just put your energy into something like that, and instead you just block the person and move on with your day, that is 100% your choice, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation for anything.

debunking the whole ‘this fandom isn’t welcoming to newcomers’ accusation:

this is not true in the slightest. if you’re a new writer in this fandom, and you’re not starting off by coming up with your own fics and ideas, but instead piggy backing off of others, stealing and not crediting, copying, etc.. you truly can’t expect others to want to interact with you if you don’t have the common decency to not do certain things. this is not just for this fandom, but any fandom that you may write in. think about it like this; if people and other writers are supporting a writer that you’re ripping off of, why on earth would they interact with you if they are already reading similar, if not the same, content from someone else? it’s not possible to establish yourself anywhere if you build your blog off of copying, that’s just the truth!

[buckets-and-trees]

Huffily Ever After: A CindereLloyd Story [3/?]

Chapter Three - The Panel Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 4k Summary: It's the morning of the panel you've been invited to be part of and there are both friendly and unfriendly faces in the crowd.

Content/Warnings: modern Cinderella adaptation, unknown identities, enemies to lovers, toxic coworkers, eventual smut

Notes: Same as last chapter, I'm no PR or Marketing expert! I have some functional knowledge due to some aspects of my own work and I know how to Google articles, videos, and research up some stuff because I want reader's industry knowledge and experience at the conference to feel plausible and not just be completely glossed over. If you actually do anything with PR or Marketing, please just be gentle!

Additional Note: Please do imagine/channel Angelica Huston as Baroness Rodmilla de Ghent in Ever After as your toxic boss Amilla Tremaine. I fully did. Wicked step-work-mother-boss.

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

On the second day of the conference, you woke early, a mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in your stomach. You spent extra time getting ready, wanting to look polished and professional for the panel. After a quick breakfast and the pre-panel meeting with Claude and the other speakers, you found yourself with a few minutes to spare before the big event.

You slipped into the women's restroom near the conference hall, wanting one last chance to check your appearance. The restroom was a luxurious affair, all gleaming marble and soft lighting. You approached one of the ornate mirrors, taking in your reflection. Your hair was neatly styled, your makeup subtle but flattering. You had gone with your navy blue blazer again, but it was the most professional piece you’d brought with you and it looked crisp and paired perfectly over your cream silk blouse.

As you did whenever you needed a little steadying, you touched a finger to your mother’s necklace for good luck. The pendant briefly caught the light - it was only sometimes visible with the length of the chain and where your blouse buttoned up to today. Now seeing it also reminded you of your mystery man from the masquerade. But you pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.

The sound of a stall door opening and the click of heels behind you drew your attention. You looked up in the mirror and your heart sank as you recognized the familiar figure of Amilla Tremaine emerging behind you. Your boss looked immaculate as always, her sleek black hair pulled into a tight chignon, her crisp white blouse and tailored charcoal suit speaking of effortless power. Her blood-red stilettos clicked against the marble floor as she approached the sinks.

"Well, well," Amilla drawled, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "If it isn't our little rising star."

You forced a polite smile. "Good morning, Amilla. How was your flight from Shanghai?"

Amilla waved a perfectly manicured hand dismissively. "Oh, you know how it is. First class makes everything tolerable." She turned to the mirror, touching up her already flawless lipstick. "I hear you’ve been incredibly busy, and of course there’s your very important panel coming up.”

You felt a chill run down your spine at Amilla's words. Her tone was casual, but you could sense the underlying tension. "Yes," you replied carefully. "It was an unexpected opportunity. I hope my email explained the situation adequately."

Amilla's eyes met yours in the mirror, her gaze sharp and calculating. "Oh, it explained plenty. Though I must say, I'm surprised you didn't consult me before accepting such a high-profile engagement."

You bristled slightly at her implication. "I apologize if I overstepped. I assure you, I didn't seek this out. Claude Dumont and Professor Mortimer offered it to me-"

"Of course they did," Amilla cut in smoothly. "And I'm sure you were just thrilled to accept, weren't you? Never mind that you're representing our firm without any proper vetting or preparation."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. "I understand your concern, Amilla. I assure you I've been preparing diligently and will represent Nexus to the best of my abilities. This is an incredible opportunity not just for me, but for our team and the firm as a whole."

Amilla's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that so? And I suppose you think this little panel appearance makes you qualified to speak on behalf of our entire organization?"

You felt a flicker of hurt at her dismissive tone. "That's not what I meant at all. I'm honored to have been asked and I plan to share insights from our work, not speak for the whole firm."

"Hmm," Amilla hummed, her tone dripping with skepticism. "Well, I certainly hope you don't embarrass us up there. Remember, you're still quite junior. Perhaps it would serve you well for me to clarify the reality of the situation. You work for me, and by extension, for Nexus. Your little moment in the spotlight is all well and good, but don't forget where you’ll be this time next week."

You felt a surge of anger at her words, but before you could respond, the restroom door swung open. Maggie Mortimer bustled in, her face lighting up when she saw you.

"There you are!" she exclaimed. "I was just looking for you. They’re wanting to get us mic’d up and do a quick sound check.”

You felt a wave of relief at Maggie's interruption. "Of course, I'll be right there," you replied, grateful for the excuse to exit this tense encounter with Amilla.

Maggie's eyes flicked between you and Amilla, clearly sensing the tension. "I don't believe we've met," she said, extending a hand to Amilla. "I'm Maggie Mortimer."

Amilla's smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she shook Maggie's hand. "Amilla Tremaine, Nexus PR. I'm her director and supervisor," she said, nodding towards you.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Maggie said, her tone warm but her eyes sharp. "You must be so proud of her getting to participate on this panel. She was one of my star students, you know. Her insights are always so fresh and innovative."

You felt a rush of gratitude towards Maggie for her words of support. Amilla's smile tightened almost imperceptibly.

"Yes, well," Amilla said, her tone clipped, "we certainly encourage our team members to... stretch themselves."

"How lovely," Maggie replied, her voice sweet but with a hint of steel beneath. "Well, we really must be going. Can't keep everyone waiting." She linked her arm through yours, gently but firmly steering you towards the door.

Amilla waved a hand dismissively. "By all means. Break a leg, darling. And do remember what we discussed.”

As you left the restroom, you caught a glimpse of Amilla's reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. You suppressed a shudder, realizing this encounter was far from over.

"Thank you," you murmured to Maggie as she led you away from the restroom. "I really appreciate your timing back there."

Maggie patted your arm reassuringly. "Of course, dear. I could sense the tension from a mile away. That woman seems... challenging to work with."

You let out a soft, humorless laugh. "That's one way to put it. She wasn't exactly thrilled about me being on this panel."

Maggie's eyes narrowed slightly. "Hmm. Well, don't let her get in your head. A large part of this field is navigating the difficult personalities that it’s teeming with. You're here because you deserve to be, and you're going to do brilliantly."

As you approached the conference room where the panel would take place, you took a deep breath, trying to push thoughts of Amilla from your mind. The encounter in the bathroom had rattled you, but you were determined not to let it affect your performance.

The room was already buzzing with activity when you entered. Technicians were bustling about, adjusting lighting and checking microphones. Claude spotted you and waved you over to where the other panelists were gathered.

"There you are!" he said warmly. "We were just about to start the sound check. Are you ready?"

You nodded, mustering a confident smile. "As ready as I can be."

Stepping onto the stage, you felt a mix of nervous energy and excitement coursing through your veins. The spotlights above cast a warm glow over the panel setup, illuminating the sleek black chairs arranged in a gentle curve. The audience area before you was still mostly empty, but you could hear the growing murmur of attendees filing into the room.

Victor Chen took the seat to your left, flashing you a reassuring smile as he settled in. "Nervous?" he asked in a low voice, leaning in slightly.

You gave a small nod, appreciating his perceptiveness. "A little," you admitted.

"Don't be," Victor said, his eyes twinkling. "You're going to knock their socks off. Just pretend we're back at dinner, having another riveting discussion."

His words, coupled with the warmth in his expression, helped ease some of the tension in your shoulders. You took a deep breath, settling into your chair as the technicians approached to clip on your microphone.

As the final preparations were made, you scanned the rapidly filling audience. Your heart skipped a beat as you spotted Amilla taking a seat near the back, her posture rigid and her gaze fixed on you. You quickly averted your eyes, not wanting to dwell on her presence.

Your eyes widened as you spotted Gus near the front, giving you an enthusiastic thumbs up. Next to him sat Anya and Holly, their expressions a mix of curiosity and barely concealed disdain, but you could handle them.

Just then, a flash of movement near the side entrance caught your attention. Lloyd Hansen slipped into the room, his tall frame unmistakable even from a distance. He leaned against the wall at the back, arms crossed, his piercing blue eyes scanning the stage. When his gaze met yours, you felt an unexpected jolt of electricity.

You quickly looked away, focusing on Claude as he stepped up to the podium, his presence immediately commanding attention. "Good afternoon, everyone," he began, his voice carrying easily through the room. "Welcome to our panel discussion on 'Blending Audience Insights and Brand Expertise to Build Trust and Social Relevance.' We have an exceptional group of experts with us today, each bringing a unique perspective to our discussion on building trust and social relevance in today's rapidly evolving digital landscape."

He gestured to his left. "First, we have Victor Chen, renowned crisis management specialist and author of 'Navigating the Storm: Crisis Communication in the Digital Age.' Victor's innovative strategies have helped countless organizations weather public relations challenges and emerge stronger than ever."

Victor gave a modest nod, his salt-and-pepper hair catching the stage lights as he smiled at the audience.

"Next, we have an emerging star in our field," Claude continued, gesturing towards you, and you fought the urge to squirm and sat up a little straighter as he announced your name despite the butterflies raging in your stomach. "She brings fresh insights and innovative approaches to audience engagement and brand authenticity from the work she’s done at Nexus PR.

"Dr. Seth Rossi joins us from the London School of Economics, where he leads groundbreaking research on consumer psychology and brand perception.”

Claude then gestured to the man seated next to Dr. Rossi. "To his right, we have Aaron Lang, Chief Marketing Officer of Tidewater Industries. Aaron has spearheaded some of the most successful rebranding campaigns of the past decade, transforming staid corporate images into vibrant, socially conscious brands that resonate with modern consumers."

Aaron Lang, a man in his late forties with a neatly trimmed ginger beard and wire-rimmed glasses, gave a friendly wave to the audience. His casual demeanor belied the sharp intelligence in his eyes as he scanned the crowd.

"And last but certainly not least," Claude continued, his voice warm with affection, "we have Professor Maggie Mortimer who now lectures at Johns Hopkins, Purdue, and Columbia University's School of Journalism. Maggie's groundbreaking research on the intersection of social media, journalism, and public opinion led her to quite literally wrote the book on social media's impact on brand perception with her bestseller 'The Digital Mirror.’”

Claude paused, letting his introduction sink in before continuing. "Now, let's dive into our first question. In today's hyper-connected world, brands are under constant scrutiny. How can companies effectively build and maintain trust with their audiences while staying true to their core values?"

Dr. Rossi led out on the first question. As the professor began to speak about the psychological foundations of trust in brand relationships, you felt yourself relaxing slightly, absorbing the insights and mentally preparing your own thoughts.

When it was your turn to speak, you leaned forward slightly, your voice clear and steady as you addressed the audience. "Building on what Dr. Rossi said about psychological trust, I think it's crucial for brands to understand that trust is not just about what they say, but what they do. In my work with smaller, emerging brands, we've found that consistency and transparency are key. This means not just being open about successes, but also owning up to mistakes and showing how you're working to rectify them."

You paused, gathering your thoughts before continuing. "For example, we worked with a sustainable fashion startup that faced criticism over some of their manufacturing processes. Instead of getting defensive or trying to sweep it under the rug, we advised them to acknowledge the issue publicly, explain the steps they were taking to improve, and invite their audience to be part of the solution. This approach not only mitigated the potential damage but actually strengthened their relationship with their customer base."

As you spoke, you noticed heads nodding in the audience. Even Amilla, despite her earlier hostility, seemed to be listening intently. You felt a surge of confidence and continued.

"In today's world, consumers are savvy. They can spot insincerity a mile away. So authenticity isn't just a buzzword - it’s the lifeblood of a brand.”

Victor Chen jumped in, building on your point. "Absolutely. And in today's social media landscape, that kind of authentic engagement can spread like wildfire. We've seen countless examples of brands turning potential PR nightmares into opportunities for growth and connection with their audience."

The discussion flowed smoothly from there, with each panelist building on the others' points and offering unique insights. You found yourself relaxing into the conversation, your initial nerves giving way to genuine enthusiasm for the topic.

As the panel progressed, you couldn't help but notice Lloyd Hansen still leaning against the wall at the back of the room. His piercing blue eyes seemed to follow the discussion intently, his expression unreadable. You tried not to let his presence distract you, focusing instead on the engaging dialogue unfolding on stage.

About halfway through, Claude posed a question that made your heart race: "In an era where cancel culture can make or break a brand overnight, how can companies navigate controversial issues while maintaining their integrity and audience trust?"

Aaron Lang started to answer, discussing the importance of having a clear set of values and sticking to them.

Once he finished his thoughts, you jumped in, eager to contribute on this topic. "If I may add to that," you began, "I think it's crucial for brands to recognize that staying silent on important issues is no longer an option. Consumers, especially younger generations, expect the brands they support to take a stand on social and environmental issues."

“Can you expand on that for us?” Claude asked.

You nodded. "Authenticity is key. It doesn't mean jumping on every trending hashtag or making empty statements. Brands need to carefully consider which issues align with their core values and where they can make a genuine impact. Then, they need to back up their words with concrete actions."

You noticed several heads nodding in the audience, encouraging you to elaborate, and you went on to describe what a tech company had done to address the gender gap in STEM fields by launching a comprehensive summer bridge program for female high school students in the city of their headquarters and how they were planning to expand to the other two cities where they had offices.

