#idk why i keep deterring on these asks im sorry friends

[lemmetreatya]

Bertholdt taking the world's longest drag of a cigarette and an equally long exhalation. He's like a depressed dragon.

Look yeah because I genuinely believe if he made it out of the RTS battle we would have seen Bertholdt become a serial chainsmoker!! as in even Zeke would look onto him in horror at the sheer amount of packs he’d go through in a day 😭😭 however even though the stress of being in paradis and having to constantly deal with reiner’s DID is technically over, it’d still be something he does. maybe as a coping mechanism

Most of the balconies in Marley didn’t give much of a grand view.

Apart from the starboard facing ones that gave an oversweep of the teetering harbour, the other higher levels of buildings just gave a dull beige and tan look of the city. There wasn’t much too them and so it’d be understandable if someone didn’t label it as a place they’d like to frequently spend time.

Bertholdt on the other hand enjoyed balconies for different reasons.

The closed off space offered him a solace void. Being able to spend time away from everyone else and alone with himself (alone with his thoughts if he was unlucky) gave him a sense of centring and realignment.

It also gave him a space to chain his cigarettes in peace and without the complaint from other parties.

He liked balconies because they gave him room — something he doesn’t have a lot of in Marley. He even jokes to himself at times that at least over in Paradis, having room from time to time wasn’t a privilege but a right. He guesses even devils could get some things correct.

But alas, Bertholdt wasn’t living that life anymore. For now it was a closed chapter. For now, he was back to being a Marleyan soldier.

A Warrior.

“So these are what all your paychecks go on, huh?”

On impulse, Bertholdt stands tall and straight, his right hand saluting as his cigarette dangled between his lips. Yet, upon seeing it was only Zeke, his body language relaxed. He however couldn’t help his eyes roll in mild annoyance.

“And what about it? You’d rather me squander it on brothels?” He muses.

Leaning his back against the balcony wall, Bertholdt looked a deep drag of his cigarette before forking it out of his mouth and letting the ash ambers fall to the ground by his foot.

Zeke sees the funny side to Bertholdt’s words as he amusingly hums. He doesn’t however forget to light his own cigarette up.

“Not saying that at all.” He says in juvenile spirit. The blonde takes a short inhale of his cigarette before blowing it out as a billow of smoke.

“Although…” He starts. “It would help to maybe loosen up over there every now and then.”

Bertholdt shakes his head at Zeke’s promotion, dropping his now ran-through cigarette in exchange for lighting another one.

“I think I’m alright thanks.” He declines. Zeke only flippantly shrugs as he mumbles a light ‘suit yourself’ in reply.

The two men had a moment of silence as they both smoked at their respective pace.

Bertholdt still prefers to have had this time alone although he guesses Zeke isn’t the worst company to have. It may be a stretch to presume but Bertholdt liked to think that he and the commander got along. Even though he held ranks over him, Zeke was one of the ‘better’ chiefs.

Yet despite his comfortability with Jaeger, Bertholdt was still perceptive enough to take took into account how Zeke didn’t seem as comfortable as he usually would. It may seem fickle but it was weird how he wasn’t leaning over the balcony next to him like he usually would.

Not that it mattered; Bertholdt was fond of the moments people decided not to invade his personal space. However, seeing Zeke stand formally before him made Hoover contemplate that maybe there was an ulterior motive to his superior gracing him with his presence.

As if wanting to prove his speculations right, Zeke dropped his now stub like cigarette to the ground. He squished the habit beneath the toes of his shoes before pocketing his hands and staring just past Bertholdt’s head.

“I don’t think I’m the type to lecture people. I like to leave that sort of stuff for boardroom meetings.”

Zeke’s voice was contemplative.

Bertholdt knew that whatever was coming next was definitely going to be a lecture, or at least an abbreviation of one, and so he braced himself for the talk.

He didn’t reply to Zeke’s vocal inner dialogue, only took another long drag of his cigarette.

“However, if it’s one piece of advice I will give you, is that you need to remember first and foremost that in being a Warrior your body doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to Marley.”

With a clipped laugh masked as a huff, Bertholdt easily dismissed Zeke’s words.

“You don’t need to remind me.” He chides but apparently his commander had else wise to say.

Wagging his finger in Bertholdt’s direction, Jaeger makes an expression that excessively bares his teeth. It was unattractive, but simply for the fact that he was aiming it in the brunette’s face.

“But you see, that’s the thing, Hoover — I think I do need to remind you because this little habit of yours—” He gestures to the cigarette Bertholdt was currently smoking. “Is starting to alarm a few heads at top. There’s talks about you not looking after the state’s property and infringing harm upon it.”

Bertholdt has to hand it to him; for a second, he was almost scared into thinking that Zeke was about to tell him off.

