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witchthewriter · 2 years ago

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𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: Valkyrie’s real name is Brunnhilde, so if you see that name ... that’s why

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑨 = 𝑨𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Brunnhilde is a very affectionate woman, she loves flooding you with kisses, cuddles and the like. She can be very tender; moving the hair from your eyes, holding your cheek in her hand, and lightly kissing your neck.

𝑩 = 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 (What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?)

𝑷𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚: She loves your neck and collarbones. The way your skin looks in the sunlight is mesmerising, and it takes a lot of effort not to reach out and touch you.

𝑬𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚: She loves your sense of humour. Brunnhilde could never be with someone whose humourless or isn’t up for a bit of banter. She’s very witty and not a lot of people can keep up with her mind. But you can, and that’s what she loves about you.

𝑪 = 𝑪𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Brunnhilde adores cuddling. She’s a very physically affectionate person. She isn’t shy, nor does she feel embarrassed by PDA. Love is love. And she wants everyone to know that she’s yours and you’re hers.

When you’re at home, all cosy on the lounge, Brunnhilde will lay on the couch, and pull you to her, so you’re laying on top of her. She gently strokes your hair and traces the shape of your nose and lips. It’s very calming and you end up falling asleep every time.

𝑫 = 𝑫𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

No one can really settle down while being a leader. Especially of a country that whose kingdom was completely destroyed. But in terms of domesticity, Brunnhilde likes the mundane aspect of it.

𝑬 = 𝑬𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 (When something is bothering them, how do they act around you?)

Brunnhilde doesn’t want to bother you with whatever is tormenting her. Unless it’s an argument between the two of you - then she wants to talk about it when you two have calmed down.

When she’s hard a hard day at work, she tries not to bring it back home with her. Your home is her safe/sacred place. She feels like nothing can reach her there. Nothing can harm her or make her feel unworthy.

𝑭 = 𝑭𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒆 (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

The old Brunnhilde would have run from commitment, from being a leader and more pointedly, a partnership, relationship...the thought of tying herself to someone. God, that would have made old Brunnhilde implode.

Now... now she can’t wait to marry you. To solidify your bond for eternity. She wants you that badly. Although she isn’t rushing into marriage (wanting to take things slow rather than fast-paced), she would want you to take the time to think it through. If you felt pressured, then Brunnhilde would hate that.

𝑮 = 𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆 (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically Brunnhilde can forget her strength at times. Well, at times - in the beginning. After your relationship was established, you reminded her that you weren’t the same species. You needed her to be extra careful. And she learned from that and took it onboard. Now she’s never rough (unless you want her ot be...)

Emotionally, she too had to work on that. Brunnhilde can be blunt. But she’s learned not to be. Not to be too soft, but to understand that words are one of the greatest gifts of all. That you can tear someone down and build someone up. And even the smallest of comments can hurt like a dagger.

𝑯 = 𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 (Do they tell you about their childhood? Their trauma? The sides of themself that they keep hidden from the world.)

She keeps a lot hidden. Not because she doesn’t trust you but because it hurts too much to recount. Little bits of information slip out when she feels okay to talk about it, or the memories are weighing too heavily on her mind.

But Brunnhilde has lived for a long time, and she’s found ways to keep those memories at bay. Recounting them feels too heavy.

𝑰 = 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 (How fast do they say the L-word?)

She jokingly said “I love you” when you first met and a few times after that, but you knew it was the humour talking rather than the heart. The first time she said it, was 7 months into your situationship turned relationship.

𝑱 = 𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Ooh very, VERY jealous. Although she understands that people will be attracted to you, she can’t help but feel this primal sense of possession.

And you mean so much to her, that she doesn’t want to lose you. She does all she can to keep her jealousy in check though.

𝑲 = 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Brunnhilde kisses passionately. She wants you to feel the same heat that she does - the same love. And you do, that’s how strong her kisses are. She will wean in a little humour here and there - sweeping you off your feet, twirling you around etc.

She likes to kiss your neck and collarbones, and likes to be kissed on her shoulders. With little trails of kisses up the back of her neck.

𝑳 = 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 (How are they around children?)

To your surprise, she’s completely comfortable around children. No apprehension, no awkwardness. Maybe she was a big sister in her youth, which was so many years ago (she doesn’t like talking about her family.)

She sees kids as the ultimate innocence, and being around them makes her feel lighter. Like there is hope for the future.

𝑴 = 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 (How are mornings spent with them?)

Doesn’t like getting out of bed early, but knows she has to. Another surprise about Brunnhilde is that she takes her kingly duties very seriously. Although she doesn’t like meetings and having to plan, she does so anyway.

So she’s usually the first one out of bed. But she does need a litre of coffee to be able to function.

On her days off (which are far and few between), she likes to sleep in until noon, with you wrapped in her arms. The sun already high in the sky by the time you both get out of bed. You make lunch and go back to the bedroom to eat.

𝑵 = 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 (How are nights spent with them?)

Unlike her mornings, Brunnhilde is the last to go to bed. She wishes it wasn’t so, because that woman LOVES her sleep. But being a leader is hard work.

She loves taking near-scolding hot showers, and standing underneath the water for nearly 45 minutes. It’s in the shower where no one can reach her (other than you).

Brunnhilde has a moderate facial routine. Double cleanse with the same face wash, serums, and then moisturiser. But that’s only a few days a week. Unlike you, who makes sure to keep up the routine daily and without fail. But somehow Brunnhilde’s face is always clear and glowing. Probably her Asgardian genes.

𝑶 = 𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏 (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Very, very slowly. You don’t know everything about Brunnhilde. Her wounds go too deep. A lot of it you hear from her subjects, and Thor.

𝑷 = 𝑷𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 (How easily angered are they?)

Not angered easily, but does get annoyed. She hates when there are too many people talking at once, or she’s asked the same question over and over again. But she never snaps or yells. Well, she does shout - but only to get people’s attention.

𝑸 = 𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒛𝒛𝒆𝒔 (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

She remembers the important things about you. But everything about you is important to her ... so I guess she remembers everything about you. Which deeply surprised you. You thought she wasn’t listening when you rambled on or ranted about your family. But she was, and she knows who is who, and what kind of upbringing you had.

𝑹 = 𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

When you threw a rock at a 20ft tall monster that had invaded the small makeshift Asgardian town. You had no weapons on you, but there were children running away - and that’s where the monster’s attention was. So you threw the first thing you saw, a rock the size of your palm at the back of its’ head.

It was at that moment that she fell in love with you.

𝑺 = 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚 (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Brunnhilde may not come off to strangers as protective over you, but one wrong move and they will beg for forgiveness. Like a serpent dressed as a rabbit, she will strike out at them, stunning them, hurting them. You are important to Brunnhilde like oxygen is to the lungs.

She protects you with her own body, with threats that people know will be followed. She would lay down her life for your safety.

Brunnhilde doesn’t need to be physically protected, she still has her Valkyrie training and her body acts on instinct.

She needs emotional and mental protection. Help with her emotions and memories. They hurt, she lost everyone she cared about. And now she’s King. You protect her sanity and well-being. Reminding her to eat proper food and drink water.

𝑻 = 𝑻𝒓𝒚 (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?)

In all honesty, I think that Brunnhilde would forget quite a lot of anniversaries, but would make up for it tenfold. She would go over and above to get back in your good graces.

However, she somehow ALWAYS manages to surprise you with her date ideas. She takes you to new places, creating new memories and going on incredible adventures. And then she would surprise you even more with mundane dates like movie nights.

Is very good at gift giving, but they’re usually things that you can do together. And they range from random to heartfelt. Matching sweaters, puzzles, playing cards, and themed board games. She thinks they’re stupid but so stupid that they can be enjoyable.

𝑼 = 𝑼𝒈𝒍𝒚 (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She actually loves picking her nose. No one but you knows that - however, she wouldn’t really care if someone caught her doing it. Would probably look them dead in the eyes and eat it (I’m just joking...)

𝑽 = 𝑽𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not completely vain, but she does like to look good, especially for you. It took her a while to find her image after the events with Hela. For so long she just drank and collected for the Grandmaster.

Now she loves doing creative things with her hair - growing it out and braiding it in intricate patterns. Adding beads, shells and gold clasps. Her hair becomes a defining part of her image.

𝑾 = 𝑾𝒉𝒚 (Reasons why they love each other)

𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 You make her feel seen, heard and appreciated. She’s grateful that you care about her and her well-being so much. Brunnhilde hasn’t had that in centuries.

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 She makes you feel protected, wanted and safe. You’ve been through a lot in your life, which makes it a bit harder than the usual person to live day to day. Brunnhilde has helped you with so much. She’s helped you on your journey to becoming mentally and emotionally healthy.

𝑿 = 𝑿𝒚𝒍𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆 (What’s their song)

Paper Planes by M.I.A. An absolute banger for a badass woman.

𝒀 = 𝒀𝒖𝒄𝒌 (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

She is completely and utterly against any homophobia and transphobia. She feels very strongly about the rights of queer and trans people, to the point where she will start a fight if someone even utters a wrong word.

𝒁 = 𝒁𝒛𝒛 (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

When she’s asleep, she is ASLEEP. When she says she’s “going to sleep”, she’s out like a light. The first night you slept with Valkyrie, it actually freaked you out. The next morning you shook her until she opened her eyes because you honestly thought she was dead.

#valkyrie #valkyrie headcanons #marvel #mcu #valkyrie x reader #valkyrie alphabet #sfw #sfw headcanons #sfw alphabet #fluff #marvel headcanons #mcu headcanons #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic #headcanons #witch the writer #brunnhilde #brunnhilde aesthetic

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lumin3sc3 · 2 years ago

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Hello! I found your account recently and I just want to say your writing is beautiful and heartwarming.

Can I make a request please if you're comfortable of course. I don't really know how to open up about this but I'll keep it brief. I belong from a high dysfunctional family where the male figures are emotionally/mentally/physically abusive.

My sole reason of joining Genshin was because of Zhongli. He's my comfort character, I love him so much. His fanfictions, pics, yt videos, Lore everything makes me happy and my heart feels at ease. I resonate a lot with his character.. everything about him brings a sense of underwhelming sadness which is hard to describe not in a bad way.. it's just I feel his character and emotions a lot.

Moments when life and family situation became extremely heavy for me, Zhongli related stuffs helped me a lot to go through the events.

I've been searching fanfics about him consoling y/n who belongs from a broken or dysfunctional family but there are literally no stories like these.

Can you if possible please write a fanfiction where Zhongli learns about his beloved y/n' s past as in family trauma, the emotional and mental abuse she beared from her brother and father figure.. and that y/n fears that one day Zhongli might leave her if he learns about her past.

Y/n has always kept it a secret from Zhongli about her pain and everything. She's hurting inside most of the time and often times it reflects on her face, eyes but she tries masking it. After getting to know everything about y/n's past Zhongli and y/n perhaps share a sad yet beautiful intimate moment (as in fluff/angst ) maybe? Something like this.. if you could write will seriously make me happy :")

Note: Tysm for the req anon, I’m so sorry I saw this really late. Life has been extremely hectic and stressful T-T. I’m so happy to know that such a character resonates and comforts you, it brings a smile to my face. And I’m so happy to know how my writing makes you feel, it warms my heart :)

I hope you’re doing well and fine now. And I hope you can find comfort by reading this fic, Hope I did well too ^ ^(readers gender has not been mentioned)

Warning: mentions of reader crying, reader who has went through abuse. Please refrain from reading this fiction if such topics are sensitive to you. If you’d like more warnings added let me know through my ask or in the replies, thank you!

Solace

They say when a heart gets too heavy from pain, it just grows silent, completely silent. But that wasn’t the case for you though, you always managed to maintain your bubbly and cheerful personality. Surrounding happiness everywhere you went, and plastering a smile across the face of anyone you met. And perhaps that is what made the reserved man attracted to you.

But of course, there are two sides to every coin. Or in this case, every person. Nobody knew the suffering your aching heart held, masking it from the sights of anyone but yourself. Even from the eyes or ears of your beloved partner whom you’d give the world for. Everyone has reasons for the things they do, and what was yours for hiding such crippling affliction from the one you adore? The very fact that he’d leave if he knew about this. You kept this away from him, fearing that when he knew about the torment and misery you went through, he’d just leave you, making you more vulnerable than you already were.

But you couldn’t help your sorrowful eyes as you watched happy families walk by, father’s clutching their children’s hands, or brothers playing with their siblings. You’d watch in desolation, a sense of longing at the deepest part of your heart. Even if Zhongli would ask “What’s wrong, dear?” You’d shake your head with a small smile on your face, unbothered. And no matter how much it wounded you, you’d dare not tell him a word. But you were oblivious to have thought he never paid attention to details, especially when it came to you.

And that one day was when your façade fell.

In the night where the beautiful silvery moon was dotted in the quiet dark blue sky, the stars played with each other, keeping the lone crescent company. The luminescent white moonlight sprinkled across your room, giving you the sole source of light as you stared at the picture of your brother and father, hugging each other happily. As tears of anguish and pain fell. Oh how you hoped to be in that photo smiling with them. Instead, all the memories you had of them or in their presence only caused you suffering. You failed to notice someone enter the room and walk towards you, quietly listening to your hushed sniffles.

“Dear?” He called out, in a calming and placate manner.

You immediately wipe your tears in a frantic manner, but before you can, he gently grasps your arm, and takes a seat beside you.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He asks you as he looks at you affectionately.

You wanted to say “it’s nothing”, just like all the times you did before. But for some reason, something stopped you, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie again. And it stung so much, to the point it got too heavy to bear on your own.

Tears welled from deep inside your heart as your grief poured out in a flood of uncontrollable tears, coursing down your cheeks. You cling onto his fabric as you explained your past, filled with fear and pain.

“..Why did you not tell me about this?”

You fell silent, if you tell him the real reason, what would he think? You felt a sense of impending doom as anxiety bubbled in your chest.

“…because”

“Because I was afraid you’d leave me..” Your voice lowers almost to that of a whisper, as you said that , you tightly clutched his arm, as if fearing he’d disappear.

Zhongli looks at you, his affectionate eyes now holding a sense of regret and sadness. He cups you cheeks as he tells you in a hushed manner.

“None of this is your fault, and you are not to blame. I cannot grasp the fact that you thought I’d leave you. Contrary, I feel regret and remorse for not being able to know about this sooner, perhaps I could’ve given you the comfort you needed.”

You shake your head frantically , “No no. It’s my fault for not telling you, in fact you being with me was more than enough to provide me contentment and comfort.” A small smile appears on your face. Though the atmosphere felt melancholic you felt a sense alleviation. You were happy to have found solace and relief in him, and you couldn’t have wished for more.

You stare into his crystalline aureate eyes as more tears start trickling down, though this time, they were from happiness. You embrace him lovingly, feeling his warmth. There are times when you felt like a butterfly who yearned for its cocoon, and to be safe within its walls, protected. And that’s what this felt like. And you hoped time would slow down just this once, so you could cherish this moment for as long as eternity.

His hand stroked your back soothingly as your tears flowed more freely, right here in his arms, you felt safe. Safe to cry and not be rejected, safe to cry and let your pain out. You felt loved. At that very moment, his mere presence was the most precious treasure you were blessed with.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“For not trusting you enough to know that even if I shared my past with you, you’d still, stay with me.”

“It’s alright, dear. I may not be able to fix whatever has happened. But I can still comfort you and be there every step of the way, and I promise to do so.” He stares into your darting, worrisome eyes. And for once, you finally felt relieved, the heavy heart that once held so many burdens, now felt at ease.

Your heart that was as delicate as a crystalfly’s wings now slowly felt like it was mending. For even in the darkest of nights there will always be a brilliant candle lighting your way. And his incandescent love for you might just be the candle you yearned for all your life.

“I love you, Li.”

“I love you too, (y/n). More than you could imagine.”

✧∘* ೃ ⋆｡˚

A/N: Hey, hope whoever read this enjoyed it! And no matter what situation you’re in, everything will always be all right, it may not seem like it, but it will definitely be! And don’t be afraid to talk to a loved one or a friend if you ever need to. Take care of yourself and stay hydrated, love you all <3 !

Also apologies if there’s anything wrong with the text/format or grammar. I’m on holidays right now, and I forgot to get my laptop, so I’m writing on my phone haha.

#genshin impact #genshin zhongli #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n

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demidevildiva · 1 year ago

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As much as Valentina wanted to fold Rosa into her arms and keep her tucked away she knew that she couldn't. She was right... somewhat, but right nonetheless. Val wasn't being fair to her. Not to her emotionally, or even physically, but in the end she'd only done what was asked of her. Her intentions hadn't been to spill her every churning gut to Rosa in this very moment or time, but Rosa had asked her to. How was she supposed to keep her feelings to herself when it was obvious that if she did so, her entire world would concave? Not three weeks before, Rosa had told Val she wanted her to always want her. She'd done the same thing then - told her everything she wanted to hear and taken her home. She didn't for a second believe that's how tonight would end up, but the same principals applied. Valentina was confused with the reaction and overall quite pained. For the longest of time she pushed against Rosa's affection. Never truly realized it until she was already doing so - self sabotaging herself before things got too real. It was cowardice on her part, sheltering herself from a potential heartbreak while she toyed with Rosa's. How she'd find any and every excuse to pry herself away so she could what? Prove to herself that no one could love her? Prove to herself that only Valentina could care for Valentina? No, that wasn't it and she knew it. She wasn't hiding from a broken heart but rather from the loss of power. How easily Rosa could tarnish her entire world if Valentina wasn't careful - as she attempted to do now. How devastating it was for Val to picture someone else having so much control over her being when she'd never let another human come so close to her. Her thoughts quickly became a prison as she listened to Rosa's sobs - which for once were beckoning her own to flourish. She could feel the sob strangling her. Squeezing against her larynx while she bit back all sense of emotions. Everything that Rosa could have possibly thought she accomplished by pulling Valentina into a hug was tarnished the moment they touched. Had she kept moving away, then Val would have possibly believe they were done for. Could have truly believed her words, but her actions whispered sweet solace to her putrid heart. She wasn't going anywhere. Her words hurt, of course - they always did. At every breakup - no matter how quick Valentina was to keep pushing her to the point of exhaustion and eventually pure rage - there was a lingering sense of mutuality between the two. Val could still feel that now. Could feel that despite the knife that Rosa twisted in her core, they still had a chance. This had to be some cruel joke on her part. Some form of torment designed specifically for her after years of learning her inner workings. "I will never not love you, Rosa. When it feels like you have no one at your side - I will be there. Hiding in the shadows, through storms and avalanches, Rose I will wait for you... there will never be anyone else." She sounded more assured then she felt though. Her entire world crumbled before her and she bled profusely. Eyes forced wider by the second as she pushed through the pain and avoided her tears. Everything about them shot pain in her system, and unsteadily she pushed herself to move, but not before choking out one last, "I love you." Then she scurried off into the darkness imploring her body to not give up before she was out of sight. Conditioning the vile in the pit of her stomach to settle and not vanquish her.

END

Rosa felt like she was being stretched thin, pulled in two opposite directions. It’d always felt like that when it came to Val, but it was worse this time around. Now, she had Talon that she had to consider. Wanted to consider, because he was her boyfriend and first real relationship that felt… healthy. She didn’t want to toss whatever she’d ever had with Val, because at the end of the day it was a relationship, but it’d never been healthy. Rosa couldn’t remember the amount of times she’d promised herself that she’d never go back down that road again, but Val knew her to her core. Rosa wish she didn’t, but she knew Val to her core, too - or she thought she did. She’d never be confident that she did, even when she could read her like a book. “This is so unfair.” WIth a heaving gasp, Rosa clapped her hands over her face - Val had seen her cry too many times to count, but it didn’t feel right this time. Instead of seeking her comfort, or crying because their relationship was at a stand still again, Rosa cried out of pure frustration with the turn around that was the Rosa and Val saga. “So - unfair, Val… this is so unfair!” She couldn’t help but blurt out the last part as a scream - therapeutic a bit, but because every enraged and hurt emotion within her burst forward. Dropping her hands, Rosa flinched when she realised how close Val was to her now. Usually, she would’ve leaned into it - used to hearing Val’s words and taking them as truth. Now, she moved back, made it clear when she wanted distance between them, glare paralyzed on her features. “I have… begged you, with my entire - being! My entire soul, to want me. So many times. When I’ve wanted you, you’ve tossed me to the side. And now - I’m happy, I’m with someone, and you’re doing this to me. What - how could you do this to me? Again? How can you claim to love me, again, and then do this. Again! I’m so fucking tired! I’m tired, Val!” Rosa’s heart and breath skipped momentum at the intensity of Val’s eye contact. This - was it. This was their end. Rosa felt the heartbreak of it, but knew it was for the best. For her own sake, if anything. It was this reason alone that she finally did step forward, forcefully grabbing Val by the shoulder and tugging her into a hug - rough with her movements. “Yes - Yes, Val I wish I’d never met you. I regret every second of us together.” It wasn’t the whole truth. But Val needed to hear an exaggerated version if she were to ever move on from… this. “I never want to see or talk to you again. You can’t manipulate me anymore - I won’t let you. I hope you find someone who’ll love you as casually as you want. I don’t think you know how to love. And I feel sorry for you. I’ll never love you again like I used to.” By this point, Rosa had broken into sobs - it hurt to say it. It hurt to hurt Val, even if she was mad at her, even if she should hate her. Rosa was scared she’d never fully hate Val - she needed this forceful and painful closure. Pulling away from the hug, Rosa took another step back, but didn’t fully walk away. She wanted to see if Val would. “Now go away. And don’t look back at me - we’re done. Forever.”

#marina:frightfest #convo. ⸻ 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔞 𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔪.#𝔳𝔞𝔩. ⸻ ft. rosalind samuels #i DID NOT edit ANYTHING #I refused to even read back so this could be a mess of words #delulu and a half

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midnxght-sweet-time · 2 years ago

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Can i request (naib x doll f.reader?)

(Actually i has going to request wu chang x doll f.reader but wu chang is not there in lists 🥲)

So like reader is hunter. who know hunter nickname is "broken doll" she die by suicidal or someone killed her bc they are jealous bc of her. her skill is like she can summon the mini doll version of survivor whenever some survivor is close to her the mini survivor doll will be puff of out of nowhere and if she hit the mini survivor they will have a damage of it. And the problem is f.reader is so easy to kite bc of her skill every time when she use her skill the mini survivor doll will be gone bc survivor. some of them are really fast and some of them drow pallets at her and f.reader can't speak bc you know someone killed her or suicidal.. after that some survivor will going to bully her every match. And there is nain who going to save/protect f.reader whenever someone is bullying her. And if you don't mind in ending where reader will going to revamp that she can finally sing or talk.😅

𝙰 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚢

❥︎ Paring: ♤Naib Subedar x F!Hunter!Reader

⚠︎ TW: Hurt to comfort. Naib also being a little ooc, but I pretty much soften his personality, Ganji being ooc cuz idk how he acts usually but i know he no like richy ppl n i based reader off a noble singer so ye-. Edgar being a prick. Survivors bullying hunter reader. Mentions of reader's death like poisoning.

᯽ A/N: Im not really fond of the usual damsel in distress reader especially when its a hunter but i aint here to complain.