When you finished your example, you noticed another ripple of approval through the audience. Victor Chen leaned in, nodding enthusiastically.

"That's an excellent point," he said. "It's not just about making statements, but about taking tangible actions that align with your brand values. I've seen companies falter when they try to jump on every trending issue without a clear strategy or genuine commitment."

The discussion continued to flow, with each panelist building on the others' insights, and with fifteen minutes left , Claude opened the floor for questions from the audience. You were pleasantly surprised when several hands shot up, and even more so when some of the questions were directed at you.

One attendee, a young woman with vibrant blue hair, asked about strategies for smaller brands to compete with larger corporations in terms of social responsibility initiatives. You felt a surge of confidence as you answered, drawing on your experiences with Nexus's smaller clients.

As the panel drew to a close, you felt a mix of relief and exhilaration. The discussion had been lively and engaging, with each panelist bringing unique insights to the table. Claude expertly guided the conversation, ensuring that everyone had a chance to shine.

"And with that, we'll conclude our panel," Claude announced. "I want to thank our exceptional panelists for their invaluable insights. Let's give them a round of applause."

The panel had gone better than you could have hoped, and the positive energy in the room was palpable. As you gathered your notes, Victor Chen leaned over, a warm smile on his face.

"You were absolutely brilliant," he said, his eyes twinkling with admiration. "Your insights on brand authenticity and social responsibility were spot-on. I particularly loved your example of the tech company's STEM initiative - it perfectly illustrated the importance of backing words with actions."

You felt a flush of pride at his words. "Thank you so much," you replied, your voice filled with genuine gratitude. "It means a lot coming from you. I've admired your work for years."

Victor's smile widened, and he leaned in a bit closer. "Well, the admiration is mutual now. You know, I've been in this industry for over two decades , and it's not often I come across someone with such a fresh perspective. The way you blend theoretical knowledge with practical application is truly impressive."

His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he continued, "I particularly enjoyed your take on the importance of transparency in crisis management. It's a delicate balance, but you seem to have a natural intuition for it."

You felt a warmth spreading through your chest at his words, a mix of pride and something else you couldn't quite place. Victor's gaze was intense, his body angled towards you as if you were the only person in the room.

Victor was undeniably charming, with his salt-and-pepper hair and warm brown eyes that seemed to sparkle when he spoke passionately about PR strategies. But he had to be at least fifteen, maybe even twenty years your senior.

But then the moment passed, and he casually said, “We should connect again before the conference is over.”

"That would be great," you replied, keeping your tone professional.

“I’ll let you address your new adoring fans now,” he smiled and nodded off to the side of the stage where a small knot of people were waiting and looking directly at you.

And as you approached that knot, you spotted Gus pushing his way to the front, a huge grin on his face. He pulled you into a big hug.

"That was amazing!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with pride. "You absolutely killed it up there. I knew you would, but wow!"

You laughed, feeling a mixture of relief and elation. "Thanks, Gus. I can't believe it's over already. It felt like it flew by."

As you chatted with Gus and a few other attendees who had approached to ask follow-up questions, you noticed Anya and Holly hovering nearby, their expressions a mix of surprise and something that looked almost like grudging respect. You caught Anya's eye and gave her a small, professional nod, which she returned after a moment's hesitation. Holly looked away entirely.

Gus left with your coworkers, and just as you were wrapping up a conversation with an enthusiastic marketing student, you felt a presence behind you. Turning, you found yourself face to face with Lloyd Hansen. His piercing blue eyes met yours, his expression unreadable.

"Not bad," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Your point about authenticity in crisis management was... insightful."

Coming from Lloyd Hansen, this was high praise indeed. You felt a flutter in your stomach, but kept your composure. "Thanks. I'm glad you found it valuable."

He nodded, then bent his head closer so only you would hear. “Just enjoy your flash in the pan conference fame, pumpkin, because it takes more than a couple of clever questions and answers to make it longterm in this business.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, anger flaring inside of you, but you pulled it together and responded with, “Well, not all of us have nepotism to work with.”

Lloyd's eyes flashed dangerously at your retort, a muscle in his jaw tightening. For a moment, you thought you might have pushed too far. But then, to your surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched upward, giving something not quite a sneer but certainly not a smile.

"Touché," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Maybe you've got more fire than I gave you credit for."

You held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated now. "You really don’t know me at all, Mr. Hansen."

He studied you for a moment longer, his piercing blue eyes seeming to look right through you. "So it seems," he murmured, almost to himself. Then, abruptly, he straightened up. "Enjoy your moment in the spotlight. We'll see if you can sustain it."

Before you could respond, Lloyd's attention was drawn away by someone calling his name.

To say you were put out by him was an understatement, but you didn’t linger over it as a moment later Maggie appeared at your side, beaming with pride.

"You were absolutely brilliant up there," she remarked.

"Thank you, Maggie," you replied, feeling a rush of warmth at her praise. "I was so nervous, but once we got going, it was exhilarating."

Maggie's eyes twinkled. "That's the sign of a natural, my dear. You have a real talent for this. I’m so glad we reconnected here." She glanced over your shoulder, her expression shifting slightly. "And between you and me, I think you outshone some of our more... seasoned panelists."

You felt your neck flush, loving her confirmation you’d done well, but still finding it hard to accept the compliment. "I'm just glad I didn't embarrass myself up there."

"Embarrass yourself?" Maggie chuckled. "Far from it. Now you must agree to be my plus one tonight at the awards gala!”

Your heart skipped a beat at Maggie's invitation. The awards gala was one of the most prestigious events of the conference, typically reserved for industry veterans and VIPs.

"Are you sure?" you asked, trying to contain your enthusiasm. "I wouldn't want to impose."

Maggie waved her hand dismissively. "Nonsense! After that performance, you've more than earned your place there. Besides," she added with a mischievous glint in her eye, "I could use some youthful energy to keep me entertained during the stuffy speeches."

You laughed, feeling a surge of affection for your former professor. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?"

"Excellent!" Maggie clapped her hands together. "Meet me in the lobby at 6:15. Wear something fabulous, it's time to - oh,” she paused when the look on your face changed, “what’s that thought that just crossed your mind?”

"I... I don't know if I have anything suitable to wear," you admitted, thinking of the limited wardrobe you'd packed for the conference.

Maggie waved her hand dismissively. "Nonsense. We'll find you something fabulous over the lunch break then. We’re in Paris! It won’t be hard. And before you say another word, it’s my treat!”

“Maggie, I couldn’t!”

“No, I really do insist. I had ulterior motives in getting you on the panel today so I wouldn’t be surrounded only by men, and I’m selfishly coercing you to play that part again tonight."

“But-”

“I have no children and my husband left me with far too much money when he passed away two years ago, so we are going to a fancy shop and getting you a gorgeous dress, and I may get another one for myself if the mood strikes me while we’re there, and I’m almost one hundred percent certain it will, so don’t spoil my fun, dear!”

Before you could protest, Maggie had linked her arm through yours and was steering you towards the exit. "Come on, we only have so two hours to get there and back before the afternoon keynote.”

next chapter: coming January 6

Well, lovelies, you did a good job participating in that panel! I'm as proud of you as Maggie and Gus!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[bedouinpoet]

PERMISSION

Aaron Hotchner x BAU Reader,

its a slow burn but hope you like it feel free to leave a comment. Pls be nice, my first ever fan fic (18+ only please) more to come.

y/n = your name

y/l/n= your last name

You never thought your wish to join the BAU would ever come true. It always felt like some kind of pipe dream for someone with so much baggage like you. The agreement was clear you never mention your past to this team and you get to work for the FBI rather than prison. You still remember the first day you came into work, JJ, the communications liaison introducing you to everyone at the round table. “Guys this is y/n, Agent y/L/n-“ “please just call me y/n” you quickly interrupt, she smiled understandably and nods “agent y/n is our newest member of our little family, y/n this is Agents Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Dr Spencer Reid, Agent David Rossi, technical analyst Penelope Garcia and last but not least our unit chief and team lead agent Aaron Hotchner” “just Hotch please” you felt your toes curl as every inappropriate thought crossed your mind the moment you shook his hand and he smiled at you with those melted caramel eyes

3 months later…

You all just got back from yet another gruesome case, family annihilator with a fetish for kids underwear as trophies. ‘Fuck sometimes there really is no punishment harsh enough for these guys’ you think. You are one of the last ones in the office, Reid just left asking if you needed a ride. “Nah I’ll get a taxi later I need to finish the last of this case file” Admittedly that wasn’t the full truth, you could easily finish this tomorrow even at home in your office in your apartment but…Hotch… Hotch was still here. You've had a crush on him since the first day. But…what would you be to him? You always thought as a fucked up 23 year old coworker and subordinate. You’re pretty sure he even tried to set you and Reid up on a date. You’re glad of that in a way. Even though absolutely nothing happened and you aren’t into each other in that way (and he knows about your crush). You ended up becoming best friends. Second only to your girls JJ and Pen. But you know Hotch and he won’t leave here until someone drags him out which has been your job of late. Especially since Haley filed for divorce and he signed. It’s like the guy lives here now. You keep glancing up at Hotch’s office until you finally see your opening as he closes a file, taking a deep breath, rubbing his eyes and leaning back in his chair putting his hands over his head. Damn, every move mesmerizes you. You close your file and stuff them in your bag. Taking your leather jacket and head up. You knock lightly on his door, his eyes snapping open “y/n? What are you still doing here?” “Same as you ya workaholic come on I need a ride. Would you mind?” His confused eyes and eyebrow scrunch, he looks out to the bullpen like he’s avoiding this drive. “Jeeze haha if you don’t want to you don’t have to Hotch I just don’t wanna get a cab right now but all good-“ he quickly sat up. “No no I’ll drive I should probably head home….get some sleep and-“ “call jack” the words leave your mouth before even thinking. His face fell in offence. “Excuse me agent?” Agent, you notice he only ever says agent like that to you when you’re in trouble and damn does it make you wet. “Sorry! I-i-i just meant. Well. (Sigh) look this was a rough case and I know especially when it comes to cases with kids, calling jack-o-lantern puts a smile on your face….grounds you” his face softens and you see his half smile brighten the room and your heart pounds, he laughs lightly when you mentioned his sons nickname you gave him. “I never understood where you got that nickname for jack” “cause he’s a kindred spirit that loves chocolate and Halloween like my fine self duh. Now call your kid I’ll wait in the bullpen till your ready handsome-“ he immediately looked up “what?” “What?” He shifted in his chair and your heart pounds, fuck you get to conformable around him. “You called me handsome” why do you keep letting things slip. You clear your throat trying your best to be as nonchalant as possible despite every part of you heating up “yea? Your point. Just stating truths boss now dial” Hotch smiles at you again but this time….something about the glint in his eyes is different as if he is considering. You try to shake it off. Telling yourself to calm down. The second you sit back down you see Hotch laugh on the phone. You smile to yourself. You were right jack o lantern helped….

“yep just park here my apartment is just ahead but parking sucks” He parks the car and takes off his seat belt, gets out and opens your door. Always the gentleman and he does it like muscle memory. Ugh perfect you think. “I can carry my own bags ya know? I’m a big girl sir” you whisper the the end of your sentence like calling him sir is a secret. Hotches jaw clenched as you winked “and I’m a gentleman. Shall we?” Every door he opened for you. You both get into the elevator, your go bag in hotch’s big hands. The moment the doors close all you can do is stare at his hands, imagining how good Hotch could pin you to the wall and kiss you so hard until you beg for air. Even one of those hands could pin your hands on top of your head. You swallow hard as your mouth gets dryer and you can already feel your knees weak and your panties dampen. You don’t realize how long you were staring at Hotch’s hands but apparently too long “is everything alright y/n?” Fuck he stares at you, his eyebrows stern but his eyes show genuine concern and confusion. Fuck. “Y-yea sorry was just day dreaming” he smiles “anything good?” “Pshhhh wouldn’t you like to know” his eyes darken with a hint of confusion as horrified realization crosses your mind as what you just admitted. Shit. “I-I- just meant, I mean it wasn’t anything in particular” Hotch nods as the elevators doors open, he lets you pass first as he walks behind you. You get to your door as you pat your pockets searching for your keys. Hotch stands deadly close behind you. “Ugh just pin me against the wall” you think trying to shake away the thought as you find your Keys only to drop them in front of you “dammit” you whisper and bend over quickly, forgetting how close behind you Aaron really was. You feel his front pressed against your ass as you grab your keys and hear Hotch take in a sharp breath and his pants bulge slightly. Your panties are near soaked with ideas of what this man could do to you. But he steps back clearing his throat. “Sorry” you stumble, grabbing your keys off the floor and quickly unlock the door and step inside. He takes only a step inside and hands you your bag. Your entire body shivers from the touch of his hands. “Thanks boss. Ever the gentleman….would you wanna come in? Don’t have much for drinks but got coffee and lemonade-“ “no thank you, it’s pretty late I-we should get some sleep. We have an early day tomorrow I’ll see you in the office. Goodnight y/n” “night Hotch and thanks again” He says nothing but smiles in reply and nods as he walks away. You could see his hands clenched, white knuckled as he presses the elevator button. You shake off the itching hope that there was something more between you two. You don’t even bother eating, can’t even think about food. Instead you go straight to bed, stripping off everything and taking your vibrator from your night stand. You lay down bringing your hands to your breast, pinching you nipples imagining it’s Hotches big calussed hands, no matter how hard you try to think of anyone else the only person you can think of to cum is Hotch, fucking you dumb, his lips on your skin trailing up and down your body, his hands rough and grabby. You feel your orgasm arising closer and closer until all you see is spots as you cum all over the toy. You take a deep breath wishing you didn’t just have yourself and the TV to go to bed too. “Welp… at least I can go to sleep.” You say to your empty apartment. Little did you realize Hotch was thinking of your ass rubbing against his cock in the shower that night. Pumping himself frienzied as he fantasizes about bending you over in that shower grabbing your hips and fucking you until his cum spills deep inside you….