Not that he was scared of the man but had this been said to him back when he first touched the island after all those years, he may have thought differently. But Bertholdt has metaphorically seen the soles of Zeke’s feet. Not that his respect for him was lost, but he was more exposed to the fact that no one ever knew what they were doing. Each and every one of his commanders were fumbling their way through all this, fighting a fight they never saw the beginning of and probably will never see the end.

Corrections like these only ever seemed dogmatic in nature.

“Ha. Of course.”

With a callous edge, Bertholdt chucked down the cigarette from his mouth. He didn’t even bother to out it.

Opting to just stare over the harbour, Bertholdt felt pissed that he even let himself be chastised about the habit. God forbid a devil try and alleviate just some of the national debt that’d been placed so prematurely onto his shoulders.

But he didn’t want to seem defiant.

If anything, he’s surprised Zeke hadn’t mentioned that the higher ups were speculative of his new brazenness since he had returned from the island.

So much of Marley’s facade had unraveled from his eyes in the past year or so but Bertholdt was in too deep to back out now. This was as much his war than it was anyone elses so he guesses the least they can do is forgive him for adopting a sense hubris in himself and allow him to smoke his cancer sticks in peace.

But he guesses even that was too much.

Not bothering to turn his head in Zeke’s direction, Bertholdt offered a reasonable concern.

“Would the long term use of these things even harm us? Won’t our titan abilities regenerate any aliments it causes?”

Bertholdt wasn’t even sure if Zeke was still there. He was so awfully quiet and hadn’t said much after his initial complaint, but the familiar oesophageal clearing confirmed his continued presence.

“I’m sure it would but I wouldn’t know. I haven’t done the science for it.” He pauses. “But despite that, you understand how the habit wouldn’t look benign to them, don’t you? That all it looks like is excessive substance abuse.”

Bertholdt understood.

He wasn’t stupid. Despite how much he may disagree with their concern, he knows where the complaint may have come from. If anything he was more alarmed by Zeke’s fleeting compassion to give him a heads up.

With a softer expression, Bertholdt finally looked back at his commander.

“Never took you to be the caring type.”

“Oh, I’m not.” Zeke’s eyes were shielded as the reflection of the dusking over the sea caused his glasses to gleam white. “I just don’t want them onto me next.”

Of course.

A court yet short laugh left the brunette’s mouth.

Bertholdt should have known that the heads up was merely at the expense of Zeke’s own gain. But he couldn’t be mad. Because really and truly, he knows Zeke could have deterred the higher ups off of him without hinting anything to Bertholdt. Even though he denied caring, he showed it sparingly in his own warped way.

Taking out another cigarette for himself, Zeke fitted it between his lips before lighting it up and taking a puff. He then held the stick between his fingers as he pointed it in Hoover’s direction.

“But I agree, I’d rather you be aware that there’s targets on your backs and have a chance to deter them, than find out in an off-meeting that they’re shortening your Warrior term because of a choice you made out of bad habit.”

Bertholdt eyed the burning stick in front of him before turning back to look over the balcony view.

“Thanks.” He mutters.

There was a bit of shuffling first but then a quietness ensued which was a lot more comfortable than before. However, it’s only after he could no longer smell the burning of ash that Bertholdt realises the only reason why the silence was comfortable was because he was finally alone again.

[free-pool-trash]

folklore - isaac lahey {5/?}

hey! this part is honestly mostly angst? like i think the start of it is ok but the rest is angsty as hell, because pre-bite isaac <333

mostly isaac/reader in this chapter and a little Derek towards the end, also peter but mans can’t talk yet so idk if he counts?

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!! reblogs and comments are so appreciated <3

word count: 4k

warnings: blood, sad thoughts, reader being sad, isaac being sad, mentions of abuse, swearing

FOLKLORE MASTERLIST

Taglist: @makeusfreefromthisfandom​, @cece-lives-here​, @chocolate-raspberries​, @belsandthings​, @dancing-tacos-23​, @truly-dionysus​, @britty443​, @tanyaherondale​, @furiouspockettoad​, @yunsh-17​, @random-thoughts-003​, @gloomybrieyxb​, @futuristicslimemongerbanana​, @linkpk88​, @big-galaxy-chaos​, @im-a-stranger-thing​, @riaisnotcool​ let me know if you’d like to be added <3

The lights in his room were dim as they always were when you walked in. It’d been nearly two weeks since you’d last visited Peter, between becoming a vampire and trying not to get in a fist fight with Derek every five minutes you hadn’t had the time or energy to visit your favourite Hale.

When your eyes fell on him a strange feeling settled over your chest, you couldn’t quite put your finger on the sensation but if you had to describe it in one word; unsettling. It didn’t deter you from sitting in front of the man the feeling was coming from, though. If you were trapped in your own body you’d probably feel a little unsettled too.