This was pretty long as i had a whole scenario in my head n took a 5 min break doodle along wif it-

I rather draw y/n that has some hair n eyes than them being bald n almost faceless lmao.

Reader died by poisoning cuz i need a reasonable explanation how she cant speak n not she just died. Almost every hunter died n only Mary seemed to have vocal issues cuz of her chopped head n jojo having asthma cuz he probs smokes-

The sound of wood colliding on the hard cold edge is always a discouraging sound that smashes into your eardrums as the rough material scratches the side of your delicate face. The pain burns on your cheek like a familiar fire that you have gotten used to that hot tears streamed down your face on cue.

Every match was the same; a pallet to the face, the pathway kept clean, and emotionally tiring hours that brings you to a state of depression. You watched with a blurred vision as the doll on your hands slowly disappeared and footsteps of your prey got further and further away. You could never get a win. It's either a tie or a loss. Even the ties are just lucky shots being paired with the weak kiters, or the few friendly survivors that would spare you some pity.

Of all the hunters, you were the weakest, making you an easy win. You wished you'd never ended up here. If only you had been more careful in your past life, maybe you wouldn't have drunk the sweet nectar that was spiked with poison from the one you have so foolishly trusted at first sight.

Blaring alarms pierced through your ears like needles. Your eyes caught the small figures of the survivors rushing towards the door to make their escape. Their tiny bodies from a few distance away sway with the wind, scaring the crows that rested there and relishing in their victory with small bits of laughter your abnormal ears can catch; you know for sure their cheerfulness dripped with venom for you.

Defeat overwhelmed and pulled you to the ground. Your knees scraping on the blades of grass that are more merciful than most survivors that torments you for your lack of experience or disadvantages. You watch as they celebrate like it's a holiday party and continuously making mocking gestures by the open doors. A lump drops to the bottom of your stomach. The feeling of failure felt like a harsh grip; suffocating you like the poison that deprives you of any oxygen and burns your throat til your voice becomes shallow and hoarse. You remembered how you were unable to call for help as your humane life left your body and your corpse left as an artifact of who you once were. Tears blurred your vision as an attempt to shield you away from the disheartening sight and attempt to cool the burning sensation on your cheek, only to make it sting more.

A quick electric sensation courses through your veins, three times in a pattern; the game's psychic signal to you that some survivors have escaped. The daunting feeling stacked on your back like falling bricks that's building a tower in tetris. Silence filled the air now. The breeze of Lakeside attempted to comfort you with its cooling touches, brushing your hair away from your face. The empty sight however, only reminded you of your despair. It has become oddly peaceful now that the survivors are gone, even if your heart feels heavy with guilt.

That's when you noticed— you're not being sent back to the manor.

A honking noise caught your attention, followed by the consent squawks of the crows that alerted you of their location. Your head shot up at the sudden alarm; someone hasn't escaped yet.

But why?

Out of instinct, your body rushed to where that survivor might be. The crows are your aid, running their beaks, mocking the poor survivor and leading you straight to them. Your feet flew with the wind, carrying you to the upstairs of the giant ship. The red light you emit strangely from your eyes acts as a flashlight in the dark fog. The crows disappear upon your arrival.

It's almost unnoticeable, but the glowing heartbeat gave away the green hooded man that's curled up on the floor behind a batch of barrels in front of a cipher. His body was shaking, his head low to the ground and his hands were by where his ears were supposed to be. It seems like he barricaded himself in the barrels, scared of whatever monster that lurked in his imagination.

What was the mercenary still doing here?

You awkwardly stood around for a few minutes, trying to understand the position he was in. It's like he's hiding from something. Seeing him in that small space, scared and alone reminds you of a stray kitten that was abandoned in a bush. You approached closer, as slow and quiet as you can, like approaching a child. The creeks of the old worn floor made him shot up. His eyes looked at you, startled, before his brows furrowed and his growling at you like a hostile animal– wary and distrustful, but within those same eyes that glared at you, you can see a hint of what seemed like fear.

You backed up, hoping the mercenary won't attack you right then and there. Your fingers slipped loose, forgetting you ever had your weapon and it dropped, making a thud that caught him off guard. Confusion replaced his hostility once he noticed you werent here to kill him. He looked around before bringing eye contact to you. "Is- is the match over?" His body slowly loosened up the tension when he saw you nod your head. You pointed towards the open gate below the ship, in a way telling him his teammates are gone.

He became silent. The mercenary was about to walk over to you until he realized his position; trapped between barrels stacked sideways. His face displayed pure innocent confusion you never thought you'd see from him.

This was just very awkward.

The moment he places his hands on the barrels to push aside, he immediately recoils his body in pain. A loud groan erupted from his throat, making you step forward in concern. Your hands involuntarily grabbed onto a barrel and helped him push it off to the side. Shock now covered his face as he backed up to a wall when you were kneeling in front of him, your form towering above him. You were about to grab onto his hand to take a look at his injuries, but realizing you may scare him off, you just stood there with your hands out.

Even you were surprised at how upfront you can be.

He clicked his tongue when he finally realized what you wanted from him. "I'm fine, thank you. I don't need any help from a hunter." His head turned away from you, averting his eyes and shoving his injured hand behind his lap to avoid your sight on it.

You didn't move. Your eyes focused on him and the signature red light shone on him like police headlights. You're very close to him, making him feel slightly uncomfortable at your unnerving presence.

You and the mercenary don't really encounter each other a lot so it's reasonable why.

That's when you remembered; You're close enough to manifest a doll of him.

Strings of different colors appeared from thin air as the hand you had out for the mercenary created a cute little doll of him. The mercenary felt a strange sensation on his body, like the feeling of thinning into a string and being tied into a knot. Like when the white guard would siphon his soul– only the pull of his soul seems to be attaching himself with the doll as he feels compelled to it. He can feel his heart stopping, as in he doesnt know how to react , standing still in time and watching helplessly..

The big button eyes of the doll stares at you with the same bright blue as his eyes. You noticed his doll version has a slight torn opening, little specks of cotton threatening to spill out from that crack.

That must be his injury.

"Woah, what are you doing?" His tone was skeptical and you responded by lifting up the doll and pointing to its mimicked wounds. Your head tilted at him to ask how he got that. He seemed to catch on quickly and looked at his own injury.

"Honestly– I don't know…"

You looked around, seeing any signs of sharp objects until you caught sight of the familiar crimson color on the edge of the cipher nearest to you. The cipher's light gives you a clarification of its dull color which tells you the blood has dried. You pointed at the dried up blood, wondering if that's where he had hurt himself. He looked at where you pointed at and for a moment his eyes widened and his pupils shifted from the edge of the cipher to the cipher itself.

He was speechless, he didn't say anything until you snapped your fingers in front of him, crashing his train of thoughts. "Oh- I must've been careless." Scratching the back of his neck. You can see a single sweat rolling down his head.

Your focus is back on the doll. A needle suddenly appeared in your other hand, making the mercenary even more tense. Lining up the sharp tip, you pierced through the delicate fabric of the doll, causing the man in front of you to suddenly twitch up in response, feeling the poking sensation on his skin. "H-hey- what are you doing?!"

You ignored his yelping. Stitching away at the small slit, securing back the cotton to its rightful place and closing the gaps. By the time you snapped the excess string to proclaim your completion, the thread that was stitched into the hand slowly morphed with the fabric, disappearing without a trace and making it look as good as new.

The mercenary watched you before looking back at his hand. Sure enough, just like the doll counterpart of him, his wound is gone. Like his injury never happened.

"T-Thanks." The hooded man nodded as a small mimic of bowing. The confusion never left his face. He was in pure shock but also sparkles of curiosity mixed in those same eyes.

His head lifts up once again, catching the gentle expression on his face. Your hair flowing with the wind as the moonlight showered you in its heavenly glow. He spotted the scratch on your cheek and reached out to touch it, but the moment he touched your skin, not only you moved away, he also retracted his hand in surprise.

"What the fuck-?" He muttered before touching your face again, making you recoil again. "What the fuck?!" The confusion was beyond you at this point, making your head swirl, thinking what you did wrong. Was it because you moved away from his advances?

"You're fucking wood!"

Ah nevermind, that's why.

You slowly nodded your head at him. Your eyebrows furrowed with deep concern, opening your mouth and pointing at the thin line by your chin that shows you are a wooden puppet. How is being wood even remotely more astonishing than the other hunters you're sure he has seen before, like the octopus god, the Feaster or the literal lady made of wax on Phillip's shoulder?

"Do you ever talk?" He grumbles at your lack of speech. You stayed silent, your eyes narrowed at him as to give an obvious answer he already knows. A sigh escaped his mouth as he slowly reached. out to the scratch on your cheek, this time you stood still and his fingers hovered ever so slightly above your hard flesh.

"Does it hurt?"

You shook your head. It doesn't hurt anymore with minutes to recover. The scratch would recover once you returned to the manor.

"Do you… have a name?"

Your ear twitches at his words. Your name? Do you even remember ever since appearing here? You stared at him with wide soulless eyes, deep in thought. Searching the darkest and deepest parts of your mind in search of anything that represents your identity.

Nothing.

Your head feels numb.

You can't remember.

Why can't you remember?

You remember your death but now who you are?

Who are you?

Why are you even here?

"Hello?!"

You focus on two hands put together in front of your face. The clap that followed with it took a little bit more time to process. What were you thinking about again? You shook your head to clear your mind, but it seems like the mercenary took it as a sign of no.

"Well- uh. This is awkward…"

Silence filled the air, an awkwardness accompanying the both of you. The right index finger slowly raises up and points to him. The mercenary didn't seem to understand and even pointed at himself to mimic you. "Yes, me?" Your mouth creeks open as the wooden edges scrap each other. The mercenary stared at you for a moment as you stood still with your mouth still agape, wondering what you were trying to ask for. "Are you… hungry?" He queries, head tilted as to wonder if you hunters even need to eat.

Your expressions showed signs of struggle as your head twitched back and forth, leaving the poor man in front of you with even more concern. To him you look like a cat trying to hack up a hairball and with the sudden hoarse moans you just emitted, he was very much worried for you— as weird as that sounds to him.

"Y–our. Na–m–e."

His eyes widen at you, not because you suddenly spoke but the fact your voice sounded worse than an obnoxious squawk of a duck. Does being a puppet mean you have horrible vocal cords? Or did something happen when you died that damaged your ability to speak?

"Naib. Im- Naib." He subconsciously voiced out, not realizing he revealed his name to a hunter until he snapped out of his own disbelief. "Nya–eb-" "Stop. Just– don't speak. You're hurting yourself." He puts his hand out as a gesture of concern much to your disappointment. It's not just because your voice is ear wrenching, but more because he can tell you're struggling to even pronounce a single letter; and he can't help but cringe at your attempt.

You hang your head low, your eyes hiding behind your fringe and struggle to maintain eye contact. The mercenary, who you now acquainted to be Naib, let out a heavy exhale as if he'd been holding his breath for too long. You flinched when he stood up from his spot and stretched his limbs. The sound of his bones cracking made your eye twitch. Naib stood in silence for a brief moment, looking over the open door that called out to him to escape. His eyes then shifts to you, your head still looking down and your thin index finger drawing imaginary shapes on the dusty wooden floor, feeling fiddly with embarrassment creeping up your back; hoping the mercenary would leave and end the match entirely.

"Hey."

You shot your head up. His hand right in front of you, an offer to lift you up from the same hand he refused to give you to check on his wound. You stared back at him with wide eyes, wondering if his action was sincere. In embarrassment, he looked away with his eyes furrowed and lips in a sharp frown.

He normally wouldnt do this, especially not to a hunter. But with you he knows you are more docile than most. Perhaps it wouldnt be so bad to trust you, right?

Another match that had you sentence to misery. 4 ciphers has already been done over the course of this match. You have grown tired and eventually decided to avoid any coming survivors and decided to roam free in the map you're held captive in. The crooked circus music invaded your ears as the carousel horse slowly guided you into a never ending loop.

You were in blissful peace. Following along to the distorted tune with your raspy voice. Ever since you're meeting with the mecernary, you have been exercising your vocal cords. Mary has also encouraged you to do so. Saying if you keep exerting your voice and cough once in a while, you will be able to speak normally soon. So that's what you're doing.

The last cipher popped in the near distance and the blaring alarms of the exit doors lit up either sides of the map like a beacon. The loud noise stings your ears like a loud cry of a child, warning you to leave the area and wait for the survivors to escape. Slowly letting yourself fall from the metal saddle on the back of the horse. Your inhumane legs carried you from the middle to the bridge, your footsteps echoed as your heels made constant contact to the stone floor of the bridge. As you went in to the main building, shifting passed the large curtains thats a makeshift door, your eyes caught something specific.

A lone canvas with it's stand supporting it in the middle of the stage. Oddly reminds you of yourself whenever you sat quietly on the comfy chair of the waiting room. The colors on the white material were vibrant and eye catching, hypnotizing you with its glorious image. You went closer and noticed— it was a painting of you. A painting of what you looked like without your wooden doll features.

What you once were.

Your mouth hung agap and your hands once again dropped your weapon to the floor. Something about this painting mesmerized you. Was it because it was a picture of you in a certain way? Or was it because of the radiant colors that blend together perfectly?

A sense of collusion crashed onto the back of your head, causing you to stumble on your feet and crash onto the painting you were jusg admiring.

"You insolent fool! My creation is now ruined!"

You lifted your face up, your dress and face tainted with specks of paint that was still left to dry. You wince at the slight pain that came with the fall. Another harsh bump on your head. If you were ever human, it could leave a bruise.

"Oh shut it with your fine art. We got bigger fish to fry."

Laughter filled your ears, and not the good kind. You look up to see both the Painter and the Batter in front of you. The painter with his arms cross and sneering above you with a snobby look while the Batter had a more smug look.

"Look at this one. How can they call her a hunter when she acts more like a mouse."

The painter's words seared through your wooden skin. His shadowed eyes piercing through your weak form like predator in the dark. Meanwhile the Batter juggled a ball in his hand, he was more focused on the noble dress you wore that was now tarnished. A snicker slipped passed his mouth, a twisted satisfaction was clearly expressed on his face.

You watched helplessly, you were about to grab your weapon until it was knocked away by the feet of thr painter. His other feet stomping on your hand that tried to attempt your escape. "Dont even think about it. How are your little dolls now?" A ball was dropped onto your head before rolling back to the Batter as a taunting game. "Can we leave now? I dont see any reason to continue this." The taller male was now the one to cross his arms.

Bang!

The sound of a well known flare gun fired. The Painter was quickly interrupted by a sudden blast to the face, making him stumble and fall off the stage. Both you and the Batter seemed shocked. You were too scared to look behind you after what you just witness as whoever shot that flare made his presence known with the slow steps that held so much animosity with their approached. You closed your eyes, internally grateful for whoever shot that flare gun but still too much in shock to move.

A small breeze flows passed you, your savior dashed in front of you. Their voice sends you into a sense of warmth when they finally spoke.

"Stop fucking around. Lets go."

It was Naib.

You looked up in surprise seeing the mercenary holding the Batter by his collar pushing him forward to the exit before walking over to the Painter by the floor still writhing from the aftermath. "If you dont want another hit to your pretty little face, I suggest you leave." His grip is now on The Painter's collar. You can see from a small angle, the anger om his face. His eyes fold so tightly with his lips raised up high til his nose scrunched up and teeth revealed.

Yeah that man's pissed.

The shorter male in his grasps looks at him with the same angered look, challenging his death stare but didnt dare to talk back. He only gave Naib the click of his tongue as a spitful agreement before shoving the mecernary off of him. Standing there for a good few seconds before running out of the building.

Naib looked out at the exit for a few moments. His face still filled with fury before closing his eyes to take a quick breather. Turning back to you he picked you up by the shoulder. Slowly bringing you to the stairs and letting you take a seat there.

"Fuck your not alright."

You were slightly taken aback at his straightforwardness. Yet his keen observation was much appreciated. You nodded sheepishly, dusting any remaining dirt off your dress. Naib sighed and scratched the back of his neck, looking at the stage where the left behind balls and the empty flare gun accompanied the broken canvas stand and the tarnished painting; all laid on the middle of the stage like a wreaked performance just happened. He growled, catching you off guard before calming himself down.

Another whiff of silence flew passed you two before Naib reached his hand out to caressed the side of your cheek, making you perk up. When he noticed his irrational action, he quickly pulled away and held onto your shoulder instead, correcting his action.

"You go back and take care okay? I want you to report those two to Miss Nightingale. She will ban them from matches for a month for that."

You nodded your head, a warm feeling crept up your chest. He nods back at you before turning his back, about to leave you. You quickly stood up, jumping down from a step of the stairs you sat on with your voice croaked out to him. He stopped and looked back, his head tilts to your attention. As the distance sound of the gate opening and the tingling sensations buzzing in your mind. The cool breeze that had always been there for you, encouraged you; giving you to confidence to finally speak like a chirp of a bird.

"Thank you."

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taeyongdoyoung · 3 years ago

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summary: as someone who’s been tormented for being a nerd, you’ve never viewed your friendly teasing towards your best friend seonghwa as bullying. but that is until he completely changes his style and image in school, confronting you about your past behaviour, so you have no choice but to admit the real reason why you’ve been making fun of him...

pairing: popular boy!seonghwa x nerd!reader

genre: high school!AU (the characters are 18 for the spicy parts huehehe), best friends to fake dating to lovers, angst, romance, smut, fluff

warnings: friendly teasing, clichéd/unrealistic portrayal of high school dynamics, hwa does kabedon on yn like once, seonghwa’s a bit of a tsundere, fake dating, hints of possessiveness, slightly problematic remarks, yn is briefly hwa’s slave?! (no, i will not elaborate), bullying, mean girls, insults, hair-pulling, kicking, death threats, some swearing, self-blame, power play, overuse of pet names (princess, baby, little girl, etc.), sir kink (i won’t apologize lol), begging, yunho being nosy (yes, that’s a warning), mention of hypothetical collars, insecurities, making out, loss of virginities, lots of kissing, soft dom!hwa, eating out, fingering, blowjob, consensual protected sex, dirty talk, praising, aftercare, crying, hurt&comfort, a lot of dorky references (cuz that’s me, after all), jumping off a balcony (don’t try this at home!), happy ending

author’s note: will i ever stop bullying poor hwa’s kermit hoodie? no. jk, i lov him so much, he’s so talented & gorgeous no matter what he wears ;-;

disclaimer: all jokes aside, i do not in any way condone bullying and this work is entirely fictional for entertainment purposes! i’ve been physically and emotionally tormented in school and though i have not talked much about it, i do not wish such an experience to anyone! treating people with kindness is cool and i hope everyone spreads more love! ❤️

word count: 9.4k

Having been best friends with Seonghwa for four years now (ever since your first year in high school), you couldn’t help but making fun of every little adorable thing he did. And honestly, you admired his patience when it came to putting up with your incessant teasing. Diligently cleaning up everything after him? You’d call him a neat freak. Not being able to drink coffee? You’d call him a teacup loser.

So, when he started wearing that green hoodie of his to school, you couldn’t resist the temptation to call him Kermit the frog. And at first, it all started as a joke. But then the nickname kinda stuck and you just kept addressing him as Kermit, even if he wasn’t wearing the delectable green hoodie. And at one point, you could tell that poor Seonghwa was not a huge fan of the whole thing. But he never called you out on it or told you to stop. He never teased you back for being a hopeless nerd who studied 24/7 and read books for fun. So, you kept going.

Until the summer before your last year in high school arrived. Sadly, Seonghwa was going to be out of the country for the whole vacation. You were going to miss him terribly, you realized. You had become so used to seeing him everyday that you couldn’t imagine how you’d last three months without being able to see his pretty face all the time. You’d occasionally text him memes and ask him what he was up to. But as the summer was coming to an end, his replies became less and less frequent, more and more concise. You kept wondering if you’d done something wrong. It couldn’t be the Kermit thing, you began telling yourself. After all, it was normal to tease your best friend every once in a while. Right?

When the first day of your last year in high school came, you were nervously anticipating the moment when you’d see Seonghwa again. Summer without him had been so boring and you couldn’t wait to hug him again and find a new thing to joke about.

The second you saw him, you instinctively knew there would be no more joking around. Seonghwa practically walked into the school hallway like he owned the place. He’d completely changed his style and overall image. Gone were the dorky hoodies you secretly loved so much. Instead, they were replaced by a black leather jacket. Gone were the casual sweatpants he looked so good in. In their place were dark jeans that made him look kinda dangerous. And the whole confidence with which he carried himself was just totally different.

If you had known that a summer abroad could change a person so much, you would have tried harder at convincing him to stay in the country. On top of it all, he was now hanging out with a bunch of popular a-holes that you had never talked to before. Honestly, you couldn’t even gather the courage to approach your best friend. He looked so distant and unfamiliar that you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Especially when you heard him laughing at the cool kids’ jokes. That should have been you...

You remembered when you were the one making him giggle, as if it was a century ago, when in reality it was just a couple of months. You kept sighing during the whole day, not daring to even talk to him. If he wanted to still hang out with you after his sudden “change in status”, he would, you kept convincing yourself. But he didn’t. In fact, he ignored you the whole day, making you feel like shit.

Just as you were leaving the school building in a hurry, mentally prepared for an evening of crying your eyes out and eating ice cream, you felt a hand grabbing you tightly. Turning around, you were surprised to find Seonghwa’s eyes staring back at you.

“Hi, princess,” he greeted you calmly.

“H-hi, S-seonghwa,” you responded dumbly.

“What? No witty comeback?” Seonghwa scoffed, smirking.

“What are you talking about?”

“Aren’t you gonna bully me and call me names again? Kermit? Teacup loser? Neat freak? What’s it gonna be this time?” he spat out, pushing you against the school wall and extending his arms to touch the cold bricks so that you would feel trapped.

“Bully you?” you whispered in disbelief. “H-hwa, I wasn’t...I didn’t m-mean...”

“Oh, yeah?” he mocked your stuttering self. “Then, why did you say all these things, huh?”

“You know why,” you replied.

“No, I don’t. So, tell me right now or I swear, I can make your existence a living hell,” Seonghwa threatened.

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you cried out. “I like you so that’s why I’ve been teasing you. Because if I didn’t, I would have to admit how attractive I find all your habits. How adorable it is when you used to tidy your desk and how sexy you looked in that damned green hoodie. There, I said it. Are you happy now?”

You were so frustrated with the way he ignored you all day only to accuse you of bullying him that you ducked your head swiftly beneath his arm, simultaneously bending your knees, and, thus, successfully escaping from Seonghwa’s ambush.

“Y/N, wait!” he called after you, but you were running too fast and luck was on your side, as the bus arrived at that exact same moment, allowing you to get on it, before he could.

You couldn’t sleep much that night, tormented by the fact Seonghwa had confused your friendly jokes with bullying and how foolishly you’d confessed your feelings for him. You were certain that your affections were unrequited and now that he had this whole new position in the school hierarchy, he would undoubtedly make fun of you for them. You were even considering transferring to another school to avoid the potential embarrassment.

In the morning, no sooner had you finished breakfast in the comfort of your room than you heard loud honks. They were unlike the ones in your dad’s car so you couldn’t help but wonder what jerk had decided to park in front of your house and make your day even worse.

