#'I think it's time that I decide ; what I've done when I trip and fly'

[darabeatha]

❛ Moctezuma Xocoyotzin (and referred to retroactively in European sources as Moctezuma II), was the ninth Emperor of the Aztec Empire (also known as Mexica Empire), reigning from 1502 or 1503 to 1520. The first contact between the civilizations of Mesoamerica and Europeans took place during his reign, and he was killed during the initial stages of the Spanish conquest of the Aztec Empire, when conquistador Hernán Cortés and his men fought to take over the Aztec capital Tenochtitlan. (...)

(...) Depictions of his person among his contemporaries, however, are divided; some depict him as one of the greatest leaders Mexico had, a great conqueror who tried his best to maintain his nation together at times of crisis, while others depict him as a tyrant who wanted to take absolute control over the whole empire. ❜ [s]

[pinkanonwrites]

Repaying The Favor

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 4600+ words NSFW, Valveplug, Miscommunication, First Time, Oral Sex, AFAB Reader - They/Them Pronouns for reader

The sequel to "Oh! That's What That Does?!" is finally here! Same reader, same Rumble, same trying to figure each other out, only this time they get to slam down crazy-style about it. When will Frenzy get his turn in the spotlight? Eventually, I think! Maybe once I've finished a few other pet projects.

NSFW WRITING BELOW THE CUT!

It had been exactly fifteen days since you had last heard from Rumble. 

Not that you’d been counting.

Sure, the cassettes probably had more important things to do than lounge around your workshop waiting for your attention, but that's exactly why it was so odd. They always had better things to do, things that they were pointedly avoiding doing by barging in on your work and taking up what little free space the shop had remaining. But since your little tryst with Rumble, you hadn't seen armor nor optic of any of the usual cassette bot suspects.

Maybe you'd broken some sort of ancient, space robot taboo that you'd never heard of. Or maybe Rumble was just embarrassed that he jizzed all over your jumpsuit. Either way, it wasn't like you had any way of getting ahold of them besides them dropping in, so there wasn't much to be done about the situation but wait.

You were leaving the corner store when you heard it, the cacophonous boom of a jet flying far too close to the tips of the skyscrapers overhead. The sound sent you reeling, bags crumpling to the sidewalk as you hurried to cover your ears. Down the street you could make out the screech of metal smacking against metal, see the flailing limbs of two massive robots staggering clumsily through the street as they traded blows with each other. Neither of them were one you recognized, the red Autobot with the oversized chest window wrestling one of the identical jet Decepticons into a clumsy headlock. As they stumbled about one of them trampled on a car parked along the curb, and you winced as the metal shrieked and crumpled under his massive foot.

Yeah, time to get out of here. You gathered up your bags and ducked into the alley between the buildings, slipping past trash bags and old graffiti, trying not to tread in any unidentifiable puddles. Off in the distance you could hear an emergency siren start to wail, hopefully signaling that whatever the space robots were quarreling over this time would be settled sooner rather than later. All you really wanted was to get back home without any further interruptions.

But as you emerged from the back alley entrance and found yourself hoisted into the air by two massive metal hands around your waist, you'd decided to kiss that chance goodbye. Your bags clattered to the ground once more, bread and fruit and canned goods spilling out around a familiar pair of pedes. When you glanced up to his faceplate, the glow of his visor was nearly enough to blind you.

“Rumble?!”

His visor dimmed enough that you could see his intake, which had just before been pulled into a maniacal grin, drop open in visible shock. Then, as quick as it came, it was gone, replaced instead with a tight, furrowed frown. 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He barked.

“Buying food. Or trying to, at least.” You glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Ravage pounce on that yellow Autobot with the horns that was always showing up in the news. “You guys having a little play date or something?”

He scoffed out a laugh, quickly stifling it with a clearing of his vents. “Whatsit matter to ya? Didn't think you cared dat much about lil’ old me.”

“Rumble, what…?” Was he seriously pouting? Or maybe trying to guilt trip you? For what, making him cum? “What are you even talking about? I haven't seen you in like, two weeks.”

“Aww, real funny! You know what I mean! I let you poke around in my chassis and run up my charge, an’ after that it's radio silence? Whaddya humans call it… ghosting? Make a mech feel like second-rate shareware, why don't ya?”

You blinked at him once, twice, mind spinning as you tried to process his words.

“Are you- are you mad I didn't call you?”

His optic lights beamed as he bristled, armor flaring with a hiss before clamping tight back to his frame. “I told you to comm me!”

“Rumble, I don't have your number! I couldn't call you even if I wanted to!”

His grip went slightly slack as he stared at you, leaving you dangling from your armpits like a cat. 

“I… I hailed you my frequency. In da EM field.”

“Humans don't have… whatever that is. Do you have a phone number?”

He stared at you again, much longer this time as the discordant crashing of giant metal men continued in the background. Then, with a sudden jolt, you were slipping free of his fingers as he dropped you unceremoniously to the pavement. It wasn't a far fall, just enough to make your feet tingle upon landing. When you looked up you saw he had both servos covering his faceplate, a string of muffled curses eking out between the digits.

Your mind was reeling. He actually wanted you to call him? To… repay the favor? Heat pooled in the pit if your stomach as your mind conjured up wicked memories of his stifled gasps and whimpers, how he’d squirmed beneath you as you prodded around his spark chamber. How behind all the billowing and smashing and Brooklyn-accented bravado, when you got down to the core of him, he was actually kind of… cute.

“You- just- I don’t- Get outta here! Go on, scram! Before you get stomped on or somethin’!” His face plate was flushed and glowing as he shooed at you. You would go, that was certain, you really didn't want to get stepped on after all. But first you were going to say something potentially risky, deeply embarrassing, and undoubtedly very, very stupid.

“Come over.”

His optics shuttered, flickering for a moment as he stared down at you, frozen.

“What?”

“Not right now. Tonight. When you guys are done getting wailed on? Come over.”

He opened his intake, then closed it. When he opened it a second time you caught a wisp of steam slipping through the gap in his dentae. He swallowed, hard. He never stopped staring at you.

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Awright. I'll be there.”

“Cool. Watch out for the yellow guy.”

“Huh-HGGRRK!?!” You stumbled back a few steps just in time for the Autobot to chuck Ravage directly into Rumble’s helm, sending him crashing into the brick wall beside you.

“Sorry! Are you alright?” The little Autobot called. “You should probably get out of here!”

He didn't have to tell you twice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The news was just wrapping up their coverage on the ‘latest Decepticon assault’ when you heard a rap on your warehouse’s roll-up door. There wasn't much to see peering out the window, the street only haphazardly illuminated by old street lights. Not that you really needed to look, there was only one guest you were expecting at this time of night anyway. 

You'd stopped at home first, mainly to take a shower and put on something that wasn’t a pair of mechanic’s overalls. But for some reason the nerves hadn't hit you until right now. You clamped down on the prickle of… anxiety? Excitement? Somewhere between the two? As you pulled the strap at the base of the roll-up, the groan of shifting metal slowly gave way to reveal…

“Are you wearing a bowtie?”

“Not bad, eh? Don't say I never cleaned up or nothin’. Here.” As Rumble stepped from the dark street into the light of the warehouse he pulled something from his subspace: a large, green bottle that he offered to you pinched between two fingers. A bottle of wine. Judging by the label, an expensive bottle of wine.

“Where did you get this?” You turned the bottle over twice in your grip, scanning the details on the back. French Merlot, aged… fifteen years? Holy shit.

“Dat fancy Italian place on the corner of Fourth and Vine! What, ya don't like it?”

“I didn't say that!” Rumble positively beamed as you clutched the bottle. “I just didn't expect it, is all. Are you… wining and dining me right now?”

“Is dat a good thing or a bad thing? Your human movies said you’re ‘sposed to bring a little somethin’ somethin’ before, y’know,” There was a sly, lopsided charm to his grin as he pulled the roll-up back down with his pede, clanking shut behind him, “Before you let me run your charge for a change.”

“You know, you don't have to try so hard to im…press… me.” You trailed off, staring down at the bottle in your hands, then back up to him, then back at the bottle, then him again. When you made eye contact with him the slyness seemed to falter a bit, leaving behind something softer in his smile. Something a little more vulnerable.

 How did it take this long for it to click for you? He was wearing a bowtie, for Christ’s sake. 

“Oh my God you're trying to impress me.”

“Eh?” A fidgeting servo tugged at his bowtie- which appeared to be made of… an old seatbelt? “Nah, you're crazy! Dis is jus’ what humans are ‘sposed to do!”

“Oh my God you are!”

“H-Hey, what'd I say about you and gettin’ big ideas?” He tried to deter you, but your mind was already racing a mile a minute. 

“Do you actually like me? Like, want to date me? Do alien robots even date, cause I didn't know th- MMPH!”

With a massive metal palm pressed to your chest, Rumble pushed you back into your adjustable work table, still sitting at a mostly upright angle from the last time you'd repaired him. The table against your back was cold, a sharp contrast to the radiating heat from his servo as he pinned you in place with his hand. His face was inches from yours as he leaned over you, visor now gleaming with frustration and embarrassment.

“You can't get enough of dis, huh? Like pushin’ my buttons so much?” His servo pinned you down just a touch harder, forcing the air from your lungs in a breathy wheeze. “‘Oh, it's so fun to get Rumble all flustered! Lemme mess wit’ his head a lil more!’ Well maybe it’s Ol’ Rumble’s turn to do da messin’ around, huh? See how you like it when someone’s toyin’ with your sensitive bits.”

He bared his dentae as he spoke, another hiss of steam curling around your cheeks. It made your hair stand on end. A hot thrill ran through you, and you fought the urge to let your knees knock together, confident that Rumble would be able to keep you in place with brute strength alone. You could feel his thumb smoothing back and forth across your shirt, and as he glanced down at his servo the glare of his visor lessened slightly.

“...Why’s your fuel pump goin’ all crazy? You scared or somethin’?”

You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, willing your foggy mind to function. “Not… Not scared, exactly.”

There were a few seconds of tense silence, before the wickedest, prideful grin crept back up across his faceplate. 

“Oh? Is dat so?” His other servo rose to grip the top edge of the table, fingers molding to fit the dent he’d left there previously as he loomed over you. “Well maybe we oughta do somethin’ about tha- SCRAP!”

His flirtations were cut short by the sharp SNAP of the stabilizing lock on your workbench failing under Rumble’s weight and flipping 180 degrees over. The world pitched and spun as you tumbled backwards, yelping as the table flipped and deposited you upside-down on the floor, legs sticking akimbo in the air. From between your dangling feet you could see Rumble peering over you with his sly expression wiped off his visor by one of concern.

“Slag! I didn't crush your little pedes when you flipped, did I? Cause I don't no nothin’ about fixin’ up injured squishies.”

Miraculously, you had managed to make it through that ass-over-elbow fall without hitting your head on anything, or Rumble accidentally pinning your legs in place between his bulk and the table frame. “I’m alright! Just didn't expect it, I’m okay.”

“Dat’s good. Here lemme jus’-” You felt a servo close around each of your ankles. With an effortless tug Rumble dragged you back up, tabletop tipping with you as it clunked back into its standard, flat position. Of course, this now left you with your ass and legs dangling off the edge of the workbench, Rumble standing between them with a servo resting on each knee. “Better?”

You sucked in a breath, trying desperately not to look overeager. “Better.”

“Ah, slaggit all…” But instead of putting his servos back on you (where you most certainly wanted them) Rumble began to scratch at the back of his neck, failing to meet your gaze. “Guess I ain't really cut out for all this… whaddaya call it? ‘Winin’ and dinin’?’ Can't even get my servos on ya without fraggin’ it up.”

“Hey, I’m definitely not complaining.” You attempted a jokey tone, but it didn't seem to do much to dampen Rumble’s current self-deprecation. You let the playful edge fall away as you dropped into something a bit softer. “I mean it though. You don't have to try to impress me. I mean it's appreciated! But, y’know, I wouldn't have agreed to this if I wasn't already happy with the bot I was getting into it with.”

“Heh. Even if I end up crushin’ you a bit?”

“That's a risk I'm willing to take.”

He barked out another laugh, accompanied by a coil of thin steam hissing through his gap-dentae. “Well I guess I better make it worth da risk, shouldn't I?”

He snuck a servo under each of your knees, pushing them apart as he rocked his modesty panel against your clothed core. You stifled a gasp, the ridge of sturdy metal almost hot against you, even through layers of cotton and denim. The slow roll of his hips made your own stutter up off of the table, desperate for further friction.

“Cute. You like grindin’ on my panel? Should I make you bust jus’ like this?”

Despite the warm curl of arousal pooling in your stomach from the feeling, you knew this wouldn't be enough to get you off. Rumble seemed to know it too, letting out a low, pleased chuckle at your desperate expression.

“Jus’ yankin’ yer crankcase, sweetspark. I got somethin’ a lot more fun in mind for tonight anyway. Dat is, if you'll start gettin’ dese off.” He hooked a digit through your belt loop and gave them an experimental tug.

“Mmh, what, you don’t want to take them off yourself?” 

“Oh, I’ll gladly take ‘em off ya. Just figured you’d take care of dis part here…” His thick digits slid inward, ghosting over the button of your jeans. “So I don't gotta rip ‘em off ya instead.”

You weighed your options. On one hand, the image of Rumble tearing denim apart with his bare servos as if it was no more than wet tissue paper was far more appealing to you than you would have originally expected. On the other hand… well, they were new jeans.

“I got it.” You mumbled, quietly filing the image away in your brain for later use as you undid your button and zipper. “Careful with th- Oh!”

With a sharp yank, Rumble tugged your jeans and underwear off your legs and let them crumple onto the floor. Shoving himself into the space between your knees, you could only barely make out the top of his helm over the slope of your stomach as he knelt before you, spreading your folds with two digits and… staring.

You waited for a response, a quip, the slow drag of metal over your slick hole, but were instead greeted with silence. Something prickled in the pit of your stomach as you fought the urge to squirm. In the back of your mind you vaguely remembered that you hadn't really gotten to see what Rumble was packing, and only now were you grappling with the truth that you were trying to have sex with a truly alien being. Would your bodies even be compatible? Was he weirded out right now? You tried to pull your knees together, only to be stopped by a rough servo shoving them back open.

“...It's rude to stare.” You muttered.

“EY! I ain't starin’! I'm, uh, admirin’. Dat’s it.” There was a similar tightness to Rumble’s voice. You shuddered as a thumb stroked the crease of your thigh. “Soft… An’ it's supposed to be dat pink?”

“Y-Yeah… that's, mmh, normal.” You shuddered at a wave of steam curling over your sensitive heat as he spread you again, visor locked on your twitching entrance.

“Primus. And you're really gonna let me spike ya in this tiny little hole?” You could feel his thumb just brushing the rim and stifled a groan at the sudden, aching emptiness, the demand to be filled. “I don't wanna tear you in half or nothin’.”

“It’ll fit.” You whined, core tensing around nothing. “We’re, unh, we’re pretty flexible. C’mon, Rumble…” You forced your knees further apart, pushing your hips up into each of Rumble's far-too-light touches. His motor snarled in response, a massive hand gripping the inside of each of your thighs.

“Slag. You're really achin’ for it, aren’tcha?” His voice was lower than you'd ever heard it before, deep and resonant and primal. “But I ain't gonna give it to ya dat easy, doll. Gotta make sure you can take it first.” 

He raised his helm for just a moment, just enough for you to get a peek of his beaming visor and his wicked, gap-toothed grin between your legs. Then he descended, lathing his thick, hot glossa up the length of your cunt. You choked on a gasp, his servos the only thing keeping your hips from rabbiting up off the table. It was hot, his glossa thick and sturdy and drooling with oral lubricant, a thin layer of silicon over sturdier metal mesh dragging up through your folds.

“Easy, sweetspark…” You weren't the only one enjoying themselves. Rumble's low, rattling groan pulsed through your cunt. You swore you could just barely make out him groaning your name but it was lost, muffled as he pressed his faceplate further between your legs and his servos shivered where they gripped your thighs. He was messy and all too eager, arousal and oral lubricant spilling down his chin as his glossa stroked you; slow, deliberate drags up your folds until you were left dripping. At the apex he found your clit and took it between his dermas, a teasing hum rattling throughout his engine that had you gasping, thighs clenching around his thick helm. Your legs jerked as warmth bloomed outward from your core, hips writhing against the onslaught of pleasure. Dragging across his back your heel caught in a rounded divot, pulling a raggedy vent through Rumble’s dentae as his frame twitched.

“”Mmpfh!~ E-Ey, watch da spindle. It’s sensitive in dere…” He groaned, face still pressed into your cunt, servos only dragging your ass further off the table in his efforts to get somehow even closer to you. But instead you dug your heel in harder, pressing into the ridged divot and twisting your leg. The internal ring jerked with a sudden CLICK CLICK CLICK, each pop of noise making Rumble’s frame spasm like he'd just been electrocuted. “FRAG! Primus, that’s- ghh!~”

“Feel good?” You teased, breathless. His optics beamed back up at you, an oscillating, glistening red as you caught another peek of his gap-toothed grin from between your legs.

“So dat’s how you wanna play dis? Don't say I didn't warn ya, doll.” 

You barely had a chance to respond before the noise was punched out of your lungs in a sharp whine as Rumble shoved a thick, metal digit into your drooling cunt. Achingly hard, unrelenting, he flexed it against your rippling walls as his dermas nestled themselves snugly around your clit. The hum reverberating through his frame coursed through your body like a wave, hands scrabbling desperately at his helm as the twinge of pain at the sudden intrusion melted into thick, syrupy pleasure. 

“A-ah, fuck! Rumble, Rumble that's good, that's fucking good.~” Metal clanged as you lolled your head back against the table top, no longer able to keep it upright. Each drag of his digit, textured and ridged and unrelenting, sparked euphoria behind your eyelids. You felt every muscle in your body starting to prickle with pleasure, radiating outwards from your cunt and pooling in your head, your stomach, the tips of your toes…

You all but whined when he drew his digit away, dermas releasing your swollen clit with a slick pop. “C’mon! Rumble!”

“You want it dat bad, huh?” A shadow cast over your rumpled form as Rumble rose to his full height. From between your legs you could catch a glimpse of silver and blue panels fluttering and folding away, one of Rumble’s servos hiking the underside of your knee and the other stroking the gap between his thigh and pelvic armor as his spike rose to full attention. Christ, he was huge, the thick metal rod draped across your lower stomach as he rocked experimentally against you. Each thrust had the tip drooling a translucent, pinkish fluid you remembered scrubbing from the back of your jumpsuit, hot and vaguely smelling of well-oiled machinery and pooling across your bare stomach.