the next morning was brutal. Another wet dream but no time to help yourself. “Dammit I’m late!” You call a taxi as you rush to get dressed. Struggling to find a clean shirt as you forgot to wash your laundry last night the only shirt remotely appropriate for work being your red deep v neck that’s a smudge too V and says ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good’ “thank you Harry Potter” -and a pair of cargo pants. “Fuck it” you put it on and tuck in the shirt at least trying to look put together packing a few things in your go bag, guns holstered and your badge in pants pocket you book it out of there…

you make it to work out of breath and five minutes late. Everybody already waiting at the round table. “Sorry sorry couldn’t get a taxi-“ “it’s fine agent y/l/n just don’t let it happen again” Hotch’s eyes stop on your shirt as Morgan laughs “up to no good huh pretty girl? Wonder what that means…” he winks you laugh and sit down next to him touching his shoulder “oh honey, you couldn’t handle what it means” you high five Emily and wink at pen and jj when “it’s from Harry Potter” pen and Spencer say at the same time “Ha I know y’all aren’t the only nerds you know” you tease Reid as Morgan leans in “working some magic huh nerd.” As he fist bumps you. “Please let’s continue-“ you don’t even realize Hotch is staring daggers in you and Morgan’s direction jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. Dammit he’s pissed about you being late you tremble. “Sorry-“ “let’s continue” is all he says. “Right we are heading to New Orleans my lovelies. At an opera house called Garnier-“ “like phantom of the opera?” Reid and you say at the same time “jinx! You owe me an iced coffee” he laughs “don’t you have one right now?” “You can never have enough coffee my child” you smile and wink at Reid “amen to that” Emily nudges me

“anyways there has been 3 deaths all at this opera house. All men, first was George Shepard the building manager, he got quite the beating in his office, the second Alex Miller he was props manager, similar injuries and the third was Jake Townson who was hung. The police question if it’s really a suicide-“

“that doesn’t make any sense” you say thinking out loud as you all do. “What do you mean y/n?” Garcia’s innocence seeping out of her adorable face “well look at the first two victims, beaten, the neck broken, that says anger, then hanging ? No bruises no prior beating? That’s more of what you see with mercy killers it doesn’t add up” Hotch stares at you intently anger slightly subsiding looking at you even when Morgan talks in agreement his eyes pierced you and you look away feeling your cheeks heat as you break eye contact to look down at the file. “Whatever the reason and whoever it is it’s clearly connected to this opera house and with his cooling off period we don’t have much time before another victim …wheels up in three hours….y/n in my office please” you swallow feeling you are about to get hell for being late….again. You really need to fix that alarm clock.

You follow Hotch into his office “have a seat” you swallow hard as he closes the door and stands in front of of you leaning on the desk, arms crossed, his face scrutinizingly serious “sir I know I’ve been late I promise I’ll do better and-“

“what is your relationship with Agent Derek Morgan?”

His interruption stopped you in your tracks. He leaned further back and crossed his legs and his pants creased at the most torturous places. Fuck your basically eye level with his crotch as you wish you were on your knees his hands grabbing your hair- “agent…I said what is your relationship with Agent Morgan?” You swallow as you look back up at Hotches face and you swear as you do his hands tense and his jaw clench’s….”I asked you a direct question agent” you shake off your hormones for a moment and reply “I’m sorry but I don’t get what you mean? There is no relationship other then friendship?” He scoffs “you seem awfully flirty with each other for just friends. You are also co workers and that was extremely unprofessional behaviour do I make myself clear?” All, of a sudden the hormones jumps out the window as all you can see is red anger “excuse me?” Your tone shocks Hotch but he quickly recovers “yes?” Fuck his ability to be so calm you think to yourself before saying “I am sorry but I find it awfully weird that you are lecturing me for something the ENTIRE TEAM does? Fuck sakes Morgan calls Pen Baby Girl on a daily? Flirting non stop. We make jokes about Reid’s love life. fuck sakes I flirted with prentess and JJ in passing but all of a sudden my behaviour is inappropriate-“ Hotches arms fall as he closes his fists tightening “are you saying you do it because everyone else does? That’s awfully childish and I expected better” at those words all reserve goes out the window and you become a bull just seeing red “excuse me!? How dare you. I am an equal member of this team AARON HOTCHNER. Yes I may be the youngest but that gives you no right to speak to me in such a manner as such I do not have to explain myself when I have done nothing wrong. I have worked my ass off for this team and this job.” Anger filled tears swell your eyes but fuck it you already started “I have assisted in solving how many cases? I have given everything to this team and deserve more respect then you have just displayed. So speak to me when you want to apologize for YOUR behaviour Hotchher” Without even thinking or considering you march out of his office. Your entire body on fire with anger and shaking, leaving Hotch standing dumbfounded as you slam his door. Rossi steps out from his own office “everything alright kiddo?” His hand out for support but even that doesn’t stop you “I’m fine Rossi see you on the plane” With that you leave as everyone watches you grab your go bag and jacket and leave.

….

On the plane Hotch sits at your usual corner window seat, avoiding all eye contact with you but you don’t care. You fought so hard for this job, crush or not you aren’t about to let anyone talk like that to you. The rest of the flight passed with further discussion about the likelihood of the unsubs gender and age, until you all were about to land “unfortunately it’s too late to go to the station detective Monroe says he will see us tomorrow morning so it’s off to the hotel my lovelies” Pen came with you this time as the team needed her in person and looking through every camera in the opera house to see what everyone might have missed and that’s the job for your girl PG. the drive to the hotel passed well as you drove with Reid and you in the back and Morgan and Em in the front. When you got down to the hotel you were all laughing but your smile faded as you saw Hotch get out of the SUV behind you, his own smile fading at the sight of you. You shake off the feeling and turn as Morgan takes your arm and Penelope’s come on naughty girls there is a nice bed and cool mini bar with my name on it.” You all laugh and you slap his arm looking back at Hotch to make sure he saw that as you enter the hotel. “Um sorry agents there are only four rooms available this week” you hear everyone behind you groan and sigh in frustration as all of a sudden “I ain’t bunking with Reid” minute Morgan says that Pen holds Morgan’s arm “dibs” with that, you all burst out laughing and before you could try and pair off with anyone. Emily and JJ pair off and Reid with a sly smile says he will bunk with Rossi who almost protested until he saw Reid’s face. Hotch and you stood awkwardly until “very well y/n and I will room together, here is all of your rooms keys, see you all at 7 am” everyone nods and disperses as you lean down to grab your bag, Hotch grabs it off the floor without even looking at you. “Shall we?” “Uh thanks” you shyly try and tuck in your hair behind your ear as you head to the elevator where JJ and Emily squeezed in, everyone on the same floor, when you all get to the floor and about to open your hotel room door you look in time to see JJ and Reid wink at you as you flip them off. You step into the room Hotch right behind you clearly confused “what was that for?” As you enter the room you notice how small it is one bed, one sofa, desk and coffee machine and bathroom. Fuck one bed, that’s an issue you’ll have to figure out in a minute. “What was what for?” You ask pretending to be oblivious “y/n….you just flipped off at JJ prentice and Reid? Why?” “Why does it matter are you going to lecture me on how childish and inappropriate it was? I’m off the clock boss” The anger beginning to roll back in but you stop when Hotch drops the bags harshly on the floor. His glare scrutinizing, his eyebrows so furrowed you could barely see his eyes, he remained quite. You roll your eyes feeling like a teenager but replying “inside joke that’s all…sir” you end your sir with more of an attitude then expected. Aaron just shakes his head “y/n that’s enough…I AM your boss my question about you and Morgan was valid I do need to know what is going on with my agents as it affects this team-“ he had a point and you can’t help yourself but soften your body tension as Hotchs face also softens, before you can say anything he continues “however…as you stand you have more then earned my respect and ….and trust…and I am sorry for my comment it was out of line and I hope we can move past this and focus on this case.” His eyes became almost pleading and every harsh feeling you had towards him melted away, your knees almost giving out as he licks his lips. You were getting horny again and too tired to fight. Taking a deep breath “I’m sorry too…friends?” You stuck out your hand as he looks at it momentarily and relaxes as he grabs it with a smile “friends” he keeps his hand in yours a moment longer with a light squeeze as a tension fills the air until he lets go you almost whimper with the lack of warmth from his hands. He clears his throat

“Right um…would you like to take a shower first?” You shake your head “nah I’ll take one in the morning you go ahead” he smiles “great thanks” he went straight to the bathroom you grab both bags and put them on the sofa as you change into your sweats and t shirt attempting to tie up your almost shoulder length short hair, strands falling on your face. You take out the files and the copy of phantom of the opera you bought at the airport placing it all on the bed as you hear the shower go on. You try not to picture a soaked naked Aaron Hotchner and concentrate on the case…it barely works and you get uncomfortably wet but before you can even try to help yourself the shower goes off so you fully concentrate on the files. As the door opens you finish writing your notes not looking up “Hotch! I think I figured out what’s been bugging me about this case I did a quick once over on the phantom of the opera and-“ you stop somehow out of breath when you look up and see Hotch walk closer in nothing but a towel hiding what you are dying to see. You sit up gaping. You’ve pictured him shirtless yet this was somehow hotter then you even expected, his messy hair, his body still dripping, his chest with perfect amount of subtle hair. You think how good holding him would be, lying your head on his chest, sitting on his lap and removing the towel. You don’t even realize how long you’ve stared at Hotch but he blushes, his ears going pink and he looks away and back “sorry…I forgot my pajamas ….but….um…you said there was a connection?” His face going back to agent hotchner face and with that and shirtless was a mix you could barely handle. “Right!” You shake off to the best of your abilities looking down again as he sits on the side of the bed looking attentively at you as you keep moving the hair from your face. “So I mentioned that the hanging was weird ? Well I think I know why the unsub did it, he’s following the plot of the book buts he’s making it somehow more violent.” “How so?” His head tilts his curiosity almost adorable but you can’t stop thinking about the towel. “Well umm” you take a deep breath but nope your horniness is getting worse and wetter “could you put some clothes on please”

you laugh breathlessly, his confusion evident but blushes “sorry “ he whispers and you swear your heart melts “no no it’s just….your dripping on the files and my book” you try to lighten the mood as you lie and look up moving your hair from your face again. You need a hair cut. But your answer seems to calm him “oh right” he smiles “right sorry just give me a second” he went to his bag grabbing some sweats and a shirt and went to the bathroom. Coming out moments later with his deadly grey sweats and white tshirt….you can’t help but wish he was shirtless again but lord have mercy those sweats you think. “So you were saying?”

“Right so the first two victims fits with the first two characters in the book. The two managers however in the book…the two managers only get their legs broken by the opera ghost. Not their necks. It’s not till the third in the book which the character hangs himself Hotch…I think our unsub sees himself as Erick the opera ghost he most likely has some deformity and lack of social skills like the character and…HA that’s it ….tomorrow we need to ask Garcia for the original plans of the opera house the unsub probably lives there we need to do a search and fast.” Hotch never interrupted you, he listened and waited and watched you then took a few notes “right. Good work y/n I’ll get Garcia to get the plans tomorrow and a list of anyone born around 25 to 35 years ago with a severe face deformity around the area he is probably local.” You can’t help but smile you always feel overwhelming sense of pride when you crack a part of the case. You smile at Hotch but the way he looks back makes you have butterflies all in your stomach and chest, he reaches over and moves the hair from your face, your toes curl at the touch “really good work y/n” he whispered, every part of you loses control as you grab him by the shirt and kiss him.

you move back in absolute shock and fear when you see shock in his eyes “fuck I’m sorry I’m so sorry” you get up “y/n”

“I need a coffee” you interrupt before he rejects you

“y/n stop!”

Too late and you didn’t go back until 3 am waiting in the downstairs bar beating yourself up. You quietly sneak to the bed. Ugh fuck Hotch for being so hot and good you think as you see he slept on the couch lightly snoring away. The second you put your head on that pillow you pass out. Hotch moves your hair back “you did really good y/n well done” the tension rises as he moves closer, his hand cupping your cheek you lightly moan as you lean into his touch, kissing his palm, he groans “fuck it” as you give him the pleading eyes and his lips smash into yours. It feels so good as he warms your entire body, laying you down as he goes on top of you, moving his hand down caressing then grabbing your breasts slowly pinching your nipples between his callused thump and forefinger, you arch your back up pushing into his body even more feeling his bulge between your legs. He groans as he takes his chance opening your mouth wider with his tongue, kissing deep as you wrap your legs around him, even with those grey sweats on you can feel his hard on as you grind up, moaning you feel yourself getting so wet even from that friction he bites down at your neck “fuck y/n baby what am I gonna do with you-“ he whispers in your neck.

you wake up to your phone alarm, hotch just getting up from the sofa as he looks up at you blushing and then averting your eyes ‘shit, did I moan out loud?’ You blush just thinking about it but he says nothing “uh….morning boss” is all you can muster up to say, he smiles “good morning y/n sleep well.” You blush further closing your legs somehow terrified he will know how wet you are even under the blanket, “yup you? Why did you sleep on the couch?” You try not to look up at him as he looks unbelievably hot in the morning, his clean hair cut messy with bed hair, “seemed right in case you wanted to sleep on the bed I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable”

“ever the gentleman”

he smiles and it seems you don’t need to even use words to agree that the kiss never happened and it was best to forget it even if you couldn’t. “If you just let me wash up quick and such then the shower is all yours and I’ll go downstairs and wait for you so you can get ready, if that’s alright?” You think it’s adorable that’s he’s asking as if you could say no “of course” you get up and get your clothes ready digging in your bag to take out your black lace bra and thong, cargo pants and black dress shirt, you hold up the bra and panties just as Hotch steps out of the bathroom and the sight stops him dead in his tracks, his eyes darken, jaw clenched as he starts to breath shallow and quickly licking his bottom lip as if all of sudden his mouth is dry. “I-um-I -you can shower now” maybe it was how much you enjoyed seeing how flushed and flustered you made him or the fact you’ve never seen him that way, or maybe it was the dream or sleep deprivation or all of the above but you were feeling confident and adventurous as you lift the bra to your chest and the thong to your hip giving him a mischievous smile that makes his eyes go almost entirely black “you like? Got it for a date that no showed but damn glad he didn’t, may have ripped them off their nice don’t you think?” He licked his lips as he swallowed heavily like it was a struggle, for once you finally made this man speechless until “what date? When?” You giggle “Jeeeze Hotch I asked you if you like my bra and panties and THATs what you ask first?” His expression turns serious, almost angry, dare you think jealous. For a moment he were actually scary and damn did it turn you on. “That’s not an answer” you shrug “I dont remember, his loss is another’s gain huh?” You wink as you move past a completely flustered Aaron Hotchner “I’ll be quick handsome” dam you really are pushing it today but his reactions only fuel your urges.