“Sweetie,” your mom informed you a bit after. “Your friend Seonghwa is here. He said he’ll drive you to school today. As promised.”

“He did?” you mumbled in confusion. But maybe because you weren’t ready to talk to your mom yet about what happened yesterday, you lied. “Ah, that’s right, I almost forgot.”

Hurriedly, you grabbed your bag and practically sprinted downstairs. You were curious to see what he wanted. And that’s exactly what you asked the minute you entered his car.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Aw, no good morning for me, princess?” Seonghwa pouted and God, you hated how cute you found him after the way he’d treated you the previous day. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he rolled his eyes, starting the engine. “I’m driving you to school.”

“I can see that. But why?” you hissed.

“Well, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” he groaned. “If you’re so insistent on finding out, I’ll tell you. Ever since you told me how you felt yesterday, I’ve been thinking...And I’ve come to the conclusion that you have two options. Option number one is to enjoy your hellish last year of high school. You’ve had your fair share of teasing me so I’m definitely going to enjoy telling everyone about your little crush on me. It’s going to be so much fun to embarrass you in front of the whole school.”

What the fuck was wrong with him? Seonghwa was supposed to be your best friend! Why was he suddenly acting like you were worth less than a dirty rug? Was it possible that he had changed so much in the span of three months? Or was he always like that? Had you been blinded by his good looks? No, that definitely wasn’t the case. Seonghwa was the sweetest guy you’d ever known. How did he get so...cold? Cold enough to chill your bones.

“And what’s option number two?” you grunted, already anticipating the worst.

“So, there’s this annoying girl in our class I want to avoid at all costs. Just because her parents are doing business with mine does not mean I’m into her. Option number two is for us to pretend we’re dating in school. Considering how much you like me, I’m assuming it won’t be very difficult for you to pretend. If you agree, that is.”

What a jerk...You shared your sincere feelings with your best friend and that’s the first thing that crossed his mind? To use you in order to avoid some random girl? If it was any other guy, you would have said no. If you weren’t desperate for even a fraction of Seonghwa’s time and attention, you would have said no. If you weren’t so pathetically whipped for him, you would have said no.

“I’ll do it,” you said. “For how long do you need me to be your fake girlfriend?”

“Just until graduation. Then, we’ll fake break up and each go our separate ways. How does that sound?”

It sounded terrible! You wanted Seonghwa to be a part of your life forever. But with the way he was treating you, you weren’t confident he felt the same way anymore.

“Sounds great,” you lied, because you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing your thoughts. You’d never be perceived as weak again.

The second you walked into school, Seonghwa’s arm wrapped possessively around your shoulder, everyone’s eyes were on you. It was like high-schoolers had no better thing to occupy their time with but to gossip around the latest dating news. If you weren’t enjoying his company so much, you would have found their reactions pathetic. And somewhat unnerving.

“When did you two lovebirds start seeing each other?” one of Seonghwa’s popular friends Yunho asked.

“Oh, you know what they say. A girl and a guy can’t stay just friends for long,” Seonghwa responded.

You internally rolled your eyes. Your best friend before the summer would have never said such a thing. Whatever the reason for his current behaviour was, you would get to the bottom of it. And right now, you felt like going along with this whole fake dating thing was your best chance at unraveling the mystery.

For the first day of your little arrangement, everything seemed to be going fine. Everyone was staring at you two but you didn’t mind. All you cared about was him. However, soon enough Seonghwa started asking you for weird things.

“Carry my bag for me.” / “Get me a drink from the vending machine, will you?” / “Bring me a snack from the supermarket across the street.” / “Oh, and for my friends, too, doll.”

Seriously, it was getting infuriating. You no longer felt like you were his bestie. You didn’t even feel like you were his fake girlfriend. At this point, you had practically become his slave! Running any errand and carrying his stuff for him. But what was the alternative? If you refused to play your part in this pretend dating scheme, he could easily turn against you and make fun of you in front of the whole school. So, you kept your mouth shut and swallowed your pride.

One evening, around a month after the fake dating agreement had started, you had stayed in the library a bit longer to prepare for an upcoming assignment. By the time you were out of the school building, you supposed that Seonghwa had already gone home. Frankly, the only nice thing he was intent on doing for you was driving you to school and back to your place most of the days.

As you were making your way towards the bus stop, you had the strangest suspicion you were being followed. Not daring to turn around, you started walking faster. But unfortunately, your attackers also sped up and soon enough, you were surrounded by a group of angry faces. Their leader was obviously Eunhee, the most popular girl in the whole school. And coincidentally, this was also the girl whose parents were doing business with Seonghwa’s parents. The very reason you were fake dating your best friend in the first place.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bookshrimp,” she mocked you, sticking a sharp nail into your chest. You didn’t bother correcting her that the right term was bookworm. You were already in enough trouble as it was. For some reason, teasing Seonghwa had been easy because you meant well and you were sure he wouldn’t hurt you. Not really. Because he knew how badly you’d been bullied in middle school. But now that you were met with so many threatening figures, you froze rightaway, unable to defend yourself.

“Just l-leave me alone,” you stammered.

“Aw, aren’t you a little pathetic shrimpie?” Eunhee cooed and started pulling your hair harshly and kicking you onto the ground. The other girls were holding you down so that you wouldn’t fight back. “Did you seriously believe you can steal Seonghwa from me? We’re meant to be together and if you stand in our way, I will fucking kill you!”

“S-stop, you’re hurting me!” you exclaimed sorrowfully. You tried your best to shield yourself and push her away but her loyal minions were preventing you from doing so. Just as Eunhee was about to slap you across the face, you witnessed as her threatening hand was stopped mid-air by the interloper whose features you couldn’t quite discern in the dark. But whose voice you would recognize anywhere.

“You think you’re so brave?” Seonghwa yelled at Eunhee and her friends. “Ganging up on her like that? Six against one? You’re the pathetic ones.”

“Hwa, we were just trying to teach her a lesson. She should learn her place, after all,” Eunhee tried to explain.

“A lesson?” he scoffed. “You dumbasses can’t even pass Calculus and you want to teach the smartest girl in our school a lesson?” your heart melted with warmth at how highly he thought of you. “Oh, that’s rich.”

“You won’t tell my dad, right?” Eunhee was suddenly on the defensive. She’d probably be in big trouble if he found out how his precious daughter was behaving in school.

“Get out of my sight right now or I’ll tell the whole country,” Seonghwa threatened through gritted teeth. (Later on, he actually did tell her dad about the incident and Eunhee, along with her followers, were suspended from school for two weeks. Oh, and their rich parents cut off their money, which was pretty impressive an accomplishment). And so, the vicious girls scattered like roaches in daylight. Pulling you onto your feet, Seonghwa grabbed your hand and started walking towards his car which you somehow hadn’t noticed parked nearby. Getting inside, he started the engine immediately but his hands were clutching the steering wheel so hard you were feeling a bit scared. You had never seen your best friend so angry. Well, maybe the only other time that came close was when you were telling him about your past experiences with bullying...

“Are you mad at me?” you asked sheepishly.

“At you?” he chuckled harshly. “Why would I be mad at you? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t know...”

“Why didn’t you fight them back?” Seonghwa inquired.

“I tried, but I was reminded of middle school and just...froze. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’m not blaming you,” he replied calmly. “I was just wondering. Cause I know you’ve been going to self-defense classes. And I thought you were making progress. I mean, the last time I came to watch, you were pretty good.”

That was before the summer. Of course it was. Still, you were touched by the fact that he remembered. Despite acting like he didn’t care, you instinctively knew he did.

“I mean, I was,” you said. “But I panicked.”

Seonghwa let go of the wheel with one hand and placed it on your bare knee, rubbing calming circles around it. You two were alone so you were certain this was no longer the fake dating thing. This was just your best friend being there for you when you needed him the most.

“If anyone tries that shit again, just tell them you’re my girlfriend, alright? They have to be idiots to mess with you,” he spoke angrily.

“Fake girlfriend,” you reminded him sadly.

“That’s none of their business,” he replied, but didn’t correct you. Oh, how badly you wished to be his real girlfriend. To show him how much you cared for him.

“Why did you change so much over the summer?” you suddenly asked, while Seonghwa was driving you home.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Seonghwa responded harshly. “You don’t like my green hoodie and you also don’t like my leather jacket? There’s really no satisfying you, is there?”

“I didn’t mean your clothes,” you mumbled. “Just...your overall attitude towards me. Before the summer you used to let me squeeze your cheeks and sit in your lap and now you seem so...unapproachable. I’m just saying, we were closer when I was your best friend than we are now that I’m your fake girlfriend.”

Seonghwa stopped the car abruptly, making you blink in shock.

“I changed because I was sick of you treating me like a little boy and I wanted you to start seeing me as a man,” he admitted but without looking into your eyes.

“W-what are you saying?” you swallowed nervously.

“Nevermind.”

“No, you have to talk to me, Hwa!” you insisted desperately. “If you still consider me your best friend, be honest with me. Please.”

“This,” he gestured vaguely at you as he finally met your gaze. “This is exactly why I changed so much, Y/N. I don’t want to be your best friend anymore.”

His cruel words hurt you more than anything you’d ever experienced in your life. More than all the bullying, the slapping and getting pushed against a wall. Losing your best friend was your worst fear. But you had promised yourself to never be weak again. So the second he said that, you pulled the handle of the side door, attempting to get out of his car. Before you could do that, Seonghwa grabbed your hand, effectively keeping you in place.

“I want to be your boyfriend. For real this time,” he elaborated.

You stared at him in utter confusion.

“But...when I confessed, you acted like you didn’t care. Like I meant nothing to you.”

“Forget how I acted. I only offered the fake dating shit because I wanted to get closer to you again. Make up for the lost time during the summer. Do you honestly think I give a fuck about what Eunhee thinks or says about me? I just used that as an excuse. I’ve told her I’m not into her hundreds of times. And yes, maybe I have changed. Not because I don’t care about you. But because I do. You used to gush about Count Dracula and Darth Vader so much that I thought if I became the bad guy, you’d finally notice me. I wanted so terribly to impress you and make you stop seeing me as your adorable best friend that I got too lost in the feeling of holding power over you...Too lost to notice you liked me all along, didn’t you?”

“I did,” you whispered teary-eyed. “I do,” correcting yourself. “H-hwa, I’m so sorry to break it to you but-”

“If you reject me, I won’t be responsible for attempted murder,” Seonghwa interrupted you jokingly.

“I’m so sorry to break it to you,” you repeated with a sly smirk. “But no matter how hard you try to change, I will always see you as my adorable best friend. And though I have to admit I did stop teasing you temporarily, that was only because you suddenly started behaving like the dangerously sexy king of the high school. Can you blame me for feeling a little intimidated? I know I’ve said this before but I didn’t think me teasingly calling you Kermit would go this far. I never meant to hurt you, Hwa.”

“I know you didn’t, princess,” Seonghwa whispered, gently stroking your cheeks.

“And yes,” you smiled shyly, leaning into his touch.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want to be your real girlfriend. It would be a dream come true.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled, as if the very idea seemed amusing to him. “How badly do you want it?”

“So badly, I would do anything for you, sir,” you uttered the last word without thinking much, your brain somehow recalling a time when you two had discussed how you’d enjoy being called by a potential significant other. In retrospect, that wasn’t really a thing best friends generally talked about.

“Sir?” Seonghwa grinned, leaning his head against your forehead. “Keep that up and your real girlfriend status will be confirmed.”

“I want to kiss you so much,” you were on the verge of begging. Oh, screw it. “Please, please, let me kiss you.”

He didn’t respond, just connected your lips with his own softly, taking his time with you. It was pure magic. You had thought about kissing your best friend thousands of times. But nothing compared to the reality. Parting your lips further to let his tongue in, you physically couldn’t prevent yourself from moaning into his mouth, overwhelmed by how good it felt. How insanely intoxicating he tasted. How you were burning alive and it would be the sweetest death imaginable.

“Not if I kiss you first,” Seonghwa said once he broke the kiss apart. “Oh, wait, I just did.”

What the hell...had just happened? Sneaking a peak at the time, you were suddenly panicking by how late it was.

“Holy shit, my parents are going to kill me!” you exclaimed. “Can you please drive me home?”

“Sure thing, princess,” he laughed, increasingly amused by your flustered self. “That’s exactly what I was intending to do anyways. I’m not in the habit of keeping little girls past their bed time.”

“Shut up, I’m not a little girl!” you complained. “I’m just a few months younger than you. Asshole.”

“Hey! Is that any way to speak to your devoted boyfriend?” Seonghwa scolded you teasingly.

Oh, God. You loved the sound of that. Your best friend was now your boyfriend. It still felt unreal.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mewled apologetically, already knowing how to make him weak for you with just one tiny word. “And thank you for taking me home.”

“Anytime,” Seonghwa smiled. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

You could get used to it. Reaching forward to open the door for you, he whispered in your ear:

“I’m taking you out on our first date. Doll yourself up for me, will you?”

You nodded, your heart beating too fast to actually manage a verbal response. After you got inside and suffered a brief interrogation from your parents (using the library+extra assignments excuse), you hurried up the stairs, took a quick shower and then went to bed. No sooner had you closed your eyes than your phone buzzed with notifications.

Kermit the Frog: You still up?

Kermit the Frog: For fear of sounding lame, I moss you already

Kermit the Frog: *Miss...damn autocorrect

You chuckled upon seeing his messages. Whatever demon possessed you to still keep that nickname in your chat, you knew you had to change it immediately. If he saw it on your first date tomorrow, you would never hear the end of it.

You: I’m awake, yes

You: And I moss you too 😉

You purposefully misspelled the word to tease him. After all, it was only in order.

Boyfie 🐸: That obnoxious Kermit nickname better be gone by tomorrow

He texted as if he’d read your mind and you gasped in surprise.

Boyfie 🐸: Or we’re having our first couple fight!!

You: How did you know?!?

Boyfie 🐸: Not my fault you keep your phone unlocked sometimes

Boyfie 🐸: I’m not kidding, change it right now 😡

You: Changed it already

You texted him back quickly, sending him a screenshot.

You: Can I at least keep the frog emoji? 🥺

Boyfie 🐸: NO!!! REMOVE IT OR WE BREAK UP 😡😡😡

You: Damnit, Hwa, your angery Aries is showing...okay, fineee

You sent another screenshot of the now changed emoji.

You: Happy now?

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Much better, princess 🤗🤗🤗

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Now go to sleep, we have early classes tomorrow

You: Wow, so bossy. Okay, sir, I’m going

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Good night, my baby 😘

You: Staaahp, ohmygosh. And good night, Hwa 🥺

The next morning you ran outside faster than The Flash as soon as you heard the oh-so-familiar honks. When you saw Seonghwa waiting there to pick you up, your heart did a backflip as you excitedly took the passenger seat.

“Good morning, boyfriend,” you greeted him and kissed his cheek. “This still feels so strange.”

“Well, you better get used to it, doll. Wow, you really cleaned up nicely today,” he complimented your pastel pink dress. “Not that you usually don’t! You’re always gorgeous, I just meant that you’re especially gorgeous and...nope, that also sounds wrong. Okay, I shut up now.”

“Relax,” you giggled. “It’s fine. I appreciate the effort. You don’t look so bad yourself. Oh, who am I kidding? You’re practically sex on legs 24/7. I think it’s time for me to shut up now.”

“You’re so cute when you get flustered. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Just you,” you admitted.

Once you walked into the school, it was like everyone noticed the subtle change in your dynamic. Because Seonghwa did something he never did before. He carried your bag and gave you his leather jacket! And Hwa’s friends were immediately onto you like bees to honey.

“I mean, I knew you guys were dating,” Seonghwa’s friend Yunho observed. “But I never saw the chemistry before, to be honest. Until now. I mean, come on, Y/N was like a loyal puppy, always following Hwa around.”

“Hey, don’t give him any ideas!” you joked.

“Too late. Already ordered the collar,” Seonghwa winked.

“Kinky. Can’t tell if I’m into it or want to cut off my ears,” Yunho grinned. “Probably both.”

“Nice chat, but we gotta head to class, Yu,” Seonghwa said because his friend was in a different class.

“See you for lunch?” Yunho suggested.

“Can’t. Already made plans with this little girl,” Hwa tilted his head towards you.

“Whoo, enjoy, then!”

“It’s not what it sounds like!” you groaned, feeling uncharacteristically embarassed.

“Isn’t it?” Seonghwa smirked mysteriously and pulled you towards the room you had class in.

“Nothing involving collars and puppies, I assure you!” you yelled (perhaps a little too loudly), twisting your head, not wanting to give Yunho and the rest of Seonghwa’s friends the wrong idea.

When your classes for the day were over, Seonghwa led you towards his car once again. You were a bit nervous to make a good impression on your first date. Even though it was silly. Your best friend of four years had surely made a first impression a long time ago.

“Where are we going?” you asked to break the awkward silence.

“It’s a surprise, princess. Can you be patient for me?”

“I can,” you promised dutifully and placed your tiny hand on top of his. “Anything for you, sir.”

Seonghwa lost focus on the road for the briefest of moments in order to give you a warning look. One look and that was all you needed to keep you quiet and obedient. Eventually, you realized where he was taking you. Though you hadn’t been to his place for a couple of months now, you couldn’t forget how the drive to Seonghwa’s home looked.

“I dressed myself up and we’re just going to your place?” you hmphed in playful annoyance. “So much for our glamorous first date.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of my cooking skills. Shit, I sorta ruined the surprise, didn’t I?”

“Aww, you were planning to cook for me on our first date? Hwaaa, I’ve only had you as a boyfriend for less than 24 hours and you’re already pulling out the big guns! I don’t mean to push my luck but if you’re cooking now, I’m trembling to witness our one month anniversary.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

“You’re very ambitious to think you can put up with me for an entire month.”

”Hwa, sweetie, I’ve put up with you for four years.”

“Not as your boyfriend, you haven’t.”

“We’ll talk again in 30 days,” you vowed enigmatically.

“Here we are,” Seonghwa announced once he parked in front of his home. “My parents are currently at work so you don’t need to worry about...well, anything, really.”

“What’s the supposed to mean?” for some reason his words made you even more worried.

“Nothing, I just meant you can...like, be yourself. There’s no one to impress.”

“There’s you,” you pointed out. “Don’t forget your parents already know me. And besides, you’re the only person I care about impressing.”

“Not to stroke your ego, but you’ve already impressed me. After all, you’re the only one who’s had the audacity to compare me to a freaking muppet and survived.”

“Point taken,” you chuckled.

“Come on, let’s get inside,” Seonghwa suggested and the two of you entered his house. No matter how much you begged him to let you help with the cooking, he was insistent that he would do all the work. Said something about making up to you for the times you had to carry his bag or buy snacks to him and his friends. When you argued that you also had some making up to do for all the times you teased him a little too insensitively, he said that you agreeing to be his real girlfriend was enough to satisfy his wounded heart. Seeing that there was no point in arguing, you gave up and occupied yourself by mindlessly scrolling through social media. About an hour later, Seonghwa finally deemed his culinary masterpieces ready to be eaten. He allowed you to at least help set the table which you considered a small victory. The second you tried the first meal, you were so overwhelmed by the exquisite tastes that you spoke without thinking much.

“God, I wanna marry you.”

Seonghwa simply chuckled, amused by your unexpected reaction.

“Did I say that out loud?” you whispered, completely mortified, covering your mouth in embarassment.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Shit, I’m such a mess,” you mumbled.

“No, it’s fine. I take it as a compliment. Now, eat up before it gets cold. If my wicked plan works, you’ll have bought me a wedding ring by the time dessert arrives.”

“Truly wicked. I’m in danger,” you laughed and kept enjoying the various meals Seonghwa had prepared.

Once the plates were empty, you felt so full and warm you couldn’t possibly move. And no, that wasn’t an exaggeration. Seonghwa had to physically carry you to the couch so that you two would re-watch Star Wars: Return of the Jedi together, warmly cuddled up under a blanket.

Suddenly, you were possessed by the urge to speak your mind and be as honest with him as possible. After hiding your true feelings for four years, now that you were finally given the chance to be yourself, you were feeling uncharacteristically brave.

“You know, even though I was messing around earlier, I had indeed daydreamed about marrying you back in our first year of high school. You were the first boy who ever treated me like I wasn’t the walking joke of the universe. The first who ever hung out with me not as a prank but because you actually saw me as a friend. When I started teasing you about your cute habits, I hope you know I never wished to hurt you. I just wanted to show you that I notice and appreciate every single detail about you. So, yeah, I really like you, Hwa. Have liked you for a long time.”

Seonghwa had paused the movie the second you started talking. And now that you were done sharing your thoughts, he seemed unable to say anything. The silence was a bit awkward so you interrupted it once again.

“I’m sorry, that was silly. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable so early in our re-”

This time, he interrupted you with a kiss, pulling you into his lap, just like the good old days. You smiled into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him.

“It wasn’t silly. I appreciate you saying all that,” Seonghwa reassured you. “And for the record, I know you meant well with all the teasing. In a sense, a part of me even suspected that you liked me back. But I was also feeling a bit insecure. I kept thinking that you could do so much better than go out with dorky Kermit guy who has an obsession with tidying up, you know? That you deserved someone else. But I couldn’t allow anyone else to be that someone. So, I changed myself.”

“Maybe you did change a little. But in my heart, you’re always going to be my Frog Prince Hwa.”

“I hate you so much,” he rolled his eyes.

“Naw, you don’t.”

“Fine. I hate that you’re right.”

Things between you and Seonghwa were going great. It had been three months since you two started dating for real. He was super attentive and caring towards you. However, you were a bit bummed out since not much changed compared to his behaviour as your best friend and as your boyfriend. Sure, you did start kissing each other and occasionally making out (which wasn’t exactly a best friend activity). But there was one thing that still had not happened. And the more time passed, the more anxious you felt to bring it up.

One evening, you had miraculously convinced your parents to let you have a sleepover at Seonghwa’s place. After insisting that nothing out of the ordinary was going on between you two and even if something unusual did happen (which you highly doubted but secretly hoped for), you were going to use protection (and no, you were certainly not referring to Seonghwa’s collection of action figures who carried weapons).

As you and your boyfriend were enjoying your snacks while watching TV from the comfort of his bed, you couldn’t help but finally raise the question that had been tormenting your mind for a while now.

“S-seonghwa...do you not find me attractive?”

“What the hell are you asking me that for? Would you be my girlfriend if I didn’t find you attractive?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never dated anyone before so...I was just wondering if there’s a particular reason why we still haven’t...taken things to the next level?”

“The next level?” he chuckled. “Relationships aren’t video games. And to answer your question, the reason’s actually the exact opposite of your concerns. We haven’t done anything more than making out because I find you ridiculously attractive. And it’s taking every last inch of my self-restraint to not pressure you into something you’re not comfortable with. I just wanted to wait until you’re ready.”

“Ready? So you knew that I haven’t...with anyone...yet?” you purposefully left out some words because you were feeling incredibly shy discussing this with Seonghwa.

“Of course I knew, princess. You’re my best friend. And my girlfriend.”

“Well, that’s a relief, at least. That you’re not repulsed by my...inexperience.”