Rumble, for his part, seemed to be as entranced as you felt, visor vibrant and flickering as he stared down at the place his frame rubbed against your soft, supple body. A harsh ex-vent punctuated each roll of his hips, steam coiling around the corners of his slack, open intake as he pulled back, letting the tip of his spike slide wetly through your folds.

“Dat’s it, doll… You're gonna get exactly what you want. Gonna get you bouncin’ on dis spike, jus’ beggin’ for it…” His tone was low, entranced, just barely tinged with desperation. He dragged his tip through your folds again, and again, covering your cunt with his thick transfluid, making your breath hitch whenever he slid over your clit just right. You angled your hips up, guiding it right over your entrance, toes curling at the promise of pressure. 

But before you could utter his name again, or any other placation or demand, you felt the heavy press, the slow, aching slide as he entered you. It teetered just on the edge of pain, muscles twinging at your inner thighs as you forced your legs wider to accommodate his bulky armor. And his spike offered just as little give, covered with a thin layer of silicon like his glossa but still distinctly sturdy, inflexible metal. Your walls rippled helplessly around the intrusion, stretched to a delicious degree as he bullied his way inside you.

About halfway to being fully sheathed in your heat he paused, visor hazy and unfocused, intake still hanging open as he vented steam. A servo was resting on each of your hips, but while one stayed in place the other slid up, up, bunching your shirt around his digits and shoving it up above your chest. There his servo paused on your side, his massive thumb stroking back and forth over your nipple, quickly pebbling under the cool metal.

“Primus.” He breathed, distinctly softer than you ever remember hearing him before (and oh, if that didn't do just as much for your arousal as everything else). Finally, his hips began to move again, that intoxicating ache only beginning to border on near-unbearable when you could feel your ass and the backs of your thighs smushed against his pelvic armor. For another moment he paused, one servo cradling your hip and the other your chest.

Then he drew back, and thrust home.

The first thrust forced the air out of you in a desperate, sharp wheeze. This didn’t slow him, not in the slightest, digits sinking into the plush meat of your hip as he jackhammered into you. Each thrust had the entire table rattling, the sharp clang of metal against metal where his thighs hit the dented table’s edge. His quiet reverence had given way to an onslaught of erotic babble, visor locked on your face as it twisted and furrowed in pleasure.

“Takin’ it so fraggin well… You’re just made for takin’ my spike, aren’tcha?” He scooped his servo under your hip and lifted you further up, all but folding you in half as he loomed over you. His dermas brushed the curve of your jaw, just below your ear, and you could feel the heat of his ex-vent making your skin tingle. “You’ve jus’ been waitin’ for me to frag you stupid, plug up that achin’ valve til you can’t think of nothin’ else.”

“Mmmh…~ It’s so big.” You slurred, thighs slick with sweat and slipping on his plating as you struggled to lock your ankles in the small of his back. His frame shivered like an electric current ran through it, clutching you somehow even closer to his massive chassis.

“Nghh…~ Yeah? You love dis fat spike, don’tcha? Say it.”

“I love it!~”

“You want me to spill my load in this tight little valve, don’tcha?”

“Please!”

“Aghh, slag! Y-You’re gonna get it, sweetspark. You’re gonna take it all, j-just-mmfh!~” His vents were ragged and desperate, thrusts stuttering as he neared his release. You squealed as his thumb found your clit, rubbing the swollen bud in rough, tight circles. Euphoria was buzzing throughout your body, the ache of your lower back buried beneath the onslaught of pleasure and heat coiling in the pit of your stomach and blooming out through your limbs, legs shaking, hands trembling.

Sparks exploded behind your eyelids as your orgasm washed over you, hips jerking weakly against Rumble’s. There was no give to his spike at all, thick and steady and unyielding as your pussy squeezed and pulsed around it. You felt a flood of something molten spill into your core, filling you nearly to the point of aching as it spilled out around the tight ring of your hole around his base. Rumble’s frame stuttered, jittering, a harsh crackle of static and mechanical chatter pouring from his drooling intake where it was still buried in the crook of your neck. Finally, finally, his frame grew still. The only noise between the two of you were your shared, harsh breaths and the low churn of the occasional car driving past outside.

“Mmmmnnghh…” Rumble groaned, shifting his hips to pull his shrinking spike from your core as he rose unsteadily back to an upright position. You could feel transfluid dribbling from your hole as he tucked himself back away- thick, translucent globs spilling down the insides of your thighs and hitting the floor with a splatter. His engine gave a little, stuttering snarl despite himself as he dragged his digit tips through the shimmering line along one of your inner thighs. “I oughta take a picture of dis…”

“Don’t you dare.” You kicked weakly at his servo, legs now tingling with static as blood rushed back to them. He barked out a sharp laugh, effortlessly batting your foot aside. His servo rested atop your lower stomach and gave a teasing press, and you shivered as more globs of thick transfluid drooled from your cunt. “Jerk.”

“Eyy, you love it!”

“Unfortunately.” There was no real bite to your tone, you could tell by the way Rumble grinned. “Think you can give me a hand getting over to the bathroom before my knees give out?”

“Depends. Does dat count as you owin’ me a favor?”

[enviedear]

i've been going solo now ⟶ ben solo

description ⌙ when you get a distress signal from your dad and his life-long goon you're quick to try and come to their rescue. only problem? so is ben solo.

pairing ⌙ smuggler!ben solo x f!reader

warnings ⌙ childhood crush/frenemies turned adults with horrible communication skills, reader is the daughter of lando (biologically or not you decide), ben is a jerk, reader is a brat, petty arguments, forced proximity trope, inner conflict all the time, han and lando are just two pals getting into serious issues that their kids have to fix don't mind them (they're just mentioned), most likely incorrect knowledge of the falcon & starship parts, smuggler!ben solo au because that's canon to me, ben calls reader kid (affectionate, kinda), typos probabaly

word count ⌙ 4.1k

— request | masterlist

i just think ben solo is very much solo by future coded and i wanted to write about smuggler!ben and his smug attitude. special thanks to @crucifiedfaerie for letting me gush over this idea constantly in our dms <3

you never had the stomach for killing— the thought of it or the act itself. the notion of ending someone's life has always been abhorrent to you, leaving a sour sensation in your mouth that lingers long after the deed is done. but right now, you sit, filled with a growing and seemingly unstoppable rage that practically demands blood.

"don't even think about jumping into hyperspace, solo!" your voice is loud but erratic.

the black-haired man piloting the ship gives you a side eye, "and waste hours getting there? sure thing, kid."

you grip the co-pilot seat as hard as possible as he sends the absolutely geriatric ship into lightspeed. the force of it sends your head back onto the headrest, and you screw your eyes shut until the motion of the ship stills.

you've been flying with ben solo on the millennium falcon for a day and a half now, and this isn't even the first time you've wanted to kill him.

no, you'd harbored a hatred for ben solo for as long as you could remember. when you were little your father frequently left you in the care of the organa-solo's. any trip too risky for you to follow him on had you spending time on chandrila han and leia— and ben.

he was a few years older than you and so insufferable - spoiled rotten and full of mischief. the two of you would inevitably end up in scuffles over something, whether it be who got to shower first or which holovid show to watch. you often wondered how your father, han, or leia had managed to handle both of you. a hardheaded pair of troublemakers that needed little excuse to start bickering with one another.

but beneath it all, there had been another layer to your complex relationship with ben solo. even though you feigned anger whenever near him, deep down there had been an admiration growing since those early days spent together. your naive heart fluttered when he would absentmindedly flash his ever-present smirk in your direction. but you'd never admit or act upon any such feelings.

naviagting your crush had been difficult at first. especially having lando calrissian as a parent. you were forced to spend weeks around the source of your teen angst because of your father.

what use is a dad that can sweet-talk a jablogian if he can't fix your unwanted crush on his best friend's son.

you've cursed at his image in your mind every time you look at your ridiculous companion. if not for him, you wouldn't be with ben right now— you'd have never had the displeasure of his company.

you got away from the young solo, and most everyone else, for a good five years, hopping from planet to planet, picking up any honest work. which usually meant boring work— factory jobs, service stuff, a few instances of babysitting.

your life without ben solo is predictable and a little boring.

but you'd rather be bored than deal with the recklessness that becomes your life every time you see the smuggler.

but here you sit beside him, forced to spend an unknown amount of days with him until the both of you find your idiotic fathers.

you had gotten a rouge comm-link message from your dad just days ago. he sounded fine, voice still leisurely and warm, but it was his words that were worrisome, "han's got us in a bit of trouble, little star. would you mind coming to help your old man out? we're somewhere in the trilon sector— i'd try batuu first!"

when you got the message, your mind had gone into autopilot. you had rushed to comm leia, which had been a fatal mistake, as she had ordered her son to pick you up and accompany you. so now you're here, stuck with ben solo and his frightening flying.

"you know, dad should have warned me i'd be flying with a coward." ben's lips are curved into a grin, as usual with his teasing.

you whip your head in his direction, eyes ablaze, "well my father should have warned me that you've gotten even more annoying, somehow."

ben narrows his eyes, a stupid smirk still plastered to his face, "whatever you say, kid."

you feel your blood go hot, why he decided to start calling you kid, you didn't know, but you do know you hate it.

ben's barely your senior, only twenty-three years of age in comparison to your twenty. besides he behaves like an out-of-hand teen away.

"stop calling me that." you groan.

ben chuckles, "aw, what's the matter, kid? tired of following orders already?"

you grit your teeth, the way he talks down to you will forever get under your skin, "i don't take orders from you, solo."

"sure you do. you're on my ship, remember?" ben retorts, his eyes focused on the coordinates displayed to his left.

you cross your arms over your chest, "we're supposed to be working together to find han and my father and get them out of trouble, not bickering like children."

ben rolls his eyes, "it's not my fault you're so uptight."

you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. you can't afford to lose your temper and start a fight, not when you're relying on him to get you to your destination safely. so, you force a smile, "look, can we just be civil? we're both here because we care about our dads and want to help them."

ben's expression softens a little, "fine. but if you start nagging at me again, i can't promise i won't call you kid."

you roll your eyes, "deal. now, can you tell me more about what's going on? my dad was pretty vague in his message."

ben hums, "same with mine. all i know is that lando got mixed up in some kind of shady deal, and now he's in trouble with a gang of criminals called the ninth sun. my mom's been trying to negotiate with them, but they're not ones to bend the knee."

you groan, "of course not. what's the plan?"

he shakes a stray black strand of hair from his eye, "no plan, just find them and go from there."

"lovely, that's totally going to work," you bite your lip, "oh and, it was han who made the sketch deal, not my dad."

ben shrugs, "and who told you that?" he rests his elbow on the armrest and brings his hand to his chin, "lando?"

you clench your fists, "let's just focus on finding them. no need to dwell on the semantics."

ben glances at you and for a moment, you swear there's a flicker of something in his eyes. something other than his usual teasing, mischievous demeanor, but it's gone as quickly as it came and he turns back to the console.

the ship hums steadily beneath you, and the silence between you two stretches on, broken only by the occasional beep from the controls. you fidget in your seat, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar hush. you've never been around ben so long without saying anything, and you're about to speak up before he interrupts you.

"we'll have to make a pit stop, i need to refuel." his voice sounds tired.

you nod, "alright. any nearby planets we can stop at?"

ben checks the navicomputer, "yeah, there's one a couple of light years away. i've been there before, it's not too bad."

"okay solo, lead the way." you say, leaning back in your seat.

as he pilots the ship toward the destination, you can't help but study him from the corner of your eye. he's changed since the last time you saw him. the boy who used to pull your hair and steal your toys has grown into a man. he's lean and toned with longer hair, still as sable black as ever. it falls into his eyes, despite how much he wills it not to, giving him a slightly disheveled look that you can't help but find attractive.

you rue the thoughts plaguing your own mind.

the embarrassment you used to feel over your crush has come back ten-fold. the feeling shocks you. he's trying to act all suave and mature, but you know deep down that he's still the same old ben who annoyed the life out of you. you can feel the familiar tug in your heart every time he speaks, and you know he can't have changed much over the years. not when he's making you feel just like you're fourteen again.

but there is something different about him now. maybe it's the way he pilots the ship with ease– no longer the boy who'd cover his ears ar take off, or maybe it's just the way his muscles flex under his tight-fitting shirt. he's almost mesmerizing.

it's clear that he's been doing this for a long time, navigating the stars all alone with nothing but his shitty attitude and perfect hair. you find yourself marveling over him, sure and smooth, his hands deftly moving over the controls.

ever the realist, you try to shake off the feeling, but it's proving difficult. you feel a strange urge to preserve your current addiction.

as you watch him fly, you feel a fixation building within you. it's a sentiment you haven't felt in years, not felt since the last time you saw him.

you try to push the feeling down, knowing that it's not the time to have those kinds of thoughts. you're supposed to be focused on finding your fathers and not getting killed by some lethal syndicate, not lusting after your childhood nemesis.

you feel wrong stealing glances at him, trying to understand what's changed and why you're feeling this way. you're towing a dangerous, line. especially if those feelings are inspired by ben organa-solo.

finally, after what feels like hours, you arrive at the refueling station. as soon as ben lands the ship, you stretch your legs inside the falcon, looking out at the new scenery. the planet is bathed in the evening light, and the scene around you is wide awake. the station itself is a bustling hub of activity, with all kinds of alien species milling about.

ben leads the way to the fueling station, where he begins filling up the ship's tanks. you stand by the ship's entrance, people-watching. your eyes find ben's figure again, and you let them stall. when he looks your way, you advert your gaze and step out of the falcon, swiftly approaching him.

the evening air is cool as it hits your skin. this planet is a strange one, with vibrant purple plants and thick, white fog swirling around. but you don't pay too much attention to it, your eyes are locked on ben.

he's leaning against the ship, checking over the fuel meter with a frown on his face. you walk over to him and clear your throat, expecting to get his attention.

he looks up at you, eyes meeting your own. you feel your heart skip a beat, and you curse yourself for being soft for him.

"you know, you didn't have to follow me out here." he mumbles, hand coming to brush the hair from his eyes.

you hum, "i didn't have anything better to do."

he ignores you and looks back at the fuel gauge, his eyebrows furrow, "i found something for you to do." his voice is monotone, but you're all too familiar with the subtle cut of annoyance within.

"what does that mean?" you own voice comes out a bit too anxious.

ben groans before looking at you, "one of the damn tanks has a leak— i told chewie to fix that weeks ago." he follows up his words with a few curses before kicking the faulty gas tank.

you roll your eyes, "can't we just get another one? i'm sure if we go inside someone would know where we could get another one."

"the problem isn't finding one," he tsks at you, "the problem is that this tank has been leaking fuel into the beacon finder. without that, we're never finding our dear old dads."

your heart sinks. you had been so sure that you would find your dad quickly, but now it looks like that might not be the case. "so, what do you suggest we do?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

"i'll have to fix the beacon," he sighs, "luckily i have the tools for it, but i need to find one more part, and with the sun setting soon…" he trails off, letting his silence complete the sentence for him.

you take in a deep breath at his implication. you can tell what he is suggesting without explicitly stating it.

you will be stuck on this planet with him tonight and forced to share the same cramped room. you thank god for separate cots, at least.

you try to ignore the warmth creeping up your ears, but you know that it's a losing battle. you haven't shared a room with ben solo since you were kids, endless unwilling sleepovers at each other's houses. but those instances were filled with innocent pranks and arguments, not the tension and longing glances you've found yourself giving him.

"alright," you say, trying to keep your voice even, "we'll just get the part and fix the beacon. the faster we fix this, the faster we can find our fathers and get back to our lives." you move towards the entrance of the fueling station, wanting to put space between you and ben.

"you mean so you can get back to your life." he calls out to you, and you look back at him only to be met with contempt in his brown eyes, "the one where you avoid me."

you give him a sharp eye roll before making your way toward a small gaggle of vendors, much more interested in finding this part. ben follows closely behind you, and you can feel the weight of his stare on the back of your head.

you're at a loss as to why ben solo would ever care that you've been avoiding him for the last five years. the ben you remember would've never batted an eye. when did that change?

you find a vendor selling the part that ben needs, and you both split the payment before heading back to the falcon. ben sets to work on the beacon, and you sit nearby, supposedly looking over the coordinates but mostly watching him work.

there's an abnormal sense of calm that fills you as you watch him. concentration is etched on his face, lips bitten bright red. you can't help but admire him, not for the sake of not trying.

you're brought back to reality when he starts cursing under his breath, "what's wrong?" you ask, moving closer to him.

"this damn thing won't budge," he grunts, trying to pry apart two pieces of the beacon.

you move to his side, peering down at the device. his breath is hot on your cheek, and you feel an urge to shiver. trying to focus on the task at hand you take a few breaths.

your eyes keep drifting to his lips, the way they move when he curses. you shake your head, trying to clear the inappropriate thoughts from your mind. "let me help," you offer, reaching for one of the tools he's using.

he hands it to you, and you lean in closer, your sides pressed together as you work the tool. you can feel his heat exuding into you, a warmth that isn't just from the planet's humid air. you try to focus, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. every time he moves, you catch a whiff of his scent, musky and rich, and your mind starts to wander to places it shouldn't.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, the piece pops free, and ben lets out a sigh of relief. he turns to you, a small smile on his face, and you can't help but smile back. his eyes lock onto yours, and suddenly, the air between you is charged with something foreign.

you let your tone come out sardonic, "looks like i saved the day. you're welcome, solo."

ben tilts his head, eyes narrowing, "you're a brat, kid."

"i thought i told you to stop calling me that." you want to hit him.