…

the case continued and after that morning your adventurous side simmered down and you regained your shyness and professionalism especially looking at all the dead bodies on the board. But since the morning Hotch has been different. Always near you, every car ride he made sure you rode with him in the passenger seat, when you split off you were always paired off with him. Now you and your team had the unsub surrounded, hiding in the shadows of the large set on the main stage of the opera house, you and Hotch took the front, responsible for the negotiation. Emily and Morgan went to the back and Reid and Rossi took both sides. “Lucas!” You shout “Lucas Sanderson! Come on hun we have you surrounded” you and Hotch slowly get up on the stage, flashlight and guns raised as a noise came out near you, metal clanging “Lucas FBI- come on hun I know why you did it but times up come out with your hands raised” it happened too fast, the unsub came crashing down on top of you, you struggle for your gun as Hotch pushes him off you, there was a struggle as Lucas got a hold of your gun facing it directly to Hotch . It was like time slowed your heart pounding out of your chest, no time to think you run pushing Hotch out of the way as you hear a gun shot. You and Hotch are on the floor and immediately you both sit up, looking each other over for any injuries, then you see Lucas on the floor, blood trickling down from the back of his head, Em’a gun facing him “everyone okay!?” A wave of emotion flows through you like a storm and you don’t even know what to say when Hotch replies “yea, we’re good” but were you? As Hotch said those words his glare never left you he was furious and he remained glaring with absolute anger and …something else you couldn’t place. You averted his gaze. Morgue, ambulance, and drive to the hotel later.

“we will sleep here tonight and leave for home first thing in the morning, you all worked hard well done rest up everyone” as Hotch speaks he keeps his eyes set on you “thank god I am exhausted hotel bar here I come” Morgan smiles as the team laughs as Emily says “maybe I’ll join this was brutal….you sure your good y/n?” Her genuine concern and care warms your heart you smile heartedly “I’m fine Em really, drink up and have fun for me I’m way too tired, goodnight babes” as you hug each other and part. You and Hotch go into the elevator alone. He hadn’t said a word. “Urrrm are you okay sir”

“don’t call me that”

he doesn’t look at you just straight ahead “what?” You try and think what you possibly did for him to be so angry “don’t call me sir” the elevator doors open and that’s when you feel his hand on your elbow gripping your arm with a deadly grip he marches both of you to your room “Hotch what the fuck!” Is all you can let out as the pain turns into something more horny but you try and ignore it “shut up” is all he says. He opens the door slamming it behind the both of you and practically throwing you when he lets go. “HOTCH what the -“

“what the hell were you thinking y/n!?” His yelling voice damn near throws you back but you stand your ground as you see his face as serious as ever, eyes furrowed, arms crossed and his tie slightly ajar, his tone the same as his reprimanding voice but somehow even angrier. “What are you talking about?!” He tilts his head as if he can’t believe you don’t know what he is speaking of “you push yourself in front of an armed suspect!? What the hell were you thinking agent!? What if prentess didn’t get there on time!? That was reckless! You could have died!”

All of sudden anger boils over you as the storm of emotion inside of you begins to break the dams you try to keep up “what!? I was doing my job SIR! What exactly are you mad at here? Lucas Sanderson has a gun ON YOU!? What the fuck did you want me to do!? Let you get shot!?” Tears stream down your face at the very idea of seeing Hotch hurt “YES! Better me then you!” He shouts even louder his voice becoming dam near terrifying but you held your place if this is when it all comes out so be it “I WOULD RATHER DIE THEN SEE YOU HURT AARON HOTCHNER” tears and full on cries followed as your answer takes Hotch aback. He stands in shock as the tears fall. you continue “if you are going to reprimand me sir for doing what I did, do so SIR but I won’t apologize for…for…for loving you and not wanting to see you hurt!” You are almost out of breath by the time your done anger being replaced by fear that you just ruined your relationship with Hotch for good and maybe lost your job when Hotch says quitely you barely hear “how…how do you think I feel?” You couldn’t understand the question couldn’t feel anything other than your heart pounding in your ears. “You think I could ever see you get hurt? Do you have any idea how fast I felt my heart break then and there I could barely breath when I thought you-you- you were shot. I couldn’t- I’d rather have died then see you shot I couldn’t I -“ you didn’t think, your head was spinning and your heart filling with overwhelming care. You stopped thinking as you grab at his tie pulling him down to your lips and kissing him, this time no hesitation “y/n” he groans “shut up and kiss me Aaron” the moment he hears his name from your lips he grabs you like he owns you and no one else in the world, he turns you around pinning you against the door, you moan into his mouth as his tongue directs the kiss and he bites your lower lip “Aaron” you moan deepening the kiss and grabbing the back of his head raising one of your legs and wrapping it around him “fuck…say my name again sweetheart say it” he groans as he kisses down your neck and biting down “Aaron! Fuck yes please please” he growls as you lightly pull his hair then turning your hands down and rubbing his cock over his pants, even with his dress pants in the way you can feel how large the bulge is, he groans as he lifts you up and takes you to the bed.

laying you down with such force he practically throws you on the bed like he’s been waiting for too long to do this, he stands taking off his tie as you unbutton his shirt, he stands in front of you shirtless as you kiss up and down his body right on top of his belt you look up and smirk at him pleading. He growls “strip. Now” you can’t help yourself and your bratty nature when you reply “make me” the moment you say it you are glad as he grabs your neck putting his thumb on your bottom lip “do you really wanna be a brat and play this game sweetheart?” The sexy threat in his voice makes your legs shiver and your panties soak. His eyes go feral as you suck his thumb and reply “what do you think sir?” He watches mesmerized as you lick his thumb his breath hastening as you put your hands on his belt but grabs both your hands with one of his “not yet baby” the way he smiles at you calling you baby his hand still on your neck got you so wet you felt close even from that. You had to close your legs tight as you squirm “Aaron- pls please sir” he smiles “please what y/n? Tell me what you want” his hands grabbing you harder “you” that was enough to release any hesitation Hotch had as he crashes his lips to yours this time even rougher biting your bottom lip until it bled licking you up like the only air he needed was you, kissing and biting down your neck as he rips open your shirt throwing it to the side then your bra. Trailing his mouth down to your nipples kissing one then the other grabbing both and growling and groaning as if it’s the best sight he has ever seen “you are gorgeous” he whispers as he bites on one of your nipples and pinching the other, you grab his hair for support as your legs shake “AARON yes yes please sir please more” he begins to unbuckle his pants his mouth never leaving your body as he stands back up. You immediately slide off the bed on your knees in front of him “baby what are you-“

“shhh, what I’ve been craving for months sir”

at that he groans and you feel his whole body shake and tense at your touch rolling his head back as you push his pants down, he smiles down at you as you sit absolutely flabbergasted at his size almost scared and even more turned on “what’s wrong?” He asks caressing your cheek “fuck you’re huge”

you both laugh as his eyes darken once more and he smirks “think you can handle it?”

He moves your hair away as you look up with a smirk “that was never in question sir” with that you don’t hesitate as you lick his tip then begin to slowly deep throat him entirely the moment you do Hotch’s grip on your hair tightens as he moans curses over and over and “fuck yes” loud enough for you to be proud that your causing him this much satisfaction. You use your hands and mouth together pumping deeper and deeper not caring how sloppy you looked spit down your chin moaning as he pulls your hair hard and begins to fuck your mouth, his legs getting shaky you finally stop just for a moment looking up at Aaron. “Fuck y/n you look so beautiful you have no idea how bad I wanted this , to feel that pretty mouth, but I need to feel your pussy now”

without warning he lifts you onto the bed like you were a doll, taking his pants completely off and going on top of you. You feel his weight, his warmth his body on top of you and you spread your legs wide for him as he adjusts himself and you both moan together as he rubs your clit with his thumb and enters his tip inside you. you swallow hard “please Aaron” he smiles into your mouth “beg for me sweetheart” you obey without hesitation “please Aaron, please I need you, I need your cock inside me I can’t take it” he started slowly putting just the tip in and out at a torturous rate he pulls your hair so you look up at him “are you sure y/n? Truly. Y/n if it gets too much you tell me understand ?” You nod whimpering as you start to wrap your legs around his waist scratching down his back “please sir, Aaron please fuck me how you want me give me everything” “fuck-“ he growls with that final permission he needed he thrusts his entire cock deep.

you scream how good he filled you as he grunts “fuck your tight fuvk” he thrusts into you with a mission harder and harder you grab on to him for dear life as he grabs one of your hands and pins it down on top of your head interlacing his fingers into yours and grabbing hard as he pushes into you deeper you feel yourself almost give over when he moans in your ear “yes baby fuck”

he thrusts upward hitting your g spot like a pro who knows your body better then anyone else, making your legs shake, he hits that spot over and over moving his hand down rubbing your clit as you grab on to him once more for dear life scratching his back. “Fuck Aaron yes please I’m going to cum please !” You feel your senses overwhelmed you “that’s right babe cum for me let go” he thrusts into you harder and faster at an impossible rate as you feel the coil break and release washing over you as you clench his cock. Hotch grabs your hand again as he gets close thrusting, groaning your name over and over as you feel his cum deep inside you.

both of you are out of breath as he stays on top of you for a while, you wrap your arms around him as he digs his face into your neck. In that moment you would happily stay forever. As he slowly stands up you whimper at that loss of heat, he smiles at the sound “I’m coming right back baby just grabbing a washcloth” he leaves to the bathroom coming back he cleans between your legs gently kissing your thighs. He throws the cloth to the side and lays you down and wraps his arms around you as you lay your head on his chest. You feel so at home it hurts. And it terrifies you. There is no question why he is the unit chief of your team when he asks “are you alright?” His concern growing in his chocolate eyes, “hmm? Oh yea I just….Hotch what does this mean? I know I said I love you but I don’t want you to feel like….i don’t know….like you have to say it back or be with me-“

“I love you y/n - I have loved you for months now I love everything about you. How kind and clever you are, how you always try to make sure everyone on the team is doing well even if you are hurting, you give without a second thought, you care and love with your whole heart. I love you I was just scared. I mean y/n I’m over 20 years your senior not to mention your boss”

“that doesn’t matter “

“doesn’t it?”

“no…I want you. You want me, together we will figure everything out. I just got you I don’t want to lose you.”

He looks down at you eyes filled with emotion, naked emotion. “I love you y/n y/l/n you have all of me” you kiss him “I love you Aaron Hotchner. I’m all yours”

[dont-offend-the-bees]

DontOffendTheBees' DBDA Fic Masterpost

Or, essentially, my 2024 Ao3 Wrapped because this show is all I've posted on main all year 😅 But it's nice to be back in the swing of writing and it's been such a rough year, so I'm gonna take a minute now to bask in the glow of my accomplishments 💛

(please note fic links are to Ao3, and fics are locked to be visible to registered users only!)

Ongoing Fics:

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? (M, 31.9k, ch. 3/4, Charles/Edwin)

A haunting little odyssey of Edwin finding his earthly remains, and figuring out where the hell to go from there. Was hoping to finish this off before the year was out but pain and other projects sadly got in the way! Don't worry, she will be complete one day, I swear!

Somewhere Beyond the Sea (T, 7k, ch 1/5, Charles/Edwin)

A sweet and magical Payneland Ponyo AU, written originally as a Secret Santa gift and then ballooning WAY out of proportion! I'm so, so excited for how this one turns out!

One-shots:

The Kind of Light That Means Just Love (When My Baby Smiles at Me) (T, 1.4k, Charles/Edwin)

Where it all began, a little ficlet I wrote based on a writing group prompt which made me realised how much fun the character voices were to play with. Short and sweet, Charles takes photos of Edwin and finds ways to be cheerful about it even when he doesn't show up in them.

Outside Looking In (T, 3.6k, Charles/Edwin)

Outsider POV fic in which Charles and Edwin are overhead having a very strange but sweet conversation while in their older disguises. While this was an early fic and there's probably some stuff I'd change about the dialogue if I wrote it now, I'm so fond of it and I'm touched by the response to it - ESPECIALLY in the form of Robin's incredible gifset! (this gifset MUST be reblogged by everyone, btw.)

The Scenic Route (T, 2.1k, Charles/Edwin)

A short, sweet little agency outing and Payneland get-together, written in large part to daydream of a better world of public transportation while I was stuck standing on a cross-country train for two hours.

No Rehearsing It, No Reversing It (T, 9.3k, Charles/Edwin)

Mandatory 'Charles massively overthinks getting together with Edwin' fic, a comedy of errors, featuring foiled kissing schemes, party games, flimsy excuses, and my first fateful foray into discovering how fun Cat King is to write.

’Cause You Cut Through All the Noise (M, 5.3k, Charles/Edwin)

First day of Payneland week, what a time! Edwin helps Charles calm down from a panic spiral with a healthy application of sweet, gently non-sexual dom/sub play, featuring sweet words and soothing games of cat's cradle.