“Why would I be when we’re in the same boat?”

“We are?” you whispered in shock.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Seonghwa laughed. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since forever. Did you honestly think I would just screw anyone else?”

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t have options,” you pointed out, referring to all the potential love interests swarming around him like bees. “Unlike me.”

“Are you regretful, little girl?” he inquired, running a lazy finger across your cheek. “Jealous?”

“No, I just...want to be the best for you, sir,” you confessed nervously.

“You’re already the best I could hope for,” Seonghwa responded and kissed you hungrily, burying his hands into your hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you curiously needed to know. “That you haven’t either...”

“It’s not something that comes up in everyday conversation?” he pointed out. “What was I supposed to say? Hi, bestie, let’s have lunch together. Oh and by the way, I’m a hopeless virgin pining over you?”

“You’re right,” you laughed. “It would have made things awkward.”

“Now, unless you have any other pressing issues, I suggest we go back to kissing.”

And without giving you the time to argue, Seonghwa devoured your lips rightaway, gently pushing you down so that your back hit the sheets. Then, he started slowly taking off your jeans. Anxiously trembling under his vigorous touch, you placed a hand against his chest. He immediately noticed and put a temporary halt to his ministrations.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he comforted you with all the seriousness in his voice.

“No, I want to, I swear,” you nodded eagerly.

“Princess, you’re literally shaking,” Seonghwa remarked.

“What’s wrong with me?” you sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect. Tell me to stop if you feel even the slightest hint of hesitation or discomfort and I will, I promise.”

“I know you would, Hwa. I trust you. But even if I’m a bit nervous, I want to do this with you. Please?”

“Well, I can’t deny you since you’re asking so nicely,” he grinned and continued where he left off. “Can I get rid of these?” Seonghwa inquired, carefully pushing your panties to the side.

“Yes, you can do anything to me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you really shouldn’t have said that,” he chuckled darkly and tore your underwear savagely. You couldn’t even gather the energy to complain about the ruination of your new pair, you were far too turned on by Seonghwa’s aggressive nature to care. He didn’t waste any more time, grabbing your thighs to hold them in place, he began licking your pussy with his tongue and stimulating it with his long fingers. It didn’t take long for you to start squirming beneath his touch, helplessly moaning his name. He didn’t cease his merciless movements until you reached your orgasm. When your breathing finally eased, you gathered the energy to speak again:

“I thought you said you’ve never done this before? How were you so...so...”

“So good?” Seonghwa smirked confidently and bit his lower lip. “I mean...I’ve seen videos. Read some things here and there.”

“Honestly? I think you’re a god.”

“You’ll have to stop complimenting me so much or I’ll develop a god complex,” he joked. “What do you want to do next, baby?”

“I want to suck you off,” you mumbled.

“Who taught you such dirty language?”

“Hey! I read, too,” you pouted and assuredly made your way towards the carpet next to his bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Seonghwa asked.

“Aren’t I supposed to kneel in order to pleasure you, sir?”

“Princesses never kneel,” he instructed and got up from the bed, urging you to lie down with your head hanging from the very edge of the bed and make yourself comfortable. “Open up that pretty little mouth for me, will you?”

You did as he asked obediently and even went the extra mile to stick your tongue out. Unbuckling his belt and throwing it to the side, Seonghwa was quick to follow your wishes and let his cock spring free from his jeans. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his monstrous size. Seeing your worries if it will fit reflected in your eyes, he expressed his concern for you:

“Are you sure about this?”

“Please, please, I need you,” you whimpered without thinking, eager to have a taste. Without making you wait any longer, Seonghwa pushed the tip of his cock inside, gently letting your cheeks get used to the unfamiliar feeling. Slowly, he went deeper, allowing you to acquaint yourself with the stretch. When you kept blinking at him in anticipation, he realized you were ready for more and began moving faster, fucking into your mouth at a steady pace. As he neared his high, his motions became less controlled you were sucking more intently, impatient to swallow every last drop of him.

“Shit, I’m going to-” he attempted to break away, but you managed to wrap your hands at the back of his legs in order to keep his cock inside your mouth.

Seconds later, he released his cum and you began drinking it thirstily. When you had made certain that no drop was wasted, you finally let go of his legs, allowing your boyfriend’s dick to dangle freely outside of your mouth.

“You’re fucking incredible,” Seonghwa praised you and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “My incredible girl.”

“I’m only yours, sir,” you mumbled, way too affected by him.

“You like this, don’t you?” he mocked you teasingly.

“Yes, sir, I want to belong to you,” you whimpered and turned around to pull him back into bed.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Seonghwa smiled fondly and took a mysterious package out of the back pocket of his jeans. Soon enough, you realized what it was, as he started lining up the condom on his cock.

“Oooh, I brought one of those, as well!” you exclaimed in surprise.

“You came here on a mission, didn’t you? Wicked little thing,” he tsked in fake disapproval.

“It’s not my fault you’re walking around like an Adonis,” you defended yourself boldly.

“You’re one to speak. Freaking goddess,” Seonghwa complimented you and slowly began unbuttoning your shirt you had somehow forgotten you were still wearing. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, always making sure you were feeling safe.

“More than okay,” you consented. Left in nothing but your baby pink bra, you unintentionally shivered at the sudden cold air surrounding you. Soon after that, Seonghwa undid the clasps and you were now only wearing your birthday suit. Feeling a bit timid, you self-consciously covered your breasts and broke eye contact with your boyfriend.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he pressed the palm of his hand against your cheek. “Do you want to stop?”

You weakly shook your head and somehow managed to gather the strength to look into his beautifully dark eyes once again.

“Then, let me see you, yeah?” Seonghwa nudged your hands away gently. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

You blushed at his sudden praise and allowed him to have a look. But seconds later, you were getting a bit impatient.

“Please, Hwa, I want you so much.”

“Anything for my princess,” he chuckled and coaxed his tip at your entrance slowly. When you gave him a sign he could go deeper, his movements became bolder. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well.”

“M-more, sir, I swear I can do this,” you begged as you were beginning to unravel beneath him. As he fucked you faster into oblivion, you were no longer thinking straight and his name was the only word you were capable of uttering. Over and over again. Until you both came, blissfully lost in each other’s arms.

“Here, let me clean you up,” Seonghwa offered sweetly, picking you up with little effort and carrying you to the bathtub.

When he started shampooing your hair, rubbing body lotion into your sensitive skin and covering your neck with soft kisses, you couldn’t stop your tears from falling, touched by his infinite tenderness and by the sheer intimacy of the gesture.

“Darling, are you crying?” he questioned you upon hearing your hiccups.

“N-no,” you lied but it was useless, because it was quite obvious you were, in fact, bawling your eyes out.

“Did I hurt you, my sweet princess?” Seonghwa asked in concern.

“How...how could you think that?” you whimpered. “You’ve been nothing but kind and caring towards me. It’s just that...this is the first time I’ve felt so...special, so worthy, so...”

“Loved?” he offered the word you had been seeking for but had been too scared to utter out loud.

“Y-yeah,” you confirmed shyly. “Is it too early to say this? I’m sorry if it is but...I love you, Seonghwa.”

He simply stared at you in disbelief for a couple of seconds. This time, you were once again the one to break the deafening silence.

“You don’t have to say it back. I just...I wanted you to know. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way but-”

“I love you too, baby. Of course I do,” Seonghwa reassured you. “And I’m not just saying it, I don’t feel obliged to say it. As my best friend, you know me better than anyone else. And you know I don’t do things unless I want to. So, believe me when I say this.”

“Fuck,” you uttered and only started crying harder in his arms.

“Shhh, you’re safe with me, sweetheart. I would never harm you,” he comforted you and stroked your hair lovingly, putting all your worries and self-doubts at the very back of your head.

After you were all dried up from the bath and had put on your boyfriend’s shirt while he was still in the shower, you were feeling uncharacteristically confident. Confident enough to look for something you hadn’t seen for a while. You had been wondering if he had it hanging around somewhere in his wardrobe. And after a short period of rummaging you found your treasure. The green hoodie. The Kermit hoodie. You smiled mischievously as you changed into it. It still smelled like him, you beamed. Back when he was simply your best friend, the amount of times you had fantasized about him lending it to you should have been illegal. So now that you had been promoted to his girlfriend, you simply couldn’t let such an opportunity pass you by.

Once Seonghwa got out of the shower, water droplets running down the divine skin on his bare chest, you were too busy staring at him in all his beauty and glory to notice the angry look on his face.

“How did you even find this? It was hidden so well in my wardrobe,” he scowled.

“Don’t be mad,” you pouted adorably. “I look so cute in it, right?”

“Cuter than me, that’s for sure,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes and tickled your belly.

“That’s impossible, you make the cutest Kermit,” you giggled, enjoying how easy it was to get on his nerves.

“You’ll never let me live this down, will you?” he groaned.

“Never ever, my stunning Frog Prince,” you vowed and kissed him quickly, taking him by surprise. His eyes widened in shock and he seemed too flustered to continue scolding you.

“You’re in luck today. Nothing can ruin my good mood,” Seonghwa was determined.

“Great,” you grinned gleefully. “Cause from now on, I intend on making all your days filled with joy.”

“From now on?” he chuckled sarcastically. “Oh, princess, my days have been filled with nothing but joy ever since I met you.”

And indeed, both Seonghwa’s days and yours were nothing but pure happiness ever since you decided to make your relationship real. And despite his foolish statement that he no longer wanted to be your best friend, you had somehow managed to convince him that he was both your boyfriend and bestie and that was perfectly okay. As if in the blink of an eye, spring came which meant that the whole school was in nervous excitement about the upcoming prom. Generally, you weren’t the type to get overwhelmed about such a trivial topic. But now that you were dating Seonghwa, the most popular guy in the school, you couldn’t help but worry a little. What if he wanted to go with someone else? Someone equal in “status”? Your worries and insecurities further intensified when he started asking questions in a weird way.

“I need your help,” Seonghwa blurted out over lunch.

“Shoot.”

“Okay, so, I have this friend. And he really likes this girl and wants to ask her to prom. What do you think would make her happy?”

You blinked in surprise. You knew that when people pulled the “I’m just asking for a friend” card, they were most likely talking about themselves. Was he seriously thinking of inviting another girl to prom? You tensed a little but tried really hard to remain neutral in your answer and actually make an attempt to help your bestie.

“I mean, all girls are different,” you reasoned. “If you describe her to me, maybe I’ll be able to give a more appropriate suggestion.”

“She’s a bit like you. You know, kinda bookish and-”

“It’s alright, Seonghwa, you can say it. I’m a nerd.”

“Well, yes, but...”

“It’s not exactly a slur,” you chuckled coldly.

“I know, but that’s what your bullies in middle school called you. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive,” Hwa put his hand on top of yours in a gentle, comforting manner.

“It’s fine when if you say it,” you smiled. “I won’t get offended.”

“I was going to say my friend’s crush is intelligent like you but, oh well.”

“That does sound better, I admit,” you giggled.

“She’s also a bit shy and introverted so maybe she wouldn’t enjoy a public promposal. Crowds tend to make her nervous,” Seonghwa observed.

“Seems like you didn’t need my help after all,” you scoffed playfully.

“No, I do! I still haven’t come up with an actual way to propose. I mean, for my friend.”

“Right. Your friend. Well, he can’t go wrong with some poetry under her balcony. If she has one, that is.”

“I’m pretty sure she does.” Seonghwa smirked. “Alright, thanks.”

He jumped from his seat, not even having finished his lunch.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I gotta prepare my friend’s promposal,” he shrugged and disappeared from your sight, leaving you a bit crest-fallen. If he was intending on asking you, he wouldn’t have turned to you for help, right? That would sorta ruin the element of surprise, wouldn’t it? And yet, you knew that Seonghwa wasn’t the type to care about people’s opinions and randomly ask a more popular girl out because of public demand. And he definitely wasn’t the kind of person to just date you for kicks and then ditch you at prom. Despite those very logical reasons, you couldn’t help but feel a little anxious.

A week later, you realized all your worries had been for nothing. It was a Sunday morning and you had just finished having breakfast with your family. You were leisurely reading on your bed when you heard some suspicious noises coming from your window. You looked up from your book and you could swear you saw tiny rocks hitting the glass! You jumped up angrily, half-expecting to find a bunch of neighbour kids pulling a prank. But you were surprised when you spotted your boyfriend standing under your balcony. Wearing his iconic green hoodie.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, though a hopeful part of you already knew the answer.

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,” he recited diligently in a song-like manner.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his overdramatic acting but it was the effort that touched you immensely.

“And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were!” he continued sweetly.

You were so in love with this man it was insane.

“Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return,” Seonghwa kept going.

You couldn’t resist the urge to leap off the balcony. It was just the second floor so what could possibly go wrong? Other than a scraped knee and a bit of a limp. God, you were such an idiot.

“Shit, are you okay?” Seonghwa asked in terror and wrapped his arms around you.

“The excruciating pain is worth it if I get to hug you like this,” you grinned, leaning against him for support.

“Why couldn’t you just walk down the stairs like a normal person?”

“And what’s romantic about that?” you joked. “Jumping off a balcony makes for a much better story.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Only for you, my sweet Frogmeo!” you teased and kissed his cheek.

“Wait, I wasn’t finished!” Seonghwa exclaimed excitedly, not bothering to act offended about your obsession with him and that Kermit hoodie. “There was something about cheeks, I swear.”

“See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!” you helped him out dutifully.

“O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!” he finished proudly and placed his palm against your cheek.

“Only you could possibly mix Romeo and Juliet with The Frog Prince and somehow make it work,” you praised him.

“Does that mean you’ll go to prom with me?” Seonghwa tilted his head to the side adorably.

“Of course I will, baby,” you responded happily.

“Thank God, ‘cause learning that monologue drained my soul and brain,” he whistled playfully.

“You know, you had me worried there for a second,” you confessed reluctantly, because you didn’t want to keep any secrets from your doting boyfriend.

“When?” Seonghwa asked in confusion.

“Lunchtime. A week ago. When you asked me for advice. I thought that...”

“That I would ask someone else?” he correctly guessed your suspicions. And you nodded. “Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?”

“No, you’re perfect. In fact, too perfect. It makes me feel like I don’t deserve you.”

Seonghwa smiled sadly and kissed the top of your head. But he wasn’t angry with you. Just wanted to erase those silly thoughts from your mind.

“You deserve so much more, princess. But I’ll try my best to give you all I can.”

“As will I,” you promised and mischievously pulled the drawstrings on his hoodie, making his face squished adorably.

“If this is the best you’re capable of, I dread to see your worst,” he shook his head in amusement.

“Prince Frogmeo and the Nerdy Princess,” you sighed wistfully. “That would make a hell of a fairy tale, wouldn’t it?”

“How about Kermit the Frog whoops the Princess’s ass for being a brat?” Seonghwa threatened jokingly.

“You know what? I wouldn’t say no to that,” you giggled and started running away from him. “If you catch me first!”

Prom night arrived and despite all the preparations and excitements around it, it was nothing special in itself. What made it special, however, were the moments you spent with Seonghwa. Just dancing and talking seemed to be enough to make your heart leap with joy. And the smile never left your face the entire night.

“School’s really ending, huh?” you spoke aloud without thinking, while you were swaying slightly to the music in your boyfriend’s arms.

“This isn’t the end of us. We’ll go to college, we’ll grow up. The best is yet to come, darling.”

“You know what I meant,” you replied, a hint of sadness tinging your tone. “In college, I’ll study Literature, you’ll study Music. We’ll no longer be able to sit next to each other in class or exchange notes or hold hands under the desk.”

“We’ll do all sorts of other things,” Seonghwa responded cheerfully, trying to think positive. “We’ll have study dates in college, we’ll visit new restaurants and make more memories together. Just because high school is over, doesn’t mean we are. I’m not giving up on my best friend ever.”

“Your girlfriend,” you corrected him playfully.

“My best friend,” he repeated. “You were right. Being in love with each other doesn’t nullify our friendship. Both are equally important to me. You are the most important to me.”

“God, Hwa, how can you say such things so easily?”

“Is your heart fluttering?” your boyfriend and best friend teased you, swirling you around while dancing. You were met with his beautiful dark gaze again as he murmured: “Hi, princess.”

“H-hi, S-seonghwa,” you chuckled in response.

And you were finally home.

The End

#ateez #seonghwa #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #ateez fluff #seonghwa fluff #ateez fic #seonghwa fic #park seonghwa #ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #ateez imagines #seonghwa angst #writing

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softboywriting · 4 years ago

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3AM | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: A rainstorm in the middle of the night is the perfect time to start confessing feelings and thoughts that have been bottled up for over a year. At least to Nathan it is. [Post Film - Nathan Lives] [Mentions of Alcoholism] [Pregnancy - Mentioned] [Soft!Nathan] [Mention of Injury - Film Canon] [Fluff with Angst] [F!reader/Nathan] [Established Relationship]

Word Count: 1.8k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Nathan doesn't sleep on his own anymore unless it's raining, not without help. Drinking, some over the counter non prescription sleeping medication, physical exhaustion. He will do anything to make himself sleep, except see a doctor. Nathan doesn't like doctors, he thinks most are liars and cheats who just want to scam people out of their money. You have no idea where he got the theories he has but he won't see medical professionals unless he absolutely cannot handle the situation himself. He is a genius but maybe too in his head for his own good.

You're not sure why this all started, but you can pinpoint when it started. A year ago, a year and three months ago after his last failed AI. Failed isn't the right word. They aren't failures, they're incredible works of art and science but not what he wants so in his eyes, failures. Ava was his best work to date and he even brought in an outside civilian to try her out with someone other than himself. He never lets you in with the AI. Says he is protecting you. Things with Ava escalated, got heated and Nathan got seriously hurt. After she was detained, Nathan was forced to shut the breaker down to Ava's room so she couldn't power back up after her battery ran down and he could safely disassemble her after he healed. After that he became closed off, more so than usual. The drinking got worse and the sleeplessness started. It has put a strain on your relationship that sometimes it feels like it only affects you.

So when you wake up in the middle of the night and go to the kitchen for a bottle of water and see Nathan passed out on the couch you think he's drunk again. A topic of many arguments and one you don't want to breach at three in the morning. So you tiptoe quietly past him to your destination. It's then that you see the rain pelting the glass walls of the house. Wind whipping around the trees and making a muffled howling sound. You wish Nathan would come to bed, your shared bed, but he won't if he's been hitting the bottle because he knows you hate it. Maybe you can get him to move off the couch if he's just asleep because of the rain.

"What's that noise?" He groans and you stop by the doorway to the inner workings of the house, bottle of water in hand. "Kitten? That you?"

"Yes, I was getting water. Do you need something?"

"Noise?" He asks insistently.

You cross the room and he lifts his arm from his eyes. "It's a storm. Pretty bad one if I were to guess."

"Oh."

"Mmhmm. Do you want to go sit on the enclosed deck? I know you like to watch the rain."

Nathan sits up and fixes his crooked glasses. "What time is it?"

"Three A.M."

"Fuck." He pushes up off the couch and goes to the window leaning against it with his forearms up on the glass, eyes fixated on something out in the dark. "I must have passed out."

"Yeah, it's raining." You walk up behind him and lay a hand between his shoulder blades. "You always sleep when it's raining."

Nathan glances back at you. "I do?"

"Yes." You chuckle. "You don't know?"

"I sleep without the rain too, that's ridiculous."

"No, you get black out drunk and pass out or your body physically shuts down because you go too long without rest." There is a hint of venom in your words that you don't intend but it's a touchy subject. You miss him in your bed. You miss him in general. Since Ava things haven't been the same and you're getting tired of it.

Nathan doesn't say anything. He just stares out at the darkness. You hate his silence. It's almost worse than when he's talking to you like you're a child, which he rarely does now since you've discussed how that doesn't fly with you. Silence is his new way of saying he is right about everything.

"Nate," you start and he pushes off the glass, walking away to the kitchen. "Nathan, where are you going?"

"Deck."

------------------

The moment you're seated together on the wooden bench in the enclosed deck, he decides to speak. It's not loud but it makes your heart rate spike when he begins. You're not sure why. Maybe you can feel something coming.

"I've been thinking."

"You're always thinking."

"No," he looks over and you can tell by the way his eyes are softened that he's serious and he wants you to listen and not talk back right now. "I want to stop drinking."

You lay your hand on his thigh and he covers it with his own. You've never known him to have this serious of a conversation with you. Not even when he said I love you the first time. Nothing has felt this important. "Why?"

"For you." He leans his head on your shoulder and you rub your cheek against his stubbly hair. "I know you don't like it and I can see it's putting a strain on our relationship."

"I definitely wouldn't mind it. I do miss you."

"I'm right here, every day."

"You know that isn't what I mean."

"I know." He murmurs. You don't think you've ever heard him speak so softly outside of sleepy cuddling, let alone hear him agree with you so quickly. This is scaring you. It makes you think something is wrong.

You rub your hand over his cheek, fingers flexing in his beard. "Is something going on? Did something happen to bring this all about?"

"Do you think I'd be a good dad?"

You pause, thrown for a loop at such a left field question. "A good dad? Nathan...I don't know."

"You can say no."

"That's not my answer." You look out at the rain. You don't know what he would be like as a dad. Having children changes people. As he currently is, no, Nathan would not be a good dad. He's too stubborn, bossy, impatient and absent. He has too much going on in the lab to focus on raising a human being. "It's complicated."

"Simplify it."

"I don't know how you are with children. I've never seen that side of you. But that doesn't matter. How a person is with someone else's kids versus how they act when it's their own is different. It's not a black and white answer."

"Do you want children?"

You sigh and look at him. He looks distant, zoned out. If you didn't know better you'd think he was drunk or stoned. "Maybe. It's not something I think about a lot. Do you? It seems you're thinking about it quite a bit more than me."

"I thought about it today. I thought about a lot of things today, and yesterday. What day is it? Nevermind it doesn't matter."

"What have you been thinking about? Other than children obviously."

"Like how I've never loved someone, or anything more than I love you. I didn't even think myself capable of love until I thought I was going to die after Ava's attack and my first thought was not that I was scared of death, but that you would be alone and you would have to see me die."

"Nathan, honey..." You slide your hand across his stomach where, beneath the soft cotton shirt, lies a very large scar. You'll never forget that night. It was a nightmare come to life.

A cool wetness comes across your arm, and you think it is the rain at first. Somehow leaking through the roof. But then you realize it's Nathan. He's crying for the first time since you met him, since you fell in love with him. He is crying silently.

There are no words to be said as you gather his head to your chest and hold him tight. He's been holding on to this for a long time. It wasn't just yesterday he was thinking about it. It's been a year and three months. You imagine he has been tormenting himself every day with the thought of leaving you alone, of you coping with his death. If only it didn't take so long for him to come clean.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, clinging to your back. "I won't leave you."

"I won't leave you either."

"I'm not making AI anymore. Not the conscious kind. Ava was too much, I played God and I realize I shouldn't have."

This is astounding. Nathan never apologizes, never admits fault or denies his works. You don't know who this is. This is not your Nathan. "Is there something more you want to tell me?"

"Yeah."

Your stomach aches, and a cold shiver tears it's way through your body. You have no idea what he is going to say. The worst is that he's dying, you think. "Out with it then. You're not one to dilly dally with words."