Not wanting to waste anymore time you sat down in your usual seat across from Peter, shaking the feeling off as best you could before giving him a pleased smile, “Long time no see. I’ve got so much to tell you…” You trailed off, shaking your head when you caught yourself waiting for him to reply.

“First of all I got attacked by a werewolf which sucked and now I’m a vampire which, coincidentally, also requires a lot of sucking.” Silence.

“And I made some new friends, which is cool- Isaac got a little jealous but it’s fine, I handled it. I feel bad keeping him in the dark about all of this but I just want to keep him safe y’know?” Of course you received no answer, opting to continue filling Peter in despite his usual lack of response.

“Your nephew has been driving me crazy, by the way.” You informed him, letting out a grunt at the thought of how annoying Derek had been over the last few days, “He’s got this tough guy thing going on, I think it’s just to psych Scott out honestly, which is fine! But it’s the fact that he’s keeping it up with me as if I haven’t known him for seventeen years!” 

If Peter had control over his body you knew he would’ve laughed at your annoyance towards his nephew, he always had. Whenever Derek teased you growing up, it was always Peter that you’d go running to.

“Uncle Peter!” The man sighed at the sound of your shrill voice, closing the book he’d been reading out on the porch as you ran up to him with an angry pout on your face.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He asked, opening his arms as you threw yourself into them. You let out a puff of air, settling yourself on Peter’s knee as he sat on the porch steps. “Derek said that because I’m only six I can’t play basketball with him and his friends!” You whined.

Peter only scoffed, his arms pulling you close as he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. They’re idiots, each and every one of them.” 

There was always something about uncle Peter, he had a certain tone of voice that made anything he spoke sound like gospel. If Peter said it, you believed it. That was just how it was, thinking about it now you figured that your attachment and high level of trust in Peter probably had something to do with the fact that he’d practically initiated you into his pack when you were so young. Truth be told, he was the hardest loss of the Hale’s for you to come to terms with because even though he hadn’t died he’d still been lost.

You twiddled with your fingers as your thoughts began to wander, getting the hang of heightened emotions wasn’t so easy now that you were sat in front of Peter, or what was left of him. You hadn’t noticed the tears that had built up in your eyes until they began to sneak down your cheeks, slipping down your chin and coating your neck with their salty stream.

All you could do was imagine that he was more than an empty shell, that he was himself and listening intently, that he was just waiting for you to finish before he offered his sage advice.

“I really wish you could tell me how to handle all of this.” You sniffled out, pressure in your chest growing as, for once, it was the weight of your own emotions weighing it down. 

Since being turned you hadn’t gotten a chance to stop and breathe or really even think about what was happening to you, living in a constant state of confusion, fear and loss. 

“I just feel… so lonely that I can hardly breathe sometimes-“ Your breath hitching stopped your confession in its tracks while your tears continued to fall freely down your face, there was no point in trying to wipe them away- you’d broken the dam.

Your watering eyes focused on the ceiling as you poured your heart out to the man who was essentially your second father, despite the fact he was more or less completely unresponsive you still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his empty gaze. 

“Nobody knows what I am, really. And it’s like I’m all on my own and nobody knows how to help me or- or anything!” Eventually you met his eyes and it was then that your feeling of sorrow grew considerably bigger, the pang in your heart sinking all the way down to the pit of your stomach as a new layer of tears replaced the ones that had just fallen down your cheeks.

“I’ve upset you.” You stated, heart racing at the fact you’d managed to upset Peter Hale himself.

Quickly you wiped your tears away, your face was still wet as you took a deep breath, shaking away the feeling that was eating you up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying I just- I really need someone to talk to, you know? Usually I’d go and rant to Isaac but I can’t tell him anything and it’s killing me but everyone told me not to and I also told myself not to… it’s a mess. I’m just so lost.”

Peter, as usual remained quiet, but there was something in his eyes- it was quick and barely there but you’d seen it. They’d flashed red. 

*

After you composed yourself, you left Peter’s room and made your way to school, you’d woken up early to visit Peter.

As soon as you entered the building your feet moved quickly towards your locker, you sorted your books out as fast as you could before making your way to Isaac’s locker. Your meeting with Peter had shaken you up and honestly, in the moment, you just needed your best friend. 

As usual when you arrived by Isaac’s side you alerted him by gently tugging on his sleeve, you didn’t know why but he was extremely nervous, to the point where you felt your own stomach beginning to turn. Even though you’d sought him out for your own comfort you discarded that plan as soon as you met his eyes, he needed to be comforted more than you did right now.

“What’s wrong?” You immediately blurted out, grabbing his free hand that hung by his side unlike the other that held his locker door open, knuckles turning white from how tightly he clung to the metal door.