Though We're Strangers 'Til Now (T, 4.7k, Charles/Edwin)

Payneland week day 2. One of my more out-there concepts; in the campy tradition of Saturday night British fantasy telly a la Merlin or Atlantis, Charles and Edwin take the mythological roles of Theseus and Ariadne. This fic exists in large part due to @every-moment-a-different-sound making me aware of Payneland week and asking me to collaborate, and once again, it is COMPULSORY that you go and reblog their GORGEOUS SHOWSTOPPING INCREDIBLE GIFS.

I Got Sunshine in a Bag (T, 1.2k, Charles/Edwin)

Payneland week day 3. The little script-format fic where (spoiler alert) Charles confesses his feelings to Edwin in the safe haven of his own magical bag of tricks. Sweet and silly!

Something I Can Turn To (T, 2.4k, Charles/Edwin)

Payneland week day 4. The AU where Charles and Edwin are alive in the same era, and helped each other survive the brutality of their teenage years. This one was so lovely to write and there's a little bittersweet hollow in my heart carved out for it. This fic also spawned this absolutely lovely art by @yasartmeme (GO REBLOG, GIVE IT LOVE) and a collection of related stories by several wonderful authors. Every time someone else dips their toe into this universe it warms my chilly little heart.

If the Shoe Fits, Then I Won’t Try It On (T, 2k, Charles/Edwin)

Payneland week day 5. Another outing with the disguises; pre-canon, Charles and Edwin on a case, getting used to their new magic disguises and constructing dubious backstories.

Spinning on That Dizzy Edge (M, 1k, Charles/Edwin)

Payneland week day 6. Short little flirty, steamy, fun date night with Charles and Edwin in a haunted pub, with a piano <3

Lived My Whole Life Before the First Light (M, 7.3k, Charles/Edwin)

Payneland week day 7. AKA the attic scene, as told in a soulmate AU. A few people who don't generally like soulmate AU's have told me this one plays with the concept in a way they found interesting and refreshing! Suffice it to say there's a happy ending, but not of the sort generally associated with the genre. And this one comes with yet another mandatory-reblog gifset, this one by @mellxncollie, which is SO beautiful and should be in an art gallery and truly such an honour to bestow upon my little words 💛

We Glimpse Each Other Out of Phase (T, 3.7k, Charles/Edwin)

Another little instalment in the Alive AU of Something I Can Turn To, this time a bittersweet domestic scene on a sleepless night in the kitchen.

Wise Men Build Their Houses on Rocks While the Rest of Us Settle for Skeletons (M, 2.2k, Cat King/Edwin)

First foray into Catwin! (or at least first on the main account 😉) Edwin digs through the Cat King's magical artifacts; and finds an ominous relic of his past lives.

Sink Your Teeth Right Through My Bones, Baby (M, 0.6k, Charles/Edwin)

First of the spotify wrapped inspired ficlets! A little glimpse into Edwin's mind as he and Charles cautiously approach a new dynamic in the bedroom.

Looks Like We’re In for Nasty Weather (T, 0.6k, Charles/Edwin)

Wrapped ficlet. Edwin and Charles brace themselves in the face of an ominous supernatural storm brewing.

Keep Me Warm, Love Me Long, Be My Sunlight (T, 1k, Cat King/Edwin/Charles)

Wrapped ficlet, and preview of the Ghostcat 1920s AU currently in the works by myself, @dear-monday and @tw0-ravens! In a sun-drenched loft in the last days of summer, Thomas contemplates what he has, and when he'll lose it.

Should I Cool It, or Should I Blow? (M, 1.9k, Cat King/Charles)

Wrapped ficlet. The Cat King confronts Charles after another little enemies-with-benefits hook-up for a little clarification on what, exactly, he's doing with his life.

And that about wraps it up for 2024! But I'll keep adding underneath this post when I inevitably write more -- so I'll be seeing you guys in '25! 🥰 Thank you thank you THANK YOU everyone who's shown me such incredible support over this year, this has been such an unbelievably fun fandom experience and I'm excited to sink my teeth into even more and longer fics next year 💛💛💛

My 2024 Writing Stats:

Works Published: 19 Word Count: 89,859 Top 3 fics (by kudos): 1. Outside Looking In 2. No Rehearsing It, No Reversing It 3. The Scenic Route

[midnight-mourning]

Stave off the Cold

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 24❄️❄️

guhhh i went a LIL angsty for part of this, but you'll like it dw, it'll be worth it in the end ;) hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Perhaps post ruin, since its snowing so hard the power goes out. Yn and ruin snuggling to stave off the cold and are sappy together or something along those lines. ^-^

Word Count: 1313

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You're in the middle of the most delicate of work when it happens. The lights cut, and you curse, almost dropping the new CPU chip in the dark. Carefully, with another slew of curse—that probably wouldn't have been approved if they'd hear—you step back and search for your workbench, setting down the chip and pulling out your phone. 

Flashing it to the window, you can see the snowstorm blowing outside. That must've done it. Great. Just great. 

You glance over to the bot lying motionless on the table, heart twisting at the sight. You've been working for months to fix them, you knew there had to be way, knew that somewhere they still had to be in there. The fact that you'd been able to charge their body and get their limbs to move independently proved that. 

You rub your face and check the time, you could still work in this, as long as there was still some heat in here. The power had to come back on eventually, right?

You search for your lantern, finding it and lighting, hanging it from the ceiling above. Once everything's settled, towels stuff under the old door to help keep heat from leaking out, you get back to work. 

When you'd found them, having decided to take a look through the long abandoned Plex, you'd been horrified at their condition. Tattered clothes and broken parts, that's what remained of your beloved attendant. You remember cradle their cracked faceplate in your hand, tears welling up at the thought that'd they shut down alone, afraid, not knowing where they'd wake up again. 

That had been back in the fall, it was the dead of winter now and progress had been progressing best you could. You weren't well versed in this type of thing, you were relying on videos and online forums to guide your progress. And you were just hoping and praying you were doing all this correctly. 

You'd started with the surface level damaged and worked your way in, scrounging the Plex for spare parts and replacements. Anything you couldn't find you'd snatch up in eBay auctions or the likes. 

With tender love and care, you rebuilt your attendant back into the bot you loved. You just finished repairing Sun's rays the other day, but you kept Moon's hat on him, something about the look going along with their mismatched pants. 

Now all that was left was the hard stuff, the internal components. 

So much of their inner workings had been fried, smashed, or damaged in some other capacity. You'd feared for the worst, truthfully. Having to accept that they may actually be gone for good. It was something that haunted you for weeks before you finally bit the bullet and opened up their head. 

You had teared up a bit when you found their hard drive was in perfect condition, letting out a cheer loud enough to probably disturb your neighbors. 

Your hands are shaking now, you realize. Shivering, your shivering. You check the time again, it's already been two hours. But, you argue, it's not that cold yet. You can keep going, keeping working, keep fixing. Keep saving. 

You have to. You have to do it for them. 

You take short breaks every now and then, warming your hands on their casing. They may not be awake, but at least they're alive. 

Your breath is showing up in front of you now, your fingers feel stiff, but still, you keep going. You just have one final thing to do, give them a reset. 

Your legs hurt as you stand, walking up to where their head rests. You pull out the Faz wrench you'd found on your last trip to the Plex. A find that had you dancing around the abandoned building like an idiot. 

With a shaky grip, you insert it and turn, waiting with bated breath. 

Nothing happens. 

You step back, waiting a solid two minutes for the attendant to sit up, either AI greeting you like how you've been waiting six months for them to do. 

But they don't. 

You feel too tired and too cold to cry. Just a feeling of utter defeat overtaking you. Your head feels heavy, so do your eyelids. Maybe you just need to take a nap, and you can figure this out afterwards. 

You climb back up onto the table, laying down on the warm but empty shell of your attendant. Curling up, you pull your coat tighter around yourself and close your eyes. 

As you start to drift off, you swear you feel a shift underneath you, something laying on top of your body. 

You have a strange dream. 

In it, you're being carried through the snow by something. It has two bright eyes, one red, one white, with spikes coming off its head, and a blue hat. It speaks to you, murmuring sweet nothings that you can't recall. 

When you wake up on your couch, you realize it wasn't a dream. You go to get up, but a firm grip around your waist prevents you from doing so. Looking down, you realize your laying on top of Sun, or, Moon? You don't know, you don't care, because it clicks to you that his eyes are open and he's looking at you and he's awake—

"Hello, Starlight. We missed you."

Your voice is just a whisper. "You're awake... You're okay."

Before he can say anything, you wrap your arms around him, kissing his faceplate over and over. 

"I, I thought you guys were gone. That, that it wouldn't work, that I had to live without you." You're crying now. "I, I can't believe you're actually here."

"Silly Star. We never left." A shift in tone. "We were right there with you, Sunbeam!"

You realize what they mean. "Oh god. That means you heard all of that."

"You mean all your lovely conversations with us? Your laughter, your beautiful singing?" They take your hand, pressing it to their faceplate. "Because if so, the answer is yes."

You feel your face heat up and not knowing what else to do bury it against their neck as they laugh. 

"How awful." You mumble. 

They pet your hair for a few moments, fingers staying laced in it as you sit back up to look at them. 

You trace your hand down the side of their face, taking it all in. "I can't believe it, after all this time. Picked a terrible time to wake up. Can't even give you a proper tour of the place with the power out."

You start to get up, wanting to go grab a lamp, but they immediately pull you back down, arms firmly around you. 

"No leaving. Too cold. Stay here, we'll keep you warm."

You give in rather easily, especially when their hands start to explore just under your shirt, snickering at how you tense up. 

You scowl at them, taking their faceplate in both hands and leaning down so your foreheads are touching. "How did you two manage to get worse?"

Just another chuckle in response, their eyes nothing but thin, devious crescents. 

You kiss them then, soft, sweet. And then you do it again, and again. 

As you kiss, you feel the blanket you'd shoved off in your excitement be placed back over you both, adding to the warmth and coziness between you. 

You have to break away for a moment, panting ever so slightly. 

They tilt their head, watching you keenly. A thumb comes up to swipe against your lip. 

You smirk. "Thanks."

They nod. 

"I really missed you, you know?" You lay your head against their chest, listening to how with every tick and click and whirl, it's a sign that they're really there with you. They're actually home. 

Their hand comes up to stroke your hair, other arm snug against your hip. 

"We missed you too."

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Thank you @rosescarletful for the request! I had a bit of fun with it as you can see, very much enjoyed the concept your prompt allowed me to think up :)

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a

[arcane-vagabond]

Hey again...

So I've kind of already mentioned it, but figured it was time to make an actual post.

A lot of you already know that I've been a participant in fandom for over a decade now, starting out in the original Hunger Games fandom and then quickly working my way to SuperWhoLock and a couple of others over the years. I took a step back from fandom because of different things going on in my life, and it wasn't really until Summer 2023 that I decided to get involved again. This time around, though, I had stories that I wanted to share and used writing fanfic as a way to navigate and cope with how crazy my day to day had become. Writing became my way to escape the uncertainty that had come with losing my job and keeping me sane while I hunted for a new one.

I could never have imagined how a silly, little U.S. military propaganda movie would change my life in such interesting ways.

I've been writing since I was old enough to tell stories, ideas floating in and out of my head faster than the speed of light, and even though my friends told me all the time how much they loved the ideas and my actual writing, I had convinced myself that I'm not a good writer. I held onto that belief for years until a story concerning a blond aviator as a an outlaw in the old west consumed me to the point where I thought I would go crazy if I didn't start to write it. So I did, and then I got the crazy idea to start posting it - just wanting to see if other people would like it too. To my absolute shock and awe, they did! A lot of people actually did! So I kept writing, and I quickly added new stories too which people seemed to enjoy. I made so many new friends, and people really did seem to enjoy my writing which made me so, so happy.

Stories have always been so special to me, and coming up with new ones and sharing them with others has always been a passion of mine. I love talking about them with other people, talking over theories and characters til I'm blue in the face. What's going to happen? Why? How will this affect the other characters? All things I love discussing, but...fandom doesn't like to do that anymore. All it is anymore is an endless sea of likes, which are...okay, but why are people refusing to talk to me? Are they bored? Are they shy? Was that last chapter too lackluster? Should I have added more action? Romance? Surely not because people are demanding more? More scenarios, more smut, more words, more, more more. Maybe I should step away for a day or two, just to give myself a break? Okay, yeah, that should be fine. Okay, what about a week? I have some stuff going on at this new job that I need to deal with. Okay, now people aren't even sending requests in. Now even fewer people are commenting or sending messages in. Why? Did I do something? Was I away too long? Surely people know that I'm a person behind this screen. Oh, now most of my friends are leaving the site...Now I haven't talked to anyone in weeks.

So...what's the point? Seems like people aren't even reading what I'm putting out these days, so why continue writing for a silent audience?

This is all to say these are some of the thoughts that have been going through my head lately, and I've decided that it's not healthy. Demanding attention from people unwilling to give it is not serving me anymore, and neither are the jealous and hateful people who hide behind the anonymous feature. People who have screamed at me since I started because they've been jealous of the attention I've gotten in the past, trying to get me to quit the entire time. Well, you win. You get your wish, congratulations. I hope you feel happy with the number of people who read your fics because surely they'll come read yours now that I'm not posting anything. Hating on me and my work was never going to make you a better writer or person.

As for me, I'll probably still make posts from time to time if I don't go back to my old blog again. I've decided to dedicate time to writing my actual novel that's been in the works for 12+ years now, and I have a renewed excitement for it now that I know my writing is worth reading. Thanks, strangers on the internet! And who knows, maybe TG3 will prompt me to write fanfic again one day.

For now, my stories will stay posted, but that may change as I decide more on what I'm doing, so please don't be surprised if one day they're actually gone. I've already cleared out my inbox, so...sorry if I didn't manage to get to your request.