"Marry me."

"What?"

Nathan slides off the bench and stands in front of you. He doesn't kneel. He would never kneel. "Marry me." He puts his hand out for you. It's not so much a question as it is a command. How very Nathan. If he were any other person you would tell them off for this kind of harsh proposal.

"I thought you didn't believe in marriage."

"I didn't believe in love either but here I am."

You stand up and he takes your hands, rubbing his thumbs over the tops. "You want to marry me and have kids? Who are you?"

"I'm Nathan." He leans in and presses his forehead to yours. "I'm the Nathan that you broke down emotionally piece by piece for the last two years and this is what's left."

"A softie?"

"I wouldn't say I'm soft. I'm more...attuned to my emotional responses."

You reach up and hold his face in your hands, head still pressed to his. "I think I love this Nathan more. Is that harsh?"

"No." He nudges forward, bumping your nose and presses a quick kiss to your lips. "But don't expect me to be any softer in bed."

"I would never."

"Good. So you accept?"

"Accept?"

"My proposal."

You laugh softly under your breath. "That was a proposal? It didn't sound like a question, but rather a command."

Nathan smiles, that troublesome glint in his eye. "Semantics. So will you?"

You roll your eyes and smile. "Yes. I'll marry you Nathan."

"Good." He pulls you in, hips flush to his, pressing his face to your neck. He kisses along your throat, leaving wet licks across your jaw. "Now I can put a baby in you," he murmurs against your ear.

You smack him in the back and he chuckles.

"Come on." He wraps his arms around you and hauls you up against his chest. "I've done some research. I know all the best positions to get you nice and full."

"Nathan!"

"Oh shut up." He walks you back toward the kitchen, biting on your shoulder. "You love it dirty."

"Oh my God!"

"Yes?"

"I hate you."

"Love you too."

--------------

end

Thank you! Please Comment and reblog if you read and or enjoyed -A

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#nathan bateman #nathan bateman fic #nathan bateman x reader #ex machina #ex machina fic #ex machina fanfic #oscar issac #oscar issac fic

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iamnightduchess · 4 years ago

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SnK 139 (A personal thought on Reiner & Mikasa's ending)

We have finally reached the end. For those who began this fandom since 2010, it's been 11 years of happiness, tears and heartbreak, on top of character discourse with our respective favorites. This manga is rich with amazing life values that requires more than just a quick zip through of every chapter. It requires a thorough, repeat reading. Hajime Isayama weaved his universe in a way that never cease to blow all of his readers' minds away but still touched our hearts in an emotional way.

(Special thanks to @pethellhounds for the key pointers for this post!)

No doubt, I love all of the characters, each of their flaws, strengths and growth but my two favorites have always been Mikasa and Reiner, individually.

Upon the first two reads, I was saddened, I was devastated and I allowed my emotions to filter the absolute value of the final chapter; in particularly to my most favorites. All thanks to the discourse we had in our RK discord, my brethren offered me a different perspective on how we could truly perceive ch.139 for what it truly is: a bittersweet farewell which only leads to new beginnings.

Reiner Braun

Armin was destined to save humanity, Eren confided on that himself. Even if it was Mikasa's personal choice on ch.123 that is the ultimatum that had saved humanity by eradicating the power of the Titans from the world for good. As referenced on this post, it has been Mikasa that was destined to free Ymir all along through her selflessness.

Upon first read, the following panel seemed to portray the remaining alliance members in a different light. Everyone looked amazing, happy as they exchanged banter just like how old friends with shared traumatizing experiences do. After all they're all celebrated world heroes - living with possibly an upgraded lifestyle, fame and wealth even within those 3 years. But upon several more reads and deeper observation, one could not entirely disregard the rather dark and gloomy atmosphere beyond the bright surface. In particular Jean and Reiner, who seemed to be a bit more noticeable.

Jean somehow is putting on a front as a skirt-chaser (having preference for younger girls) while Reiner seemed to be simping over his old crush (who's already married & has a child in Paradis).

The above panel seemed comical because the actions & lines seemed a bit "out of nowhere", but beyond the surface - everyone's hurting secretly from within, some are masking their pain, though some remained unaffected because they all shared a heavy burden of guilt towards Eren's death & Mikasa's withdrawal from the group to lay their friend in his final resting place all the way in Paradis. Jean and Reiner both are putting on a front.

Do remember that during the Marley arc, not even once was Reiner shown to reminisce about Historia very specifically. Not even in a fleeting thought, thus why it could also be deduced that she did not actually have a huge impact on his memory or his genuine affections beyond just a fleeting crush to hide his tormented mental state from within. How could someone who has been shown to have tremendous emotional growth and a consistent, albeit shaky psychological regulation during his primary arc was reduced to a typical simp archetype in the final chapter? This is not, a "Reiner can finally be his real self who's free of his burdens & he is someone who's enjoying his new life" moment.

The last time he portrayed this "simping" behavior? When he was 17 years old during the 104th's first SC excursion and when his psyche was almost teetering on its edges as his Warrior!alter is wrestling control against his soldier personality in Utgard Castle.

Reiner's simping (which was an intended joke) was also an indicator of a bleak truth: his DID regressed, from his regulated state and his psyche was completely torn apart from that day. In Marley, he had been extremely depressed but he was a loyal, strong and steadfast soldier who had only his duties in mind. To see him do a complete 360 & reverted to a creepy old behaviour, is truly saddening. He's been masking his pain with this front. Even Pieck could be seen sending him a silent, understanding look of concern for his letter-sniffing action.

In 139, despite having a new chance at life, having his mother's genuine love and acceptance & achieved his original dream in becoming a respected hero who is recorded in history, one could not entirely rule out the possibility that Reiner's DID has regressed to the point that either he reverted back to his soldier persona as a facąde or he'd might have developed a new alter altogether after having to experience Survivor's Guilt for the second turn. Yet this time, with no known time limit since the Curse of Ymir had been eradicated. DID is a lifelong condition. It does not go away, it cannot be healed even with modern medicine but yes, could be managed. That letter, the mentioning of Eren's name and their impending arrival on Paradis - the place he felt the happiest of his life - could be his trigger to put on that front. He, (along with the rest of the alliance on that ship) had to live with the fact that his and his family's new life and future had been at the expense of two people's livelihood; Eren & Mikasa. Eren sacrificed his life. Mikasa chose to bury Eren at his final resting place in Shinganshina and remain there to honor his memories on her own, without anyone by her side despite having fought together & almost on the verge of dying together.

(Thank you @lancerofdarkness for pointing this out!) We can see the banter between Reiner and Jean is very reminiscent of Reiner and Bertolt, where the latter cautioned the former on "not getting too carried away". Where Bertolt had a filtered approach, Jean had a more direct, head-on snipe. This dynamic had been initially observed much earlier in this post.

The alliance members could possibly have made a silent pact between them on not mentioning either Eren or Mikasa's name out of respect for that 3 years. Or if they, as well as the others, were not divulged of the real truth by Armin. With or without this knowledge, Eren's death and Mikasa's silent departure from the alliance do affect everyone. Some are more obvious than the others.

Once again, I feel compelled to share an unpopular perception that Reiner's simping is not his true self's behavior. It is a mask. A fake persona. It is a front to hide the real pain from within.

He cared about both Eren and Mikasa respectively, as much as the others do.

Mikasa Ackerman

Upon first reading, I was initially devastated for Mikasa's conclusion. It was her decision and selfless act that had saved all of humanity and won Ymir over, which completely destroys the Paths as well as removing the titan powers together with its curse. The woman who had been at the frontlines, placing her life at stake, almost dying first to protect the men in the alliance; she who had sacrificed everything ended up with nothing but only memories of the one who could never be and loneliness.

To throw salt into the wound, we saw Eren uttering in Paths on how he refused to accept the notion of Mikasa being with another man, he wanted her to only love him and have him in her heart even 10 years after his death. It was indeed a last spur of the moment declaration that ironically contradicted his plea in 138.

Their relationship was never meant to take off by riding into the sunset together, they are not destined to be with each other, even if their feelings are mutual. Despite my personal observation of their relationship as a form of enslavement in itself: Mikasa still sees it as her devotion & commitment to Eren. I have to respect her perspective on this.

Ymir mistaken Stockholm Syndrome as love, she perceives enslavement as love. Being used as a tool of war and breeding, surrendering all her will to her captor, yearning for his validation - she saw those as love. Now the glaring parallel between Ymir and Mikasa are truly obvious. Because of love, Ymir tethered herself to Paths or purgatory for 2,000 years and in exchange of Mikasa's decision & action, Mikasa remained tethered to her love for Eren & his memories for at least another 10 years if not for the rest of her life on earth. That is truly heartbreaking.

I was devastated. I personally believe she deserves better. She too deserves to have her happy end, to be loved and have a family of her own.

When Armin had dreams of seeing the world beyond the walls, Mikasa has always been a simple girl with simple dreams: i) to go back home within that forest in Shinganshina and ii) to be by Eren's side forever. Once we realised this, Mikasa actually had everything she ever desired after all. She's back home in Shinganshina, living in solitude and in peace with no burden of world peace, diplomatic affairs on her shoulder and has no need to put on a facąde. She's been grieving and she still cried for her yearning to see Eren's face again even after 3 years that she might not stop shedding tears in the next 7 years just like Eren wanted. That is how psychologically and emotionally affected she is with Eren's words, actions and death. She chose to remember Eren and keep her in her heart that it is almost seen as an imprisonment but she's also free from other wordly responsibilities unlike the rest of the alliance members.

Did I wish she would have a better ending than this? Absolutely. This young woman has never been on her own ever since she was born, it's heartbreaking to see her having to process her grief alone without even a single companion by her side. She lost all of her incredible physical strength and had to learn how to fortify her emotional strength through her grieving process. She has only learn on how to love and be loved by Eren, which has major missing components left to be desired. Mikasa deserves to be loved, to receive that affection openly in return from someone who would be ideal, respectful, trustworthy, expressive, equally devoted, the raindrop to her seed, the sun to her cold days and loving towards her and maybe one day, eventually would be able to grow a real family from that genuine love.

The last two bottom panel above we can actually observe the innocent kid!Mikasa just like Isayama promised. She is ready and curious to once again, learn more about the beautiful but cruel world. She is ready to leave the forest upon realizing that no matter where she goes, Eren will always be inside her heart.

She is at peace. Even if she looks way thinner, fragile that she should be and could be seen collapsing as she was hit by another wave of strong grief. But since the members of the alliance are coming to Paradis for a potential negotiation, it is been stated by Mikasa that they are also coming to see Eren's final resting place to pay their respects. She will be meeting her friends after 3 years for the first time and I could really hope that they can be the support that each other needed for true healing. I am holding on to the possibility of her being ready to move on and start living again after putting the course of her life on hold by mourning for Eren the moment she is reunited again with Armin, Annie, Reiner, Jean and Connie.

The bird flew over the ship carrying the alliance as it is heading towards Paradis before heading towards Mikasa's location, giving his answer to her "You're happy right?" question by wrapping that scarf around her neck for one last time. He wanted her to be free after 3 years of grief. He wanted her to move on when she meets their friends again because she does not deserve to be consumed in her grief not even another day. Not even for another 7 years. Not even for the rest of her life.

Anything that we envision happening after 139 is valid in this universe. I believe Mikasa will begin living her life to the fullest as the end of the series is also the beginning of her next journey. But this time, she will be doing it in the company of her loved ones. Together.

#snk spoilers #snk 139 #snk meta #snk thoughts #snk opinion #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk #aot #reiner braun #mikasa ackerman #snk manga

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bleulone · 4 years ago

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i love your analysis so much! i have a question as well, like, how do you envision polin's sex scenes ? thanks for your answer (:

Hey! Thank you very much :)) I have no idea if they are that even good but I’m happy you like them. It’s just my brain tending to produce some iNsIGhiTfUL analyses though they usually end up drowned under a huge wave of stupidity and horrid spelling/grammatical mistakes XD. So, about Penelope and Colin’ sex scenes, I guess we’re getting spicy in this house 🌶. I mean, I don’t blame you. Who’s not hot for Polin ?! The steamy Polin hours have already begun and they’re legit challenging my patience. (Be still my Polin heart, be still).

Okay, without further ado, let’s talk about sex baby, shall we ? It’s a pretty long answer/meta so bear with me.

I don’t know if you’ve read Romancing Mister Bridgerton, but a quick reminder (for those who haven’t... yet), there are a bunch of iconic steamy scenes that I’m dying to watch on screen. First we have the famous “thank you” scene where Penelope, now a 28 year-old spinster, asks Colin to kiss her because she doesn’t want to die without having been kissed... then ends up thanking him— which happens to be humiliating for our 33 year-old boy because he thinks that she thinks he did it out of pity while he absolutely did not. The man definitely felt butterflies in his stomach... and in other places as well lol. We also have the ICONIC carriage scene where Colin gives Pen’s generous bosoms™ the attention they deserve. This is followed by his proposal. Later on, after the announcement of their engagement, there’s a pretty hot make-out scene on Lady Violet’s sofa. Finally, we have their first time in Colin’s bedroom, after sneaking out of their own engagement party... which leads Colin to push the wedding date forward. At this point, I just love their horniness, especially Colin’s who’s just so freaking amazed by Penelope for more than 300 pages straight (duh! who isn’t ???).

When you say envision, I suppose you mainly refer to the way those scenes will be filmed right ? I’m afraid I don’t have an advanced knowledge in film-making but let me start by telling you what elements need to be depicted. I would love Shonda and Chris to capture the real essence of our boos’ feelings : the yearning, the love, the respect and the guilt (specifically on Colin’s side) in their eyes. The more we move forward throughout the seasons, the more we see different layers of the perceptions of they have of each other, going from a childish idealization/immature ignorance to a sudden realization. A mature one. Penelope goes beyond the facade of the charming devil-may-care guy to meet the seriousness and temper of her significant other. Meanwhile Colin discovers how confident, powerful and attractive this woman is and always has been. It echoes what I’ve written about the importance of the gaze in Polin’s love story in this meta. By the time season 4 hits, man... their heart eyes and eye-fucking will jump OUT XD, all fibers of their beings, burning with need. The fact that this evolution took literally years is very emotionally painful, which is why I find it important to keep the slowness aspect of their relationship before and during their love making. I’m really looking forward a slow build-up toward their intimacy. It would differ from Daphne and Simon who merely shared one hell of a kiss in Lady Trowbridge’s garden then shared their sexy times after they married or Anthony and Siena’s rough sex... In fact, there’s a certain (sweet) ardent tenderness in Polin I like due to the fact that they’re slowly (re)discovering each other, as adults. Since they were both introduced in season 1, the audience will have all the time in the world to notice numerous evidences of the many natures of love they have for one another : from an affectionate and friendly love to a more carnal and enduring one.

Okay so, in terms of filming, with Netflix’s Bridgerton being a show which promotes the female gaze, it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise watching those sex scenes being shot from Penelope’s perspective, like it was the case with Daphne in the first installment of the series. Most of the time, sex scenes in Historical Romance are not gratuitous. Their presence serve an important purpose in a hero/heroine’s journey. In Penelope’s case, they’re here to help her learn to embrace and love herself. In other words, sexuality is synonym of freedom. I don’t know if they’ll show a lot of skin, but I won’t be complaining considering the fact that we’ll have the chance to get a chief kiss treat on screen : a plus size woman in a major successful Netflix period drama getting a love story as romantic and steamy as other more “fit” female characters. No, your weight doesn’t prevent you from being desirable at all. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t watched a plus-size female character portrayed as an attractive protagonist in a period drama (please if you have, let me know, I can be wrong). Having a beautiful half bare curvy body like Nicola’s being equally filmed like numerous slim actresses will be so inspiring and powerful to watch, especially for (young) women who struggle, like Penelope, to love their body shape which, to them, doesn’t “fit” the “beauty standards”. By showing her female gaze and portraying her as seductive, Pen’s “supposed” imperfections transform themselves into mighty assets, loved and worshipped by our dashing Mister Bridgerton. That’s body positivity at its finest darling ;).

It will be deliciously erotic watching the undressing process being exquisitely slow, garment by garment, while their gaze are all heated and hungry. Their sex/make-out scenes should be tender and passionate, sweet and raw. The lightning, colored by a dark blood orange yellow or a blue depending the locations^^. Moreover, the depiction of the exploration of Penelope’s desire can translate itself thanks to multiple close ups. For instance, I can imagine a few ones on Pen’s fingers gently roaming over the smooth skin of Colin’s firm chest and back/touching his hair right after he removed his shirt. And a disheveled Colin letting his hands and lips making a journey of their own, mapping, conquering the alluring unknown territory that is her gorgeous voluptuous body... kissing her on the places he knows oh too well will give her pleasure (is this me wanting him to go down on her?— um yeah I sure hope it IS! If he doesn’t, trust me imma riot... AGAIN). Even a close up on her face while Colin is performing his addictively pleasing torment will be a marvelous proof of the female gaze. By the way, why not even adding a post-coital scene after their first time ? I can picture Penelope waking up first and contemplate her handsome soon-to-be husband. She’d bring her hand to his face and let it travel all around his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, his neck and let it rest on his heart— making sure that what she’s just experience was real... obviously, Colin will wake up in the process and he’ll take this as his cue to go for another round of sexy times under the sheets.

Showing Pen reaction is essential according to me because she was stuck with the idea that she would never experience the luxury of being loved, giving pleasure nor receiving it... she ended up being happily wrong. Throughout her multiple intimate encounters with Colin, I want her to progressively realizes that she can be an active partner. In the carriage, she knew she had an effect on him, but it’s not until their first time that she actually realizes it. Hence the reason why I WANT the mirror’s introduction in one of their sex scenes. Here’s as a little reminder an excerpt from chapter 18 :

“I want to see you sitting up," he groaned, "so I can see them full and lovely and large [about Pen’s breasts]. And then I want to crawl behind you and cup you." His lips found her ear and his voice dropped to a whisper. "And I want to do it in front of a mirror."

“Now?” she squeaked.

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then shook his head. "Later," he said, and then repeated it in a rather resolute tone. "Later.”

It would be such a shame if the show doesn’t use the incredible potential of this object (/kink). I mean, the symbolism is pretty clear. Penelope has always fled her “ugly” reflection but it seems like Colin wants to show the real her, the beauty that holds every single inch her alabaster skin and the effects they have on him. Thus, I would love to watch a scene where Colin just praises the alluring goddess and siren that is Penelope Featherington. Just imagine! Just IMAGINE the power of this scene : a shirtless Colin sitting behind her on a bed, meeting her gaze in the mirror, his lips touching her right ear, biting and licking the lobe sometimes, whispering all kinda of dirty yet poetic words to her while letting his hands caress her thighs, her hips, her arms, her lovely bosoms™... oof. At the same time, a wonderful and harmonic instrumental music will play in the background and match the melodic partition of shudders, breathes and moans let out by our lovers. I can imagine Luke inspiring himself from his performance in the 2019 short film, Youth In Bed. The way he conveyed the awe and the yearning on his face, in his eyes with his mouth slightly open when he knelt before his partner Shun Yin was just captivating and— and so Colin! I cannot help but bring myself to picture Ethan, the character he played in YIB, in a Polin steamy scene. I cannot unsee this anymore jsksk. I mean, all this gifset radiates this book4chapter18!Colin, you cannot tell me otherwise!

Also, I would love Shonda and Chris to keep Pen and Colin’s cute/emotional pillow talk. One thing I really love in JQ’s books is the concern she gives to her male protagonists about potentially hurting their partner during the act of penetration. Colin is a rake, and what his experience with women taught him is that he needs to be very gentle with the love of his life. It was so adorable seeing him not wanting to harm her and asking her to tell him if he does anything she doesn’t like 🥺. Plus, before actually doing it, Colin and Penelope shared a few kisses and just laid down side by side, confessing their love. Though our boy kept feeling guilty about not returning her love after all these years. He desires nothing but to make up for the lost time and show his love and desire during this special intimate moment. I hope they’ll keep all of chapter 18’s dialogue. It’s just so telling of our boos’ feelings, you see.

All in all, I can’t wait to watch those Polin steamy scenes. As much as I may sound crazy, I want them after two other seasons of pure pining and yearning in order to have a very good payoff. I’m not an expert on depicting intimacy on screen, but I loved so far what Lizzy Talbot, the intimacy coordinator who worked on the show, have done in season 1. Sex scenes in Bridgerton seem very real and dive you in the intimacy of the moment, leaving you all flustered and hot. So probs to her! I have faith in her work and have no doubts about what her and the directors will serve us in future seasons. Though, in the end, I think it’s mostly up to the actors, Nicola and Luke, to see if they’re comfortable filming sex scenes.

If you guys have any suggestions or wishes for those steamy polin scenes, please do share them :) by commenting on this post or by sending me asks! I’d love reading your thoughts/take on this very important matter ;))

#bleulone answers #meta and gush #polin #colin x penelope #bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin meta #ask #anon #luke newton #julia quinn #nicola coughlan

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plus-size-reader · 4 years ago

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Long Time Coming

Daenerys Targaryen x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1570 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Dany is in love with Viserys' bride, and once he's gone they become very close, and she admits just how much she cares for reader

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Daenerys didn’t have very many people in her life that she cared for. Aside from her brother, she had no real family to speak of. Even allies were in short supply where she was, so far away from her father’s kingdom.

Though, when she stopped to think about it, you had always been there.

For as long as she could remember, you had been in her life with the intended purpose of marrying her brother when you came of age. That was your only purpose as far as anyone was concerned, but not Dany.

You just didn’t bond with the man as much as you did his younger sister, but not for a lack of trying. You wanted desperately for your future husband to appreciate you and come to respect you as you did him.

...But there was just no getting away from the truth.

In every way that Viserys was cruel and unfeeling, his sister was kind and gentle. Dany always had time for you and very clearly cared for you in a way that no one else did. Where Viserys wouldn't even look your way, the young girl provided companionship and a friend.

It was just impossible to ignore the difference, and as you got older, it was only more obvious.

Whenever you two were together, you found yourself hanging on her every word and getting closer and closer as the time went on. You cared for her, and you knew she felt the same. It was all in the way her eyes sparkled when you were together.

Not that you could even consider doing anything about it. Your duty was to your husband, the rightful king of the seven kingdoms, and nothing else could be more important than that.

Not even your truest friend.

So, you forced yourself to ignore the obvious feelings you had for the young woman and focused more and more on being the doting wife a future king deserved.

Even when Viserys was cruel to you, shouting things that you wouldn't have expected from your worst enemy, and striking you for the fun of it, you kept to yourself. As far as you were concerned, this was just the sort of life you were meant to have.

It was your duty as his wife, even if the very sight of the spiteful man made your skin crawl.

Now, it was no secret that Viserys wasn’t the sort of husband that he should have been. He was selfish and treated you more like a handmade than a bride, but there was little anyone could do.

The dragon was someone that you had been raised to fear, as well as respect and even as an adult, you found it hard to argue against him. Viserys was rude and aggressive, and he always had been.

You had little hope that it would change, no matter what you did.

There was nothing you could do, given the little power and status you had against him, so you simply allowed the man you’d married to live life his way. It couldn't matter how many people it hurt or how many times you went to bed with tears in your eyes.