Isaac only shook his head, he gave you the smile that he always gave you, the one that screamed “please don’t worry about me” but you knew better than to believe that smile because as gorgeous as it is, it’s fake.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.” He squeezed your hand in an effort to deter you, but yet again, you knew better. 

Letting your eyes roll, you furrowed your brows, “Seriously, tell me what’s bothering you.” You demand not missing the defeated look that fell on his face when he hung his head, brown curls falling over his eyes, “Nothing, (Y/n). Just the parent teacher conferences are happening tonight…” He trailed off as he shuffled his feet.

The realization of why he was so nervous about it hit you like a ton of bricks and you didn’t care who was watching when you threw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you with a sigh. “How is it gonna go?” You asked, already knowing the answer would be: not well.

Isaac’s arms held you against him tightly, stabilizing you as you had to stand on your tiptoes to get a good grip around his shoulders, ever since he’d had his growth spurt when you were both thirteen if you wanted to hug him properly you’d always need to get on your tiptoes. He wouldn’t lie though, he thought it was the cutest thing. 

“I’ve got a C minus in Chem.” He muttered against your neck, tightening his grip on you for dear life, you both knew Mr Lahey wouldn’t be pleased. 

With a little grin, in an attempt to lighten the mood you pulled your head back to look your best friend in the eyes, “Should we dip? Run away? Move to France?” The question was made with humor but you were really considering the thought of just dragging him out of the school’s double doors and flying away to somewhere sunny where the pair of you wouldn’t have to deal with any of the shit you have to deal with in Beacon Hills. 

Isaac gave you a sad smile, connecting his lips to your forehead quickly with rosy cheeks before disconnecting from you, “I think that would probably make things worse.”

Before you could respond Isaac shut his locker and spoke again, “Anyway, what had you so upset a few minutes ago?”

Deciding that today wasn’t the best day to confide in him you simply offered him a sad smile and weak explanation.

“Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Wanted a hug.” Isaac let out an airy laugh, tilting his head to the side with a smile.

He beckoned you in for a side hug, “Get in here.” Immediately you obliged, attaching yourself to the boy’s side as the pair of you walked towards your first class of the day.

All you hoped was that his anxiety didn’t get the better of him today or later on when his father confronted him, so, as any good friend with supernatural abilities would, before you parted ways you made sure to transfer some much needed relaxation onto the boy who was positively teeming with fear. For now, it was all you could do for him without exposing yourself, you prayed it was enough.

*

As the day drew on your mind drifted from your conversation with Peter to your conversation with Isaac constantly. Understandably. You needed to get on top of your heightened emotions and you needed to do it fast, because to put it simply; you were drowning.

But like you mentioned to Peter, nobody knew anything about anything, not even Deaton could tell you how to gain control or even tell you the full extent of your capabilities. The loneliness was what hit the most. It was that empty, distant, ever-sinking feeling that was slowly but surely swallowing you whole. Scott had Derek, not to mention Stiles, to help him figure out everything he needed to know, an experienced wolf and a loyal best friend to walk him through everything, to support him, to keep him grounded, to tell him the dos and don’ts of being a wolf.

What did you have? An unwavering loyalty to a member of a pack who was barely even alive? Half baked theories from books of lore that your parents managed to dig up from some dusty corner of the attic? Derek who spent all of his time focused on Scott despite a member of his own pack being in obvious distress? A best friend you can’t confide in because he’s just as broken as you are? It didn’t seem fair.

The bite turned you to a vampire instead of a wolf, every night you wondered why you’d taken this form when seemingly nobody else had ever been turned by wolf bite, the conclusion you’d come to was that it was just some sick karmic joke. A test of endurance that you weren’t sure if you were going to pass. The universe spotted you- hand picked you as it’s favourite love-sick, hopeless romantic with a heart too big for her body and with a soul that felt emotions as vast and deep as the ocean. It chose you, but the gag was you never wanted it to be you. For once, you wished someone else had won the prize that felt more like a curse.

It was all too much. You felt too deeply. Every emotion consumed you, every sound vibrated like bass from a speaker, every touch sparked like static and every beating heart made you hungry. But every time you even so much as pondered simply giving in to the feelings, of letting go of that rope that seemed to be holding your empathy close and letting it fall away, every time you entertained those thoughts that voice, from the first night, would ring through your skull and echo until you agreed to the words being spoken by the oh so familiar voice. Don’t let it kill you.

Scott had been nowhere to be seen all day, nor had Allison, it was only when you’d spotted Stiles sitting alone at lunch that you’d realized that the wolf and his girlfriend probably ditched. 

The final bell eventually signaled the end of the school day, solemnly you walked alongside Isaac towards the doors of the school, stomach twisting with anxiety knowing that the next time you’d be seeing him he’d more than likely be barring a new bruise or emotional scar.