"i said i had a condition," he pauses, arms coming to either side of you, palms pressing into the falcon's floor, effectively trapping you against him, "a condition you just broke. so you're back to kid, kid."

you feel your resolve slipping, "you're the worst. you always have been, and i can see now that will never change."

he has the audacity to let out an amused breath, "if you're going to say shit like that, at least mean it."

your brows furrow, "pardon me? as if i don't mean that."

his hands creep from the ground and to your hips, you gasp as he pulls you in closer. if he were anyone else, you'd expect him to kiss you next, but he's not anyone else. so instead, he cranes down and whispers in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "i know you want me," he growls, his fingers digging into your clothed flesh. "don't act like you don't,"

you're completely caught off guard, and before you can respond, he's pulling away from you and grabbing the beacon. you watch in silent horror as he makes for the falcon's exit, leaving you confused on the floor.

you sit there, rooted to the spot, your mind and body in turmoil. you know if you follow him you'd just be throwing yourself into a petty or embarrassing altercation.

what did he mean by that anyway? how could he possibly know?

taking a steadying breath, you turn away from your seat and make for the other side of the ship. you need to keep yourself busy until nighttime, and you know that there's some maintenance to do on one of the storage bays. when you get there, however, it's already been taken care of. your fists clench in frustration as you realize ben must have done it earlier.

you start searching around the ship for any other tasks that might help keep your mind off things and pass the time more quickly- checking cords, tidying up shelves or going through supplies lists so nothing gets low.

the hours seem to stretch on endlessly despite how much work you manage to do, and all too soon darkness begins to fill the sky outside of the cockpit windows. with a heavy sigh, you head back towards where you and ben had been working earlier. he's back now, tinkering away with the beacon as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you earlier— as if his words hadn't sent a tremble down your spine and confused the emotions tumbling through your mind.

you catch an expectant glance from him when he finally notices your presence. you're sure he's expecting you to say something to him. maybe he wants you to yell.

you don't say anything though, instead offering only a terse nod before checking the endless cords around you.

your fingers move quickly and expertly over the tangled cords, your mind too preoccupied to focus on anything else. but you can feel his gaze on you, burning through the back of your skull like a branding iron. his presence is suffocating and you know that if you don't get a handle on your emotions soon, you'll combust.

eventually, you're so lost in thought that you almost miss the soft footfalls approaching you. you turn to see ben standing beside you, his eyes locked onto yours. the air between you is thick with strain, unspoken words, and feelings. there are so many things you want to say to him, but you don't know where to begin.

"so," his voice breaks through the silence like a blaster shot. "when are we going to talk about it?"

you hear the depth in his baritone voice and it's all you can do to keep your face neutral, your thoughts collected, "talk about what?" you ask, even though you know perfectly well what he's referring to.

"about me and you," he says, voice low but insistent, "or we can just keep ignoring it. the tension seems to be getting us pretty far."

your expression shifts as you take in his words, the longing that had been coiled in so tightly before now coming to the surface. you can feel yourself flustering under the intensity of his watch but you refuse to look away, instead lifting your chin higher and narrowing your eyes.

"there is no us, solo," you say firmly, though your voice is riddled with a hint of something else entirely, "there never has been, and never will be."

ben seems unfazed by your words, his eyes steady and intense. "you say that," he says, his voice softening. "but i know you better than anyone else. and i know there's some part of you that actually likes me. i bet it pisses you off, doesn't it?"

he's right— it does piss you off that your heart can't seem to let him go. no matter how annoying you find him, he's beautiful and confident. and he does know you better than anyone. he knows what buttons to press and how hard. with ben, there's always the thrill of how perceptive he is— that he can see through the walls of anger and indifference you try so hard to build up around yourself.

you can feel your will crumbling under his words, your heart throbbing in your chest, but still, you push back, "even if there is something there, solo," you say, your voice shaking slightly, "it doesn't change anything. we're two different people living two very different lives."

ben smirks, "you don't know anything about my life."

you let your eyes roll, "as if the life you lead is some kind of mystery," you take a deep breath, "i mean, what's to know? you fly alone, smuggle, and rack up credits. that's your life, solo."

he hums, right hand finding a home beside your head on the wall, "you know me so well, kid. you should write a book."

you feel inexplicably hot, "maybe i will. a long book of all the reasons you piss me off."

he doesn't respond, just looks down at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. he pushes himself from the wall and you, twisting and letting his back hit the durasteel wall. his face is turned to you, eyes downcast.

"you know," he says finally, breaking the silence, "i remember when we were kids, it was always you who used to be the one to instigate. you probably don't remember it that way, but i do, and i loved it. you never hesitated. you were fearless."

you look at him incredulously, wondering what this has to do with anything. but he continues, "you were the only girl that would play with me, and not just that, the only one that could beat me. but then one day you just stopped. you ignored me completely."

you stiffen, unwilling to admit even through body language that he might be right. a pre-teen you found avoiding your ben sized crush the most viable option. you just never thought he'd care.

he continues, eyes unwavering from yours, "you used to look at me like i was the only person that mattered. and then, you just stopped. it's was like… like you had something to hide."

it's like he can read your mind because he reaches out and grasps your wrist in his hand. his touch is nice against your skin, sending a comfortable feel through your veins.

"i miss you, the girl who wasn't afraid of liking me," he whispers, his voice low and husky. "and i want you to admit that you miss me too."

you struggle to find words, to make sense of everything inside of you, but before you can speak, his lips are on yours. his kiss is hot and demanding, and instinctively lean into him, body melting against his in perfect harmony. his hands slide around your waist and hold you close as the kiss deepens, and you can feel all of the frustrations of the past slipping away. when he finally pulls back, his eyes are bright with emotion and a hint of a smile graces his lips.

he looks down at you for a moment before speaking in a low voice, "you want me to do that again?" he steps closer to you and cups your face in his hands, his eyes twinkling with amusement. you can feel the warmth radiating from his body and if it weren't for his strong arms around you, you would have melted into a puddle.

you nod slowly in agreement, too lost in the moment to say anything else. he leans down and brushes his lips against your cheek before pulling away completely, "then be honest. right here, right now. you like me."

you screw your eyes shut, basking in the shame of being found out, "i like you, solo. i like you a lot, but if you don't get off your pedestal and kiss me again i'll withdraw the opportunity."

he gazes down at you with an expression that's tender yet mischievous all at once. "i like you too," he whispers before chuckling lightly, you open your eyes to see.

his dimples are on full display, and for a second, he's the spirit of the little brat you fell in love with all those years ago. "c'mere, kid." his voice is soft as he pulls you back into him, lips meeting yours.

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Crumbling Down

carlos sainz x Piquet!wife oc & secret family

this is meant with no real negativity to cs55's girlfriend rebecca, and only discusses her in a slight poor light due to plot reasons.

Private Account

verity.sainz a perfect break with my whole world before flying is restricted once more by baby #4 🤍

carlossainz55 mi corazon ❤️

f1wags and we're back to race week with the first public appearance of Carlos Sainz's new girlfriend!

fan1 WHY DOES HE HAVE HIS EYES OPEN WHEN THEY KISS?

"Carlo," I can't help the crack in my voice when I say his name, "You said you would say no to them. You said you wouldn't abuse our desire to keep our private life private like this."

"Mi amor," The pet name hurts, something that used to make my body buzz with joy making me want to cry harder as I wrap my arm around my rounded stomach. "They were insistent, I've never had a woman come to the paddock outside my family and they say I needed to change that."

"You haven't gone with a woman because we decided to remain private! We didn't want to pressures of the world! So we got married, and then we had Carlos and Junie and then they were each too young to go, and just as we were about to announce the family, I got pregnant with Flora and now with Tilly-"

"Tilly? As in Matilda?" He asks, interrupting my emotional rate with a tone that is too close to joy. "You found out the baby's gender?"

We had picked out names. This wasn't how he was supposed to find out.

"Yes, she's a little girl," I admit, "The kids and I had a whole plan how to announce it once you got home."

"I can't wait to see what you have planned," Is his answer, the sounds of the garage around him getting slowly quieter as I can only assume he moves towards his drivers room.

The idea of him coming home after kissing her to kiss me, to kiss our children's foreheads, makes me want to be sick.

"At the moment Carlos, I can't promise the kids and I will be here when you get home," I whisper, the truth slipping out like razorblades. "I think we're going to go see my parents."

"Vera, you're not meant to be flying. We were cutting it close with out trip as it is," He answers, voice strong and commanding.

"That's what's upsetting you? The fact that I will be traveling and not that I've just told you that your wife and children won't be home to greet you when you return because you're parading around another woman? Because when Carlos and Junie put on the race to see their father they'll see her name with yours underneath?"

"Verity, you know that's not what I want-"

"Then why did you agree? Why did you agree after I cried to you about how the idea of you with another woman made me ill?"

"It was for a good reason," His answer is hesitant, and you can tell he doesn't mean it.

"I hope the reason was enough for you, Carlos, because I can't keep letting you love us in the dark. We'll be with a friend since you're so concerned about me traveling." He did have a good point on that matter, but I can't help but say it before hanging up, not giving him a moment to respond as I waddle my way to the living room, dropping myself on the couch.

"Mamá?" Carlos III's voice calls, his head of hair like his fathers sticking out from behind the hallway wall, "Que occure? (What happened?)"

"Oh my baby, nothing happened," I try to assure, attempting to get all the tears off my cheeks before he can really notice.

"Mamá," He prompts this time, sounding entirely fed up with my response as he moves into the room, such a serious look for a seven year old. "I heard you on the phone with Papá. What has he done?"

"Something that you do not need to worry yourself about mi mundo (my world)," I assure, pulling him into my side as he gets close. He curls into my side, hand resting on my stomach as he's done with his other sisters.

"Hola Tilly," He greets her, placing a quick kiss to where he feels her kick before looking up to me, his father's spitting image. "We're going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa?"

"No, you're father made the point that I can't travel anymore, so we're going to go see if tia Kelly and prima Penelope are up for some visitors, yeah?"

"I'll go get my suitcase and start packing," He agrees, giving me a small smile as he moves to get up. I know I'll have to repack his suitcase later, but as he runs off, all I can be is grateful for this little angel who blessed us when we were young and unprepared, much to my fathers chagrin. But my kids are who keep me together as I dial my sister's number, tears coming to my eyes when I hear her voice.

"Vera? Honey are you crying?"

"Kel, can the kids and I come visit?"

"Always. P will prep her toys and I will prep the guest rooms."

"What the fuck were you thinking," The angered Red Bull driver shouts across the paddock, storming towards the Ferrari drivers who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Max, what's-"

"This doesn't involve you, Charlie," The Dutchman silences, eyes blazes of fire as they move to the Spaniard who's practically his brother-in-law. "You brought your girlfriend to a race and expected that to go well with your wife? The mother of your four children?"

"Tell me you did not," Charles chimes in, unable to keep the words from slipping out of his mouth at news. He had seen Carlos with a woman earlier, but had only assumed her to be a new member of his media team.

"It is none of your concern, Verstappen. What happens between my wife and I is just that."

"And I'll respect that when your actions aren't broadcasted to the entire world and having Vera call Kelly sobbing saying she's packing up the kids and leaving," Max fumes, Carlos's expression dropping at the knowledge. He had known that she was upset, that she had threatened to leave, but he thought it was just that, a threat. Not that she would actually leave the home they had designed together in Nice.

"After this race you better fix your fucking mess, because I will enforce whatever Verity wants, whether that is keeping you away from her and the kids or not."

And the Dutchman storms off, not waiting for a response.

"Kelly, I am only here to see my family."

"Carlos, you've been in our family for nine years, by law seven, but I can promise you that if Vera doesn't want you here, you will not be entering this apartment," The elder Piquet daughter warns, eyes angered by the mans simple presence.

"Kel, can I come in?" Max questions, not wanting to answer her more but also hoping to embrace her and Penelope, any week without them feeling too long.

She smiles at him, having missed him as well but her expression quickly steels. "Not if you are bringing him in with you."

"Kelly," I finally interrupt, having enough of seeing her scold my husband through the door as I breastfeed Flora. "You can just let them in, but please warn Max that I'm feeding Flora," I request, hating the idea of making the man uncomfortable in his home.

"You're okay, Ver," Max offers, his eyes immediately meeting my own and not leaving as Kelly opens the door, him and Carlos entering. "Kelly and I are actually going to go say hi to the kids, I've missed P and all of them," he says, kissing my sisters lips in a quick peck.

"Is Flora done? We could take her with us?" And it's like Flor could understand her aunt's question, because she's unlatching on cue, allowing me to pull up the piece of my top to cover myself and nod to Kel.

"Would you please? She just needs to be-"

"Burped," Max finished, taking my current youngest into his arms, kissing her head as he moves her to his shoulder. "Between P and my nephews, we've got this covered. Just let us know when you're done," He offers, kissing the side of my head.

"Thank you."

"Anything for family," He just smiles, the expression falling when he turns to Carlos who has been frozen in place. "Say the wrong things and your ass will be on the street before you can say forza ferrari."

"Sí- I mean, yes, of course," His eyes meeting mine before his next words leave his mouth. "I just want to talk apologize my wife."

"Right then, let's go say his to the kids," Kelly prompts, the two walking out with Flora in hand, the cheers of the kids upon seeing their uncle and P seeing her father figure making my heart warm.

"Mi amor, you have no idea how sorry I am for agree to the teams request for even a moment," Carlo apologizes, his body moving towards mine, taking the spot beside me and my hands into his own. "I went back to the team, they've posted an announcement saying that Rebecca and I are not together, and I gave them a photo of us from our wedding."

My heart beat fastens, his eyes meeting mine as his fingers start to fiddle with my wedding band. "Why would you do that?"

"I am having it announced that before my start in formula one I have been madly in love with you. That over those years we have married and created a family in private that I love," He explains, a hand coming to cup my cheek, running his calloused thumb to wipe away the tears that have begun slowly running from my eyes. "I no longer want to hide you. We can keep the kids to ourselves until they're older, but now everyone knows I am taken by the love of my life."

"Carlo," I can't help but whimper, flinging myself at him in a hug. "Te amaré hasta que ya no respire (i will love you until i am no longer breathing)."

"And I, you, mi amor," He assures, kissing the top of my head. "I am more sorry than I could ever put into words."

"You've fixed the situation, Carlo, we can work from this," I smile, little giggles alerting us to our observers.

And wrapped around the corner, piled on top of each other, our children's heads and niece's head are stacked, Junie's under her brothers and Penelope's in between. It's only a moment later thought that Flora appears to be floating on top of Carlos III, Max and Kelly's heads slowly appearing as well.

"Estan bien mamá y papá? (Are you okay mama and papa?)" Juniper questions us, Carlos III placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Sí," Carlos Jr answers, pulling us into a sitting position. "Ven aquí nuestros amores (Come here our loves)." Their little feet carry them strong and fast towards us, gently climbing on top of us, minding my stomach as Kelly approaches us, now holding Flora and resting her gently against my chest with a smile. "We are okay, Papa made a mistake but he has started fixing it and I will be working to so for a time."

"As you should," Carlos III digs, making me smile slightly.

"We love you all," I remind, kissing eaches head, including Penelope. "And we love each other. No matter what, things will work out and we will love you all," my little girl giggling brightly.

"Nosotros tambien te amamos mama (we love you too mama)."

[queers-gambit]

Bloodhounds

prompt: you and your husband have a different kind of foreplay that include disguises, sneaking out of the castle, and sometimes, fucking in an alleyway... Or two.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x highborn!female!reader no specified House

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.7k+

note: also NO physical description of skin, hair, but height IS mentioned inna way and weight IS insinuated because - let's face it - fucking against a wall ain't easy!! this is a STAND ALONE.

warnings: poor excuse for smut, explicit / descriptive language, i guess this is porn with a plot?? (surprise!) there's cursing, Cherry needs to get laid ASAP, stop giving her internet access!! half-edited, author mildly gave up. ✅ spoiler free

"My Lady, how go your studies? Aemond says you're making grand progress," Alicent smiled, leaning back in her high-back chair with a goblet of wine in her always-tight manicured grip.

"Oh," you quickly swallowed the bit of food in your mouth, perfectly trained to take small bites for moments such as these - but also, because it was 'unladylike' to eat with fuller cheeks. With a quick dab of the cloth napkin left on your lap, you nodded at her, "My Lord husband likes to exaggerate. Studies are going well enough, My Queen, but surely, I've much farther to go."

She hummed in contemplation, "From what I've heard, you're planning a trip to Pentos?"

Ah, so this is the reason she wanted you alone.

"I am wrestling with the idea, Lady," you assured softly, "yet, there has been no decision made, nor am I swaying any which way more heavily." You watched her carefully, "You have an opinion on the matter, do you not?"

"How can I not, sweet child," she sighed, setting her goblet down as you did the same to the utensils in hand, "when there is a possibility my son is leaving?"

You couldn't help it, truly. But the laugh was genuine, "My Queen! There is not a world in which I would dare take your son from you. If I decided to venture to Pentos, it will not be with my white-haired husband and his 180-year-old dragon. That warrants attention I do not wish for."

"You are a Targaryen now - "

"I do not look it," you nodded. "I have a no-name face and can still travel undetected. Your son cannot afford the same luxury."

"And yet, I cannot shake this feeling..."

"That feeling you feel is natural for every mother," you nodded, taking a sip of water to clear your mouth and throat of residue. "It is the dread that your children are growing up and will leave, like you were forced to as a girl." Her face was painted in earnest shock. "Do not think so little of me, Your Grace, I've done my fair share of familial research - but also, the maids like to gossip." Alicent chuckled some. "I am truly sorry for your mother, and that you had to leave home to live with your father here... But there will come a time your kids are going to spread their leathery wings and fly. If it's something I've learned in the few, short years of marriage? You cannot hold dragons back. Believe me when I say, I do not want to take your son from you, but should he make his decision, that's only his to make. For now, I am simply weighing pro's and con's. The idea of adventure is a little too tantalizing."

Alicent regarded you for a long moment before slowly nodding, "Then it shall be his decision."

"If you'd like, if I go and end up in Braavos or other, I'll send a barrel of spiced wine."

"Oh, you," she chuckled, waving you off some.

"How fairs the King?"

Alicent paused to smile softly at the woman she married her son to, and for a moment, let her heart beat with pride at such a fine young woman joining her family. Y/N L/N was a woman of great beauty and even greater brains, a woman her son could engage with; a woman she was pleased to see fit in effortlessly. There wasn't a single soul in the entire castle who did not like her - and it came in handy at times.

Y/N was also the only one who ever bothered to ask about Viserys anymore, too. So, Alicent smiled and nodded, "He has his good days and bad."

You nodded slowly. "I remember when my grandfather started to lose his mind... It was gradual, then one day, it was like a switch flipped. For the last few years of his life, he didn't know who I was, but with Mum and Da' out, workin', doin' whatever they needed to, I was with him day in and out... It wasn't easy."

"You've never spoke of your family before," Alicent sat up in intrigue. "Three years being married, six months of courting before that - and you've never spoke of them," Alicent looked at you with a sense of wonder.

"Some family's aren't worth the effort to discuss," you shrugged a bit. "The moment you sent word for the courting season, away I was swept, and my father was adamant on making a match. Can you imagine how happy he was to learn I was courting the Prince?"

"Was he?" Alicent asked softly, giving a knowing look.

"He kept asking if it were true, and asked if his dragon took his eye," you snickered to her. "Kept asking what rumors were true."

"Gods," she chuckled.

"I told him outlandish things," you admitted with a snicker. "He caught on eventually, cursed me to all Seven Hells... Stopped writing, and then word reaches me of his passing. Hm," you shrugged a bit.