It was the life you had always been meant to live.

You had given up on hope of that changing a long time ago, and as far as you were concerned, it was always going to be that way.

Until, of course, all your lives changed entirely.

Viserys assumed that marrying Daenerys off to the great Khal Drogo meant that he would be rid of her forever and would get an army to boot but it was clear to you that wasn’t going to be the case.

The blonde had been controlling both you and his younger sister through violence and fear for years, but his harsh threats and pouty nature were no match for the great Khal. You could see that much from the moment you set eyes on the large man.

That theory only strengthened as Dany began to bond with the Khal and gained his favor. There was the power, a power she found within herself that she couldn’t have possibly had before him. It proved everything to you that you’d always known.

It proved that she was a leader, and stronger than she had ever been given credit for in all her life.

Those were all things you knew but had never seen.

...But that wasn't all.

Through that newfound power, Dany came to terms with the things she’d had to experience at the hands of her brother. All those years of torment and abuse, so many things he’d done to her, and she had never been able to make it right before.

Now though, the Khaleesi of a large Khalasar with one of the most revered and ruthless men at her beck and call, it was only a matter of time before she finally got back at her brother. In that same way though, it was only a matter of time before Viserys realized that same thing.

You watched him for days, growing more and more restless at the idea of no longer being in control, and losing any chance at the throne he'd been holding onto for years in his mind.

It seemed only a matter of time before he snapped.

Within a few days, much longer than you'd assumed, Viserys found himself threatened by her to the point where something had to be done. That came in the form of threatening both her life and the life of her unborn baby.

There was only one way that could end.

Standing there, in that dank, dark hut, you watched as two large men held Viserys down, his arms snapping beneath their calloused hands. You knew that they were going to kill him, but you felt nothing at the thought.

Perhaps it was the fact he'd threatened the one you truly loved, or maybe it was just about years of abuse at his hand that you'd suffered. In any case, when his head hit the ground, hardened now in molten gold, you didn’t mourn as you thought you would.

You didn’t even bother to look away as you stared down at him.

Perhaps it should have affected you more, especially after all the time you spent by his side, but you didn’t see that boy you’d been betrothed too in those lifeless eyes. In fact, that boy had been gone for a very long time.

In many ways, you didn't even recognize who he'd become, and you were sure that Daenerys felt the same way as she too stared with eyes cold.

In any case, you remained under the protection of the Dothraki and their wonderful Khaleesi, even when your husband was dead. Dany simply told you that you were her family, with or without Viserys.

...And that was as far as it went, for a long time.

It wasn't until one night, sitting by the fire, after everyone else had turned in for bed that the relationship you two shared finally changed.

Daenerys had recently lost the great Khal after a seemingly harmless wound festered beyond repair. That left her in a very emotionally raw place, having lost the man she cared so deeply for, and the only person she'd speak to was you.

Perhaps it wasn't ideal, all things considered, but you were her oldest friend and as Dany mourned, you sat by her side, holding her hand tightly in your own.

"How did you feel when Viserys died?"

The words left her lips heavily after what seemed like an eternity in silence. It was a fair question, seeing as she'd lost her husband recently after you'd lost your own but it didn't seem like a fair comparison.

It was clear that Drogo loved Dany, and she him while the relationship you and Viserys shared was closer to mutual contempt than anything else. The slight grief you shared at seeing the life leave his eyes would be nothing to her current morning.

Still, you answered her question.

"I felt very little, as horrible as that is. Perhaps I was relieved that he couldn't hurt you anymore, if anything" you shrugged, slightly fearing that she would think you cruel for such a response. Terrible or not, Viserys was her brother.

Though, you should have known better.

For every horrible, vile thing Viserys did and said toward you, Dany experienced tenfold. She knew what kind of monster he was. In fact, she often felt the same way you did, through the vein that he could no longer lay his hands on you.

"I thought about it a thousand times before, what it would be like to just take you and escape somewhere far away from him" she allowed, her voice little more than a whisper at that.

You were both painfully aware of the feelings you shared for one another, but that was the first time either of you had taken that jump and said it out loud. It felt wrong, especially seeing as she was in mourning but perhaps this was what she needed...finally.

Maybe she just needed to understand just how much you cared for her as well.

"Perhaps we could go now, far far away from here" you replied, your grip tightening on her hand without even meaning to, but you continued, ignoring the nerves you felt. "Across the water, to Dorne, or Essos"

You both knew that you couldn't, not for a good long while yet, though maybe the dream would be enough to keep you both going until you could.

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bixqueen · 4 years ago

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so thanks to hboMAX my pretty little liars obsession has started up again and when i watched pll the first time all the way thru (yes sadly it’s been more than once i have a life but also don’t) my favorite character was alison. as i’ve watched it more it changed (emily or spencer is prob my fav now) but going through tumblr, instagram, and even pinterest, i feel alison gets too much shit/hate from the fandom. so here i am, making a justification for her. if you really don’t want to see my side or pov then just keep scrolling because i don’t really want to see negativity in the comments (unless you’ll actually say something, a rebuttal?)

so let’s start off with alison being a small child and her household/family. we know how her parents would manipulate her and tell her lying is better than telling the truth. she’s had these really bad influences on her at such a young age (with secrets overflowing her house) and when you continue to have these influences on you as you’re mind is maturing, of course you’re going to eventually go through with them. now yes i know the other girls also had lying parents but were any of them as bad as alisons? i mean some things spencer’s parents kept and arias but they were also older at that point (middle of high school and up). i’m not saying it’s okay but they knew at that point in their life what’s wrong and right and for the most part they had been raised to not lie. alison wasn’t. eventually her lies caught up to her as well so even though she learned the hard way to tell the truth, she eventually did.

now we’re getting into the high school stage where there were MANY points as to why she would’ve ran away. if the writers wanted a better redemption arc for her i feel they would’ve shown her a little more broken in some scenes and such but anyways. freshman year isn’t absolute hell but it’s not fun either. having the mindset of making sure you’re not the one who will get hurt obviously forces you to have this wall and makes you a lot more mean than you really are. (i really feel this was a wasted potential by the writers not going more in depth about her mental pain but shit they didn’t do it with anyone tbh). her whole life kinda had build ups to her being so secretive and closed away (again if the writers went into more depth on this we would’ve seen maybe some trauma that causes her to be closed off and push everyone away. not wanting to show weaknesses) from everyone so it definitely wasn’t hard for her to find that bitchier side and let it off on everyone, not that it’s right, it just made her feel safe and protected. a main factor of this was probably being closeted. i myself am a bisexual girl so i know how it feels to question yourself the way she most likely did. it’s scary. really fucking scary. because you don’t know if there’s something wrong with you at first or if it’s just a stage and you’ll most likely pass it. it’s why i believe her relationship with emily was why she had no big deal leaving rosewood. yes we know she was being tormented by A before the girls were and she wanted to leave so she could be safe. but even with that there would need to be some other factors that kicked in to her actually leaving. A in the beginning for JUST alison was kinda like a bully right? i mean a little more extreme than that but it wasn’t as bad as it was when it started hitting with the other 4 girls. so if alison THE alison dilaurentis was being bullied by someone too scared to show who they really are, wouldn’t she just laugh some of it off? alison WANTED to leave before mona gave her the option. she was scared. and not just of A, but of who she was. and who she loves.

if we’re looking at what alison does for emily versus the other girls while they’re being tormented by A, you can tell she cares for her more. she saved emily more than anyone else. she said leaving emily was the hardest part of it all. because alison was in love with emily, just like emily was in love with her back. obviously running away and faking your death isn’t the best option for having internal panics, some people just don’t know how to manage it. especially being the bold person everyone sees and talks about. imagine seeing her walk out of some therapy session teary-eyed. she’d feel so weak in that moment, so vulnerable. isn’t that one of her biggest fears? people seeing she’s not as strong as she comes off to be and they can use that against her. her fear for being vulnerable also brings me to her being SO scared coming back to school after faking her death. ali, the queen bee, is terrified. this kinda brings to me childhood pain (personally this is why i thought of it lol rip). maybe her family thought showing emotions was weakness you know? and when you open up they kinda laugh at you and they’re like “you think you’re life is hard?? you’re a kid.” (i’m sure i’m not the only person who’s heard this mf bullshit bedore). where i’m going with that though, is it could’ve been placed in her head at a very young age (also this is so dehumanizing and traumatic damn but it makes sense) that you have to shut out all feelings and emotions. it really makes people numb and being emotionally numb as a child and teen is dangerous for brain growth and development. makes sense why it took her forever to feel safe and okay opening up to emily about her feelings and showing emotions around the girls. when you’re seen as this “bitch” who doesn’t make down from a fight, it forces you to turn emotionless.

so the way she acted out the night she went missing and her freshman year wasn’t ideal and it really wasn’t okay. but the audience never saw what she was going through mentally, hell even after that. we see it a little when she comes back and talks about the night she went missing. imagine your own mother burrying you alive. god the trauma that must STILL have on her. being under pounds of dirts, unable to move or talk. your own mother doing this to you to save someone else. i’m not trying to put it as she’s only been through things and no one else has cus of course that’s not the case. i just think people often dismiss her pain and trauma and just say “she’s a bad person and deserves the shit she’s been through.”

i’d also like to add her type of crowd she was around wasn’t the best sort of people. imagining being a freshman and hanging out with college kids who would throw some girl down a flight of stairs. i feel like that also had an impact on her mental health and what she believed was okay to an extent because i mean verbally bullying isn’t okay but at least sis never pushed someone down the stairs 😭 (worst thing she did is definitely blinding jenna. i really don’t know how to defend her actions for that one. you could say she didn’t know anyone was in there? or that she didn’t know she had- it was a firework right?)

last point i can think of: paige vs alison. of course i have to add this lol but my main point with this is both girls were mean to each other. did alison start it by calling her names and such? most definitely. do i think paige should’ve retaliated? to an extent. but she went as far as teaming up with others to have alison go to jail for a crime she didn’t commit. their revival wasn’t just one sided and again i think people often forget that. they’re continuously like going against each other at every chance they got. it was funny but also got annoying. ali would shit talk to paiges face then paige would go whine and cry about it to emily to turn emily on her side. i mean did we forget paige manipulated emily against alison? (yes ik alison was the manipulation queen when she was younger). really what i’m going with this is that they’re more alike than they’ll admit to an extent. me personally, i like alison and emison more. i never really liked paily but paige grew less annoying in later seasons. but when comparing them, i believe paige had more damage on emily than alison did. even when alison was ‘dead’ she still saved emily’s life at times (including the other 3 girls) and did things to protect them. i don’t remember paige saving emily just trying drowning her because she was a little jealous. another thing i know someone will try to bring up about them is how “alison was never happy for emily” well shit bro neither was paige 😭 i’m on season 7 right now and there were some times paige took a liking into stalking emily while she was dating that girl who worked in the cafe (sorry i can’t remember her name rn). and when emily talked about being with that girl she was kinda like 😐 k. alison is the type to speak or show her mind while paige seems to keep to herself then shit talk others behind their back. both qualities aren’t exactly the best so both ‘sides’ can go against each other for years on this. they’re just more alike than people realize.

anyways, there’s that. if you have any opinions (WHERE YOU’LL ACTUALLY ARGUE SOMETHING AND NOT JUST SHIT TALK ME!!) feel free to leave a reply. and if i left out something you want me to add in i will :) have a good day <3

#pretty little liars #pll theories #alison dilaurentis #emily fields #emison

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mdawritings · 4 years ago

Text

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 12

II.I

Masterlist

Warnings: References to violence, canon-typical descriptions of violence, crime scenes, and death.

Song(s): "Bruises" by Lewis Capaldi and "I Almost Do" by Taylor Swift

It’s almost eight years until you hear the name Aaron Hotchner again.

You’re anxiously awaiting the call about your reassignment within the FBI. You had completed your year of mandated leave, gone through the required psych evaluations, gone through the training protocols. You’re ready to get back into the action, or, at least, you’re ready enough to get back to work. That’s when you receive the final message.

Your reinstatement was to be within the Quantico headquarters. This way, the brass could keep a close eye on you, while still utilizing your skills in the best possible way. So you flew into Quantico late Saturday night, moving into the cheapest apartment you could find. It was in a terrible area but being out of work for a year leaves you without much spare cash to live lavishly. Without your government-issued weapon, you check the deadlock every time you turn your back to the door for too long.

You have hardly any furniture in the apartment, most of the decor being the piles and piles of boxes in the center of your living room. You’re exhausted, in every possible way, so you settle for a fast shower, during which you’re entirely paranoid someone is going to break into your apartment. You collapse onto your bed, barely having the energy to even put the sheets on the bed to make it. The call comes through your phone shortly after you fall asleep, which means you don’t check your messages until early Sunday.

“This is Erin Strauss of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I’m calling to inform you that the council has processed your psych evaluation and administered a new gun registration and badge for you. You will now be working under me as a profiler within the BAU. It is my understanding that you’ve taken quite a few profiling classes in your training as a negotiator and you’re well equipped for this job. There will be a slight adjustment period but nothing that I do not believe you are capable of handling. You will start in your new position on Monday. Meet me at my office and I can brief you about the basics and then Agent Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, will take it from there.”

You practically drop the phone. Your hands shake slightly, as you click off the phone and place it back onto your bedside table. You write Strauss an email in response, apologizing for missing her call, accepting the position, thanking her for the opportunity, and expressing your immense gratitude for such an esteemed position with such a great team. But that’s a lie. For a split second, you believe it's possible that this Aaron Hotchner is a completely different one than your Aaron Hotchner. You’ve never been a believer in fate or destiny. But for this to be a coincidence is simply unbelievable. Isn’t he supposed to be tormenting more students, torturing more girls, breaking more hearts? How did he end up as the BAU Unit Chief within the FBI?

You’re in shock, Strauss only leaving you about 24 hours to process it all and prepare for a new job. There’s no way you could request reassignment to a different unit. You’ve already been given your second chance. It’s now or never to get back into the FBI.

You’ve been out of work for a year. For a year, you’ve been struggling to cope with the loss of coworkers and innocent people. A loss that’s completely on your shoulders. Blood that’s on your hands. It was enough of an adjustment to get back to normal. Well as close to normal as can be. Your government-issued therapist, as you like to call her, attempted to dismantle this idea. She tried her best to remove the guilt from your mind, but after the government aid for the sessions ran out, you abandoned all hope of restoring yourself to the mental state you were in before. Everything in your life now is the after. You can’t live in the before. It’s too painful.

But now? Now it feels like all the work you’ve done to heal, to move on, to continue your life is rapidly unraveling in front of you. How would you adjust to seeing Aaron Hotchner once again? You hope that by now, he won’t have as much of an impact on you. You’ve experienced so much life, so much living, so much loss since then.

You’ve had other relationships, loved other people, slept with other people, but the impact that Hotch had on your life is permanent. When you think about it too long it feels ridiculous, the fact that a silly little fling in your early 20s has managed to change you so much. So much so, that now, at 29, you can still sense remnants of his impact on your life. They’re small moments, in which you realize that your behavior has changed so drastically over the years because of him. Your tongue is sharper. You stand up for yourself more often, and you never ever let anyone walk all over you the way he did.

You spend the day worrying yourself sick about the new position. You can’t turn it down. This job is your last chance.

Monday morning, your alarm rings wildly next to you in bed, but your eyes are already open. You’ve been staring at the ceiling for the past hour unable to sleep. You’ve been tossing and turning restlessly, unable to focus on anything else but the last few memories you have of Aaron Hotchner. Your mind first goes to that last day of classes, thinking about the way he smiled at you from across his desk. The way that damn leather-bound book felt in your hands. The way that he kissed you. He made you feel so special. Your mind then travels to the rest of that weekend, one in which he managed to rip your heart out of your chest and tear it into a million little pieces.

You think of the last thing you heard from him. Those same words he had spoken to you once before, but spoken to someone else. At that moment, you realized that you were nothing special. You were just another girl Professor Hotchner used for sex.

You’re hopeful that you will be able to move forward with professionalism. There’s a second where you consider the possibility of becoming friends with Aaron Hotchner, but you know that’s impossible. You can’t look at him and ignore all the hurt he caused you. You can, however, be professional. You know you can work with him. It might just tear you up inside, but you can do it. You have to.

However, you wonder what kind of person he’s become in the past eight years. You know you’ve changed dramatically, but what has happened to him? How has his life gone? How did he end up in the FBI?

You wonder if he’s learned to love. The man that you knew was one who was seemingly incapable of ever loving anyone. It’s clear to you that back then he was too selfish, too wrapped up in his own head to dedicate anything real to anyone else. And if he ever did feel anything real for you, he was too emotionally damaged to handle it, work through it, or to tell you about it.

Your alarm rings again. You snooze it again. What will you say to him? What do you want your first words to be to him? Will you tell him off? Should you even acknowledge the past? Or should you just put on your best air of professionalism and approach this as you would any new job? It seems impossible to push aside the past and treat him as a new person. Because he’s not a new person. He’s a man who has shaped every decision you’ve made in your life since knowing him.

You eventually convince yourself to get out of bed, reminding yourself that it’s pointless to fight inevitables. You dig through the moving boxes, pulling out your coffee maker and a thermos, filling it up to the top, already expecting the Quantico office coffee to be bad. You haven’t worked in a year, but you do remember always having to make your own coffee before work.

While the coffee brews, you pack a go-bag, an item that Strauss heavily emphasized the importance of for this job. You would be traveling a lot for each case, and you have to be ready to leave at any moment. You’re not sure why your reassignment is with the BAU. Your therapist emphasized a lifestyle of structure and predictability. If there’s one thing you’ve heard about the life of these profilers, it’s that the hours are irregular.

You get dressed, slipping on a clean pressed, black pair of slacks and a white button-down blouse. You slide on a comfortable pair of boots, ones that look nice and professional but don’t hinder your movement in the event that you get called away on a case.

One benefit of the irregular hours is that your personal time is limited. If you can occupy your mind with work, you can avoid getting sucked up into your own head. Like right now. You grip your bag as it jostles against your side on the bus. You drink your coffee a little too fast, which doesn’t ease the unnatural level of fear coursing through you.

This shouldn’t scare you so much. But the old wounds that you fought so hard to turn to scar tissue are reopening and they hurt just as much as the day Hotch inflicted them upon you.

You get to the Quantico headquarters a few minutes early, giving you enough time to get your new ID from the front desk. You get into the elevator, rocking back and forth on your toes anxiously. He’s here. He could be anywhere. Every time the elevator doors open to a different floor, you fear that you’ll come face to face with him. You’re sure that he’s probably on the sixth floor. The BAU floor. He’s probably in his office waiting to welcome the new agent. Does he know that you’re the new agent? Does he know who you are? Does he know what’s happened to you this past year?

You were assured that most of the details of your ‘leave’ were kept confidential. All that was publicized was a tragic bombing. The bomber sacrificed himself for the cause. Only a few people were able to escape, but all with severe injuries. The FBI didn’t want to admit their involvement. Their failure to save those people. Your failure to save those people.

You get to Strauss’s office, struggling to pay attention as she walks you through the basics, hands you your new badge, and a new gun. You holster the weapon, pulling your go-bag onto your shoulder, fiddling with the straps nervously.

Strauss finishes her introductory speech and takes a moment to look you over, “Agent, are you sure you’re ready to get back to work?” It doesn’t take a profiler to notice your nerves. Ever since the start of your leave, nerves and anxiety aren’t an uncommon occurrence, but this is more than usual. Your body is practically vibrating.

Despite the sick feeling in your stomach, you manage a nod, “I’m sorry.” You apologize for appearing distracted, “Yes ma’am. I’m ready.”

You can tell she’s unconvinced. Strauss leads you through the relatively crowded bullpen. You spot an empty desk across from a woman with long black hair, who is too busy laughing with the blonde sitting on top of her desk to notice that the tall skinny one across from them has just spilled coffee all over himself and his paperwork. You assume that the empty one is to be your desk. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest as you glance up at the two offices on the catwalk. One of them has the blinds tightly drawn and through the other, you can just barely see an older gentleman working on his laptop. David Rossi. You know him. You read just about every single one of his books on Sunday in preparation for this new job.

Your profiling skills are mediocre at best. Strauss argues that out of all possible candidates you had the most office experience and field experience. You’re really not sure how that helps. How could a traumatized and failed crisis negotiator who hasn’t been in the field in nearly a year provide anything helpful for the BAU?

Old habits resurfaced and you buried yourself in published literature and textbooks and research. You weren’t about to walk into a new job feeling unprepared, especially not one in which Aaron Hotchner would be your new boss. Now, at this moment, trailing behind Straus, as your body seems detached from your mind, dreading the moment that she opens that door to Aaron’s office, no amount of studying or preparation seems sufficient.

Rossi steps out of his office just as you and Strauss reach the top of the stairs. You lock eyes with him and despite not even knowing who you are, he gives you a reassuring nod. Damn profilers. Your body language is probably a dead giveaway. Strauss knocks on the door.

“Come in.” That voice. You could never forget it. Strauss reaches for the handle and you’re tempted to run away. Turn around and walk away. At least then you could leave with your sanity semi-intact. However, your curiosity has been piqued at this point. You have to know. You have to see him. You step through the doorway into the office and finally get a good look at the man.

He's hunched over, body turned slightly away from the desk. He has a phone pressed to his ear and he’s speaking in a gentle, hushed tone, "Yeah I know buddy." He glances over at you and Strauss. As if out of a movie, he does a double-take. It’s almost as if it takes a second for his eyes to really process what he’s really seeing. And what he’s really seeing is you. The look on his face tells you that he barely recognizes you, now eight years older, in professional clothes, and a face that’s just a little more weathered from all that you’ve been through.

Your memories of him are not faint as your eyes stay locked with his. They’re not just faded remnants of your moments together. Staring at him, eyes drinking in every inch of him, it all comes back more vivid than ever. You can practically feel his fluffy hair tangled in your fingers. From your position, you can just faintly smell his cologne. That’s a scent that hasn’t changed. The sensory memories are overwhelming. The passion, the secrecy, the pleasure. But that quickly changes, making the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach grow at an all-consuming rate. That night. That night he grabbed you by the front of your shirt, the way he snapped at you, the completely ice-cold manner in which you spoke those last few words to him, I’m done.

That Aaron Hotchner is not the man sitting in front of you. You barely recognize him. His hair is shorter, more strictly gelled in place. His white shirt is buttoned all the way up. He has a suit jacket on. His tie is done up perfectly. You can’t help but take note of the bags under his eyes, the increase of lines on his face. Obviously, he’s aged, but the way his face has changed, it’s not just age. You can see his eyes are dull, glossed over. For as neatly put together he is from the neck down, his face looks tired.

Hotch seems to forget he was just on the phone, entirely taken aback by the fact that you’re actually there, standing in front of him. "I’m sorry I can’t be with you right now but get a lot of rest and I’ll be home before you know it. I have to go. I love you too." He hangs up and you try to hide the shock on your face as those words come out of his mouth. Words you dreamt of him saying. Words that haunted you for months nearly a decade ago.