“Can I drive you home?” You asked, hoping he’d say yes but understanding when he shook his head no, “I cycled here, I’ll take my bike. Thank you though.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, looking at him with worry clear on your face, it was all you could focus on and you were half sure he could feel it too, your efforts of masking it failing.

Isaac could feel the worry seeping off you, but even before you’d turned he always had a knack from knowing when something was on your mind. He knew all your tells, when you were worrying about something you’d bite your lip and furrow your eyebrows, when you were upset you’d wring your hands together or play with your fingers, he knew how you were feeling whenever you were feeling it purely because of the mannerisms you used when you were around him. It’s how he knew that you’ve been hiding something from him since you’d been attacked, the boy didn’t know what it was but he saw it weighing you down, he was determined to get to the bottom of it so he could be there for you. He let out a heavy sigh when he realized in the moment that the roles were reversed and with the way you gazed at him he knew you wanted to be there for him, like you always were.

“I’m gonna be okay, nothing that hasn’t happened before.” He finally spoke in an attempt to reassure you that there was nothing to worry about but his statement only served to upset you more and he silently cursed himself as he watched the corners of your lips sink downward. “It shouldn’t happen ever.” You told him softly, trying your very best to keep your composure when you heard your voice crack.

Glancing around quickly, Isaac grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards your car, knowing how much you hated getting upset in front of people he took the initiative to carry on the conversation in the confines of your car away from the rest of the prying students.

Once you were both situated in the front seats, Isaac spoke up, “I know that you hate seeing me hurt, I know it shouldn’t be like this but it is. I’ll survive, you need to stop worrying about me so much, (N/n).”

“You don’t deserve this.” You muttered, sorrow dripping from each word. 

“(Y/n)-“

“No Isaac! You don’t deserve to be treated like this! Every time I see you hurt it makes me so fucking angry because when you tell me what happened you say it as though you had it coming! But you never do, you never have it coming!” The words left your mouth in a high pitched string of cries as Isaac simply lowered his gaze to his lap, hating how your voice shook in agony for him.

With every word you spoke you became more and more worked up, tears trickling down your face freely now that all the cars in the parking lot were more or less gone. “And every single time I wish I could do more for you- I wish that I could make you see what I see.” Your confession was fragile, the words barely audible as they passed your lips.

Isaac lifted his head, his own eyes welling up, “You have no idea how much you do for me so don’t think like that.” He demanded, his tone far more assertive than you’d ever known it to be.

His hand met your face, gently but quickly, his palm cupping your cheek while his thumb brushed away your tears. For a second, you closed your eyes, imagining the feeling of his hand cupping your cheek happening under better circumstances before reconnecting your eyes with his.

“I’m gonna go home.” He told you, sad smile on his lips as you shook your head, gripping the wrist of the hand he still had placed on your cheek desperately. “Stay.”

“I’ll come over to yours tonight ok? But you have to let me leave.” When you didn’t move, he sighed and pulled his hand away from you himself, trying not to wince at the hurt look on your face.

Your best friend opened the car door and stepped out, leaning in with an arm resting against the top of the door with a look on his face that you couldn’t pinpoint, that feeling had returned to your chest though, the light and flowy one. “Love you, kid.” His lips formed a cheeky grin when the nickname caused you to smile, he hadn’t rubbed the fact he was two months older than you in your face recently, you should’ve seen it coming. Finally allowing yourself to give him a weak smile you gave him an equally as weak, but still meaningful, “Love you too, idiot.” Before he shut the car door and made his way towards his bike.

*

To put the cherry on top of an already stressful day when you got home Derek was waiting at your dining table expectantly. The first words leaving his mouth being, “Where’s Scott?”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a blood bag out of your fridge, Stiles had been sweet enough to fill some bags for you since you were both still trying to work out the whole euphoric feeding situation, feeding on Stiles on a school night usually meant Stiles being completely away with the fairies the next morning and obviously you needed to feed during the week. Blood wasn’t as tasty cold but as weird as it was to admit, it still slapped.

Taking a sip from the small straw sticking out of the bag you raised an eyebrow at the wolf in front of you, “I dunno, Derek. Where’s my hello?” 

“This is serious.” He growled, “So am I.” You rebutted, taking another sip as the man grew more irritable.

He didn’t answer, only growled at you, he was probably hoping you’d buy into his ridiculous power play. You didn’t, obviously.

Nonchalantly, you lifted yourself up onto the counter of the kitchen island, facing Derek and sipping your blood happily.

“Growl at me all you want, D. Scott might buy into your big bad wolf act but I remember when you used to watch Barbie movies with me every single day.” You told him matter of factly, “Things are different now. Scott needs my help.” At his statement your carefree demeanor faltered. You needed his help, but not once since you’d been bitten had the man you considered a brother offered you even a morsel of support but yet here he was in your home, asking for a beta he barely knows.