"Well, you're better off without, yes?"

"Indeed, I'd say... Look, Your Grace, I have not made any decision about my travels. As of right now, I'm okay reading my books and letting my mind go on adventures - I will tell you when I have made a decision."

"All right..."

"You will be the second to know, after Aemond, of course."

She smiled, "Yes, yes. Of course."

You glanced out the window to the sun's position, finding it nearly completely gone, and turned to your mother-by-law. "Speaking of, I'm sure he's expecting me soon. I'll be going now," you stood slowly, waiting for her to stop you.

"Of course, yes, yes, go on," she smiled. "Thank you for tonight."

"Always my pleasure," you promised with a curtesy, turning after, and exiting the room. "Have a good evening, Ser Cole."

"And you, Princess," he nodded with a soft smile. "Good supper?"

"Oh, you know I have a love-affair with Chef Hayford's cooking," you chuckled, watching him return it with a nod of agreement.

Turning forward, you only had to travel a short way; mostly turning down three different stone corners to reach a more secluded hallway. Aemond preferred solitude, so, when you married, you snagged up the suite in the Western Wing that was newly renovated - but it was "sadly" away from most of the castle's traffic. So, of course it was perfect for the pair of you.

When you slipped in the door, Aemond was standing at the basin of water, shirtless, leaning heavily on the stone and wiping the back of his neck while lost in thoughtful contemplation.

"Aemond?" You questioned softly, shutting the door, and rushing for him. "Are you all right?" When in the light, you saw the discoloration of his skin, whispering, "Oh, my love..."

"It's not so bad," he answered in the same lowered tone.

"Liar."

"No, truly, it's not the worst I've had," Aemond straightened up, looking down at you with a soft smirk. "Hi, poppet."

"Hi," you smiled, letting him lean down some as you rocked to your toes to kiss him in greeting. "How was your day?"

"Cole was brutal in training, but it was good," he nodded, dropping the washcloth after wringing it out. "And yours, my love?"

"Well... Your mother's caught rumor of our plans..."

"What's that mean?"

"She directly asked if I mean to go to Pentos and if I mean to take you with me, as if to take you away from her."

"Gods," his eyes rolled, "swear, the walls have ears in this place."

"Tell me of it," your eyes rolled. "I think she's off the scent for now, but we should be more diligent and a little more careful..."

"Hmm," he considered, nodding after. "Yes, love. Right, then."

"Are you hungry?"

"I could eat."

"How about at Kavvin's?"

"In the city?"

You nodded with a grin, "Feelin' up for a game, love?"

Aemond turned to you fully, hands on your hips and a grin on his lips. "Yeah... Yeah, yeah, I could go for something to eat."

"Start there, then," you whispered.

"You've the time it takes me to clean up and change to get out of here," he smirked, forehead on yours.

You dashed around the room to change into a tunic, trousers, boots, and a thick muted-color cloak. Aemond chuckled to himself as you blew him an air kiss before sneaking through secret passage door... And away you went.

Once out of the Keep's grounds, it was easy enough to lose yourself in the city's streets; but kept to the plan and made for Kavvin's tavern. You slipped in and made quick work of finding the young lad, working on sopping up a puddle of ale, and dashing over to him.

"Princess," he chuckled some, eyeing you up and down. "What's it for you tonight, then?"

"Send him down the Street, I wanna see how far he'll go," you smirked some, squeezing his elbow as you slipped him a Gold Dragon as a tip.

"All right," he shrugged. "Want a drink while you wait?"

"Oh, please, you and I both know that man takes the longest fucking strides in the bloody Realm," you laughed a bit, Kavvin nodding in agreement. "If I want to win, I've gotta go."

"Back door's open," he smirked, pointing you off.

In fact, he had to restrain a laugh when not a full five minutes later, Aemond was stalking into the tavern - eye sweeping the area. He decided that for tonight, he was on your side, and made himself busy with other customers to stave off telling Aemond anything.

However, nobody flagged Kavvin down when they noted the hooded man with one eye stalk up to him.

"My Prince," Kavvin greeted softly, tossing the cloth he was using over his shoulder. "You're out late, aren't you?"

"Hardly," Aemond sighed some.

"Well, you will be," the lad smirked.

"Where's she off to?"

Kavvin shrugged, and Aemond slapped a Gold Dragon to his hand. "Uh, think she made mention of... Well, now that I think on it, 's a bit fuzzy, yeah?"

"Where, Kavvin?" Aemond growled, another coin dropped to his hand.

"Hm, yes," he examined the coin, "think she said something about goin' off down the Street, yes?"

"No, she didn't."

"Swear it, honest," Kavvin nodded. "Said she wanted to see how far you'd go tonight. You do somethin' to piss her off, mate?"

"Not that I'm aware of - though, she might think 'twas I who told the Queen of our plans."

"Well, that makes little sense," Kavvin chuckled, "for even I know, the idea to leave this wretched city was your own..."

"She's an easier scape goat for the courts and help to gossip about," Aemond frowned a bit. "The Street, you said?"

"Street of Silk," Kavvin agreed softly, offering a coin back, "honest, that's where she said she was headin'."

Aemond nodded and turned, leaving the bartender with his hand extended; but it quickly recoiled with a smirk as Aemond took leave. After a chuckle, Kavvin thumbed the coin to flip in the air; catching it in a swipe, then turning as he pocketed his extra coins as a few men grew louder and sloshed ale around - leaving Kavvin in for a long night tending his bar.

The Street of Silk was alive tonight, as it was all other nights. Lowly lit torches hung on the walls lined your way; most wearing hoods and darkened colors to hide themselves. Whores and Mistresses hung out of doorways and windows; hollering, snarling, laughing at any passing customer.

You didn't often dare to venture down this way, but tonight was special; you were in it to win. So, you ducked down a darkened alley and knocked three times, in a specific pattern, at the wooden door.

A moment later, it pulled open.

"What're you doin' here?" Tiyana smirked to you, leaning on the doorway. "My brithday or sum'thin'? Here ta treat me, is it?"

"Not tonight, my sweet," you smirked. "Carry a message for me?"

"To who?"

"My husband."

"Ain't no way," she shrugged. "He don't come down this way, no, ma'am. Ain't nobody seen the One-Eyed Prince 'round these parts since - well..."

"Yeah, yes, yes, I know. But he'll come this way, and I need you to catch his eye. Tell him to go by the markets."

"Oh - I get it," she laughed. "You two playin' that game, innit? Yeah? You two li'l freaks, is it?"

"A bit," you mused softly. "Will you do as I've asked?"

"Gonna come back and entertain me a bit?"

Your head cocked, eyeing her up and down, "Perhaps - though, my husband is often insatiable."

"Say that like I haven't eaten his cum out your cunt before, hey?" She smirked. "All right, yeah, fine, I'll tell 'im if he comes ta see me, yeah?"

"You're my favorite for a reason," you smirked, holding your hand out.

"Lady," Tiyana gasped, weighing the gold in her hand. "Th-This is more than I make inna month, it is! What'chu givin' it ta me for?"

"You've always been loyal and discreet," you eased. "Don't fail me tonight, love."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she grinned. "You're a right Gods-sent Lady, you is. I'll tell yah husband what you want - markets, you said?"

"Yeah, the market stalls," you nodded. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, 'course," she smirked, nodding as you pushed off again into the city's streets.

This time, Aemond was slower to arrive on scene. He stood at the mouth of the rambunctious street, eyeing it with malcontent, but something in his stomach solidified and moved him forward. Bad thoughts and haunting memories swarmed Aemond's guts and mind, but still, he let his feet glide down the natural decline.

His eye surveyed the promiscuous activities around him, finding it would be the perfect place to catch you - but then, someone else was catching his eye.

She leaned in a low-bearing window, tits nearly fully popping out of her shirt; eyes rimmed in coal, and hair pulled off her neck. Her eyes ran over his hood and then noted the lack of an eye, motioning him forward. He didn't want to; there had been many who gestured to him all night, but for some reason, this was different... He glanced around, then moved forward.

"She's been to see you, Tiyana?"

"Not without you, Lord," the whore smirked, sitting herself on the window sill. "She's very loyal, that one."

"Being why you're helping her?"

"I'm helpin' yah both!" She laughed. "I want you both ta get laid, hey? So, listen, right? She went down that way," she pointed, "but said meet her in the markets?"

Aemond paused, lifting his gaze slowly. "Down that way?" He asked, pointing down the alley.

"Mhm - took a left, down there," Tiyana pointed, leaning out of the window a bit. "Can I ask something?"

Aemond sighed, glancing around them to the bustle of the drunken crowd. "Sure, what is it?"

"Why's it you two do this? Hey? Just wonderin' - life so bloody boring, you two need sex games?"

Aemond smirked a bit, "More like... We prefer to keep things interesting. You find new ways to get the blood pumping."

"I know a few ways," she smirked.

"I know," he whispered in agreement. "But you know the agreement - not without my wife."

"Wasn't tryna persuade yah, Princey, just wonderin' why yah's do this," she smirked.

"Keeps things... Fresh."

"Hmm," she nodded.

"Think a hunter and prey, yes?"

Tiyana grinned, "Ah, yes, there it is - yeah. All right, fair enough, my Prince. She went that way, but said markets."

"You're a hidden gem," Aemond smirked some, dropping more coins in her hand.

"And you two are me favorite customers," she winked. "Go on, get goin', she's waitin' on yah out there! Fuck 'er good for me, lad! Hey-hey!" She laughed loudly as Aemond pushed off, heading down the alley he was pointed towards.

Slowly, the sounds of the city fell behind him and Aemond noted the way this path took him closer to the water-ways. With a small smirk, he made a judgement call and ducked down a different alley; peering around to slink in the darkness.

Like a bloodhound on the scent after a weakening deer, the pair of you danced around one another; where one ducked into an alley, the other was tip-toeing away. He grew tired of waiting and decided to look around the market like you had said.

It was there in the maze of market stalls that you saw him, smirking as you quickly exchanged your cloak for a different colored one. From there, you picked up an abandoned basket and slunk around the outskirts of the stalls. You kept an eye on Aemond, moving when he did; keeping distance between you but feeling a little frisky.

So, you took a risk, and casually strolled by him as if intent on picking from the plum cart.

He didn't notice you; your eyes watching from under the hood as his tall figure allowed him to peer over heads. Again, you ducked around the few carts and stalls, just watching him for another moment.

Then, you ventured close to the apples... And again, Aemond was too busy glaring at a man who bumped into his shoulder to notice. You took another risk, and dared asking the vendor a question - voice clear on the air. Still, he did not notice.

After another few minutes of watching him turn in confusion, wondering where you could've gone, Aemond started towards the closest tavern - thinking maybe you were hidden in plain sight.

How right he was, but unknowing.

You crept around, exchanging your cloak again before jogging after your husband. However, when you peaked around the doorway of the tavern, you noticed how the white-haired man you loved and adored had effortlessly melted into the crowd, and now, you were back at a disadvantage.

Learning from past mistakes, you quickly turned and let your legs pump with effort to rush away from the markets.

Around a few corners and down two alleyways, you were arriving at the bay port - but only had a moment to recognize your surroundings before a hand clamped over your mouth as another quickly coiled around your middle to pin your arms.

You gasped into the calloused hand, feeling the strong chest slam into your back before forcing you back a few steps. With gritted teeth, you were slammed into the stone wall of one of the darkened alleyways. However, your eyes settled on your 'attacker' and quickly slitted. "Husband," you identified.

"Wife," Aemond smirked. "You're getting predictable, love."

"How'd you know?"

He shrugged, "I felt your eyes on me in the markets and figured I could blend in at the tavern. From there, I knew you'd follow to keep an eye on me, so, I waited, and when I saw you rush away, I took a shortcut."

"Mhm," you hummed, lifting your chin as he leered over you. "I did learn something tonight."

"What's that, my darling?"

"You blend in rather effortlessly when your hair's covered," you muttered as he slowly stepped closer so you were nearly cowering into the brick behind you. "Might do us well, after all... Should we choose to leave..."

Aemond's one hand rose to hold your jaw as the other planted against the wall to corral you to him. "You say that as if my mind's changed."

"Has it?"

"Not in the slightest," he promised, petting his thumb over your lips to catch the bottom one. "Where you go, I go, and away from this wretched fucking city is where I want us to be."

"You'd leave them?" You asked with a smirk. "Leave your family? For me?"

"For my own family?" He corrected, nodding, "Yes, I would've left yesterday if I knew."

"How fucked everything has become?" You whispered sadly, lifting a hand to pet down his collarbone and rest against his pectoral.

"Something like that," he nodded, lifting a knee to separate your legs. "You'd go with me? When the time comes, you'd go with me?"

With a sigh, you nodded, trying not to grind down on his thigh. "Anywhere, my Prince - anywhere you want, we'll go."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you all but whimpered as the hand that once caressed your skin then moved to a bruising grip around your neck.

"Hold still," he nodded, "I won, yes?"

"Mhm."

"Then hold still while I claim my prize," he smirked, yanking his dagger from under his cloak and slowly dragging the pointed tip down your stomach. He didn't press hard, instead, dragging it between your skin and the cloth of your trousers. "Good girl," he crooned as he let the dagger's blade slit the seam of your pants.

"Aemond," you glanced up the alley nervously, body nearly trembling from anticipation.

"Shhh," he nodded, leaning in to breath in your scent. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other working to literally cut a slit in your trousers; letting his tongue flatten against your pulse point.

"Aemond," you whimpered, holding onto him tightly.

"Good girl," he purred again, sheathing his dagger and letting his hand drop again to then pet up your dampening slit from outside the cloth of clothing. "Easier, yeah?" He smirked against your ear, breathing deeply as he let his pointer finger push into your heat, praising, "So warm for me. But I need you wetter than this to take you - don't wanna hurt you, pet."

You groaned a little, holding onto him while keeping a leg up his hip. "What if someone sees?" You whispered against his mouth, practically mewling like a bitch in heat.

"Let them," he nodded, "all they'd see is a man, pleasuring his wife." Your breathing subtly changed as his mouth hung over your ear, promising, "Splitting her in two, watching as she takes his cock so fucking well. That's all they'd see, pet."

"Fuck."

"Hmm, fuck you how?" He smirked, letting a second finger join his first. "Want me to bend you over? Fuck you on the floor? Find those barrels back there?"

"Against the wall, want you t'take me against the wall," you nodded, a sheen of sweat slowly forming over your skin. "Wanna feel you in my fuckin' lungs, yeah?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants, she gets," Aemond growled, slapping your hands off him and readjusting you two. "C'mon, love, earn it - up, jump up, c'mon." When you did, he caught you easily, grunting, "Atta girl. Hang on," he panted then, pressing you against the wall as he adjusted to hold you against the wall while freeing his cock.

"Aemond, please, please," you begged softly, holding his jaw with both hands, "Gods, I need you to fuck me so bad."

"C'mere," he seethed, hoisting you a little higher to adjust his cock at your (cloth-cut) entrance. You both gave guttural moans as he let you sink onto him, grinding your hips into his to better adjust. "Fuckin' grippin' me too tight, love," he growled, hands squeezing your hips as you kept hold of his neck and shoulders.

"Gonna last f'me?"

"Might just have to pump you full, hmm?" He smirked, using his chest to slam into yours and righten your spine. His hand shot up to constrict around your neck, the other used to hold you on his hips; making your legs work overtime to stay atop him.

"Oh, Gods, fuck," you whimpered, hood still over both your heads as Aemond rammed into you.

"Told you - wasn't wet enough," he cursed in your ear.

"Feels fuckin' amazing, please, don't stop," you begged him, hearing his small grunts and growls start up as both hands moved to hold either thigh and keep you spread against the wall. "Oh, my Gods," you sobbed, truly unsure if you were feeling pleasured or not from the feeling of Aemond fucking through you.

"Ah, fuck, fuck," he hissed, hips stuttering as he met his first orgasm.

"Wow... That was record time," you teased quietly when he paused to keep you full to the hilt of his emptying cock.

"I warned yah," he smirked some, readjusting his hold as sweat coated his skin. "My cum just makes you wetter, hey? Yeah, look at that," he hissed, eye cutting down to watch his cock slowly pull back; revealing webs of cum between you and him.

Your hands pawed at his neck, tugging him forward; whining against his mouth, "I need more, please."

He smirked, "Gonna be a good girl and hold it all in until we get back to the Keep?"

You whispered, "What if I can't?"

"I'll just have to fill you again..." His cock twitched, making his throat bob. "Want your belly swollen with our kid, 's 'bout time, isn't it? For the Gods to bless us?"

"Yet you talk of leaving the city - "

"All the more reason," he promised, still holding you spread as he let his hips start up again; rutting into you slowly. "Protect you, protect our kid," he muttered into your neck, "get away from this fucking place - be safe. Be together - oh shit," he moaned.

"Yeah," you grinned, holding him to your neck; clenching your muscles to make him whine, "that's right, emotional intimacy turns you on, doesn't it? Hey?"

"Fuck - yes, yes, it does," he promised, starting to pick up his pace. "Just want you pregnant already, fuck's sake."

"Then fill me," you purred, clenching your teeth when his fully-swollen cock once more stabbed through you. "I wanna make you a Daddy."

"Shit," he breathed, turning his head when he heard noises; but did not stop. Three men and two women stumbled down the alley, drunk, cooing when they saw the couple against the wall.

"Ye-ahhh!" One leered.

"Give it to 'er!" Another hollered.

"Fucking fill me," you followed right after in his ear. "Oh, fuck, yes, please, right there," you hissed as he pinned you harder to the cold stone behind you, the group of five passing with their eyes glued to the pair of you. It was oddly erotic, spurring Aemond on as your mouth hung open in a silent scream.

His balls jackhammered into the wet apex of your cunt as his arms all but braced against you to keep you in place. You were moldable, you were limp, you were taunt with pleasure at the same time; you were a twitching, moaning mess when feeling returned to your limbs as his thumb found your clit.

"Take it, I know my girl can take it," Aemond growled, humping up into you to create friction at that special, gummy spot on your inner walls. "Oh, so fuckin' good, just take it, my precious girl," he praised, hearing the group still stumbling about at the other end of the alley.

"Why don't you fuck me like that?" One of the girls growled in annoyance.

"I can't hold yah like tha', by the Gods," her partner laughed.

Your hand slapped outward against the stone when your husband rubbed your clit in time with his thrusts; letting his mouth open slightly to bite at your shoulder and encourage you to do the same.

You came with a cry, mouth full of his shoulder's flesh; rolling your hips into his with your booted heels pressing into the meat of his arse as waves of pleasure rippled across your beings. Aemond wasn't far behind and when his cock was almost strangled by the clenching of your walls, he came for a second time.