I'd like to thank @sorchathered @pinguhub and @attapullman for the late night calls and vent sessions. @goldenseresinretriever and @fanficfandomlove for being constant rocks and sources of inspiration for my fics. And @roosterforme for being a solid head to rely upon and gab with. You guys rock, and I hope you'll stick with me for the journey that lies ahead.

Until next time.

Liz~

[genderqueerdykes]

Hi. Here's a lot of words that y'all don't have to read and I have a question that y'all don't have to answer. I think you all make a lot of great points. I'm sorry if this is on the blog already.

I think I might be what you call an egg. I just try not to think about it. I'm going through a lot of stuff right now that needs processing and I can get to the gender thing when I can get to the gender thing. That said, I'm trying to let myself exist in queer spaces and it feels like everyday women are bashing men without batting an eye. Actually, that's happening not just in queer spaces. Nobody says anything except to agree. Even people that I've known for a while and know that I'm married to a cis man whom I love and respect (and who actually got me interested in feminism). I told one friend that I was uncomfortable by her comments and she flipped it around, pouted exasperatedly, and said, "I thought you were a safe space!" I didn't know that there was a safe space for sexism!

What the fuck do I say to people? I'm autistic and have an extreme sense of justice and can't just let things go but I want to be at least somewhat respectful-sounding because when you yell at people they shut down and think you're wrong/the problem. I also don't want to talk their ears off/write paragraphs like this. 😬

🌀

jesus, i'm so sorry people are treating you like that. it really hurts my head to see people do this. you don't deserve that kind of behavior, you're not a shitty person for trying to figure out your gender. you're not shitty for being happily married to a cis man. i have so many words so i hope i won't give you a reply that's too long to parse

no matter what people's beliefs are, everyone is reinforcing that women need to hate men. like you're right it's just everywhere. not just queer communities. it's weird. it's like, i get it, the way we force men to act is absurd. we need to focus on helping men snap out of the shitty things we force them to do and support them in growing and changing. also like i don't get how people dont see how terrible it is to openly admit that they see trans men, queer men, gay men, bi men, disabled men, men of color, intersex men, multigender men, and so on. there are so many groups of men affected by this i dont get why people don't care

this "safe space" thing has gotten abused to hell and back. it's out of control, now it's being used as a gatekeeping tool. it's weird to me but people are defining things like this:

general lgbt/queer communities = women's safe space

lesbian community = women's safe space

nonbinary community = women's safe space

butch, gender non conforming, genderqueer community = women's safe space

genderfluid, bigender, multigender communities = women's safe space

bisexual, pansexual, polysexual, & polyamorous communities: women's safe space

like it's gotten way out of control. people think that every experience that doesn't outright say man is a women's safe space. and even then, we see entitlement there in the transmasculine and trans man communities as well. the thing is is like. these are intended to be communities. not safe spaces. like

women's groups exist. there are groups dedicated to providing safe spaces for just women, irl. a lot of the time they're based out of crisis and sexual assault survivor clinics, but there's also ones for homeless women, and so on. like i honestly guarantee you that if you googled "women's safe space" you'd find some local, brick and mortar places designed to be there for women and only women. like. those. exist.

we don't have to turn the entirety of queerness into a women's safe space. i feel like women who have been hurt by men are running to the wrong place a lot of the time. or they expect every other queer person to have the same trauma as them. like i think people in general are very queerphobic and assume that most queer people are women, for some reason?

i don't know why people view this as the "running away from men club". that's how terfs define the lesbian community. if you want to show people why this is dogshit, it's because that's literally how terfs define lesbianism. that's how rad fems define lesbianism. the "we hate men, we never want to be around men ever again, men are inherently dangerous" club is the lesbian separatism club.

people often say "why is there a lot of talk of lesbian supremacy lately?"

it's because so many people got indoctrinated into rad feminism without ever realizing it. queer communities are not the "we hate men" communities. those are rad fem communities.

so many queer spaces need to involve men, because men are very important in so many queer experiences. erasing their experiences and denying them the right to be in those spaces isn't helping anyone. if people want to be in all woman groups, they need to search specifically for that. if someone defines "lesbian" as "women's only safe space," they're looking for a women's space. honestly, maybe people just need to be nudged in the right direction. maybe not enough people know there are literal all woman safe spaces irl that help women with homelessness, sexual and domestic abuse, childcare, substance abuse, mental health, and many other resources.

sometimes there are behavioral health and crisis centers that accept just women. some psychiatric hospitals have spaces for just women. it really is possible to create, nurture and participate in womens only spaces. people are just trying to take over something they personally don't belong in, and it's insane that that's the norm right now. people are obsessed with going backwards in terms of progress in accepting diversity in queer lives.

anyway, i hate this shit, so i hope things improve for you soon, people are just. so proud of being mean right now. people are proud to be assholes and they take it out on disadvantaged men. isn't that sad? people are pissed off about patriarchy, the establishment ABOVE us, so they attack poor, mentally ill, disabled, neurodivergent, intersex, trans, queer men and men of color, as if that'll solve anything.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Gentle on My Mind - Chapter 8

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

A/N: Just to say there's some fairly dark stuff in this chapter, so please do have a look at the warnings before you read.

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 4.3K

TWs: Infidelity, vomiting, graphic descriptions of childbirth, sexual assault (Elvis is not involved), descriptions of an abusive/coercive partner (again, not Elvis), fainting, crying, teasing, oral (m and f receiving), face fucking, size kink, edging, panty sniffing!Elvis.

Elvis knows she’s gone for good as soon as he wakes up and sees the empty bed beside him. He almost feels like he dreamt the whole thing, but as he looks around the room he sees the evidence that he didn’t. The burn on the carpet, a streak of make-up on the mirror, the polaroids on his bedside table. He picks them up and looks through them, staring at the lipstick marks she left and her lazily scrawled message. 

If she loves me, why did she leave?

He starts to cry, big, heaving sobs. His Glory. Gone to get married. 

***

As she says her vows, Gloria feels like she’s outside of her body, watching someone else do it. She keeps telling herself that this is the only thing she could’ve done, the right thing, but it doesn’t feel like it. She watches the Gloria who’s getting married smiling as Roger pushes the ring onto her finger. Watches everyone looking at her, her friends and family, her daddy beaming proudly. She desperately tries to get back into her own body as Roger kisses her, tries to be present in that moment, but her mind still wanders back to him. It’s only been a week since she lay in Elvis’ bed and told him she loved him. It’s not long enough to get him out of her mind. 

***

Roger tells her to throw away her birth control that night, and she does it gladly. She can’t wait to be a mama. Roger makes love to her slowly and passionately, and she finally finds herself almost back in her own body again. They go on their honeymoon the next day. He’d initially tried to suggest Hawaii, but she almost flinched at the word. Instead they fly to Cabo and spend the week on the beach there. Lazy living, cooking and eating outdoors, sex twice a day, cocktails whenever they want. She’s happy, for hours at a time. And then something reminds her of Elvis, and she feels a twinge of sadness. That will pass though, it has to. It’s not as if she’ll see him again now. And she has so much else to look forward to. 

***

The house they move into together is still in ‘Frisco, but a part of the city where she knows no-one else. Her friends are a long and frustrating car ride away, her family too. She walks around the big, empty house and plans the furniture she’ll buy. Wandering into one of the other bedrooms, she holds her belly as she daydreams about the nursery she’ll design for her baby. Not that she’s showing yet, and it’s too early to tell anyone, but she knows. 

In those first few weeks in the house she doesn’t even get the polaroids out. They’re hidden in a book, and she almost forgets about them. Her baby is growing inside her and she’s busy planning and buying, painting and instructing delivery men. Roger comes home every day to a home-cooked meal and he kisses her on the temple and calls her baby. They have sex a couple of times a week, and she tells herself she doesn’t need any more. Soon she’ll be a mama anyway. Sex isn’t that important now. 

***

10 May 1969

Glory!

On vacation in Hawaii and I had to send you a postcard. Congratulations on your wedding, I hope you and Roger are very happy. The sun is shining here and we’ve spent a lot of time on the beach. Yisa loves it here! Maybe tonight I’ll try and cook something on the BBQ. 

Love

Your big boy xx

***

Gloria nearly faints when she sees the postcard. Her legs feel weak and she thinks she might be sick. She sits down on the floor and reads it over and over again. How could he do this? Send her this? When he knows she lives here with Roger? How does he even have her address? Her stomach rolls again and she runs to the bathroom to throw up. 

***

“I DON’T WANT TO PUSH!” 

Gloria feels outside of her own body again, watching the woman on the hospital bed, sweating and bloody and screaming that she doesn’t want this anymore. The doctor tries to talk her down, tells her that it won’t be much longer even though she’s sure that’s a damn lie. Roger left ages ago, he can’t stand the sight of blood and she’d already cussed him out and tried to punch him. Eventually they give her some insane cocktail of drugs that help her give birth but do nothing for the pain. They give her stitches for the tear and hand her a crying, wrinkled newborn. She holds him and cries, not sure whether they’re tears of sadness or joy or both. She’s not in a hurry to do that again. She names him Corey.

***

11 October 1969

Glory,

I’m in Hawaii again and thinking of you. My first shows in Vegas were back in July and August. I wonder if you saw anything in the papers about them. I wonder if you think of me at all. I hope we see each other again some time. I’ll leave tickets on the door for you when I play Frisco. I don’t know when, but I hope to soon. 

Your big boy xx

***

Gloria is in too much of a daze to be upset when she finds the postcard. It’s lucky that she scooped up the mail first, lucky Roger didn’t see it. She hides it with the other one, and the polaroids. Staggers to bed and lies down, hoping to get some sleep before Corey wakes up again. 

She lies in bed that night, waiting for Roger to finish brushing his teeth. He gets in next to her and pulls her close to him, immediately starting to kiss her neck. She grumbles. 

“C’mon, baby.”

He pushes her nightie up and starts to pull her panties down. She stares at him in disbelief. She’s so tired. 

“Roger… I’m still not ready…”

He shakes his head, pulling his pyjama bottoms down and starting to stroke himself. 

“It’s been such a long time, baby.”

She tries to wriggle away from him. He hadn’t wanted sex for a long time. Ever since she’d started to show, in fact. She tried to initiate, but he just rolled away. Even though she’s had her stitches out now and the doctor gave her the okay to have sex again, she feels like she never wants anything else near her vagina. All she can think of is the pain and the tear and it all still seems too raw. 

“Roger, no.”

He leans on top of her, pushing her legs open roughly and starting to push his dick inside. She whines. 

“You’re my wife,” he tells her, firmly. “And I want you now. Be quiet.”

She cries silently as he rapes her. She doesn’t think of it as rape at the time, doesn’t think that’s even possible when you’re married. But later on she realises it for what it is. She said no and he carried on regardless. 

***

The months pass by slowly, the house is finished and Gloria has nothing to do in the days apart from taking care of Corey. There’s not even any housework to do since Roger hired the maid. Gloria thinks she’s too pretty to be a maid really, but the house is always spotless. She fell pregnant again not long after she gave birth, and it’s not long now until she’ll be in the hospital again. As soon as she found out she started to look for news of Elvis in the papers. Left Corey with the nanny and took herself to the movie theatre to see Change Of Habit. She looks at the polaroids every day, and sometimes sits in the bed she shares with Roger and touches herself, looking at them and thinking of Elvis. She re-reads the postcards too. Missing him more than she imagined she could. 

Her second birth is a lot easier, and this time it’s a girl. She names her Jacqueline, Jackie for short. She knows that Roger will want another child so she calls her sister and asks for help. Her sister’s husband goes with her to the doctor to help her get back on birth control. She doesn’t tell Roger and prays he’ll just give up on the whole thing. She hates him touching her, but what choice does she have?

***

“Elvis! She’s here!” 

Those are the words he’s been dying to hear, thinking about them so hard he almost wonders if he’s hallucinated them. 

“What?” He snaps. 

“Gloria. She’s here, E.” Joe repeats. 

“Well move her to a box, make sure she can see properly. And get her backstage afterwards. Don’t lose her.”

Joe nods and just says yes. He decides it’s best not to get into the fact that he’s already moved Gloria and her sister into a box and told them he’ll collect them afterwards so they can go backstage. He’s never seen Elvis so agitated. 

Elvis’ stage fright is worse than ever before. He can’t believe she’s finally going to see him perform. He has to do everything right. Panicking, he runs to the bathroom to throw up.

***

Gloria stares at him as he comes onstage. He looks incredible in white and she can’t help being reminded of Walter Hale. He launches into That’s All Right at almost double-time, ripping through the words and the music as if he’s in a race to reach the end. She feels like he calms down a few songs in, and his eyes finally flick up to hers. She stares back at him and doesn’t know quite what else to do. She tries to make her mouth curl into a smile but she can’t do it. All she wants to do is cry. 

Elvis sees her looking sad and keeps trying to do things to cheer her up. He messes with lyrics, he karate-kicks the air, he talks about all sorts of nonsense between songs. Somewhere around Blue Suede Shoes it seems to have worked, and he finally sees that beautiful sunshine smile of hers. He wonders what has happened since he saw her last to make her seem so melancholy. He doesn’t have much time after the show before he’s driven to LA, but he has to find out what’s wrong with his Glory.

Her sister had raised an eyebrow at the way Joe had run up to her and made them move seats, the look on his face had suggested that Gloria meant a bit more to his boss than just someone he’d worked with on set a few times. But she isn’t one to ask questions. She doesn’t think Gloria is happy with Roger, and as she watches her sister watch Elvis, she thinks that this is the happiest she’s seen her for a while. 

***

Gloria trembles all the way backstage, sure her legs are going to give out. When she finally gets there he’s almost too much to deal with, it’s like he’s glowing with some kind of ethereal light. 

“Glory? Glory!” 

Elvis catches her in his arms as she faints, carrying her to the nearest couch and shooing people out of the way. She comes round and his blue eyes are the first thing she sees. 

“Elvis,” she whispers. “Is it really you?”

He nods. “Really me, Glory. Just take it easy now. Ya fainted, honey.”