"Agent Hotchner, this is the crisis negotiation transfer I was discussing with you," Strauss nods at you, and Hotch stands up, smoothing out his tie, placing his hands flat on the desk. "This is Agent—"

"Y/N." His voice is firm. Hearing his name fall from your lips is enough to send you running in the opposite direction. Fear and anxiety overcome you, your legs going weak as he sticks out a hand to shake yours, but you can’t seem to get yourself to move forward to touch his hand, "I’m sorry, Agent Y/L/N." He corrects his mistake.

His hand hovers in the air for a moment, waiting for you to reach forward to shake it. Your shoes drag across the carpet, as you reach forward to shake his hand. His warm, rough hand envelops yours. At one point in your life, just the touch of his skin against yours would send sparks up and down your arm. Just that handshake would’ve been enough to ignite your skin and make you feel alive.

You feel nothing. Just a simple handshake. Your heart is attempting to jump out of your throat, beating rapidly and pounding against your ribcage so hard you think your chest visibly moves. However, his touch no longer thrills you. Maybe you are finally over Aaron Hotchner.

"You two know each other?” Strauss gestures between the two of you.

"No," You reply without missing a beat. You shake your head, finally able to get words out. You have to force your eyes off of Hotch and look at Strauss, "Well, yes. Agent Hotchner lectured at my law school a few times. When he was a federal prosecutor.”

Strauss gives a small nod of acknowledgment, “Agent Hotchner can show you the ropes from here. I expect updates from the field,” Her eyes shoot over to you. Updates about you, she means. In case you manage to fuck up again.

You watch as Strauss leaves the office not turning your eyes to Hotch at the desk in front of you. You look out the window, gesturing to the agents in the bullpen you passed, “I’m assuming the extra desk in the bullpen is mine?”

Hotch tilts his head down, letting out a small breath, “Yes. Agent Y/L/N—”

“And everyone in the bullpen, is that the whole team? I know Agent Rossi’s office is next to yours and I only saw three agents in the bullpen but I assume there are more?”

“Yes. We have a technical analyst and another member of the team. You’ll be introduced to them shortly, however–” that’s not what he really wants to talk to you about. Its clear that there’s so much he wants to say, but you don’t give him a chance to speak. You keep your mind focused on the important questions on there about the job. You know that a conversation with him about anything else just might break you.

“And in terms of training, you can see I passed my gun qualifications again. Are there any other evaluations or training protocols? Or will my time from the academy be sufficient preparation for this position?” You rattle off your questions. His face is a mixture of shock and frustration. He has his arms crossed against his chest. He tucks his bottom lip in, biting at it lightly.

“Y/N,” He places his hands firmly down on the desk. This time he doesn’t answer your questions. He’s tired of your avoidance, “What are you doing here?”

You take a pause at the sound of your first name, swallowing slowly, “I’m here on reassignment from crisis negotiation. I’m supposed to be working as a profiler on your team in the BAU.”

“You know what I mean,” Hotch presses the issue a little further.

“With all due respect, I’m not sure what you are searching for from me but if the implication is that I am here for anything other than the job then you are sorely mistaken,” You huff out and cross your arms against your chest, mirroring his closed-off body language. “Sir.”

“That’s not what I was implying,” Hotch places a hand on his forehead, rubbing roughly, trying to ease his frustration. You’re not quite sure where he gets off being so short and snippy with you. “I’m just… The last time I saw you, you were on track to be a lawyer and now you’re standing in front of me, in my office, joining my team. It just all seems very—”

“Sir?” You turn and see a different blonde standing in the doorway. She has a bright pink floral dress on, two large flowers in her hair, a file in her hands, and a pink fuzzy pen tucked behind her ear. “Sorry to interrupt,” She steps forward, stumbling a little in her high heels, sticking her hand out to shake yours, “Penelope Garcia, technical analyst, computer geek, and all-around wizard of the keyboard.”

You smile at her and stick your hand out to introduce yourself, “It’s great to meet you.”

“Sir, you remember that the Indiana PD contacted us about a possible serial?” She lets out a shaky breath, squinting her eyes and looking away as she opens the file, holding it out to Hotch, “Another body.”

Hotch has to reach past you to take the file and you audibly suck in your breath as his arm glides past your torso. “Same signature?” He looks over the photos.

Garcia lets out a small shudder, “Yeah the victim’s hands… the unsub he… don’t make me say it, sir.” She squeaks out.

“Gather the team,” He gives a nod before finally looking back at you, “You think you’re ready to get back to work?”

“Yes Sir,” You sigh, pull your go-bag further up your shoulder. You start to follow him out the door but he stops short in front of you.

“We’ll talk later,” He stumbles over his words a little. You’re making him nervous. You see his hand at his side. His fingers rubbing against one another. There’s one thing that hasn’t changed in years. He still has the same nervous behaviors.

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about,” You mumble under your breath as you follow him to the conference room. You speak quietly but from the way he tilts his head, stretches his neck, and takes a deep breath, you know your comment was loud enough for him to hear.

You take a seat at the roundtable, watching as the three agents from earlier are now joined by a tall, muscular black man who ruffles the top of the skinny kid’s head, messing up his hair, “I’m just teasing kid, I like the haircut. Makes you look young.”

“Yeah like I need anything to make me look younger. Everyone already thinks I’m a teenager,” The skinny one tries to smooth his hair back into place, but it doesn’t really help, leaving small strands sticking up in the air.

“Everyone this is Agent Y/L/N, she’s joining us from Crisis Negotiation,” Hotch pulls out his chair, right next to yours. You feel your whole body tense up, as the close proximity really allows you to smell his familiar cologne. Eight years and he still hasn’t bought a new one. Great.

“Joining us?” The muscular one stands just a bit behind you, making himself a cup of coffee but turns and walks to take a seat, giving you a slow once over. It’s not a flirtatious one, but a wary scan of your body. You’re becoming acutely aware of how exposed you feel in a room full of professional profilers.

“Strauss thinks we need the extra help, especially with the recent increase in requests for BAU help, and I don’t disagree with her,” Hotch looks around the table at his coworkers before looking to you, “Agents Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, Rossi, and Dr. Reid.” Hotch points out each member, who all give you small nods and waves of acknowledgment as he introduces them.

“Crisis negotiation, huh?” Morgan continues to push the subject. You can tell he’s not really happy about a new addition to the team. You’re guessing it’s coming from a place of protectiveness of his team. You understand his hesitance. The team probably works well together, a new person is a whole new dynamic. If you could pick any other position you would, you have no specific interest in the BAU, but it’s a second chance and you’re not going to screw it up, no matter how much you wish that anyone else in the world besides Hotch was unit chief.

“I think the job took a small amount of profiling,” You shrug and give Agent Morgan a smile, hoping to get in his good graces soon, “Obviously not as much as this but it did take a level of interpretation of the behavior of criminals who take hostages in addition to a complex understanding of intergroup dynamics and how that might impact a situation.”

“There’ll be time to play nice and get to know each other later,” Hotch cuts the introductions short. “Garcia, the case?”

“Right,” She clicks on the monitor at the front while Hotch slides a tablet over to you. You take it from him, your fingertips just brushing against his. Everything about the interaction feels like eight years ago. He manages to keep his best poker face, all the while you feel the small sparks shoot across your skin. Those damn sparks. Except you’re very quickly realizing that the Hotch in front of you is nothing like eight years ago.

There’s something deeply broken about his eyes. You could never forget those eyes. When you first met him you thought they were deep brown. Then you spent enough time watching him, studying every detail of his face and learned that they were a beautiful light brown. Small golden flecks in his eyes become more pronounced in the sun. His eyes are different now. First of all, the deep undereye bags that frame them make him look years older than his actual age. His brow seems permanently set in that furrowed position. It’s a familiar expression of his. You had the joy of seeing that brow lift when the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. Smiling seems to be the last thing this current Aaron Hotchner wants to do.

You realize you’re staring a little bit too long and tune back into Garcia’s case briefing, “All three victims were undergraduate students. Indiana’s campus hosts both undergrad and grad students from the law school and med school.”

“Which means a huge suspect pool.” Hotch points out.

“How are we sure that the unsub is from inside the community?” You look around the table. You can see the way that Morgan’s brows raise at the question. How else are you going to learn without asking questions?

Rossi, however, swoops in to save you from embarrassment, “The first victim had mace in her backpack, however, she never used it. The second victim had no defensive wounds on her body. The third victim—”

“Was killed in an office meeting room. To gain access to that building you need a school ID,” You nod, filling in the gaps. “I forget that technology and security have dramatically improved since I was in school.”

“Come on, kid, at least you had cell phones in college,” Rossi gives a small smile, nudging your arm.

“And how do we know these are all connected?” Morgan gestures to his tablet in front of him.

You scoff slightly and look up at Morgan, “I’m sorry, I know it’s important to find common victimology, MO, or signature before connecting the crimes but how many violent crimes occur on college campuses in this short of a time? They have to be connected.”

“Statistically, some of the most dangerous and violent college campuses report that nearly 10 students for every 1000 will be a victim of violent crime. However, that statistic seems to include any form of violent crime meaning murder, negligent manslaughter, aggravated assault, robbery, but most prevalent on most college campuses is rape as a form of violent crime. In terms of how frequent—” The tall skinny one, Reid, rattles off a series of facts at you and you can’t help but smile. He’s cute. He looks about your age, “That was more of a rhetorical question, wasn’t it?”

You fight a smile at Reid’s confused face and nod. “All the victims had the same cuts on their hands,” Prentiss points up at the monitor.

“Weird,” You mumble under your breath.

“What?” JJ turns to you.

“Oh. Nothing it’s just… hands are a weird thing to mutilate. Damage to the face shows high levels of rage and a deep hatred for the victim, removal of eyes or ears or damage to the mouth could symbolize the removal of a sense in order to punish the victims for some misuse of those senses. But hands… hands are different.” You tip your pen back to your mouth, placing the end on your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly as you think. You can feel Hotch’s focus on you. If you turn, you’re sure you’ll just catch him as he looks away.

He’s profiling you. You don’t need to look at him to know that. He was always good at reading you, not that you did much to hide your feelings back then. You felt everything so openly. You were so full of passion, so determined to be the best at everything you set your mind to. Hotch made you realize that feeling everything so deeply, so freely, opens you up to a world of hurt. You put on your best poker face, keeping your body language neutral while you still feel his eyes on you.

“Hands are not inherently symbolic of one thing.” Reid agrees with you.

“So we have to try and decipher why this mutilation is a compulsion for the unsub,” Hotch nods, “Wheels up in 30.” Everyone tucks all their belongings away. Hotch is quick to stand up from his seat at the table, storm down the catwalk back to his office, closing the door loudly. You try to ignore the weird looks from the team as you introduce yourself to all of them.

You watch as Morgan is one of the first to leave the conference room, walking after him, “Hey, Agent Morgan!” You run to catch him at the top of the stairs, “Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off so rude in there.” You shake your head.

“No problem,” He states simply, intending to walk down the stairs.

“I get it, I’m new, I’m throwing off the team dynamic and you don’t seem like the type to trust me immediately.” You stick out a hand to shake his, “But I’m committed to this team and I want to earn your respect in time.”

He nods, giving you one of those judgmental once overs again, “From what I can tell, Hotch doesn’t seem too pleased about you being here. Now just because he’s my boss, doesn’t mean I have to always agree with him, but if he’s wary, then I’m wary.” He avoids shaking your hand. Your suspicions about Morgan seem to be proven before your eyes. He doesn’t trust easily. He’s been burned by someone he trusted in the past. You can relate to that. You’re not a very open or trustworthy person anymore either.

“Agent Hotchner and I knew each other a really long time ago. A lifetime ago. Way before his time at the BAU. I’m sure he’s just not thrilled about his past colliding with his present,” You nod taking a few steps back to let Morgan continue down the stairs, “I just hope… I hope you can learn to trust me, and I, you.” You smile softly. Morgan seems stuck in his place. You can’t tell whether or not he’s surprised by your manners, or if you’ve just driven further the wedge between you two.

“See you on the jet,” He speaks up as he walks down the stairs, scooping his go-bag from under his desk and disappearing around a corner down the hallway.

When you turn to walk back to the conference room, you catch Agent Hotchner’s eyeline through the blinds of his office. He’s watching you, studying you, trying to read you. However, he definitely does not get access to you anymore.

You’re determined to keep your animosity towards Hotch private. No reason for the team to detect that anything is wrong. But throughout the case, there are moments it slips. First, it was on the jet...

You step onto the jet, looking around, taking the entire environment in. You were never blessed with a private jet in your time in crisis negotiation, just stuck with driving from place to place. Morgan reaches across you, taking your bag and stowing it away in the back for you. It’s a simple gesture, but from the look in his eye as he does it, you can tell Morgan is already reevaluating his judgment of you.

You’re one of the last on the jet and you see everyone settled around the table and surrounding seats. The only available seat is the one next to Hotch by the window. You’d have to ask him to get up… or squeeze past him. You try to cover it up but nearly everyone notices the way that you eye the seat before deciding against it. You end up leaning against the arm of the sofa that JJ is sitting on. Once again, Hotch’s gaze lingers on you as you do. He’s taking note of the way you’re actively avoiding him, and he’s right. You’re actively avoiding any alone time with him. Minimize the alone time, minimize the pain.

You run through the facts of the case again, Reid rambling on about the significance of hands throughout different cultures, the importance of sensory neurons on the skin of your hands, and how hand size is an indicator for a lot of things. You share a small smirk with Morgan, who is clearly warming up to you because you both know the one thing that hand size is rumored to correlate with.

Morgan shoots you a small smirk before saying what you were both thinking, “That’s interesting and all kid, but any knowledge in that big brain of yours about whether hand size is related to—”

Hotch cuts off Morgan, “Focus, please.” He gestures with his hand to stop the conversation and you have to hide your smile. It’s nice to smile. You weren’t expecting to feel anything but pain today. Hotch puts a fast end to that feeling of happiness.

“When we land, JJ and Rossi head to the local police and talk to the families of the victims. Prentiss and Morgan, you’ll head to the ME, get a better evaluation of the state of the body,” Hotch pauses for a second. He takes in a slow breath as if preparing himself for what he’s about to say. Once he says what’s coming next, it’s all official. You start your first case. He’s your boss, you’re his subordinate. You’re in each other's lives again whether you like it or not. “Y/L/N, Reid, and I will go to the most recent crime scene,” Hotch nods and you feel the blood drain from your face, that sick and twisty knot growing in the pit of your stomach. You knew you’d have to work with him, that’s part of the job, but he’s already keeping you close to him. Maybe he doesn’t trust you.

From the way he spoke to you in his office, it’s clear he thinks you’re here as some sort of revenge. Some convoluted vindictive scheme to ruin his life.

“You look terrified,” Prentiss tries to tease you.

You look around at the team and shake your head, “College campuses,” You scrunch up your face in disgust and shake your head, “Undergrad sucked because I was younger than everyone, so I missed out on all the fun.”

“Damn, we got another kid genius on our hands, don’t we?” Morgan reaches out a hand to high-five you. “Like our own female Einstein.” Your eyes immediately flick to Hotch. That nickname. No one’s called you any form of that nickname since him. “Watch out Reid, you’ve got competition.”

“I was 14 when I was in college,” Reid states in an attempt to one-up you, but it’s clear that he’s just joking. He knows he’s smart but he doesn’t seem like the cocky type, at least what you can tell so far.

“Don’t worry, brainiac,” You laugh at him, “You are the only genius on this team.”

“And grad school?” JJ pipes up, catching onto the way you dropped the sentence.

“I dropped out of law school after my first year,” You clear your throat uncomfortably, “Wasn’t for me I guess.” The air seems suffocating. Your face is burning hot. You feign extreme interest in the crime scene photos on your tablet, knowing that if you look up, your face will give you away to Hotch. The last thing you want is for him to know how much he affected you.

He said it himself: So in 10 years from now, when you're at the top of your career, know that it's all because of me. He wasn’t entirely wrong. Everything that has happened for the past eight years happened because of his impact on your life.

You remind yourself yet again to try and keep the conversations focused on the case. The team wants to get to know you, but every personal conversation seems to lead back to Hotch.

The second slip-up comes when you arrive at the crime scene...

“She told her roommate she was coming here to study, that she had booked the meeting room just for herself.” Reid lifts up the crime scene tape, holding it up for you to slip under. You give a small smile at the gesture.

“But she told her friends she was meeting with her professor here for extra help.” Hotch shakes his head, pulling on a pair of gloves. You glance over at Reid as he does the same.

He looks at you for a second before he raises his brows in realization, letting out a small ‘oh.’ He digs into his pocket and hands you a pair of gloves. “I usually grab them from the crime scene team,” He nods.

You take them from him, “Thank you.” You like Reid. He’s kind and smart and polite. He’s your age, but you can see that he’s worlds ahead of you in terms of knowledge. You wonder just how much is going on inside that brain of his. When you look at him you can see the gears constantly turning, he’s always working over something in his brain, forming theories, or running through facts.

“She was stabbed in the back and the back of the head, correct?” You glance over at Hotch for confirmation.

“Yes.” He plays with the fingertips of his gloves, paying more attention to you rather than the scene. Without the body, there’s not much to go on, it’s your average office space. You see a log on the wall with the names of who has scheduled the room. They haven’t wiped away the victim’s work from the whiteboard. It looks like some form of math.

“Linear algebra,” Reid speaks up as he sorts through some of the papers left on the table in the center of the room.

You nod and smile, “Math never was my strong suit in school. I was definitely more entranced by a book rather than formulas and numbers.”

Reid’s face lights up with joy, “If you ever want any book recommendations, please do ask. I just finished an absolutely amazing biography about Albert Einstein. It’s not that long of a read. It’s only about 1200 pages. You know I’m sure that I have a copy…” He catches sight of Hotch’s stern expression, stopping himself mid-sentence.

You both go silent as you skim through the pages of work scattered on the floor. You then analyze the writing on the whiteboard, leaning in close. Hotch speaks up again tilting his head to the side, narrowing his eyes in confusion at your behavior, “What are you thinking?”

“It wasn’t random. This was planned out. The unsub specifically sought out her.”

“How do you figure that?” Hotch questions you, but not in the hostile accusatory way you’re expecting.

You hesitate, losing your train of thought the longer you look at Hotch, so you look back to the whiteboard, “When you’re waiting to meet someone, you expect someone to come in, right? So if she had her back turned, writing up equations on this whiteboard, she wouldn’t think twice of the door opening. If you’re not expecting someone and you hear the door open.” You point at the whiteboard.

“You would turn around to see who it is,” Hotch finishes your sentence.

“That’s why all her wounds were to the back,” You fall into a rhythm with Hotch. He’s following your train of thought.

“So the unsub had to know she would be here ahead of time,” Hotch sighs and digs in his pocket for his phone, “Garcia, I need your help.” He clicks his phone onto the speaker and places it down on the table.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Her chipper voice comes through the phone. You can picture her office probably matches her appearance. Probably bright, full of color. For a technical analyst, she probably still has a hefty collection of colorful and funky pens. You remember the octopus mug she was holding when she walked into Hotch’s office this morning.

“This building has a key card access system. Can you access the log of everyone who swiped into this building on the day and around the time of the third murder?”

“Sir, it’s not a matter of can or can’t. You know I can,” Her voice is laced with a smile.

“Check that list for the professor that she claimed she was meeting with,” Hotch adds.

“He…” She trails and you hear the ambient sounds of her rapid typing and clicking. There’s a pause. Her voice grows small, “He accessed the building around the time of her death.”

“He’s our prime suspect. We need to bring him in,” Hotch concludes, “Garcia, you’re the best.”

“Aw I know,” She giggles softly, “PG out!”

“Imagine that,” You chuckle bitterly, “She comes in here to meet her professor, someone she trusts, and she gets stabbed in the back.” You shake your head, the words slipping out before you even realize the weight of what you’ve implied.

Reid doesn’t catch on to the look that you and Hotch exchange. Hotch looks as if he’s seen a ghost. He’s not shocked by what you’ve said, but by the fact that you even said anything. It’s the first sign of hostility towards him. The first crumb or clue into how you feel about him after all these years. The answer is betrayed. You still feel betrayed.

“We should deliver the profile.” Hotch leaves the crime scene at a brisk pace, leaving Reid clueless, and you and that damned twisting knot of anxiety in your stomach.

The rest of your interactions with Hotch are limited for most of the case, restricted to only group discussions that are entirely professional. No more slip-ups, no more sideways glances. What all your interactions were rife in, was that intrusive look of his eyes. Every few minutes you can feel his eyes on you, scanning your posture, your facial expressions, searching for any idea of what you might be thinking or feeling.

You try your best to avoid it, opting to go check out every lead, just for the opportunity to get some space from him. You feel smothered and suffocated. You’re so on edge, you’ve torn your nail beds to shreds. He is seemingly unfazed by your presence. That is if you don’t consider how often you catch him rubbing his fingers at his side or up by his face or biting his bottom lip. Every time you catch him, however, he stops.

You’re having a difficult time reading how he feels about you being here. You just want to know how he feels about you after all these years. Does he still harbor feelings for you? Does he still care about you? The sleep deprivation from working so hard and the excess caffeine you’ve consumed don’t help to slow down your thoughts which seem to be moving at a million miles a minute. At least while you’re working you can put all your energy into solving the case, helping the team, and parsing through evidence.

It gets worse at night when you’re alone in the hotel room. You try to bring the case file back into the room, working on it in bed until you can barely keep your eyes open, but you find that you don’t get any work done, your brain a continuous stream of questions.

You’ve been able to profile every member of the team pretty efficiently. You have a good understanding of how Reid’s brain works. The comfort that he has with numbers and facts. He uses his intelligence to cover up for his social insecurities. Morgan puts on a tough exterior, but really he’s hesitant to let people in and trust them. Prentiss, similar to Morgan, seems to keep everyone at arm's length, preferring to be the confidant rather than the one doing the confiding in someone else. JJ struggles to separate her emotions from the work, a quality that is not in and of itself a flaw, but you can tell it weighs on her heavily. Rossi has the most experience and constantly feels inclined to be a figure, a leader while trying to balance cooperation rather than individualism. He’s used to being a lone wolf, doing the job on his own.

This new Aaron Hotchner is a mystery. He’s closed off. He is entirely business. Even when Garcia cracks a joke or embarrasses herself. You all laugh and smirk at her, but his face never changes. When you all get off track, he sternly reminds you of the importance of the case at hand. That’s his job, but there’s something more to it that you can’t quite figure out. There’s a sense of urgency, as there usually is with these cases, but almost this feeling that he’s constantly running out of time.

Even his office provided you with very little to profile. You remember a few photos from Hotch’s office. One of him and a small boy. A son, possibly? There was another of him and a blonde woman hugging the little boy. Your first guess is wife, but you don’t remember him wearing a ring.

You can’t profile him. He’s closed himself off to that. Yet you find yourself coming back to the same question over and over again, does he still care about you? You get a glimpse at the answer as you and the team track down the location of your unsub, three days into the case.

You lean forward from the backseat of the SUV, looking between Morgan and Hotch in the front, “What does the profile say about this kind of unsub’s behavior once faced with police and authority like us?”

The two men exchange knowing looks. You have your suspicions but you really just want them to vocalize what you’re thinking, “He won’t let us take him in without a fight.”