It was enough for you both, panting in effort as your legs were numb. Aemond slowly pulled out of you, hearing you stutter to breath as his cum instantly pumped out to drip onto the pavement beneath you.

"Gods," Aemond breathed in shock, watching the puddle slowly grow.

"Ah!" You yelped when he lowered you, and your legs gave way; his arms darting out to instantly cling onto you as the back of your head thumped into the wall.

"Shit, love, all right?" His hand pressed to the tender spot as you pouted some. The group that watched had since passed, leaving you alone again with split trousers that grew wetter from the ooze of cum. Aemond was trying to catch his breath and support you at the same time, readjusting your clothes for you best he could. "Got it, love?"

"Can't feel my bloody legs," you complained lightly.

"C'mere, I've got you," he promised, arms tight around your waist. "Did good tonight, pet."

"But I lost?"

"'S not about winning or losing, in the end, we both reap benefits, yes?" You nodded. "And as you said, tonight gave you reassurance we could blend in across the Narrow Sea, did it not?"

"It did," you agreed. "But I want to wait until next month, I want to know if it's stuck."

"I'll fuck you everyday until then, yes? Breed you, like I know you want me to," he smirked, one arm holding you up to walk in front of him as the other fingered down the crack of your arse. "Keep walking, don't make a scene," he whispered in your ear, pushing his fingers into your cunt as you lead the way through King's Landing. It wasn't the most comfortable, but Aemond made it doable; pausing in another alleyway to push your chest to the stone wall.

"Aemond," you cursed his name into the wall brushing your cheek.

"Easy," he chuckled, nudging your feet apart. "Take me once more and I'll carry you home."

"Aemond?" You reared back a little when his hardened cock pushed into you again.

"What do you need?"

Your hand raised to pet over his cheek, back bowed to hold yourself up and keep him inside you. "Make me a Mommy, please," you whispered, earning a sharp slap to your arse cheek before his hands seized control of your hips.

"Hold it in this time, then," he teased, starting to thrust into you like a wild horse; bucking his hips into yours to create ripples across your flesh. It seemed as if your frantic motions in the middle of the alley deterred anyone from turning down it, leaving a brief moment of privacy in the sweltering city night.

One of his hands slithered up your front to fondle your breast, tweaking a nipple until you were nearly collapsing into the wall. Aemond had to hold you slightly as you bent lower, almost desperate to take him to the hilt as you fucked back against him - and he took full advantage of your new position.

Aemond kept his feet with your own, hands on your hips; thrusting harder into you as sweat beaded on his skin to roll down his pearly flesh. "Fuck, Gods be fucking good," he cursed, "how's it you're this tight, still? Hey?"

You whimpered wordlessly, gasping when one of Aemond's thumbs came to gently rim around your puckered hole. He didn't often let himself explore your arse, but sometimes, to catch you off guard, he liked testing your limits. After making him venture down the Street of Silk by himself, he figured a little payback was in order.

A stranger started down the alley and actually paused to watch the pair of you, Aemond's spit being spat from his mouth onto your holes; winking in the distant moonlight.

"Take it," Aemond growled when your legs gave way, and sent you both careening into the dirty floor. It only spurred him on further.

"Don't stop," the stranger recommended, loosening his breeches to take his cock out and pump himself to life.

Aemond, fully enraptured with the feel of your cunt, let his hand latch onto the back of your neck to hold you in place as he thrust harder, harder, harder into you. Your hips bruised from the way he pounded you into the cobblestone, growling as he glanced at the stranger.

"Oh, shit," the man nodded, pumping faster. "Yeah - look me in the eyes, mate, that's it."

"The fuck?" You whispered, glancing up to watch.

"Eyes on him, Princess," Aemond demanded, fully hunched over you as he felt his stomach's coil tighten; informing you, "almost there, precious girl, keep bein' a good fuckin' girl - oh, ah fuckin' Hell!"

"Oh, yeah," the stranger nodded. "Can I cum on her, mate?"

"You wanna die?" Aemond snapped.

"Lemme use her mouth," the stranger complained, head tossed back and eyes screwed shut. "Betta yet, lemme a turn!"

Aemond gasped behind you, stalling his hips into the meat of your bum while letting his cock pump you full of his seed. He recovered much quicker than you, kissing your temple as he unsheathed himself from your velvet warmth to stand, tuck himself away, and stride up to the man still masturbating to the sight of your swollen, dripping cunt.

"Woah - hang on - wait, wait, wait!" The man gasped as Aemond stabbed him non-fatally in the ribs.

"Go - before I decide I need your life for even looking at her," he sneered, shoving the man away while yanking his dagger free. A splatter of blood echoed in-between your heaving breaths.

When he turned back, he smirked at the sight of you; fucked-out and unable to find your feet, limp on the dirt-riddled cobblestone. "You didn't have to do that," you told him softly when he neared you to adjust what was left of the tatters of your clothes.

"I did," he smirked. "C'mere, up yah get. Think my wife's earned a hot bath, don't you?"

"Will you join me?" You asked, letting him lift you bridal style. The cloak was long enough that when he picked you up, it covered your cum-soaked hole in his arms.

"I can't resist you, pet," he frowned, "we wouldn't be doin' much cleaning, hey?"

"So?" You smirked, arms tight around his neck. "I want to make you a Daddy, Aemond, best we... Do our due diligence, yes?"

"You make a fair point, Princess," he smirked. "If you can handle it, I'll fuck you the rest of the night, yes?"

"I'm an orgasm behind," you reminded softly as he chose a lesser-used secret entrance into the Red Keep.

"Hm, yes, I seem to owe you one," he smirked in agreement. "Better stay awake, then."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[starlit-crossing]

Lost in Foster (Working Title) Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Flying Solo

---

Danny had lost track of the time quickly after beginning to fly, his stress ebbing away with the landscape that spend by. He tried to focus on the grass, the roads, the horizon, anything but what had just transpired. Every time his mind wondered; he would be reminded that he needed to not feel. His friends' face as he took off — nope, not thinking about it. How worried Jazz would be — what a really cool tree I just passed. His parents’ confusion and not getting to say goodbye to anyone — that is a lot of white vans up a head. Wait… Danny stopped midair above a state highway. Similar to a police barricade, white vans, jeeps, and motorcycles were stationed in the middle of the street. Guys in White were stopping the passing cars, scanning them, then letting vehicles through the state border. Lines were beginning to form and angry honks floating up to him. This isn't good… Danny fished for his burner phone, feeling for the metal at the bottom of his backpack. Digging it out, the clock read 12:45. He had left Casper high during lunch, which had been around 11:30, and he had left Amity around 11:40. Good to know it takes less than an hour for the Goons in White to make a move. He floated closer to the cars to see if anyone had a Wi-Fi spot open. I should've grabbed the Fenton GPS from the emergency OPS center, finally a Wi-Fi signal popped up under the name __Not_The_FBI__. Danny choked on a laugh as he pulled open his map app. He was going to need to avoid every joke and pun on this trip, or he was a dead man. Well, a deader man… wait! Bad brain! He yelled at himself. He had to be less than a five-minute flight from Chicago. Zooming in, he looked for a train station or a ferry… and there was a train station used for hauling cargo from the US into Canada.

“Perfect!” Danny exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air, only to hit something metal. Turning, Danny watched as a pristine white drone steadied itself in the air. Its camera focusing on him.

“Shit.” Danny turned to watch as the men below froze, then look to the sky. Spotting him immediately, he just waved as they began to take aim. Turning invisible and speeding away as round after round of ecto blasts lit up the sky. Nice going Fenton, he berated himself flying towards Chicago; I have two things I can't do: express emotion and use powers publicly. I've already done both! Like he thought it hadn't taken long to reach the station, gravely rails and signs directing conductors were sprawled throughout. He found an empty car, checked for any passerby, and phased inside. A flash of light leaking through the cracks as he returned to his human self. The darkened car was cold, with metal walls and doors. The floor was a kind of embossed metal, a crisscross pattern embellished the sheet metal.

“I should've brought a book or something.” he laughed tiredly to himself… “Damn it!” Danny yelled, banging his head on the car wall. It's probably best if I just sleep, I'll be over the state border by the time I wake up. He thought to himself, settling into a corner. Propping his backpack to use as a pillow, the cold had no effect on him as he drifted to sleep.

---

It had been a little over an hour since Danny had gone on the run. Sam and Tucker had decided to skip what was left of school and head straight home. It would be difficult to catch up with him, but they had to at least try, and every second that passed was a second wasted. They didn't have anything in mind for Danny being tracked so easily, but they would figure something out. They had to.

When Sam got home, her house was surrounded by GIW agents. Her parents stood at the door listening to a panicked Jack and Maddie. As she pushed her way to the front, she was able to make out some of what Danny's parents were saying.

“Please! Just let us make sure Phantom didn't leave anything here. Anything could be a clue to where he took Danny!” Maddie cried, Jack stood by her as she pleaded, an arm around her shoulder. Her parents shared a pained look as they tried to decide what to do.

“Maddie, we know your situation with ghosts is important. To your career and with your family,” her mother started softly, remaining in her polite and cheery tone. “But we can't risk involving Sammikins more than your son already has.”

“Not to mention when we let you search our home earlier during that wild goose chase! Left a large mess that our house cleaner had to pick up.” Her father chimed in, annoyed.

“We understand that, but we need every clue we can! Sam!” Jack shouted, seeing her as she entered the path leading to the door.

“Sammy get inside! You don't need to be pestered by agents as well.” Her dad called, ushering her inside the large house.

“Same, please! Have you heard anything from Danny? Is he with Tucker?” Maddie called, fighting the door as her mother tried to close it. Sam tried to calm down, closing her eyes and slowing her breath. Key word being tried.

“No! I haven't and neither has Tucker! So just leave the two of us alone and don't you dare try storming his house too!” she hollered, shoving the door fully closed. She sighed back sliding against the door.

“That's right Sammikins! Just because they risked their family with ghosts doesn't mean they can risk ours!” Her mother cheered.

“And sorry, Sammy, the house cleaner couldn't get to the second floor today, so your room's still a mess.” Her dad added.

“It's fine, dad. I'll clean it myself. Can I… Can I just be alone for a bit? Stressful day and all.” Sam mumbled, making her way upstairs.

“Of course, sweetie!” they answered, leaving Sam with herself. Once her parents were out of sight, she ran up the stairs. As she entered her room, she looked at the damage caused by the aforementioned goose chase. It looked like a storm had blown through, her bed and desk had their contents thrown about. Anything related to Danny had been pulled out. Ignoring the mess, she pulled over a chair to her closet and felt for the backpack taped to its ceiling. Once down she poured out its contents mentally checking everything was still there. Her clothes? Check. Money? Check. A letter? Sam pulled out the simple envelope that made an appearance in her bag. It was addressed to her, the whole thing crisp and clean. Inside a piece of notebook paper full of Danny's handwriting, nothing looked rushed, and it seemed he had prepared these in advance.

*Ring* *Ring*

Tucker’s face lit up her phone's lock screen, she answered the video call while reading the letter.

“Sam! Did you get home safe? I heard the GIW were swarming your house. Did you find a letter?”

He blurted, the room behind him burring as he moved.

“I'm fine, and I did. Did you get one too? Why would Danny write these?” She flipped the page to see if there was more, a hint to what he was thinking.

“I did, that was why I called you. Does yours say the same thing. Well, maybe not the exact same.” He rambled, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up, Tuck! He wants us to stay in Amity? To abandon him and protect the town that barely cares he's here?” She exclaimed. Tucker nodded along from the camera.

“I know right? He's our best friend, we can't just let him be on the run!” Tucker ranted, “Can we? I mean, I know where he's coming from. We can't really trust his parents or the GIW to keep ghosts out. Valerie can handle her own, but she still hates ghosts. It will be hard for her to leave the neutral ones alone.”

“I don't know, Tuck, Danny even said we could tell Valerie his secret if things got out of hand and became too much for us and Jazz. I don't think he plans on coming home, at least not anytime soon.” she contemplated; there had to be something they could do. “What about other heroes?”

“What? What would they do?” Tucker asked.

“I'm not sure, I know we don't really keep up with stuff outside of Amity, but the Justice whatever works with the government, right? We could tell them our local hero is being unjustly hunted.” Sam suggested pacing the room.

“Sam, what will they find when they look into Phantom? That he's a wanted criminal, robbing banks, and threatening mayors? The media doesn't shine Danny in a good light.” He countered.

“But those can be explained, the GIW have files on Freakshow.”

“Didn't Danny wipe his memories with the Reality gauntlet? They couldn't get the whole truth, or they would learn his brain has been messed with through magic or martians.” They went back and forth.

“Then what do you propose we do? We can't track him down without others noticing.” Sam huffed in defeat.

“We'll just have to do what he asked of us. We'll watch over the town, if Valerie gets out of hand, we'll offer our help first. Say we helped Phantom with ghosts, Danny included. We can say Danny is protecting Phantom even now, and it will buy us some time to see if she can handle Danny's secret.” Tuck finished.

“She trusts Danielle, right? We might be able to convince her.” A moment hung in the air between the two friends. The reality settling in that they may never see their friend again. “Where is Danielle? She might get caught in the crossfire of this, being a clone and all.” Sam wondered.

“She's in Italy last I checked, I'm glad I gave her one of my old phones before she left the US.” Tucker answered.

“That's good… Which of us is telling Jazz?"

---

The train started to move shortly after Danny fell asleep. Four hours passed before Danny's body forced him awake, ghost hunting had ruined his sleep. He could hear Jazz's voice in his head talking about the importance of sleep for teens today. He checked the burner for the time and saw the numbers 6:05 glowing back at him. Pulling open the map he saw he had made it to Indiana, finally.

“Time to get moving, I guess.” As he spoke, he focused on keeping his voice even. The events of earlier, still fresh in his mind. The sound of the car's rolling wheels echoed in the empty car as he stood. Stretching to pop his back. He stuck his head invisibly through the train door, seeing the cargo station grow closer. Bringing his head back in, he readied to slip off the train. Steadying himself as the train arrived, opening the door, and running through the train yard as fast as he could without getting caught. It had been easier than expected, no one cared, as the teen bolted through the gravel-filled rails with ease. Once outside, he went searching for food. A mini mart was on the corner and a King Burger across the street. He couldn't risk lingering, so he made way for the minimart. The convenience store felt dated with white walls and neon signs, the floor was black and gray checkered tiles. Grabbing some water bottles, bags of jerky, and some premade sandwiches. The many sweets and freezy drinks were tempting, but the longer the food could last, the better. The place was deserted, only the clerk scrolling on his phone could witness he was ever there. After finishing his resource gathering, Danny went on the hunt for a gray hound bus stop, it would be the easiest way to get around without drawing too much attention. Looking for the longest possible route to the East Coast, he was left with two options: Gotham or Metropolis. Both had international ports and superheroes that protected them. He had always meant to look into other heroes more, find some inspiration or role models for hero work, but with ghosts constantly attacking the town and homework, he just didn't have time. Mr. Lancer tried to keep class interesting by referencing the things happening on the global news. Now if he could only remember what he had said about the heroes protecting the cities. Danny had actually perked up when Lancer mentioned that one was an alien with super hearing and other abilities. Aside from that, all he could remember was their names, Batman and Superman. I'm feeling a lot better about my hero name. He would have to give Amity News a break about Invis-O-Bill. Between the two, he was pretty sure Superman was the alien. Sam had done a report on meta-human rights and had gotten very passionate when she discovered that they didn't reference the ecto acts whatsoever. She had been so sure that someone would shed light on the act, accounting it to being unknown meta-humans being unjustly removed of their rights. A point she got stuck on was that Batman had all but banned metas from Gotham. Stating they should seek sanctuary elsewhere due to the antics of his villains. It had something to do with gas, scarecrows, and clowns? So, he could either go to the city where no powers were allowed, or the city protected by a super-hearing alien. The GIW might expect him to go to an alien for sympathy or to overshadow him in a power grab. Gotham seemed like the safer choice, even with the high amounts of criminal activity they seemed to have. He would be able to fight off most thugs without causing serious damage, humans can't normally through a guy through a brick wall like ghosts can. No one would question him being alone and sneaking around, he'd use his powers to get on a boat for Europe and keep a low profile while he searched for Danielle. He'd fill her in on what was going on, send a message to Sam and Tucker that he was safe, and wait to hear what was happening in Amity. So, Danny waited in line and got his ticket for Gotham. The bus was crowded full of people trying to do the same as him; to take a bus as far from one's old life as possible. He was able to grab a seat towards the back, settling into the stained fabric seats. His backpack between himself and the wall of the bus window. Settling in for the longest stretch of his journey out of the country.

Hello and welcome again! I hope everyone is enjoying the story. It’s been very exciting getting to see everyone’s comments and enjoyment for the fic. Don’t worry about the lack of Bat family, I am getting their as fast as I can. I wanted to revisit Amity a little bit to wrap up a few loose ends. I’m not sure at what point in the DP timeline I am placing this, but it will most likely either be prefinal of the show or post A Glitch in Time. Two very different time periods but both work with the general DC timeline I am using. As for the Bat family I’m more familiar with the characters themselves than the canon timeline. So, I’ll primarily be referring to the Batman: Family Adventures for the family and Young Justice for world events such as meta-humans.

I spent a lot of my time working on this listening to the Epic: Underworld Saga musical concept and got stuck on the song No Longer You. It’s so good and feels like it could fit Danny in some aspects if you go for a post A Glitch in Time ghost king Danny. Might draw something if I got time.

See you next week, byee!

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[peachywritess]

Unmei | OT7

bangtan (OT7) x fem!reader

02 - curse

☁️ unmei – 運命 (うんめい): a noun meaning 'fate’ or ‘destiny’ in Japanese.

☁️ genre: royal!AU, OT7!AU, reincarnation!AU ; smut (eventually), angst.

☁️ Unmei will deal with very delicate and quite dark themes, so please if you are a minor, DO NOT interact. I will always put a trigger warning at the start of every chapter, so if you feel unconfortable DO NOT read. ☁️

☁️ author’s note: hello lovelies, author here! i'm so sorry for the delay, and i know i've already said i had a rough week,, but still forgive me ! <(qwq<) it's quite a short chapter and we're still introducing all the situation, but next chapter will be veery interesting >:3

☁️ chapter’s TW: mentions of death, blood, anxiety (guilt),

☁️ word count: 2,3k

☁️ taglist @shabbamadapot @jnghs @iriaachan;

! disclaimer - This story is a work of fiction. I do not own BTS and the description of them in this story does not want to reflect nor portray them in real life.