“I’m Patricia, her sister.”

Elvis looks up quickly at the slightly stern tone. Making sure Gloria is propped up against the back of the sofa he stands up and shakes her hand. 

“Pleased to meet ya, Patricia. Do you go by Patricia, or Pat? Did ya enjoy the show?”

Patricia wobbles herself under his intense gaze. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen a man so attractive, never mind had all of his attention focussed on her at once. 

“Y-yes, thanks. And, uh… Pat… is fine.” She finds herself blushing like a teenager.

“Good. Glad ya liked it, Pat. And thanks for coming with Glory-a…” he quickly switches to her full name. “I uh.. I had really wanted to see her.”

Pat isn’t stupid, and Elvis carries on laying it on thick. It’s not long before he’s cleared out the entire room, including her, telling Joe to look after her for the next hour or so. He has to find out what’s wrong with his Glory. 

“You feelin’ better, honey?” He asks, after she finishes a glass of water. 

“Yes. Yeah. I think so.”

“You sure?” He strokes her cheek gently with the backs of his fingers. 

She looks at him for a moment and then shakes her head, bursting into tears. “No.” She grabs his shirt and presses her face against his chest, her body shaking. 

“Oh, baby. What’s wrong?” 

He holds her to him tightly, shushing her and kissing the top of her head. “You can tell me.”

“It’s n-nothing. I’m just tired.” She hiccoughs. 

“Is it Roger?” 

She lets go of his shirt and looks up at him, wiping her eyes. “No. Not Roger.” She can’t tell him. Can’t tell him she’s got trapped in this marriage with a man she hates. She doesn’t know what he might do. “Just um… the kids… making me tired.”

His face lights up immediately. “Kids?”

She smiles a little and reaches in her purse for the photos that her and Roger had had taken the other week. “Here. Corey and Jackie.”

“Oh Glory. They are both so beautiful. Just like their mama.”

She smiles a little more. She does love her kids. Even if they keep her awake most of the night and can’t hold a decent conversation between them. 

“Have you got a photo of Lisa?” She asks. Of course she knows what Lisa-Marie looks like. Everyone does. But she wants to see him puff up with pride again. 

“Yeah… yes… here,” he grabs his wallet and pulls out a tiny photo. 

“She’s beautiful.” She looks up at him through her lashes. “Just like her Daddy.”

He beams back at her, taking the photo back and tucking it away again safely. 

“Did you get my postcards?”

She can’t help smiling again. “Yes. Although you shouldn’t sign them off like that! What if Roger had seen?!”

Elvis chuckles. “Maybe Roger needs to know he has some healthy competition.”

“Elvis!” She shoves him playfully. 

“Oh you never used to call me Elvis, Glory.”

She narrows her eyes at him, still smiling despite herself. “I never used to be married.”

He shrugs, grabbing her and putting her on his lap. “It’s never stopped me.”

She can’t stop giggling now. “Well I know that! Do you think that’s a good thing?!” Her hands settle onto the back of his neck as he pulls her closer to him with his big hands. 

“Cilla’s not the girl for me, Glory,” he tells her, his hand moving to her face, pulling her towards him for a kiss. 

She lets him kiss her a little, then pulls back. “Oh really. And who is, exactly?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

He pulls her into another kiss and doesn’t let her out of this one so easily. Her heart is beating wildly, and she feels familiar warmth spreading between her legs. She feels guilt too. She’s married. 

They pull apart, breathing hard, their noses touching. “Did you like the show?” He asks. 

She nods. “You were incredible. I loved the gospel songs. And the outfit.” She smirks. “And your dance moves.”

He sniggers. “Why are you saying it like that?”

“Those aren’t dance moves, big boy, those are sex moves.”

He blushes and laughs and tries to deny it. “N-no, I jus’... feel the music…”

“Oh yeah, yeah. You feel the music. I’ve seen you move your hips like that before and there definitely wasn’t any music!”

They both dissolve into gales of laughter then. He thinks how good it is to see her laugh like this again. He’d been worried about her when he first saw her. Maybe she is just tired. 

When they recover his thumbs are stroking her hip bones. She looks down and then back up at him and smiles, almost shyly. He smiles back and picks her up, putting her back onto the sofa and climbing down off it himself, until he’s kneeling on the floor. He puts a hand on each of her knees. 

“I’ve gotta go to LA tonight, but I’ve got a bit of time to make ya feel good. If ya want me to.”

She doesn’t hesitate, nodding and then croaking out a “yes,” just to make sure. 

He smiles that cute, lopsided grin of his, and then starts to kiss her knee, then the inside of her thigh, pushing her dress up as he goes. She spreads her legs for him, willing his mouth where she wants it. But Elvis is in the mood for a little teasing, and when he reaches the top of her thigh he skips over her panties and starts kissing down the other leg. She moans a little. He looks up, his eyes full of mirth. 

“Y’got somethin’ to say, honey?” Words buzzing against her skin. 

She snorts air out of her nose. “Thought you were making me feel good?”

His head moves back up again, pressing a single kiss to the outside of her panties. “Ya telling me my Glory doesn’t like to be teased no more?” 

She almost squeaks, feeling the words against her pussy, watching him close his eyes and so obviously breathe in her scent.

Chuckling to himself, he kisses the fabric again, a little harder, pushing it against her pussy and then licking where her arousal starts to seep through. Her hands reach to tangle in his hair, pulling his face against her. She feels him laughing against her again. 

“Elvis!”

He moves his head back. “Uh-uh. Ya don’t call me that.”

She groans, pulling his head back where she wants it as hard as she can. “Big boy…” she mumbles. “Please.” Letting up slightly on his head in the hopes he might move her panties out of the way. 

His hands slide up her legs and a finger hooks her panties to one side for just enough time for him to lick a quick stripe up her, making her cry out. Then he lets them go again, breathes in her scent and almost nips her with his teeth through the fabric. She pulls his hair. 

“You’re making me crazy!”

Squirming against him, wrapping her legs around his head now and hoping that will give her what she wants. She can feel when he’s grinning, when he giggles against her, that he’s finding this whole thing very entertaining. Even gripping him with her thighs, rolling her hips and basically grinding against his face isn’t getting her any closer to orgasm. She lets her legs flop open and lets his head go, groaning in frustration as her head tips back and her eyes close. 

Elvis wastes no time taking her panties off and diving right into her pussy, making her moan and throw her head forwards again to look at him. He’s not giggling anymore, he’s doing everything he possibly can to make her come as fast as possible, and it’s working. Her hands find his hair again and she grips it between her fingers as she rides his face, his tongue deep inside her as his nose presses against her clit. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck…” she mumbles, feeling herself about to snap. 

His hands push her legs even further apart and he somehow buries his face even deeper in her pussy, coaxing that dizzying high out of her. He loves watching her come undone, the way her voice breaks, the arch of her back pushing her breasts forward. With one final moan she comes and he licks her patiently through it, trying to somehow keep breathing despite the way she’s holding him against her.

“Oh my god,” she murmurs as she lets him go, flopping back onto the sofa again. 

“Was it good, baby?” He teases, that amused little look on his face again as he wipes it with his shirt sleeve. 

She opens her eyes and shakes her head a little, grinning back. “Oh yeah. Okay. It was good.” Rolling her eyes a little. “You’re still the best I’ve ever had. Come here.” Patting the sofa cushion. 

He grins and does as he’s told, expecting a kiss or a cuddle. Surprised when she leans over and undoes his belt, unzips his pants and pulls his dick out. 

“Payback time.”

His eyes go wide. “Oh honey… no… I mean…”

“Awwww. Big boy doesn’t like being teased?” She taunts, running her tongue around the head. 

He groans. The way he’d just treated her this was going to be torture. 

“Please, Glory,” he tries. 

She just giggles a little and then takes him in her mouth, swirling her tongue around. His hand immediately moves to the back of her head, fingers in her hair. Just as he’s starting to forget what she’d said about the teasing, she pulls off him and licks the tip a couple of times like a lollipop. He throws his head back and groans. 

“Oh, you think that’s bad?” 

Wrapping her hand around him, she starts to pump his dick, picking up speed as she slides her mouth back around him again. Feeling his fingers grip her hair, pulling it a little, hearing his breathing speed up until he’s panting and she’s pretty sure he’s close… and letting go and just slowly licking him again. 

“FUCK.”

She moves her head back off him entirely and leans an elbow on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. His face is red and he’s breathless, and she can’t help but feel he looks a little furious. 

“You gonna say sorry?”

He bites his lip. “No.”

She bursts out laughing and he can’t help joining in. “No?”

His eyes dart around the empty room and then he looks back at her, almost sheepishly. “Do it again.”

She’s only shocked for a second, and then she immediately goes back to work on his dick, not wanting him to change his mind. Getting down off the sofa, between his legs, she works him slowly until he’s whining for more, and then starts to pick up speed, her other hand massaging his balls. Sliding her mouth over the head again, she flattens her tongue against it, listening to his tells, watching his face, knowing the exact time to pull away and go back to stroking him agonisingly slowly. 

The noise he makes this time actually makes Joe burst into the room. 

“Boss! Oh… ah… sorry…” Joe blushes and then immediately disappears again. 

“Fuck’s sake!” Elvis shouts after him, then looks down at Gloria and can’t help laughing. 

She’s almost hysterical, her head against his thigh, laughing and laughing at Joe’s facial expressions. 

“Oh God he looked so worried!” She finally manages to get out. 

Elvis smirks. “He should. I’m gonna fucking kill him later.”

“I better not do that again. The police might break down the door this time,” she quips, and before Elvis has a chance to answer her mouth is all around him again. 

She takes him in as far as she can, then starts to bob her head up and down, his hand grabbing her hair again to help her. She squeezes his balls as she moves faster, and he rewards her with a loud satisfying groan. Starting to thrust into her mouth, his hips snap upwards, his hand holding her head still now so he can fuck her throat. He doesn’t last long like this, groaning again as he comes hard, his orgasm hitting him like a train and making him slightly dizzy. His hips jerk a couple more times and then he lets her head go, sighing as he flops against the sofa. She gets up and onto his lap, kissing him gently. 

Their foreheads pressed together, he hums with pleasure. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

They’re silent for a while, and then he opens his eyes again and sighs. 

“I have to go soon.” 

She nods silently. 

“You want your panties back?” 

That makes her giggle again. “You want to keep them?” She asks immediately. 

He somehow finds himself blushing again. He’d taken the other pair she’d left in the Clambake trailer home with him, and used them until they no longer smelled of her. He was a little embarrassed the first time he touched himself while breathing in her scent, but that soon wore off. And then so did the smell. He found himself disappointed that he hadn’t pocketed another pair when he’d seen her last. So… yes he really does want to keep them. But it doesn’t seem like the sort of thing he should say, so he just continues to blush and avoid eye contact. 

“Oh, you do,” she teases. She has no idea how she’s going to get around going home without them on, but right now she doesn’t care. “You keep them then.”

He looks up at her, finally making eye contact again. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I miss the way you smell…” he whispers, almost giggling again in embarrassment but desperate to tell her somehow. 

She hums softly in reply, thinking that she misses the smell of him too. 

“I’ll have to see you again to let you have another pair…”

He pulls her against him tightly. “Please. Please don’t say this is the last time… fuck it. Come on tour with me. I’ll take you everywhere I go and your kids can come too… somehow…” he trails off, knowing what he’s asking makes no sense. 

“You know I can’t do that,” she tells him, pushing his hair back off his forehead. “But I promise this won’t be the last time.” She pauses for a second, and then decides to carry on. Saying it deliberately this time. “I… I still love you.” 

“I love you too, Glory,” he replies. 

***

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[2demondogs]

Can you do Arthur and BioKid!reader (prob age around 5-7) where Arthur sent his kid to school (around 1870, school began to become free) because even if he knows he could teach his kid the basics, he wants better for them.

As we know, schools back then did physical punishments. If a kid lacked behind their fellow students, teachers often saw it as laziness and would punish the kid.

Arthurs kid, who was very excited to attend school, came back from it sobbing their eyes out because they were canned (hit) on their hands for not understanding math and begging that Arthur doesn't send them back.

Obv Arthur, being an amazing dad, doesn't send them back and taught them stuff himself.

Weirdly enough I had a very similar experience at that age but in ballet class. Are any of us okay?

Historical accuracy was attempted. Though the image of being dropped off at school on a horse is absolutely hilarious to me. "Okay little buddy here's a cigarette for lunch, I'll clip clop back at 4. Daddy's gonna go rob a bank now. Hyah!!"

Arthur's a cigarette mom tbh. Also this took literally like 2 months for me to get to I'm so sorry LOL I wanted some familial comfort so I was finally in the headspace for it.

Words: 3k Tags: AU - canon divergence, pre-canon (circa 1888), hurt/comfort, it takes a village so the gang's all here too, angst but also a lotta fluff Arthur is just being Arthur (aka a killjoy), gender-neutral reader

Few things in his life have brought Arthur as much pride — in someone else, in himself — as the grin plastered on your face the first day of school.

Boadicea disliked the amount of people, the small kids that tried to stroke her legs before being beckoned away by their parents. Most were used to animals like her, but he could tell the city-bred ones from his own kind: brighter faces, slower walks, cleaner nails. It's the same as their parents, dressed well and sometimes in automobiles.

What an odd gathering these schoolrooms make for. He's always thought it'd be funny to have punted John in the direction of one, but he finds he's had a wrong idea about the crowd. Wouldn't have been as satisfying as he imagined when the man was just a boy, wily and jaded and just like all the other farm kids that he saw trudge in and out yesterday. (Of course, when John showed curiosity about it and asked him what the crowd was like, he told him he was far too stupid to dream of going to school. He is a father, but he ain't John's.)

In another life, he might even stick around to converse with the other parents. He'd pondered it that first day, feeding Boadicea an apple for the trip from camp some miles off and to this building on the edge of town. Arthur wondered if he had had you ten years later, and if he were not so much younger than all these parents, and if you were not so—

Well, misplaced in the world. His own fault. He thinks of it everyday.