“Suicide by cop,” You mutter frustratedly, “Great.”

“It’s likely, but that doesn’t mean we don’t try to talk him out of it.” Hotch clarifies, gesturing with an outstretched palm that he takes off the wheel temporarily. He pulls up to the small house, sirens off. “A big show will just scare him into making sudden moves to get us to shoot to kill. Morgan, you head around the back. Y/L/N and I will take the front.”

You nod, knowing the rest of the team isn’t far behind you all, but they’ve all been instructed to try and appear as discreetly as possible. You get out of the SUV, watching as Morgan runs around back. Both you and Hotch approach the door. Hotch kicks the door down. The unsub sits casually in an armchair, holding a gun that he twirls in his fingers. He knew you were coming.

Then Hotch does something that complicates your questions about him. It’s subtle but you notice it immediately. He instinctively moves a little in front of you. He doesn’t block your line of fire, but he blocks the unsubs. He’s shielding you with his body.

Your profile is right, the unsub doesn’t want to be taken in peacefully, resulting in Morgan putting two bullets in him from behind when he raises his gun to you and Hotch. AT first, you think Hotch put his body in front of yours by accident.

It wasn’t an accident. He gave a small look over his shoulder at your location before taking a few steps right, to block you. Then you assume it was purely because of his status as team leader. He doesn’t want the members of his team to get hurt. That also doesn’t seem to make sense to you. No matter how much he wants the team to be protected he wouldn’t do that. He would trust Morgan to get the shot if you two couldn’t.

So why would he shield you?

Almost everyone but you, Rossi, and Hotch are sleeping on the jet home. You have a book out in front of you, but you’re barely reading, just attempting to look deeply enchanted by the novel to avoid any awkward eye contact or conversation with Hotch. The only sounds in the plane are the whirring of the engines, the wind outside, and Hotch’s typing on his computer as he finishes up the report for the case.

Rossi sits down across from you on the jet, placing down a small glass of some amber liquid, which you assume is whiskey, in front of you.

“Trying to get me drunk, Agent Rossi?” You tease him, tearing your eyes away from the book you weren’t reading.

He laughs heartily, taking a sip from his own glass, “I thought I’d welcome you with something from my own personal stash.”

“Where do you keep it hidden in here? You know… just in case I’m curious,” You smirk and reach for the glass. It’s nice of Rossi to sit with you and talk to you.

Rossi just smiles, shaking his head a little, “You did well out there, kid,” He puts the glass down, to roll his ring around his finger. You’ve noticed he does it a lot when he’s thinking. “You can read all the books in the world, but profiling in the field, thinking on your feet, analyzing a crime scene, it’s all much different than the words on a page.”

“I’m realizing that,” You trail your finger around the rim of the glass, “My previous position incorporated a lot of what you guys do here.”

“I’m sure that makes this job a lot harder. You probably want to put the past behind you.” Your head snaps up to look at him. No one told the team where you came from. Even Hotch doesn’t know. “I remember hearing about the incident.”

“The FBI tried to bury their involvement,” You sigh and finish off the glass, noting how smooth the alcohol goes down. You’ve learned how to handle alcohol really well this past year. “They keep all the details top secret. However, that didn’t stop them from throwing me under the bus.”

“What happened in New York was not your fault.” Rossi’s voice drops in volume as he leans closer, keeping your conversation more private, “The brass has a habit of blaming agents instead of criminals. You couldn’t have stopped it. You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

You exhale loudly, air rushing over your teeth as you give a little shake of your head in disagreement, “Agent Rossi, I’m sure you’re experienced enough to know this, but as reassuring and comforting it is to hear you say those words it doesn’t necessarily—”

“It doesn’t change how you feel. I know. I understand,” He pauses, “Don’t let it consume you. All of us have been where you are right now. Some of us are currently where you are right now, constantly consumed by guilt over something that wasn’t even our fault.” You get the sense that he isn’t talking about himself. You don't need to reply. The both of you sit in silence for a while.

You start up a conversation again, this time about Virginia and DC, where you’re living, when you moved, what you studied in school, where you grew up. Rossi loves to tease you and every few sentences he’ll simply reply, ‘I already knew that’ acting as if he could profile every fact about you.

You like him a lot. You like everyone a lot. Just as the jet lands and you’re all packing up your desks back at Quantico, Rossi offers to drive you home.

“Let me just check in with Agent Hotchner before I leave,” You glance up at the office. You know you have to check in with him, it’s your first case finished, you’re new, he’s your new boss, but so far, you’ve managed to avoid being alone with him and you’d like to keep it that way as long as possible.

You knock lightly on the open door, to which Hotch responds, “Come in.”

“I just wanted to check-in, you know, with it being my first case and everything,” You nod, taking just a few steps into the office, leaving as much distance between you and Hotch. He stands at his desk, focusing intently on your face. You know he’s trying to read your intentions. He’s searching for the hidden meaning behind your words. And for once, in the past few days, you don’t have any meaning behind your words. You have had enough small slip-ups and double meanings. This time, you truly just mean to check-in.

“You did really good work out there, Agent. You’re a fast learner, you pay attention to details, you work well with the team,” He rattles off a series of compliments, “Strauss is going to request a formal evaluation with me and I’ll be sure to report how quickly you’ve adapted.”

“Thank you, sir,” You try your best to function with the utmost composure.

“Hotch,” He corrects you.

You ignore the correction, “Is that all, sir?”

“If you need anything… I mean I’ve read through your psych evaluations and I know the details are classified but–“ Hotch is struggling with his words. You know what he’s trying to say. He wants to tell you he’s here for you. Funny. Really, it is. Funny that he doesn’t realize the one thing that might send you spiraling is being around him. “I just mean if it all gets to be too much, it’s okay to take a step back. I… I understand.”

“You do?” Your words come out more bitter than intended. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this. You had gone this whole case without snapping. It’s childish and immature. You can be professional. But right now, you can only see one thing: boiling hot rage at Hotch. How could he possibly understand how you feel? You pause to take a breath, “Thank you, but I’m okay. Goodnight, sir.” You walk to the door, wanting to get away from him as fast as possible.

“Y/N—” Hotch calls out, his voice softer, less firm, less professional. “Please,” You beg, finally breaking. Your voice is raw with emotion. You’ve been holding all the pain in for the past three days and your plea comes out sounding more broken than you intend to. You don’t turn around but place a hand on the doorframe. “Please… don’t make this harder than it already is.” You wait for a moment, hoping, praying, that he doesn’t try to talk to you anymore. A moment of silence serves as confirmation that he isn’t going to keep pushing you to talk.

You get down the stairs, meeting Rossi at the elevators. “Thank you… for driving me home.” You try and hide your face from him, hoping he doesn't see the sheen in your eyes as you fight away the tears that have been fighting their way out for the past three days.

“Anytime,” He nods, holding an arm over the elevator doors for you as they open. You think he can sense something is wrong. He’s probably been able to sense something is wrong between you and Hotch since the minute you made eye contact with him your first morning. If he does, however, he also knows not to ask or press the issue.

You flick the lights on in your apartment. You look over the boxes, still left unpacked. Not much of a home yet. You have no place of safety, of comfort yet. You feel like a guest in your own place. However, the thought of unpacking all the boxes right now is way too intimidating.

Deep steady breath in. Shaky breath out. You bite at your lip harshly. You haven’t cried over Aaron Hotchner in years. You drop your bag by the door, kicking your shoes off. You turn to close the door and everything starts to bubble up inside you. The anger, frustration, sadness, heartbreak. It’s all too much. You’ve been through so much these past eight years. This shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. But fuck. It hurts.

You let out a frustrated yell. It’s a scream that feels good to let out but ends up scratching your throat. You slam your fist against the door, ignoring the way it sears your knuckles. You pace your apartment, trying to steady your breathing.

You’ve been suffocating the past three days. Three long days of close quarters with Aaron Hotchner. Even after all these years, he manages to suck all the oxygen out of the room, leaving you breathless. In another life, you remember thinking how much you loved suffocating around him, but now, it tears you up inside. Your chest burns and aches, your head is fuzzy, and his presence is dizzying. It’s not exhilarating. It’s not exciting. It’s not all-consuming in the way you remember. You’re just trying to keep your head above water, but the current is strong and the rapids are relentless. You’re sinking under the surface quickly and you don’t know how to pull yourself up out of it.

You walk over to the stack of boxes, pushing them aside until you find the exact one you’re looking for. You rip open the top, tearing the tape off. The box is full of books, one of many that you brought with you. It’s organized perfectly so that when you unpack it you can set up your personal library just the way you had it back home in New York. So it doesn’t take you long to find that book. That damned book. The cover is faded. The dark brown leather is weathered and much lighter. The spine has lost all structure and the pages have changed color.

You sit down exactly where you stand, cross-legged on the floor, you open to that first page. You look at the all-too-familiar note. You were tempted, over the years, to burn the book, tear that first page out, cross out every one of his notes. But you never could do it. Deep down, no matter how bad he had hurt you, the book seemed to remain separate from that.

Maybe it’s because it’s a constant reminder that you weren’t some naive, foolish, young child. You hadn’t deluded yourself into thinking Hotch cared for you. He did. There was some sense of care and attention to detail. The book is evidence of that. However, it forces you to hold on to an image of Hotch that clearly is not the prevailing personality. Looking at the book reminds you of the bashful, almost embarrassed, man who handed it to you in his office so long ago. The careful way he traced your jawline, the way he tangled his fingers in your hair, pushing it out of the way to really get a good look at your face. That image of him sometimes wins out when you think of Aaron Hotchner. You want to remember him that way, but that only seems to prolong your pain. It makes you want him back.

You lay down on the floor pressing the book close to your heart. You could simply pick up the phone. You could just call him, tell him you want to start all over. But you can’t start all over. Being with Aaron Hotchner was a lifetime ago. That doesn’t change how vividly you can remember being with him. For the first few years, you hated him with every fiber of your being. You thought about what would happen if you ever saw him again. You would scream at him. Tell him off, curse him out. But as the years passed, you stopped hating him. There’s a fine line between love and hate. And as you know, Aaron Hotchner has always been good at keeping lines blurry.

Everything in you is screaming at you to pick up the phone. You’ve dreamed of hearing his voice tell you, “Let’s try again... please.” But you fight the urge. You close your eyes, the cold floor of your apartment sending a chill through you, enough to keep your wits about you.

——

Hotch runs a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes forcing himself to stay awake, forcing his attention back to the case report. His attempts to work fail, his mind always traveling back to you. He knew you would be a different person. It’s been eight years. He’s a different person. What he didn’t expect was how much of you is still the same.

That bright look in your eyes while discussing the case was one he had seen so many times while you poured over a novel in his office. You still talk with your hands, punctuating every sentence with a little shake or gesture of your fingers. You crack your knuckles when you’re thinking.

The differences are clear to him too. You don’t hold your tongue. You’re blunt. Brutally honest, almost to a fault. You seem to have pushed aside any attempt at politeness, or social niceties. You no longer feel so openly. He finds it much harder to read your face and body language. Your thoughts are not as clear to him as they used to be. He used to know exactly what you were thinking. He can tell you’ve practiced your poker face. He tried his best the past three days to get a read on how you feel about him. He doesn’t want to dwell on the past. All of that was before Haley. And indulging in thoughts of before is just simply too painful for him.

He walks to the window, looking out at the city. He wonders where you are tonight. Are you thinking about him? Are you hurting? Or has it been so long that he’s unimportant to you? Is someone holding you close to them, pressing soft kisses to your lips, whispering comforting words?

He could just pick up the phone and call you. He could profusely apologize. Not that his apology would mean anything, but it’s a speech he’s been rehearsing for years. He loved Haley with his whole heart. She was his whole world, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t regret how he treated you. Haley showed him a world of love, yet he managed to ruin that as well. He prioritized the job over her. Look where that got him.

Hotch knows you will never forgive him. He has never forgiven himself, but he can’t help but think about what would happen if he showed up on your doorstep. Would you immediately turn him away? Or would you let him in? Would you hear him out?

He shakes his head, tearing his eyes away from the lights of DC. He walks to the kitchen, pouring a fresh mug of coffee. He can’t call you. Too much has happened. He thinks about the sleeping little boy upstairs. Every night he’s tormented by memories. He can still remember what it felt like to hold Haley’s lifeless body in his arms. When he does get sleep, visions of Haley’s dead eyes, his bloodied clothes, Foyet’s knife, invade his dreams. He frequently wakes up coated in sweat, the scars on his chest and stomach stinging with the same intensity as the day Foyet inflicted the stab wounds.

Which is why he feels immense guilt over the fact that three days ago, he shook your hand to welcome you to the team, and it ignited every nerve in his body. Everything has changed, but your hand in his made him feel alive.

Chapter 13: II.II →

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #wanna be yours fanfic #hotch #hotchner #hotch x reader

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years ago

Note

Please do a story where autistic max is getting bullied and billy steps in

warnings for ableism and implied child abuse.

Max is fourteen now. She doesn’t need anybody looking after her like she’s some baby or something just because she’s, as her mother had put it when she was refusing this very same notion, special. She can handle herself.

That’s what she believes at least, and definitely what Billy does too, the both of them tired of being babysit and doing the babysitting respectively, but her mother is very adamant on keeping her pearls clutched in one hand and the other tight fisted in any decision or action her daughter makes.

So naturally, because this is the same woman that thinks Max is immature and faking half her symptoms go spit her, she also assumes she’s completely incapable of taking care of herself, whether that’s because she’s disabled or because she’s a faker is another story, so that’s the way things go anyways, with her step brother having to watch her like she’s still seven years old and meeting him for the first time.

Their relationship is on the upswing after things settled in Hawkins, but Max still wants her independence and Billy wants to give it to her, the last thing a seventeen year old boy really want is to watch his little sister like she’s on a play date, so their usual agreement is for Billy to take Max wherever he gets told to take her and just drop her off, finding something else to do in the area until it’s time to pick her up.

That system had yet to fail them, so when Max gets an invite to the arcade literally the day after she gets ungrounded after sneaking out again for the third time since they moved to Hawkins and begs her mother for literal hours to let her go this time, the compromise is that she can go, but only as long as Billy goes with her, and just like usual, he just drops her off at the door with a promise to be back before too late, and drives off to go do something she probably doesn’t want to know the details of.

Her friends are already there, and they all play together for a little bit, but while Max was bargaining for permission and waiting for Billy to get his lecture from both parents before they could even think about leaving for the arcade, Lucas and Mike and Dustin and Will had already been there and playing, so by the time she showed up, it didn’t take long for them to get bored of being there or run out of pocket change.

Max doesn’t like plans changing though, and she came to the arcade to play, so even as the last of the party is getting on their bikes or in their own respective cars to be picked up, she just waves goodbye from the door before turning sharply back to the dig dug cabinet, too set on replacing every high score with her name to just leave on a whim because her friends were.

Similarly, Max also finds it pretty hard to keep track of time. It’s like once she starts doing something she planned to do, she has to finish it, so by the time she’s gotten bored of literally everything there is to play in the place and spent nearly every last quarter she’d been collecting for the weeks she was confined to the house as punishment, it’s already fallen dark outside, the arcade close to closing.

That’s not really a problem in it of itself, she has no curfew anymore now that she’s not off the hook, and anyways that was only ever about punishment, not safety, since her mother said bad things don’t happen in small towns. Billy argued that they do if you’re the right kind of person though, for which he got promptly smacked in the mouth, but Max thinks he’s probably right.

Because she’s autistic and she has a gay older brother, and currently she’s one of only a handful of kids left at the arcade at closing, and that is exactly the problem. Max is alone, at night, in a town that’s still mostly unfamiliar as with the person who was supposed to be watching her nowhere in sight, and she’s being tailed as she goes towards the double door exit by the only other kids there, two boys and a girl all at least a year older than her whose names she’d never really caught.

This wouldn’t be her first run in with this group. She’s just an easy target, and that’s exactly what they’re looking for, and these three had been picking on her practically since she showed her face in the arcade for the first time. Only they’d never really stayed this late, and the extent of their tormenting was typically unoriginal insults thrown from the other side of the room that she was bored of and could ignore pretty easily.

She’d like to think that maybe this wasn’t a bad thing going to happen, just a coincidence that those three were still lurking around. Keith was about to close up the arcade anyways, so they were probably just waiting until it closed to leave too.

Max realizes that definitely isn’t the case though when the second they’re out those glass front doors, the girl roughly snatches her bag off of her shoulder.

Usually she’d leave the bag in Billy’s car when she went out somewhere, but she had enough extra money saved up tonight that she wanted it in a change purse instead of her pocket so she didn’t lose it, and since the change purse was small and easy to misplace and her brain a little bit flighty, she just brought the whole bag.

The whole bag which happened to have everything of importance to her in it, not only her money, but also her notebook, her school id, and all of her stim toys.

By her parents' rules, she wasn’t allowed to stim loudly or in a way they deemed embarrassingly, especially not in public, so she brought toys with her everywhere, and now they were being stolen from her because she was too busy trying to think like Susan, that nothing bad could possibly happen, unless of course she brought it on herself, but that’s just not the case.

And either way, she needed those toys back, the situation at home worsening and leaving behind her favorite behavior therapist during the move and so many other things had made her stress skyrocket, and likewise her meltdowns, so she truly needed those toys to help her.

“Give that back!” Max insists after a pause where she was trying to wrap her mind around what was happening, and tries to snatch the bag back, grabbing the straps and trying to pull it back towards herself when the girl starts rummaging through it.

All that gets her is being shoved roughly into one of the boys, who grabs onto her arm tight enough to leave bruises in the shape of his fingertips on her pale skin, and a taunting sneer of, “Sorry, retard. Finders keepers.”

The girl digs around in her bag, looking for a wallet or a checkbook or something, but Max wasn’t even trusted to take her walkie talkie out of the house, let alone any actual money other than the quarters she and Billy saved up, so other than the now empty coin purse, she was broke.

When all she finds is Max’s things, she drops the bag, making everything she’d disrupted spill out of it, and curses, “What the hell is all this junk?”

Max isn't really listening though, because the minute the bag spilt, the two boys took to picking the things they thought might be of value, and in the case of the things they didn’t, like her magic snake that clicked in just the right way when it moved, they’d drop them again, and literally stomp on them, or snap them in two first.

Her mind is much too focused on watching her toys be broken or stolen, that just she doesn’t hear it when she’s asked a question. She very much feels the consequence though, a slap to the back of the head from the boy who didn’t have a grip on her arm hard enough to make her neck sore and bring tears to her eyes, so she forces herself to tune back into things.

“We asked you a question, dumbass. Why are you carrying around a bag of toys like a baby or somethin’?”

“B-Because I need them so I can stim.” Max answers honestly, trying her damndest not to cry, to prove to them she was not a baby, but it didn’t feel like it was too far off, as she was getting more and more emotionally overwhelmed, also getting closer and closer to a meltdown.

“Stim? What the hell is that?” She hears one of the boys ask, and the other chimes in, “Probably something to do with being retarded.”

The older girl snaps at the boys arguing behind Max, “Does it matter? Let’s just take her money and get the hell out of here.”

They keep arguing, and Max is again past the point of processing really anything that’s going on around her, the arcade with all its lights and noises and crowds was already an overwhelming sensory experience, and now with the other kids shouting at her and the aching bruises that were now forming on her skin, it’s all just too much for her.

It’s for that reason that she doesn’t have enough focus left for it to really click what’s happening other than the kids surrounding her freezing up, and bright lights and loud noises that make her squeeze her eyes shut and cover her ears.

What it is though is Billy, brights on, stopping with the front two wheels of the camaro on the sidewalk, and slamming his door hard enough as he gets out that it echoes off the trees way at the back of the arcade.

Billy’s yelling too, threats to call the police and damnation and all kinds of things that Max is too busy trying to remember how to breathe and pick up everything that had spilled out of her bag to hear, and the bullies end up scampering off once Billy’s voice gets scratchy and angry in that way it gets when he and Neil argue, dropping everything where it was and just bolting.

Max hears Billy sigh and sees his kneel down next to her, his face so much kinder to her than he had looked for those kids who were hurting her, come into her limited line of sight as he kneels down next to her on the sidewalk, which she hadn’t even noticed she had sat down on, and he asks her, “You okay, Max?”

And at first, Max was going to say yes, she’d taken worse than that from teachers who didn’t want stim toys in class and as punishments from her parents, but it scared her, the way that he had asked, because he didn’t call her shitbird or kiddo or brat face, he called her by her name, and she bursts into tears almost immediately after he asks.

She’s still not really in a meltdown, which was exhausting, those emotions needed to come out and they just weren't, but it’s still bad enough Billy has to sit fully down on the sidewalk and wait it out with her before they can get back in the car. He puts his hand high on her chest and makes her sit up straight to keep her breathing under control and lets her rock herself until Max’s heavy sobs eventually slow to a couple of stray tears, and then she nods, a wordless way to tell Billy she was ready to go home.

Before they can leave though, they still have more to talk about, a conversation that they don’t want their parents a part of, and they both know it. Still, the car is silent for a minute, nothing but the sound of Max’s sniffles and the creak of the leather steering wheel cover cracking under the pressure of Billy’s angry grip, fists opening and closing around it.

Max is the first to break it, her voice so weak with residual fear and tears it’s barely audible as she gets her brothers attention, “Billy?”

He sighs through his nose, to try to calm down before he talks to Max more than anything, and lets go of the wheel, knowing that was only making things worse, “What is it, kiddo?”

“Are you going to tell?” She’s doing that thing where she presses her palms together and pushes until her knuckles turn white, very clearly nervous asking, so Billy clarifies, “Do you want me to tell?”

Immediately Max shakes her head no. They both know this little incident could get them back on lockdown, Max because her mother would be worried for her precious, breakable little daughter, and Billy because he was supposed to be there.

Not that Billy gave a shit about saving his own hide at the moment, but if Max didn’t want him to tell and get them in heaps of trouble, he wouldn’t, and that’s exactly what he tells her, “Then no, we’ll keep it between us, but you gotta have an excuse ready for those bruises and scrapes.”

Max shrugs, almost too nonchalant, “I’m a skater, skaters get lots of injuries.”

“Don’t think I like how quick you came up with that.” Billy looks over at her, and Max’s gaze shifts to the window behind him as she responds bluntly, “Yeah, well I learned from the best, didn't I?”

“I guess you did.” Billy sighs, doesn’t like to admit the influence he’s had on Max’s in that way. He wants to lead a good example, be the big brother she needed him to be and instead he was teaching her how to lie to her parents and make excuses for injuries.

Though really, in the case of their parents, he guesses that was exactly the type of brother he needed to be. One who teaches her how to avoid her abusers instead of how to avoid annoying boys at school, and who will help her figure out loopholes to punishments and rules instead of her math homework. Just the thought of that concept makes his chest ache.

He starts the car, noting that the vibrations of the engine through the car help to ease the tension out of Max’s shoulders and revving it a couple more times than necessary, “Let’s just get you home, shitbird.”

#max mayfield #billy hargrove #billy & max #autistic max #ej writer #story by ej!#tw ableism #tw r slur #tw child abuse #thank you anon for the request!! sorry it took a while!#hope this’ll do for what you were looking for!#requests

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