"Do you think we will ever be able to fly?"

Taehyung looked away, turning his head to his right, focusing on you. It was a beautiful day, a few clouds coating the sky and the sun warming the skin: spring was just around the corner. You were both lying down on the grass covered in morning dew, heedless of your slightly damp clothes. Your parents had no knowledge of your whereabouts since you should have been at the castle while they were on a business trip.

His dark eyes seemed to reflect the sunlight - if not emit it.

His face relaxed, and one hand was open to mask the sun to be able to look at you entirely; he gazed at you as one does with sunsets. Every time you spoke, a smile came to light on his lips, something that you hardly noticed since you were constantly lost in your thoughts, in your endless speeches that he - in fact - adored. He would listen to you talk for hours.

"We have conquered the seas, the oceans... Do you think we will never conquer the skies?"

You contemplated for a few moments, gazing at the blue vastness above you; your smallness was considerable compared to everything up there, but you still couldn't look away although frightening it was, feeling so insignificant.

"I really envy birds. They can do whatever they want. If they need to escape, they can..."

"You shouldn't." The man at your side breathed softly, still intent on analysing every detail of your face. "If you lock them in a cage, they become powerless and can do nothing. Whereas you, Y/N, you can change your fate."

Your gaze abruptly saddened, and you bit the inside of your cheek as if to mask that sign of weakness. Unlike Taehyung, you were certain that your fate would never change, and that you would forever be shackled by your status.

"Maybe you're right." You lied, knowing that - in his heart - Taehyung felt the same way.

Things happen for a reason. Or, that's what you're supposed to think when life kicks you in the stomach - luckily, you were never an hopeless optimistic, you always decided to face life, and strike harder.

A few weeks had already passed since your father's assassination and, although the King's guards had searched for the culprit, every attempt of finding them had been unsuccessful. To keep people quiet, and to avoid unnecessary riots, they had decided to hang an innocent for his death.

You had been forced to watch the hanging - being the only heir to the throne - and it was you who had given the verdict to the victim.

Yes, you considered that man a victim, since he had done nothing wrong and was tortured to confess a crime he hadn't committed. Nevertheless, you were used to the tapestry of lies woven by the royalty to prevent any type of repercussions.

He had begged you to let him live, but you could not stop reading the sentence imposed to him. It was your duty afterall, wasn't it? You had to fulfil it, no matter the consequences.

Call their bluff. Say something now, spare his life.

"I therefore sentence you to death by hanging for the conspiracy and murder of the King."

You affirmed desperately attempting to sound convinced of the words pouring out of your mouth. You never even managed to look at him in the eye as you falsely accused him, letting his fate come to such an abrupt end.

"Please, I beg you, Princess. Your soul is still pure, do not dirt your hands with blood."

Although his hands were chained, the man threw himself at your feet, bowing until his nose touched the ground.

"Stop this injustice, in the name of His Highness, your Father."

You swallowed the knot that formed in your throat, frowning and shifting your gaze, unable to look at him.

"Please, no! No, don't do this to me, Princess!"

Two guards had grabbed him by the forearms, beginning to drag him towards what would be his end. You had decided to look away.

"This decision of yours will have consequences, Y/N. May you be cursed in this life and the next, for everyone you love will abandon you."

A sense of uneasiness held you rigid, as a heavy weight had placed down on you. You felt crawls all over your body, prickling at your skin.

He's just a man, he said those things out of fear. You tried to reassure yourself as you beginned to walk away, steps getting faster by the second.

The moment you turned away, letting the man be taken by the guards, you met Taehyung's gaze; his jaw was clenched, and you realized he was restraining himself from unsheathing the sword and save that man. However, he could never do so without endangering you. He - as a royal guard - could not have questioned the Queen's decisions, for that he would have cast doubt on your reputation too.

He made sure you didn't notice his eyes locked on you. He didn't want you to carry another burden on your shoulders - not at that moment. He perfectly knew that you felt like you had failed him.

You walked up the steps to the balcony on which were placed the ceremonial seats used by the royal family for centuries to attend celebrations or, in this case, executions. They faced exactly the wide earthen courtyard, on which the scaffold had been placed: you almost collapsed in your chair so much your legs were shaking.

You sat next to your mother, who kept her gaze straight at the patibulum without ever looking at you. She had said that - seeing your face - reminded her of her husband and that your presence made her nauseous.

"I'm surprised you managed not to stutter."

Her tone was harsh, just as it had always been. You had no fond memories of your mother, all you reminisced was the way she belittled everything you did.

The only time you had seen her differently, was when she had learned about your father's death. You always thought that you and her were as different as you were incompatible. You believed you had greater sensitivity… But of the two, you were the one who hadn't shed a single tear.

Your mind was as if barricaded in the illusion that nothing had truly happened. You couldn't know it yet, but that apparent good fortune would reveal itself as a double-edged sword sooner than you thought.

Your mother hadn't apologised to you for what she had said - you couldn't even understand what she was feeling. The man she had married, the man she loved more than her own life, was gone forever without even saying goodbye.

Now, she was doing the same thing to that innocent's man life. Ironic, wasn't it?

"That man is innocent." You replied monotonously with your eyes locked on the marble floor. You didn't dare raise your head, fearing to see that man getting murdered in front of you, fearing to see those eyes again.

You heard the crowd cheering and clapping, and you immediately knew.

"Was." She corrected you like she was speaking to a child, "No one cares, as long as our interest is satisfied. You too should think this way, to be at least an ounce of what your Father has been."

One thing you loved was to hide in the greenhouse, located only a few steps away from the main garden. The structure had existed for several years, and was now completely abandoned. Ivy had now completely covered the large windows, allowing light to enter only through the ceiling.

The warm rays of sunlight shyly caressed the plants. Nevertheless, the most distinctive thing about that place was the presence of a nest of doves. By now, the greenhouse had become their home, and you were nothing a frequent guest.

You were crouched down so that your knees were touching your chest, and you were pouring water into the soil - a small sprout was starting to grow. You were looking at its light yellow shades, that made you wonder if it would ever change colour - it was so delicate, making you feel desperate to protect it.

As you carefully caressed the leaves, you watched your hands. You blinked multiple times rubbing your eyes, feeling like something had gotten in one of them; as your sight recovered, and the blurriness disappeared, you watched your hands again - now, you froze.

Your hands were trembling, palms right in front of you, as you saw blood covering them. You started breathing unsteadily until a hand rested on your shoulder.

You were about to shriek, yet when you turned around your heart seemed to relax and beat normally again.

Taehyung slightly bent his head to the side, watching you with a questioning look on his face, frowning. You, on the other hand, brought a hand to your chest, letting out a relieved sigh.

"Please don't do that again. I didn't hear you coming."

"Actually, I called out to you several times." He now began to shout your name as if to show what he had done to get your attention, so you shoved him slightly.

"Oh, stop it." You giggled, and his smile grew.

The dark-haired man looked around several times, eyes scanning every detail of the place to make sure there was no one there. As soon as he made sure you were completely alone, he quickly placed a soft kiss on your lips.

"How are you feeling, love?"

Being in his company always made you nervous, because it wasn't often that you were alone and - above all - Taehyung was the most unpredictable person you knew.

The longer he kept his gaze on you, the more you felt yourself consumed like wax exposed to the heat of a match.

You knew very well that, at this point, he wanted you to be honest with him: he still didn't know about Jimin and what you had been told about the wedding, let alone mentioned what the man accused of your father's murder had told you a few days earlier.

You lied to Taehyung, and it wasn't because you didn't trust him, but the reason was very simple: you didn't want to make his life more complicated than it already was. Knowing you, you thought, was the greatest of all his problems.

"I am fine, the flowers are blooming."

It was a half-truth - or a half-lie, but you were really enthusiastic for Spring to arrive. When the flowers blossomed, you finally perceived the colours of the world.

The man before you, however, did not seem entirely satisfied with the answer, as his mouth twisted slightly.

"You know that's not what I'm referring to, Y/N."

His voice was calm, but his expression was stern.

"I really don't know what you are trying to tell me, Tae. I am fine, I am recovering."

"Y/N, your father was murdered and a few days ago you witnessed the death of a man, you are not recovering."

He had a point, anyone in the same situation as you would have thrown themselves to the ground, pulled out their hair, and cried endlessly. But despite experiencing pain and an incredible sense of guilt, somehow you were incapable of externalizing it.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw that man's face, all you did was dream about him at night. He repeated the same sentence, while his eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets.

May you be cursed in this life and the next, for everyone you love will abandon you.

"It's all my fault, I could have saved him, I-"

"What could you have done, Y/N? Turn against your mother and the Kingdom? He was only a man, nothing more."

"He wasn't just a man!" You replied, raising your tone as if to defend the man you too had failed. "He was an innocent man, he had a family, Taehyung!"

"Y/N, I understand."

"No, you don't! I let my father's death and the wedding cloud my judgement…"

You realised it almost as quickly as he did. Your eyes widened in sheer panic and before you could even think about it, one of your hands went to cover your mouth - but it was too late.

"What are you talking about? What wedding?"

You remained silent as Taehyung began to run a hand over his face, stroking his skin until it almost reddened.

"Answer me, which marriage are you talking about, Y/N."

Betrayal can stab you in the back any time; it can take your breath away.

But you were witnessing it in the eyes of the one you loved, and you only had yourself to blame.

"Tae, I am so sorry, I…" You stuttered unable to form a proper sentence.

"Allow me to interfere."

All at once, both you and Taehyung turned towards the voice breaking in seemingly out of nowhere.

"What this sweet princess is trying to explain to you is that she will be marrying me."

Taehyung glared at the newly-introduced figure with hostility, pure, undiluted anger stirred within him.

"And who the fuck are you?" He hissed between gritted teeth.

The stranger took a few steps forward, and it was then that a few streams of light lit up his face. He looked much younger, but his figure was well formed and muscular. As soon as his chocolate-brown eyes rested on you, he smiled, showing bunny-like teeth.

"Jeon Jungkook, delighted to make your acquaintance."

©️ peachywritess 2023. All rights reserved.

[bumblesimagines]

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just the friend who's been pushed aside for someone new."

"You're always on their side, even when they're clearly in the wrong."

- Sarah Cameron

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just the friend who's been pushed aside for someone new."

"You're always on their side, even when they're clearly in the wrong."

pronouns:

After one hell of a chaotic year, it felt oddly good to attend a party on Figure Eight, especially after finally graduating school. The party felt more vibrant, more lively. Graduates eagerly drank, smoked, and danced the night away while the freshman's and sophomores talked about their future graduations.

"You applied to Brown?"

"And Dartmouth! My parent's are legacies from both schools so they said they'll help me get into whichever I want." The girl shrugged and took another swing of her drink, crinkling her nose at the taste and shivering. "What about you?"

"I was thinking Chapel Hill."

"Ah, close to home then?"

"Yeah-"

"Well, if it isn't the almighty (Y/N)! You are a hard person to reach nowadays." You pursed your lips as a rather drunk Sarah staggered up to you, squeaking softly when she nearly tripped over her untied shoe laces. She giggled under her breath and brushed her hair out of her face, lifting her head to look at you and the girl. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just the friend who's been pushed aside for someone new it seems."

"You're drunk, Sarah." You sighed and set your cup aside, taking the blonde's own cup from her hand and dumping its contents in the nearby plant.

"No, I'm fine! I've just been wondering where the hell you've been!" Sarah staggered again and you quickly slipped an arm around her waist, dismissing Topper's offers to help and leading the girl outside despite her protests.

"You're making a scene, Sarah. Where's your phone?" You sighed, letting the girl slump on a chair on the porch and picking up her purse.

"It's the only way to get your attention." She spat angrily, stomping her foot on the wooden porch and leaning back in the chair. You shuffled through her belongings and tossed the purse back on her lap once you got her phone.

"I'm gonna call Kiara-"

"Why can't you take me to John B's yourself? You don't even make time for me anymore! I got back after being gone for a month stranded on an island, and not even a word from you." Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "I needed you-"

"Big talk from someone who ignored me so she could spend time with a boy." You snapped and she jerked back, tears tumbling down her tan cheeks. "Everything you've done since getting with him has been for him. Your whole world spins around that dumb as rocks Pogue! I needed you and you weren't there. And then when you were there, you didn't give a flying fuck what I thought. You're always on his side, even when he's clearly in the wrong. So, yeah, Sarah.. I decided to put myself first."

"I-"

"I don't care if you're sorry or if you think you were right for whatever you've done so far. You made your choice, you've picked your real family. Even if all they did before you joined them was talk shit about you and get high. I'm done, Sarah. Stop bothering me."

[the-everqueen]

5 - Corinthian, Rose Walker, Desire of the Endless

9 - Donald Pierce, Ty Shaw, Steve Murphy

5 - go on a six hour road trip with (no car radio, you choose who drives), sit next to on a six hour plane flight, sit across from on a six hour train journey mm...once i placed the Corinthian i felt good about deciding the other two. CLEARLY gotta get in a car with the Corinthian. will that road trip end with me dead? yeah, probably. BUT i think he'd have a fun phone playlist. also he'd be the one driving, most likely, not because i can't but because i assume he'd have a much cooler car than i ever will. ideal road trip partner, imho. Jed obviously had a fun time!

Rose for the flight. i HATE flying, esp. "long flights" (for me, that's anything 4+ hours), i usually get red-eyes when possible so i can sleep. so i trust that either Rose and i could politely do our own things for most of the flight (also we're both on the petite end - VERY handy because, uh, sorry to her but she will be in the middle seat because i always get a window seat but at least we won't be cramped like every time i end up sitting next to a dude who's 6 ft and miserable). OR we could talk about books/whatever she's writing. i'd happily rubber duck for Rose Walker. if the flight is 6 hours, are we going to the UK? i'd have a bunch of questions for her if she's going for family history stuff, so long as she's cool with that.

Desire for the train. this is mostly because i assume any sort of extended trip with Desire involves sex and i'd be less squicked out about that in a train bathroom vs a plane bathroom. i do NOT trust Desire's taste in music, so no car playlist privileges. we'd have fun gossiping about the other passengers. if this is a six hour train trip through some part of the U.S., they'd be a fun distraction from All Of The Farmland (inevitable).

9 - watch a soap opera with, go to a play with, watch your favourite movie with soap opera goes to Pierce. that bitch loves a good telenovela, i'm sure. we could make it a weekly thing. he's got theories about where Vanessa's arc is going, i've got the latest chisme on his coworkers. win-win.

Steve Murphy is so...old-fashioned, in some respects, that i'd want to go to a play with him. OBVIOUSLY it would be something queer (maybe we just go all out and see "Angels in America"). unlike Pierce, he doesn't gab the entire time, and he buys me a drink at intermission. he's quiet and profoundly, visibly uncomfortable the entire time. afterward we go to the nearest diner and he makes awkward comments on the parts he thinks were done well. i eat a stack of pancakes and stare at him.

(even more ideal than a play...a musical. i DO think Steve Murphy would low-key enjoy a musical, even if he pretended it was silly. what musical would i take Steve to? the 2023 revival of "Merrily We Roll" or maybe a Dave Malloy thing)

i'm trying to decide what my favorite movie is in this context but regardless it goes to Ty Shaw. if it's something overwhelmingly sincere, like LOTR, he's definitely already seen it and goes into the rewatch with sweet enthusiasm. if it's something in the vein of "made just for me, horse," i.e. The Social Network or Challengers, then we end up having really intense sex somewhere around Act 2. either way, he brings beer/popcorn and i either bake cookies or smuggle a bunch of candy into the local theater.

send me a number and three names

[missmeasured]

Miss Measured's Bedtime Stories

I was telling myself a story to fall asleep to, I do this every night. Sometimes I repeat them. (SOTS readers I used to tell myself Blackfeet every night for about ten years.) I think I'm going to start sharing some of my bedtime stories I tell myself. So maybe this will be a part one...

This first one is about travelling with Severus on a train. You're on a mission, I've left it up to you to decide what team they are on a mission for. You're pretending to be married and when a man starts acting like a creep to you, you find yourself having to ask your fake husband to help you out. His surprisingly defensive response leaves you a little... turned on.

Snape x Reader (called 'wife/girl' no body parts mentioned) Rating: Mature

Untitled Train Day Dream

You can’t remember if this is your third mission with Severus Snape or your fourth. All you know is you work well together and compared to everyone else you would choose him again as a mission companion without question. This one seems like it will be a long haul. A lot of travelling the old fashioned way over distances too far to apparate. That’s how you came to be on this train in the middle of some European forest. The trees look black as the night outside the windows you can see absolutely nothing. 

The mission had several goals, small and big, a lot to do, to keep track of. You were travelling under fake names and in the guise of being a married couple. Not so much for this leg of the journey but later it would matter, in old parts of the world where you did not go alone into a hotel room with a man who was not your husband. You needed to stop spinning your fake rings around your finger, but it was currently soothing you. 

During dinner a man had been staring at you from across the dining car. When he smiled at you he just looked wrong, his mouth had too many teeth angling for position in the frame of his lips. His eyes never left you, but in the dining car Severus had his back to him and you didn’t want to risk trying to whisper about it when the man might read on your lips what you were trying to say. So you ignored him and held your mug of tea a little closer and played cards with your fake husband to pass the time.

The trip was booked at the last moment and for this part of the journey there had been no compartments available that would suit pretending to be married, so you were making do with two berths. He had taken the lower bed and you were going to be on the top bed. The little ladder to yours in front of his. 

While Severus was brushing his teeth, that man slunk up and began to talk to you. Talking was not a crime in and of itself but he had waited until your feet were up on your ladder and you were digging in your suitcase for your nightclothes. The way he positioned his feet blocked your escape down the ladder. You were forced to make niceties with the traveller who kept looking at your suitcase like he was hoping to see something lacey fly out of it for his viewing pleasure. He licked his teeth when it was your turn to talk. He made your skin crawl. Your escape came when you said “I think my husband is almost done in the lavatory if that’s what you were coming this way for.” The man eventually takes his leave when that door opens and you shiver off his presence. 

You collect your nightclothes and your tooth brush and wait for the lavatory to be free, positioning yourself in your bunk so you can see when that man is gone back to his own and it’s clear. Still, when you open the door to head to bed after you finish, he is back again blocking your path once more. He leans over you with his ‘fancy meeting you here’ routine. When you once again evade him you walk over to your bunks and find Severus’ curtain already closed. “Husband?” You ask.

One half of the bed curtains open by magic to reveal him tucked in and reading under the lamp on the wall of the berth. “Yes, wife?” He asks as he looks up.