He studies the bricks while he smokes and waits at the side of the building, now, early as he was yesterday lest he miss something important. What it would be, he doesn't know. Perhaps he just hopes you'll be given back to him sooner today, because he's coming to realize he's grown fond of knowing exactly where you are. After your mother died, the clinginess is a little more souring than he'd like to feel, so he doesn't study it.

Instead, he flicks ash off his cigarette and considers that it's going to get chilly soon. You've grown since last winter, and he ought to make sure you still fit your coat when he brings you home.

He doubts Grimshaw will mind making you another; seems to like you. Pities you, anyways, because your father is the young, dumb oaf Arthur Morgan. That woman drives him insane, sometimes, but he has learned that she cares in her own way ever since you came along. A certain softness came out in her that, rarely but truly, extended to him, too.

The cigarette is replaced by another by the time the kids begin to pour out of the doors. Youngest first, so there's no wait to see you searching for him.

Already, Arthur knows something is wrong. There's no difference from your usual face, besides whatever calm comes over it when you lay eyes on him— but that calm looks more like an ache for comfort that concerns him, even though he can't tell what, precisely, tips him off. He supposes it's the same thing that changed him to the point of considering your winter clothes, whatever thing makes him a father instead of a simple man.

The ground is tough and sandy below his knee when he drops to one to meet your eyes, brows raised in expectance of some explanation. Even your gait is quicker, your hug tighter; you aren't talking like you were yesterday, let alone grinning, and Arthur pinches his cigarette in his teeth to smooth a hand over your head and back.

That smile had made you seem so grown-up, but now you look so young and small. He takes the smoke from his lips and holds the hand to the side to keep it from your face.

"How's your day, buddy?" He asks, anyways, and frowns when you shrink in his arms and press closer. Peeling away to take a look at you, Arthur runs a hand over the side of your head to brush away your hair. He doesn't see any bruises or scrapes, but still asks: "Y'get in a fight or somethin'?"

You shake your head. His hand is large where it lays on your shoulder, firm and comforting. It only takes a moment for you to give up the silence and struggle to explain.

"She called me lazy," you say.

Arthur's brows furrow. "Teacher, you mean?"

You nod, speaking as if it's difficult not to burst into a shout. Around you, the older kids begin to pour out, but he is only focused on your voice. "She smacked me with a ruler."

"What?" He interrupts.

It comes out harsher than he means it to, and he strokes a hand over your head when you flinch. Jesus, you're on edge if you're flinching at him. Anger broils hot and instant in his gut; he knows very well how most people raise their kids and he had talked long and hard with Grimshaw for yanking on your ear one too many times but regardless, it isn't anyone's place to lay a hand on you. It isn't even his — he isn't Lyle, and you're considerably more of an angel than he ever has been himself — but it certainly isn't anyone else's.

"Where?" His eyes pass over you, searching.

Looking over the handsewn clothes Grimshaw had done-up for you, adorned with those gaudy little buttons Dutch had popped off of some nice suit jackets during a gathering he'd infiltrated some months ago, Arthur feels even more anger. Six years of raising you and dressing you in love.

It certainly is not her right to smack his child. Our child, he thinks, and the fondness only feeds the disgust. Suddenly, he wonders what you didn't tell him the first day, and if some of those wailing kids were sad for more than simply missing mother dearest.

You hold out your hands, backs up. A few knuckles are swollen, and you wince when he traces a fingertip over them to test how badly.

He bites back a sigh. He feels like he should've known this would happen, although not a single one of them has been inside a schoolhouse. Maybe Grimshaw, seems the type, but she never spoke of it. Still, Arthur thinks he should've known it the same way he knows you'll grow out of your coat this winter.

Isn't it what fathers do? Know things? Lyle hadn't been much of a father, but he always knew things.

Is Arthur worse off than him?

"Why'd she do this?" He asks.

Your face is growing redder and redder, flushed with embarrassment and shame. He wishes he had the words to soothe that, but he knows a scolding like this always leaves a certain rawness in a child. He'd had plenty of them himself.

"I was bein'... in— inatten..." The frustration of not being able to remember and repeat the word wells tears in your eyes, but Arthur's heard enough.

"Hey, it's a'right," he hushes, shaking his head. Takes a quick drag and blows it to the side. "Let's get'chu home, okay?"

You ignore him, trying to explain: "I was bad at math."

"Shit, I ain't no good with numbers, neither," Arthur says, and then catches himself. "Don't say shit. Okay?" You nod. A small flicker of your lips into a smile makes him feel better, though you still look like a kicked puppy and it makes his heart ache. "Let's get'chu home," he repeats, and this time you listen.

He's never seen Hosea so displeased.

That's untrue; he has, over gunshots and blood-puddles. It feels like a gunshot to see you burst into tears, curled into the man's chest after Arthur tried to encourage you to talk to him about what happened. He had always been better with words, but he remembers while watching him handle your sobbing that Hosea has always been better with comfort, too.

Hardly had the man picked you off your spot hugged to Arthur's front atop Boadicea — did so yesterday too, and if today was just as happy then Arthur would've been glad to see it turn into a habit — before you broke into tears once more. He had quieted you eventually on the ride with the promise of not returning, although he intended to talk it over with the others before he decided once and for all.

Our kid, he thinks warmly, and then: I feel like a kid myself. Some things come naturally when you have a child, he's finding, but so much of it just doesn't.

"Teacher smacked 'em with a ruler. Poor thing's knuckles are all..." Arthur explains, sighing heavily, waving with a hand in the air as if to say: fucked up. Hosea will jump off that crate he's sat on and smack him if he talks that foul in front of you. At least I'm grown enough to take a flick to the nose, he thinks bitterly. "Doesn't wanna go back, now."

Hosea seems to struggle through the same thoughts as he did, prying your hand off his chest to take a look. It's normal for others, though not for them. Not with you, at least. He can almost see the memories of similar punishments in his eyes. Still, Hosea pats your back and picks you off himself to hold your face.

"You think your Daddy knows everything you need to know, anyways, do you?" He asks.

It's a tease, mostly, humor to get you to stop crying. You're too upset to realize, and only nod. Arthur could cry himself at that. I'm still a kid myself, he thinks, in the back of his mind; Hosea only smiles at him, before righting his expression to look at you.

"I figure we all do," he says. Looking to Arthur, he raises his brows. "You intendin' to try again?"

Arthur sighs, shrugs his shoulders. He doesn't feel so dissimilar to you: vaguely ashamed, upset, embarrassed. "I was gon' ask what'chu thought I oughtta do," he admits.

Almost imperceptibly, Hosea's face softens further. "Well," he says, looks back to you to dry your eyes and wipe your nose with the sleeve of his button-up. Natural-born for a man that's never raised kids this young. "I never was in school, 'n' I'd say I'm quite well-educated."

"Never had a class on humbleness, I see," Arthur says.

Hosea snorts. "Don't listen to him," he says without sparing a glance.

"What's humbleness?" You ask, oblivious.

"Oh," Arthur says, steps forward to ruffle the hair atop your head. "Y'see, Uncle Dutch is real humble."

The other man bites his cheek to stave off a smile. "Arthur," he warns, looking up at him.

But it's a good opportunity to send you off and allow the two of them to talk in private, so he leans over to catch your gaze. "If you go tell Dutch he's humble, I'll give you a dollar," he promises, patting your shoulder.

"Is humble mean?" You ask.

"Y'catch on quick," Arthur says, grinning. John has certainly given you coins to say worse to him, though he found it funny each time. Your face is puffy and red, and he finds it sweet that you paused every other thought going through your head to consider it. "No, it ain't mean, sweetheart. Very nice, in fact."

Very mean to lie about, he thinks, and when you turn on your heel to go and earn yourself a dollar, he knows you will be just fine. Hosea laughs only when you've pattered away.

"Odd critters, kids," Arthur says. He sounds far too fond.

It was an easy choice. It had been a stretch to even take you to school, and the adults had all agreed that you'd likely miss most of it, anyways. They could only change so much about their lives, even if it was no way to raise you.

Sometimes Arthur wonders what it'd be like to live a normal life with you. To find someone to help him raise you proper, like a civilized family. He doesn't speak of it, but he's sure they all know that he wonders. Maybe they do, too. He thinks on it less after testing those waters with school, but once in a blue moon, the dream comes back to him.

Arthur ran into a block, as far as teaching you how to read went. He'd sat you on his lap and tried his damnedest to answer the fifty questions that every sentence of Dutch's borrowed book provoked you to ask, but he had run out of answers very quickly despite it being one of the simplest ones he had to offer.

For the last two days, he has been laying awake at night trying to answer why, exactly, bear means both an animal and an action that seemingly makes no sense. Tried and failed to use Hosea's beat-up old Bible to teach you a few words, because by the second verse it was losing him a little, too. That one made him feel quite stupid.

Hosea is better suited for that, they'd decided. He seemed a little tired being asked to teach yet another person to read, but Arthur knows that irritation is only skin-deep and watches it disappear whenever you're around. When Arthur said he wasn't sure where to start with writing, either, Hosea put a hand on his shoulder and told him the alphabet in a tone that told him he was on his own, unless he really got too lost.

It is fair. Arthur wants to teach you as much as he can, too, finds a sort of warmth about it.

The pride he feels watching you copy the alphabet he'd printed out — as steady as he could, admittedly nervous he'd screw it up and somehow damage your intellect forever, is this what being a dad feels like? — was greater than any he'd felt before. Your handwriting is unsteady, and he has to readjust the pencil in your grip more than once, but by all accounts, it is much easier to answer what sound does this make? than what's a garden?

He lets you work. Arthur likes, too, that this way your first writings will be kept in his journal. He already protects it like a sacred thing; now, it'll probably be on his body or in his pocket until you're old enough to marry someone. Even then, if all goes well, he'll have it.

Oh, how the thought of you growing up distresses him. He can't imagine what you might look like older, even though it sneaks up on him every year come your birthday that your eyes and nose are looking more adjusted to your skull, that your face is sharpening out from baby-round. He could hardly picture John as anything but the scraggly little mutt Dutch dragged back into camp when he had. It's a familiar, more intense fear.

Shit, Arthur doesn't even know what he himself will look like come three year's time.

He's twenty-five and still changing. Will he see what your face settles on?

Is this what it is to be a father?

He thinks so. There can't be any other truth, because he's faced this feeling every time you've hit a milestone. He was glad you didn't need to be carried constantly anymore, but so very depressed that you could walk; he was overjoyed when you said his name clear as day for the first time, but he was terrified at the thought that he may one day be Arthur to you.

It's sad, but it makes him smile when you look up and proclaim that your wobbly rendition of the letter W — dubba-yuh, as you say, he won't ever get over how children always sound like they are drunk — looks almost exactly like his.

Grimshaw and Hosea make a fuss, playing cards at the poker table some yards away. You ignore them entirely, absorbed in your own little world, writing at your own pace. With ears that turn off so easily, he worries about how you'll do hunting. He could've heard Grimshaw asking Hosea in exasperation why he's not cheating, you old fool, from a mile away.

Then comes Dutch, after you've scrawled a few more letters. Walking quiet up to the pair of you sat in the grass outside Arthur's tent, observing from above you before he speaks.

"Arthur?" He asks, and he sounds odd, considering that they're doing nothing unusual.

He looks up. "Yeah?"

Dutch points to the open journal. You look between them, then, interested in whatever is going on now that your dad is involved. "Did you forget the letter Z?"

Arthur squints, looks back at the journal. Oh. His ears turn red, but he only clears his throat. "I mean, who uses Z anyways?" He dismisses.

The prospect of being able to show some kind of smartness beyond a full-grown adult's seems to excite you. "Where's Z go?" You ask Dutch.

He kneels, takes the pencil and book from you to write it in after Y. In cursive. Christ, Arthur thinks, but he doesn't say anything.

"Right here, my dear," he says. Handing you the pencil back, he smiles as you skip over the others to add your own interpretation early. "Now, will you cover your ears for me?" Perplexed, but you obey anyways. Arthur is already narrowing his eyes before Dutch turns to him. "You are a goddamn fool, you know that?"

There's no malice in it, only amusement. He looks positively chuffed, which almost irritates Arthur more than if he truly meant to call him an idiot. "Who even uses Z?" He repeats, waves a hand. "It ain't that big'a mistake."

"I don't know," Dutch scoffs. "A zebra?"

"A zebra?" Arthur says, in disbelief. "You ever seen one for y'self?"

Dutch's brows raise. "Are you—?" His face falls into mock graveness. "Arthur Morgan," he says, feigning disappointment. "You can't be serious."

"Well, have you?"

"I ain't gon' dignify that with a response," Dutch says, turns to smile at you. He always smiles at you, at least, Arthur likes that about the man. He plucks one of your hands off your head. "You're good, now, honey. Keep writin'."

[youandthemountains]

it probably is insane how much I wish I could express the thing about spones. the vibes about spones. Like there's the joking fun fandom vibes and I love them, I love to play with them, of course of course. but the THING. the CORE to me. i wish i could capture it and share it.

[odysseys-blood]

begging on my hands and knees please pb stop killing your own game its getting quiet in hereeee

[technicolorxsn]

love how there are pretentious video essays that just repeat the book and meander and ramble about house of leaves. it's what zampanó would have wanted. it is not, however, what I want

[undertale-fic-librarby]

I love being called a librarian.

[hyaciiintho]

🌸｡*ﾟ+. If anyone has a nice version of ph*t*sh*p (cracked or not) they're willing to share with me, I would be forever grateful. I got hit with the "You're using an unlicensed version--" message and I can't use mine anymore c': and I can't remember where I had gotten mine and will need to filter through a bunch of... questionable links to find it again online.

So if anyone has a link to a trusted downloaded, I would appreciate it a ton!

[lunarhoneybunny]

sighs. okay tmi posting sorry guys