“If Scott was around today would you have come to see me?” You asked him, keeping your voice as steady as you could.

Derek shook his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “No, because I’m looking for Scott.”

Slowly you nodded your head, allowing his words to sink in. Today had been emotionally draining, sure, but you couldn’t find the strength within yourself to leave this alone.

“So where exactly am I on your supernatural list of priorities? Or am I even on it at all?” The question was harsher than you intended but Derek had a fairly hard head, if you wanted to get a point across you sometimes had to be a little less than gentle with the delivery.

The wolf groaned, head falling back in exhaustion, “Can we not do this right now?” 

Slapping the now empty blood bag down beside you and crossing your arms, you glared, “Answer my question.”

He gave you a hard look, standing up from his seat in what you assumed was an attempt to intimidate you, “I’ll admit you’re not my top priority right now, alright? Scott needs me, you’ll be fine.” A humorless laugh left your lips as you jumped down from the counter, squaring up to the taller man before you with absolutely no fear.

“Are you sure about that, D? Cuz last time I checked, Scott has Allison and Stiles and Deaton and you telling him exactly what to do and when to do it. I have no one.” Derek bit his tongue, his jaw clenched and lips pursed before he gave you a response, “He needs all the help he can get. Your abilities aren’t as difficult to get the hang of as his are.”

“Oh yeah?” It was a challenge, not only had he managed to piss you off and upset you at the same time, he’d also managed to erase the pain of your own transition in favour of defending Scott. 

Derek sighed, the voice in his head telling him to step down when he noticed your fists clenched tightly into balls against your side, “Look (Y/n)-“ He started before a gasp ripped from his throat when you arm gripped his.

The anger, the fear, the pain, the loneliness, the confusion, the weight that came from feeling everything all at once, you made him feel it all, not releasing your tight grip on his bicep until he’d looked down at you with tears glazing his eyes.

Roughly, you ripped you hand from his arm, purple eyes glowing as you stood chest to chest with him, “Maybe if you bothered to check up on me you’d know that my shift wasn’t easy, I don’t have the hang of my abilities and every single morning I wake up and think about how much easier my life would be if I just let them destroy me.” You were seething, Derek’s face was painted in shock as he stood at a loss for words.

“But hey! By all means go help Scott. What’s pack loyalty anyway?” Your words were seeped in venom and as soon as they left your mouth you took advantage of your enhanced speed, running from the room only leaving a gust of wind and an emotionally overwhelmed Derek in your wake.

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Farmer’s Daughter. 3

Ask: OH MY GOD IMAGINE THE READER IS A GIRL FROM A GOOD FAMILY, SHES WITH ARTHUR FOR A WHILE NOW, THE PARENTS WANT TO MEET HIM. THEY’RE HAVING FAMILY DINNER AND THE COWBOY MAN JUST CANT KEEP HIS HANDS TO HIMSELF UNDER THE TABLE oh my god if your request are open and you would write that i would probably, most likely die...oh btw i love the “farmer’s daughter” story OH MY GOD MAYBE THIS COULD BE THE NEXT PART AAAAAAAAH SHIT! okay okay i’m sorry i just got excited! love your writing, have a great day!

Warnings: Cursing, probably. Slightly public sex, ya get fingered at dinner ok? 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: YEEHAW MY FELLOW SLUTS! ENJOY! Also, idk what they called panties back then so I just went with panties, ok? 

Two months later and you had fallen completely in love with the man. You both had told yourselves you wouldn’t let it get that far but it was nearly impossible. Every time you would see each other he had something to give you, be it a new drawing of yourself, wildflowers he had found out in the woods, or some suspiciously expensive jewelry that he wouldn’t talk about.

He hadn’t planned on any of it, really, but multiple times a day he would see something that reminded him of you and he just knew he had to take it. Even the jewelry he had stolen from the folks who were unlucky enough to start a fight with him.

After a while of successfully sneaking around the day came you’d both been expecting. Your father caught him. 

It wasn’t in the way you’d thought it would happen, thankfully. He didn’t walk in on the two of you or catch Arthur climbing up to your room or sneaking out of it. It was more subtle and less suspicious. The two of you, like the fools you were, were out in broad daylight at the stables on your property. You would go out there regularly to spend time with your horse so you knew your parents wouldn’t question you being down there. 

You should have known being that comfortable sneaking around was just asking to be caught. And sure enough, you were.

“(Y/N)? Who is this?”

You fucking twitched. When you turned around you saw your father standing behind you with a look of concern on his face and one of the stable boys watching the whole thing go down. You had given him some money earlier to keep his mouth shut and he sure was getting more than he asked for.