You perch on the edge of his bed and lean in so you can whisper about the man. He has thoroughly creeped you out now and you think you ought to tell Severus in case he tries something. “Get in here.” Severus instructs, pulling back his blankets. You see the lavatory door starting to move at the end of the train car so you hop in as your fake husband suggested, and let him pull you in against his chest. He rubs your back and from that position you get to look up and watch your pretend husband glare at the man pointedly as he makes his way back to his bed.

“Do you want to stay down here? Or we could switch bunks in case he comes sniffing around. I know several defensive charms I could put around your bed to keep you safe.”

“I hate to ask you but can I stay for a few minutes until I calm down?”

“Of course.” He answered and his bed curtains closed themselves again. You count your breathing as you rest your head on him. You should probably stop cuddling the poor man but the bed is small and where else are you going to go? You read his book since it’s open to your eyes as well, something about historical potions ingredients. It makes you feel sleepy.

When he closes the book he places it in the little storage nook you know you are going to have to shift and maybe now is the time you should take your leave. You’re about to suggest you should go but then you smell that man’s cologne. He's outside the curtains you’re sure. You tell Severus, sitting up and brushing his hair behind his ear, your lips making contact with his ear so you don’t have to make a noise louder than a breath in order to explain. 

Severus switched off his lamp and you both peer at the shadows of something moving in the corridor. Could be anyone walking to the lavatory, but it isn’t. You hear the distinct noise of the broken latch on your suitcase and you almost fling the curtain open to hex this asshole right that second, but Severus is moving and suddenly he’s on top of you. He presses his fingers to your mouth to tell you to be quiet. 

He runs his wand all along the seam of the bed curtains. You want to tell him to stop, don’t just defend the bed, he’s likley up there stealing your underthings as we speak, but he keeps those fingers over your mouth while he works. Finally he leans down to whisper in your ear. Your fake husband’s weight on top of you is pressing you into the mattress, his leg between your legs, he comes down on his elbows and says “Trap.” In your ear and you are confused and make a face then realise in the dark he cannot see it.

You’re about to whisper ‘What?’ back to him but he puts a finger over your lips again. Something inside of you clenches at having his hands all over your lips, it's a strange kind of feeling. He hasn't touched you very much before tonight. In the dark you take inventory of this feeling, the weight of him, you remember him rubbing your back while he played the protective husband. 

Nothing could prepare you for your fake husband suddenly groaning, a sound purely sexual, inches from your face. “Yes…” he hissed. “Just like that. Oh good girl…” he moaned and you laid under him, eyes wide. What the fuck was he doing?

He quieted for a moment, pushing up off you to get a better view of the length of light at the top of the curtain. There was a shadow the approximate width of a man, no longer by the ladder. 

“Oh yes, you are my good girl, aren’t you? You do that trick so well, my love. Yes darling.” Severus moaned. The shadow moved, contemplated. You understood now, Severus was tempting the man to try to peek inside. 

You thought maybe you should help. So you let out a little closed mouth moan of excitement. Your mission partner took his finger off your mouth. He leaned back down and groaned “Yes… a little more. That’s my girl.” Him saying these things was making something happen inside you you hadn’t expected. You were getting a little too excited by his fake moans. His knee between yours was too enjoyable. 

You use your inappropriate excitement to fuel a slightly louder moan. That clinches it, the corner of the curtain slides on its track and then the man screams. The curtains fly open so you can watch the set of brass teeth the curtain rod had grown chomp down on his hand. Blood started spilling as he clasped at it and looked at you with hatred in his eyes.

“Let that teach you to keep to yourself. Accio stolen items.” Severus casts and several pairs of your underthings come flying out of the man's pockets and into your mission partner’s hands. “If you come near my wife again I’ll end you.” Severus threatens and then magics the curtains shut again and the lights on. 

“For you.” He hands off your items, which you shove into your robe pocket with ample embarrassment. “If it’s alright with you, I think you should stay down here just in case he has ideas. That way it's easy to wake me if you need an escort to the water closet. I don't want you alone on this train until we are free of him.”

“You are a very protective fake husband.” You tease.

“You are a very cherished mission partner.” He smiles. He climbs under the covers again. “Now. Does my wife want to be the little spoon or the big one?” He asks.

“Little.” You answer, and as his arm wraps around you and pulls you in you find yourself still affected by his deception from before. The way he had said good girl painted a picture in your mind you were having trouble shaking. The way it sounded in his voice had vibrated deep into your bones and now as your ass was pressed into his lap for the night you found yourself thinking about having sex with him. You needed to clear your mind of these thoughts about your mission partner. You two had a job to get done. 

A few minutes pass of thinking quietly in the dark. Trying not to let yourself enjoy this cuddle too much. It was just necessary, the bed was too small to lay side by side. You can't get comfortable, you’re fidgeting and probably keeping him awake in the process. 

“Stop wiggling.” He scolds and his lips are much closer to your ear than you anticipated. 

“Sorry.” You whisper. “I’m not trying to keep you up. My heart is racing.”

“I’m not worried about being kept up.”

“Sorry, I’ll keep still.” You repeat and clench your muscles into stiffness. It doesn't occur to you for several moments what he could be worried about if it's not about being kept awake. “This trip was so rushed I didn't really think about what it means to play a convincing married couple.” You whisper.

“It's a bit late to try and pass as siblings.” He laughs. “Why? What kind of convincing do you think we need to do?” 

“Do you think… we should practise kissing. Just incase?” You turn your body slightly, rolling in place, wishing you could make out his face in the dark for his reaction. 

“Oh little wife, I thought you might never ask.”

I'm picturing berths like Some Like it Hot. So that was the story I fell asleep to! Want more bedtime short stories? Let me know!

Sending love as usual to @5everus for beta reading my every silly thought.

[eaymtb]

To extend a metaphor: Writing for me is going on a road trip. The Plot/Plan/Research part of my brain is in the passenger seat with a stack of pamphlets and an itinerary of major tourist destinations we Definitely Have To See along with a secondary list of sight seeing stops along the way. Write, meanwhile, is in the driver's seat and is navigating purely based on the vibes. Oh, Plot can point Write in a direction, that's easy enough, but Write is figuring out how we get there as they go, taking detours and back roads to admire the scenery. And they actually work pretty well together. Write creates problems sometimes, getting a bit lost maybe or going out of the way to explore something interesting, but Plot really enjoys solving problems anyway, so even when Write takes the story somewhere unexpected, Plot can work with it and still keep us headed in the general direction of the next major destination.

Right up until these last two chapters. I'm not mad about it. Okay, I was for a hot second when I realized what I'd done and then realized that the next major destination isn't plausible anymore. I spent a week seriously considering re-writing one or both chapters and ultimately decided not to. And then I had to spend a bit of time being sad about not getting to go to this next destination. And then I decided it, fuck it, I'm going to figure out how to make it work anyway, and then I had to come to terms with realizing that, no, actually, I can't. Not and still write a good story that makes sense.

Which, that's the thing. Write knows what it's doing, more or less. It's heavily intuitive and I can't articulate the process for shit, but relying on it always takes me somewhere good, even if it's not where I thought I wanted to be. Where am I now is where I think I need to be for the characters and therefore the story and that's one of my key rules: The characters dictate the plot, never the other way around. And if that means killing this one particular darling plot destination that I've been hoarding since almost the beginning, then, well. It's going to have to die.

I sort of have EaYMtB arranged into loose arcs in my mind. The first arc had two major destinations. One was to confront Genesis with a Consequence that would thoroughly shake him out of his self-righteous self-pity. I had the events of chapter 10 in mind from the very beginning. The other was getting Cloud and the kids to Wutai. That goal, on the other hand, I didn't initially have any clue how I was going to accomplish, never mind what the destination was going to look like when I got there. It required some very intense days spent with maps, measuring tape, calculators and just so much research on various vehicles speeds while I figured out a route, but what that route ended up looking like in prose comes entirely down to Write figuring it out on the fly. 'They take a charter boat from Mideel to the Gongaga coast' became Smilin' Joe as I was writing Chapter 4. I had a day of pure panic towards the end of that arc when I thought for a minute that I'd written myself into a position where Cloud and the kids couldn't actually plausibly escape the Turks. Plot solved that dilemma by deciding 'Cloud has a PTSD trigger' and Write successfully took that and ran with it because not only did it solve the immediate dilemma I was having (that Cloud didn't know they were being hunted and would therefore have no reason not to stick with the original plan of sleep until morning and then bribe or threaten a fisherman into taking them across to Wutai, at which point all the Turks would have descended on the coast) it also added to the idea I wanted to build that Cloud's mental health maybe wasn't as stable as everyone would like to think.

The second arc had one primary goal and one secondary goal. The secondary was to get Genesis and Sephiroth together romantically in some clearly stated way. I had no idea how I was going to accomplish that either, to begin with, and figured it all out on the fly, too. The only part of that development which I knew I wanted to incorporate from early on was the conversation about Loveless and how winning the love of a goddess is easier than the love of a parent. Not a major plot goal, but an important character note I wanted to make sure I struck. The primary goal, however, was the confrontation at Fort Tamblin and I had been sitting on that one line, 'The only thing heroes do is die.', since the beginning, as well as the aftermath of that being the very first time Zack gets a POV. Getting there though, that was all in Write's hands once again. Plot had some notes: develop Cloud's relationship with the kids, continue developing the kids as independent individuals distinct from Sephiroth, etc. 'I want Cloud to encounter a language barrier' became Izayoi literally as I was writing that paragraph in the town square. I went back and did some research in order to name her after she mimed giving birth to Sasame. (Write gave me an amazing character with a small problem: what's her name. And plot figured that out in a way that ties them into some of FF7's development lore).

So I'm in arc three now, of what should be (might still be?) five plus an epilogue. Except, obviously, I've blown up the destination plot goal of this arc. Gone. Doesn't work. This darling is dead. And I've accepted that, it's fine. The problem I now have is that this arc destination was going to be the culmination of several things, not least of which was setting Lazard and Veld up for their roles in act four. Okay, maybe I'm not as good with this as I want to be just yet. It's, just, it was so much. I've been building up to this the entire time and now... Now what I have is a bunch of plot stuff that I know how works in theory. I have the lore developed behind it. I know exactly what's going on with Angeal's sword, for example, down to the why and how, which is also the safest example I can give because everyone knows there's something weird going on with it. But also the call to reunion is obviously going to be A Thing. And Hojo is up to some shenanigans, that's hardly a secret. But the itinerary is now in tatters, I've gone off road, the compass has broken, et cetera, et cetera. Just to really drag the metaphor out on it's last legs. (It can die out here in the desert with me).

Okay, I'm done with the dramatics. I'm not a huge fan of continuing without a solid itinerary of plot destinations. It's kind of scary! I don't know any more how I'm going to tie everything together. But it's also maybe a little exhilarating. I spent yesterday working out the immediate problem of What Happens Next. And I have the bare bones of the next handful of chapters. I'm also thinking that, maybe, I get to expand outwards again. Everything recently has narrowed down to Wutai, to Cloud and the kids and the Firsts. The confrontation and it's immediate aftermath. But maybe now I have a good reason to expand back outwards. To reintroduce the Turks in a more active way again. Maybe find a way to integrate some of the other characters like young Cloud, who wasn't supposed to be a thing until halfway through arc four, but now. Now I might have an even better way of introducing him. A way that I'm kind of excited about. Does it screw up some things I thought I was going to do? Abso-fucking-lutely it does. But maybe this is good, maybe this is better.

And, oh, oh fuck, I just had an idea that literally had me run from one end of the house to the other making squawking noises. HA. Okay, well, mission accomplished with this post. I was trying to get to a point of hyping myself up for the possibility of actually pantsing this for the time being. Seeing what happens a handful of chapters at a time. Reframing the plot stuff I have from 'I'm about to resolve some of this' to 'I have these in my back pocket, now let's see how I can use them.' (Terrifying. Terrifying. But exhilarating.)

[maddiehu7]