“Howdy mister!” Arthur waved and stepped past you. “Remember me? I stopped by here a while back to ask for some directions.”

Your father squinted and reluctantly shook his hand. Suddenly realization spread across his features as it all clicked. “Oh! Yes!” He laughed and clapped Arthur’s shoulder. “How have you been? Ever find your way?”

“Sure did, thanks to you. I was in town and was asking around, looking to buy some good horses, and a few folks told me you were the man to talk to.” You looked at Arthur with parted lips, in shock at how good of a liar he was. He turned a potential disaster into the most casual and normal interaction without the slightest effort. It was kind of scary.

Your father laughed and nodded, crossing his arms proudly. “You’ve come to the right place, follow me.” 

Arthur tossed you a wink and you had to smile then, dumbfounded by how smoothly the whole thing went.

***

After your father had whisked Arthur away to the expensive section of your stables you went back home. Your mother was preparing dinner along with one of the ranch hands, which surprised you. When you questioned why he was there she explained he was making his mother’s famous gumbo, your mother insisted upon it after she had sent some over to your family. 

When dinner rolled around your father made it back just in time, a surprise guest at his heels. 

“Jane, you remember this man, don’t you? He was the fellow on the white horse who asked for directions to-”

“Of course I do!” She wiped her hands with a kitchen rag, walking into the main room where the two men stood. 

You stood up from the kitchen table to watch the whole thing play out, locking eyes with Arthur who just shrugged.

“He came down today to buy a horse from us!” Your father said as he closed the front door behind them. “And to congratulate him on his purchase I’ve invited him to stay for dinner.”

Your mother smiled happily, it wasn’t often you had visitors that weren’t your families prude friends or relatives. “Good! We’re having gumbo tonight, Thomas is cooking his mother’s very own recipe.”

“Oh!” Your father raised his brows. “The one she sent over yesterday?”

“That’s the one.” 

“Brilliant! I loved that.” 

The two of them talked for a while before Thomas announced the soup was done and your mother went back into the kitchen to help him serve. Your father excused himself to wash up, telling you and his guest to have a seat in the dining room.

You sat down next to Arthur and gave him a look. 

“What?” When he finally noticed you looking at him he furrowed his brows.

“How did you manage that?”

“Manage what?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Come on. You’re the best liar I’ve ever met.”

Arthur shrugged, taking the glass of water that Thomas set down in front of him.

 “You must not of met a lot of people then.”

“All right, then. Keep your secrets.” 

He chuckled and set the glass back down on the table after taking a few generous sips. “Before we almost got ourselves killed, I was going to give you somethin’.” Another gift? He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. “Don’t let anyone see that.” He added with a whisper since Thomas had walked in with the rest of the drinks. 

You smiled at him and slowly unfolded the paper in your lap under the table. Once you had it done you squinted before realizing it was upside down. You flipped it the right way and your face was suddenly burning. Your breath caught in your throat as you took it all in, quickly folding it back up when your mother walked into the room carrying the giant pot of soup. 

The urge to punch him was strong. Why did he have to give that to you then? Why couldn’t he wait? You slipped the paper in the front pocket of your dress and cleared your throat. 

Arthur chuckled and took another sip of water, smiling sweetly at your mother as she started filling everyone's bowls. “Thank you, ma’am.” 

It was impossible to get the image out of your head. It was a drawing of you, completely naked, lying on your stomach with your head resting on your folded arms, your legs kicked up and locked at the ankles. You were looking directly into the viewer’s eyes with a wicked smirk on your face, some of your hair in your face. Once again you looked utterly magnificent, your body drawn in a way that accentuated every part of you perfectly. If it wasn’t a drawing of you, you probably would have gotten off to it. You probably would anyway, knowing Arthur was the one who drew it.

“What horse did you end up buying, Mr…”

“Arthur. The young brown mustang, think your husband called him Taro.”

Your mother nodded and sat down at the opposite end of the table when she was finally done serving. You wished she would let you help with dinner but she was firm in her belief, not allowing you or your father to help her in the slightest.

It was another ten minutes before your father finally joined you, taking his seat beside his wife. “Please excuse me, got carried away with my hair again.” He laughed and eagerly started eating. Your mother shared a laugh with him, chiding him lightly about how vain he was.

Most of dinner was fine, you all talked about the usual dinner subjects such as work, the weather, and town gossip. You barely paid attention though, the image of you drawn naked was stuck in your mind, along with the idea of Arthur drawing it. You wondered if he had done it in the heat of a lust filled moment or if it was just something normal to him.

What finally snapped you out of your thoughts was the feeling of a hand on your knee. You brushed it off at first, it seemed innocent enough, he had done it plenty of times before when the two of you laid together. It wasn’t inherently sexual.

But then he moved his hand lower, brushing his fingers against the hem of your dress. You looked at him with a subtle glance but he refused to acknowledge you at all. 

Crossing your legs you tried to get him to stop but that didn’t deter the cowboy at all. He pulled your dress up just enough to slip his hand under the fabric, then let the hem fall back down over his arm. You wanted to curse him out but you held your tongue and tried to act as natural as possible, taking another spoonful of soup into your mouth. 

“So, Arthur, you never told us what you do for a living.” Your father said after sending one of the kitchen maids to bring out a bottle of wine.

His hand traveled up to your thighs, his fingers gently rubbing circles over your skin. “Oh, well, it’s nothin’ excitin’. I work for a man collecting debts from people. Good money.”

“Oh!” Your father acted impressed, shrugging and exchanging a look with your mother. 

“If that isn’t exciting, I wonder what is to you!” Your mother laughed and so did your father.

‘Maybe fingering your daughter five feet away from you.’ You thought as you shifted in your seat, thankful for how high the table was. If it was any lower surely they would see that the lower half of his arm was extended towards you.

Slowly, extremely slowly, his hand continued it’s journey upwards. You forced yourself to keep a straight face, even when you felt the tips of his fingers brush against your panties. ‘No problem,’ you told yourself, feeling him pull the fabric aside so he could touch you better. ‘No big deal.’

Arthur rubbed slow circles into your clit with a firm amount of pressure, but not quick or firm enough to get you anywhere fast. And he knew it, too. He ate his second bowl of soup just as normally as he did the first, showing no signs of the fact that his fingers were about to be stuffed inside of you. 

You liked to think you looked just as calm as he did. You had finished your soup and were waiting for everyone else to so your mother could bring out dessert, and then you could finally leave the table. If only Arthur would hurry up and finish his meal. 

The small talk carried on and left almost no silence which worked to your advantage. If they were quiet they probably would hear how fast your breathing had gotten, especially when Arthur pushed that first finger inside of you. You had to practically bite through your tongue to keep the moan silenced. 

“(Y/N), you’re quiet, for once. Are you sick?” Your father joked and everyone laughed, including Arthur. That bastard. 

“I’m fine, just like listening to you all talk.” You said quickly, surprised at how even and calm your voice sounded. Almost as if you weren’t being finger fucked. 

That seemed to satisfy them enough and they carried on with conversation.

Normally at dinner, you rarely drank any wine, since you were never able to just have one glass. It always led to two, or sometimes even three, and you would end up passed out on your bed hours before you usually would. But tonight you happily drank, finishing the second glass right as Arthur had two fingers curling inside of you. 

As hard as you tried not to let yourself orgasm you could feel it approaching rapidly. Arthur could too, noting how your chest rose and fell and how you were twitching around his fingers. He slowed down momentarily, allowing you to catch your breath, before he was right back at it, quicker than before. He had a hard-on of his own but with his belt and gun holster in the way, no one would have the slightest idea, even if they looked right at his crotch. Lucky him.

“Are we ready for dessert?” Your mother's voice scared you out of your wits and you jumped. 

“Yes!” You laughed to draw attention away from the fact that you almost spilled your wine. 

She left along with the kitchen maid, directing her to get together new sets of dishes. 

His fingers curled quicker as he sipped on his wine, keeping his eyes anywhere but your father or you. Your father kept up the small talk, allowing you to give yourself the time to focus on having a discreet and quiet orgasm. 

You slowed your breathing as you felt it coming, gripping Arthur’s arm under the table with your left hand as you curled your other hand into a fist around your dress. He looked down at you for a split second, savoring the sight of you as best as he could before he forced himself to look away as to not look suspicious. He gave you a few more deep pumps before you came. The heat and tingles exploded, rippling from your clit and inside your body to your entire form. You bit your lip and looked down, sinking your nails into the skin of his arm. The waves of pleasure that coursed through your body were enough to make anyone scream but you kept your mouth shut and posture still. 

When it finally finished you sat back in your seat, running a hand through your hair as you sighed, wiping the sweat off your forehead when your father wasn't looking. Arthur smirked at you and you threw him the angriest glare you could, but you couldn’t keep it for long. When he chuckled you broke out into a smile and you had to look away so you didn’t laugh.

“Here it is!” Your mother said proudly as she carried the pecan pie into the dining room. “Took me all day!” 

Arthur made a show of looking impressed and your father praised your mother's cooking to no end, telling her that she was the best cook in the whole west. She smiled proudly and served everyone's plates. Thank god you had already came and Arthur’s hand was back where it belonged.

“I’m going to make you regret that.” You whispered to Arthur as your mother talked about how hard it was to find enough pecans. 

“Lookin’ forward to it.”