A New Chapter | Spencer reid |

Chapter 3

~~~time skip~~~

It's been a couple weeks since I've been working for the fbi it's been good I've got really close with the team...except Spencer of course I don't know what I ever did to him but he's acting like I killed his family Rossi says it's just because I replaced prentiss the girl who died before me but I don't think I deserve to be treated like trash just because I got a job but all that doesn't really matter right now as we're currently being hunted by a serial killer called "the replicator" he hacked Garcias system and knows everything about all of us and has been taunting us with it so the fbi has decided to send us all away on a "vacation" they called it basically flying us to a private place with no technology that no one knows about so we don't get killed by a maniac sounds fun right

"So they've decided we're going to Hawaii to a private villa in Honolulu" hotch says sighing Garcia can't contain her excitement

"Yessss let's get our tan on" she says practically giddy everyone smiles looking at her

"Since we're being hunted we have to leave in an hour and no one you know can know so quickly get home pack and meet back here and please what your backs" Hotch says looking at us expectingly we all nod and get up going to get our stuff I head to my desk to grab my keys

"Hey girl, me and Morgan are riding together wanna join us" Garcia asks smiling but before I can answer Spencer jumps in

"Can I join I left some of my books I want for the trip at Morgan's" he says

"Yeah of course, Annie?" She says looking at me

"Uh...yeah sure" I say smiling at her not knowing if it's a great idea now that Reid's going but agreeing anyway

"Great let's go!" Garcia says smiling from ear to ear walking to the elevator Morgan, me, and Reid following her

We all get in the car and head to eachother apartments each of us gathering are stuff we get to my apartment when I ask Morgan to come help me carry my stuff down

"Yeah sur-" Morgan says but gets interrupted by reid

"I could help you actually...if you don't mind" he speaks up looking at me I stare at him in shock for a second

"Um...ok" I say confused he nods and gets out of the car walking up my apartment stairs with me we get to my apartment and I open the door

"Home sweet home" I say to my apartment it's small but it's home with book cases and books scattered everywhere files spread everywhere books weren't I go to pack shoving everything I could find in the tiny bag, I go out to my living room carrying my bags when I find Spencer checking out my books

"Interesting taste" he says running his hands over the rows of books

"Thanks?" I say not sure if it was a compliment or not

"All fiction hm" he says looking back at me

"Can't help it I love anything not set in shitty reality" I say setting my bags down he looks shocked at my words but ignores it

"I'm the opposite I guess" he says is he....opening up to me? this is weird I think to myself when he turns to me looking awkward

"I wanted to talk...I'm sorry" he says running his hands through his brown curly locks I'm completely shocked as I look at him

"Sorry for what" I say secretly wanting him to feel more embarrassed even though I know that's awful but just being really hurt by the way he treated me

"About...about how I've been to you I'm normally not like this I've just been going through a lot lately even though I know that's no excuse" he finishes looking at me sorrily I think for a minute

"It's ok...now that you've said sorry" I say laughing lightly he smiles I've never seen him smile but it looks cute on him, I go to pick up my bags

"Oh let me get that" he says coming over pick them up struggling a bit I laugh

"What'd you pack" he huffs out

"Never know what your gonna need" I say shrugging he smiles rolling his eyes, once we get to the car Spencer puts my stuff in the trunk and gets in the car next stop Spence's apartment, once we're done with Spence's place we head back to the bau when we get there we all walk in with our luggage going to the meeting room where we meet Rossi, hotch, seaver and some new blonde I've never seen everyone looks shocked to see here Spencer and Garcia running to hug her

"Jj!" Garcia shrieks I look her up and down a little jealous Spencer's so excited to see her.....wait what jealous

"What are you doing here" Spencer asks smiling at her

"Well surprise I'm coming with you guys!" She says smiling back at him

"Seriously!" Garcia says smiling brightly

"Yeah the bau re instated me yesterday" she says looking towards me

"Oh hello I'm jj" she comes towards me reaching her hand out towards me smiling

"Hey jj I'm Annie" I say smiling back shaking her hand

"Nice to meet you Annie" she says I nod back at her

"Well is everyone ready" hotch says smiling slightly which is a new sight

"Yep!" Garcia smiles everyone else nods

"Let's go then" he says with a full smile now everyone smiles at the rare sight we all walk out the door with hotch going to the plane, im getting more excited by the minute

( I took a complete left turn with this story so I'm a little nervous but I hope you like it regardless :) )

[tma-entity-song-poll]

Battle of the Fear Bands B1R1: The Spiral

Red Signal:

"A song about reality just completely falling apart."

Silent Running:

"It's about being lost in the labyrinth trying and failing to find your way out."

Lyrics below the cut!

Red Signal:

Y'AI 'NG'NGAH, YOG-SOTHOTH H'EE-L'GEB F'AI THRODOG UAAAH OGTHROD AI'F GEB'L-EE'H YOG-SOTHOTH 'NGAH'NG AI'Y ZHRO

[Another minute of chanting]

And the walls begin to tear. Not the walls of the train, but those of a false and hollow reality, twisting in its thrall to Yog Sothoth, the key and the gate through whose cascading rainbow being the train has passed. Yog Sothoth who is the Bifrost, and whose dread invocation now shattered, drags them towards the roiling nuclear chaos of the mad deamon sultan at the centre of reality. A billion screaming squamous things approach, oozing and crawling through the shattered tatters of a sane world. All the doors are open now.​

Silent Running:

Stop 'cause you're killing me You brought me back and made me feel free Rowdy waves and your energy You pulled me fragile from the wreckage

Well, I got so lost here Machine assisted, I disappear Into a dream, you don't wanna hear How I got caught up in nowhere again (oh)

It feels like I've been silent running (silent running) Through the infinite pages I've scrolled out Searching for a new world That waits on the sunrise

I'm silent running Run-run-running (oh-oh-oh) Run-run-running Run-run-running Run-run-running (I'll be; ooh)

Run-run-running (back to you) Run-run-running (back to you) Run-run-running (I'm silent running) Run-run-running (oh-oh-oh; oh)

Stop or you'll make me cry (make me cry) I think it's time that I decide (I decide) What I've done when I trip and fly (trip and fly) The wave is taking me (taking me)

There's no way out of here (no way out) In the labyrinth, I disappear (no one here) Into the dark fleet that got me here (underground) How I got caught up in nowhere again

It feels like I've been silent running (silent running; make me cry) Through the infinite pages I've scrolled out Searching for a new world (trip and fly) That waits on the sunrise

I'm silent running-ning-ning-ning-ning-ning Silent running-ning-ning-ning-ning-ning (oh, na-na-na) Silent running-ning-ning-ning-ning-ning (I decide, oh) Silent running-ning-ning-ning-ning-ning (oh, oh) I'm silent running No way out I'll be (ah-ah-ah-ah) Back to you (trip and fly), back to you

I'm silent running Run-run-running (oh) Run-run-running (running, yeah) Run-run-running (back to you) Run-run-running (I'll be)

Run-run-running (back to you) Run-run-running (oh; back to you) Run-run-running (I'm silent running; back to you) Run-run-running (oh-oh-oh)

Make me cry (memories and triumph) I decide (this is the season of madness) Trip and fly, trip and fly, taken Oh-oh-oh Hey, yeah Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Oh

[choysum]

someday, things will be different.

someday, the ghosts will move out. we'll pitch them off the cliff into such sharp rocks that even the filament is dashed to pieces, and we will leave their graves well-decorated by the seaside, and the cottage all covered in flowers and rot. nature will reclaim it without us.

then we will move to the city for a few years. (it's what the young do best.) and these years will be filled with trains and neon and heartbreak outside movie theaters and making up on the swings in the park at three am. I will kiss you in the rain and you will twirl your umbrella over us so our angels can catch the flying water on their tongues. you'll do my eyeliner like the girl in the picture, and I'll pull you in just to mess up your lipstick and smear it all over both of us. I'll leave dandelions pinned by post-it poetry on the apartment door, so that even when you and I have odd hours, my words can still carry through part of your day. you'll teach and I'll take up a hundred little odd jobs while claiming I'm "still finding my passion".

then we will move out of the city, because it smells and people are rude and I've been finding less kindness in the busstop strangers lately, but really it's just because we're not so young these days. we'll find a new favorite cafe and spot for dinner, and both of these places will be far more affordable, and we'll be saying we should have done this years ago. I'll get antsy like I do and drive out to every surrounding town and take you on adventures through them, and you'll find even more things than I did to love. we'll adopt an animal and grow native plants in the garden and I'll be so frustrated that first year after two-thirds of them die off, and then I'll plant a million more of the third that didn't. we'll visit my sister in the spring (by then you and her will be quite familiar) and she'll ask if we're happy, and we'll say yes. we'll stir up petty little dramas because really nothing's been wrong between us for a very long time, and sometimes it's fun to play-fight and let somebody win so the other one can "make it up" to them.

then we'll live happily ever after. the blanket you made us will grow old in our closet. every letter we ever wrote to each other is kept in the same shoebox in the shelf above it. our library is filled with poetry and real-life webweavings form the wallpaper and we write on everything because we're just horrible with it, ink perpetually smeared on the sides of our hands because we simply never learn and after fifty years we've decided we really shouldn't bother with learning better at all. I'll know every line of your hand.

(- we would have to come to an agreement about how to handle the spiders. you'll probably want to leave the city before I do. I'll use "we're young and queer" as an excuse for everything even up into those fifties and charm you into agreeing with me.)

the cottage covered in flowers, Still Life With Tomato Plant and Sword, an artists' haven on a cliff surrounded by jagged rocks but still the temptation to cliff dive. tombstoning is such a peculiar name for a sport, don't you think?

i have so often the trains and heartbreak and moving to a new city, i know i can hardly go a day without moaning about it - to whom do i have to kneel and pray to receive the warmth of equally returned love. I'll do your eyeliner but the last time i purposefully brough an umbrella with me on a trip was the summer before uni when i was scared this friendship was going to spark out in the next few months of living hours apart and i thought the least i could do would be to have an umbrella to hold over us two (i got very rained on - held it almost exclusively over them, but that can be our secret)

i have to keep reminding myself im just the receptacle to store these snippets of poetry you write because i read them and imagine them, invisage them so desperate to uproot from this life into that. maybe we're in America - would you take me to my first drive in movie if i smiled up at you just so? green thumb? i know what makes your heart ache but not if you prefer cats or dogs

ill draw us a map of all the places we hold dear, I'll have been collecting ticket stubs and receipts for us since before there was an 'us' in your heart to begin with

[sandymybeloved]

we all know all doctors believe they are superior to all other doctors in every conceivable way, but if they had to pick just one quality they are stronger in than any other quality, which would it be

1: 1 thinks he's the sensible one, HE doesn't piss about in stupid costumes like his successors, HE takes himself and his travels seriously, HE doesn't go on stupid trips, it's very important he teaches his companions things and leaves whne it gets dangerous

he is wrong, being sensible is not a quality any doctor possesses in any capacity, hey doctor, remember the time you decided to impersonate a dead guy you found on the side of the road, literally just because you thought itd be fun

2: 2 thinks he's the most personable, the best at making friends, the others are all abrasive and obnoxious and it put the locals they meet off

he is wrong, every doctor both endears themselves to people or puts them off in roughly equal measure, his opinion is coloured by the fact doctors just can't get along

3: 3 thinks he's the biggest pacifist, he would only use violence when completely necessary, he wouldn't hurt a fly and always teaches his companions to prioritise kindness

3 is ridiculously wrong, he works for the army for goodness sake, nobody else does venusian akido at every opportunity

4: 4 thinks he's the smartest, not just among the doctors but among everyone in the entire universe, he's not got an ego, it's just obvious

he is wrong, other doctors have a lot more experience and knowledge to draw on, which is what 4 would consider being smart

5: 5 thinks he has the smallest ego, these other doctors are so full of themselves, not like him, he's so humble, he even listens to his companions sometimes

he might actually be right about this, well done him

6: (I've seen comparatively less of 6 so this could be off the mark but) 6 thinks he's the most pragmatic, he'll do what needs to be done other people's feelings and lives be damned

he is wrong, he is just a dick

7: 7 thinks he's the best at manipulating people, he can observe a situation and get exactly what he wants out of them, and they'll never know he's manipulating them

he's probably right, but do you know something he didn't observe, this isn't a good quality

8: (not into the EU so this is based off the TV movie and night of the Doctor) 8 thinks he's the one who can make the tough decisions when he has to, the other doctors have never had a decision as tough as him they would freeze in the face of serious trouble

so incredibly wrong, I mean really

9: 9 thinks he's the least cocky, he doesn't think he can win every time, the danger he faces is real and can get people killed if he's not careful

he's right about this, and all it took was the genocide of his entire planet

10: 10 thinks he has the moral high ground, he always makes the most ethical decision unlike the other doctors, he won the universe and now he gets to do whatever he wants, and what he wants is always what's best

10 is fucking stupid

11: like 4, 11 thinks he's the smartest, again, not. just. among the doctors but in the universe, but for. different reasons to 4, 11 thinks he's the best at solving puzzles and mysteries

very wrong, he only thinks this because he sees everything and a puzzle and a mystery for him to solve

12: like 5 12 thinks he's got the smallest ego, he knows he's just a mad man in a box trying his best and he shouldn't believe his own hype

he is wrong, being aware you have a massive ego isn't the same as not having one

13: 13 is like 2, she thinks she's the most personable, she doesn't go around implying she's better than everyone she meets because she isn't a dick

is she right? it's hard to say given she's much more focused on the nearest cool thing than the people she meets, but sure why not

[storiesbyrhi]

Bones and All - Chapter 2: Cowboy Cook

Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence/gore, cuss words, weird parental relationships, updated each chapter

Synopsis: A Bones and All AU. What do you hunger for?

Chapter Summary: Enter: Eddie. 2917 words.

Author’s Note: This fic will be much shorter than others I've written, and have shorter chapters too. I'm halfway through writing chapter 3 and that corresponds to the halfway point of the novel. Just wanted to give ya'll the heads up!

The second time got me wondering who and what you were. I was partly to blame - I never should have let you go to that summer camp. You were only eight-years-old. His name was Luke Vanderwall. They never found his body, just all that blood.

I watched you after, looked for a sign of guilt or sadness or anything at all. But there was nothing. I never hated you though. Maybe never loved you like a parent should. 

In the car home you were mad at me. I had told you to always tell the truth, and running from that camp was dishonest in your eyes. I told you that nobody would believe us even if we told. Like how sometimes people confess to murders they ain’t done.

But someday you will answer for it. For all of it. Someday, someone will believe you.

Another long greyhound trip and you ended up in a tiny town that was hard to find on the folded map you kept in your backpack. The woman working behind the counter at the bus station eyed you with the type of suspicion that made you nervous. Did she know? Was she an eater too? No… No, she smelt like meat pie.

The conversation was short, abrupt even. When you were vague about exactly where you needed to end up, she quipped, “If you don’t know where you’re going, how do you expect me to help you?”

She picked up a file and began to shape her left index finger’s nail. You imagined grabbing the file and shoving it up her nose. Instead, you left the station and crossed the road to a small market.

Your diet of vending machine meals was making you ill, but you had almost no money. Since you couldn’t shoplift a bus ticket, you resorted to walking the aisles of the market, deciding what you could shove into your jacket without anybody noticing you.

As you thought I need a distraction, a rare moment of luck waltzed into the market with all the drunken bravado of a young White Republican. He was in your periphery until he wasn’t; he turned into your aisle at the same time as a young mother, pushing her baby in a shopping cart. They were at opposite ends, but the distance didn’t matter.

“What’choo lookin’ at?” he yelled at her. His slurred speech and cowboy hat should have been funny, but his lack of inhibition was threatening.

The mother said nothing, clenching her hands around the cart more tightly. She was frozen in place, scared to make a wrong move.

“Think you’re too fuckin’ good to talk ta me?” the cowboy shouted. “You fuckin’ bitch-”

“Hey!” Someone new appeared behind the mother; he moved to stand in front of her, staring the cowboy down. The mother took her cue and left, leaving only you, crouched down low holding a can of corn kernels in your hand.

He was wearing dirty Reeboks and ripped jeans. His Metallica t-shirt had holes in it but was mostly covered by a light floral button up that he wore open anyway. It seemed at odds with the rest of his outfit. As he stared down the cowboy, he dropped his heavy-looking duffle bag.

“You can’t talk to a lady like that. You’re out of control, pal,”

“Pal?!” the cowboy scoffed. “I ain’t your pal!”

Even from where you were, you could see the spit fly from the cowboy’s mouth as a spoke. He looked more than just drunk. Rabid.

The new guy glanced down at you briefly, a neutral expression on his face as he inhaled. A look flashed across his face for only a second before he was watching the cowboy come towards him.

“You listen here, you pretty-boy-sona-bitch,” he warned, attempting to reach out for the guy’s shirt, but missing.

“You enjoy hassling people? This what you do in your leisure time?” the guy teased, ducking another attempt to grab him.

“You wanna take this outside then? Huh? See who’s fuckin’…” but the cowboy didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Yeah, pal. Let’s take this outside, buddy,” the guy replied, jumping from foot to foot and leading the cowboy out of the market and out of the way of everyone in there.

As their voices grew quieter, the market returned to its usual atmosphere. You hid a can of chickpeas, a banana, and a chocolate bar in your jacket and made for the exit. Somehow, it felt worse than leaving Luke’s tent, or Dmitri’s bedroom, or Kevin’s treehouse, or Marcus’ basement…

Hiding near a stack of flattened boxes behind the mart, you tried to eat the banana as slowly as possible. Who knew when you were to get fruit again? The mart backed onto a road that serviced all the buildings along the main street. On the other side of it was mostly parking lots and half-built structures.

You were distracted by the darkness in one of the half buildings and didn’t hear the boy approach. As he threw a full bag into the trash, you squeaked then scrambled to hide the stolen food.

“Not gonna dob on you,” he said. You’d seen him in the mart, working the produce section putting apples out in a pyramid display. He waited as you continued to eat your banana, saying nothing. “I’m Andy,” he offered. “I… ah, I think the owners can afford a couple cans of food,”

“One can,” you corrected.

“Sorry. One can…” He looked over his shoulder then back at you. “So, ah, look, I don’t know what your situation is, but if you need some help-”

“I don’t,” you cut him off. Shoving the chickpeas and chocolate into your backpack, you stood up and looked at the boy.

He smelled like peanut butter and jelly sandwich, orange juice, and cheap deodorant. He was at least your age, maybe older. He was trying to be kind. Well, he thought he was trying to be kind. You knew what he really wanted.

The boys who wanted to be your friend were like you in the sense that they were always something odd about them that the cool kids hated. They were pushed to the margins of the lunchroom and social hierarchy. They saw an ally in you, so after being the new girl for a month or two, one of those boys would find a reason to talk to you.

Sometimes it took a week, sometimes months, but at some point down the road they would invite you over after school – to study for a history test or to plan something exciting for the science fair. Too young, you learned the word for this: pretext, a reason that’s really an excuse. You would arrive to find his parents out, and you would follow him up to his room.

That’s how it happened most of the time.

Dmitri.

Kevin.

Marcus.

Noble.

CJ.

Jamie.

“I was just gonna say I could shout you dinner… Or you could just take the cash if you don’t want to hang.”

Pretext.

Betraying you, your stomach audibly growled. The banana had woken it up and now it knew it was starving.

Andy watched you, weighing up something in his mind. “You look like you’d be interesting to talk to,” he said like it was a compliment. It had probably worked for him in the past.

You looked away from him, focused again on the half-built structure. Sitting in one of the cutouts that you supposed were for windows, was a cowboy hat. From the darkness, a hand reached out and grabbed it.

“I don’t need your help,” you stated, not looking back at Andy.

He huffed, thinking fucking bitch, and went back inside with his throat in-tact. He didn’t know you were contemplating the offer. Maybe a burger and fries would satisfy. Maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe you'd need more.

Across the road you stopped walking when the guy jumped from the window. As his Reeboks landed and he looked up at you, you knew.

It wasn’t that his mouth, jaw, and neck were covered in blood and bits of cowboy. It wasn’t the now-red Metallica shirt or the stolen hat that sat atop his long curly hair. It was the banality in the way he said, “He’s in there, round in the back room, if you want him.”

The guy did not appear worried that anyone would see him looking like a daytime nightmare. He pushed his duffle bag onto his back and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. You followed along behind him in a bit of a daze.

“When… How… How do you know? I’m like you?” you asked.

Sully had told you the truth – eaters could smell eaters.

He came to stop at an old beat-up Chevrolet van, opening the back without needing to unlock it. He made a small happy sound but didn’t answer your question.

“I’ve… I’ve gone my whole life never meeting another, then two this week. You being the second,”

“Yeah, well, I’m sorta glad not to meet any others,” he replied bluntly.

With his duffle in the back, he took the driver's seat and rolled the window down. He looked out at you like he was confused about why you were still standing there.

“I thought I was the only one… And I’m… I’m sort of new to this. Can you help me? Just for a bit?”

Honestly, you weren’t sure what you meant by help. Maybe you wanted from him what Sully had previously offered. A companion, even in the short term. Someone to tell you all about their horror so yours didn’t seem so prolific. A set of rules to follow. Something. Anything.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” you whispered. It was true. Wasn’t it?

“Famous last words…” he muttered. “Fine. Come on. Get it.”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

The inside of the van was trashed. There were beer cans and fast food wrappers everywhere. The ashtray was overflowing and it smelt like sweat and roadkill.

“This isn’t yours,” you stated, immediately regretting it.

“He won’t be needing it anymore,” the guy replied.

“Or the hat,”

“You don’t think I’d make a darn fine rootin-tootin cowboy?” he asked with the smallest of grins.

You laughed. The sound was unfamiliar, like it belonged to another girl from an alternate universe. One that didn’t wear black so the blood didn’t show. One that didn’t know lung tissue melted on the tongue. One that could go on dates with a boy like Andy and be grateful to be told they’re interesting to talk to.

“I’m Y/N,”

“Eddie,”

“You stole his wallet too?”

“No. I stole his money. And this… Barry Cook. 5278 Route 13…” he read.

You drove in silence for a few minutes before Eddie began to play with the radio. When there was nothing but local talk-back and country classics, he turned it off.

“So… Where are you from?” you asked.

Eddie chewed the insides of his cheeks for a second before replying, “Does it matter?”

“Just making conversation…”

“Sorry,” he said with a soft sigh. “I haven’t had one of those in a while. Unless you count Cowboy Cook. Guess I’m a bit rusty.”

Eddie drove by the cowboy’s house to check for signs of life. There were no lights. When he pulled up to the small rundown house, you got out of the van and followed him inside.

It didn’t surprise you to find that the cowboy lived alone. There were stacks of oily pizza boxes and a seemingly endless amount of crushed Pabst Blue Ribbon cans. They were on almost all flat surfaces in the house, leaving rusty stains everywhere. Porn magazines and overdue bills sat on the sofa’s arms and it smelt like a cigarette had been burning for one hundred years straight.

“That’s before they started wearing make-up,” Eddie said, pointing to a poster in the cowboy’s bedroom, which was visible from the living room.

You had never seen the members of KISS without their trademark face paint. It felt wrong. Maybe in the same way it felt wrong to see Eddie covered in blood while he flicked through a crate of records that belonged to a dead man.

“He’s fucking got it! He’s got Lick It Up!” Eddie exclaimed.

He pulled the vinyl from the sleeve and put it on the player. He half expected to find it all scratched up, but maybe these albums were the only thing that Barry Cook cared about. Eddie could understand that. 

As the music began to play, Eddie held an air guitar. “Yeah, yeah… Don’t want to wait till you know me better,” he sang, jumping up onto the bed. “Let’s just be glad for the time together. Life’s such a treat and it’s time you taste it.”

You stood at the threshold of the room, thrown by Eddie’s sudden animation. He’d been reserved and sarcastic up until then.

“There isn’t a reason on earth to waste it. It isn’t a crime to be good to yourself… Lick it up! Lick it up! Oh-oh-ohhhh.”

Eddie pounced off the bed and onto his knees on the floor in one smooth motion. You wondered if he could play the guitar; his showmanship and the way his fingers were twinkling in the air said yes.

Trying not to stare at him too much, you looked around the room. There were other posters too. Centrefolds and Iron Maiden, which made you smile; was Eddie his real name, or had he invented an alias? 

Your attention snapped back to Eddie when he lifted the arm of the record player from the vinyl, plunging the house into silence. He’d caught sight of himself in the mirror. Lick it up! He’d made a promise. Lick it up! He was a monster. Lick it up!

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he suddenly said, leaving the room quicker than you could process.

When Eddie found you in the kitchen after, he was in the same jeans but a different shirt; you didn’t recognise the band. His hair was dripping and he brashly went at it with a towel.  

“He’s from Kentucky,” you said, eyes still on the letter. “He hasn’t been back to see his parents in ten years,”

“You know it’s illegal to open other people’s mail.”

You shot Eddie a look, which he nodded at - there were small pieces of the cowboy's flesh stuck in the shower drain. 

“This is from his mother. His dad has cancer. Postmarked four months ago. Wasn’t even open.”

Eddie began to look through the fridge and cupboards. “I’m not hungry, but how are you? Saw you were a minute away from… you know… the market kid. Must be hungry,”

“You were watching me?”

“I was…” Eddie turned to look at you. “Respectfully observing?” He opened a new cupboard and pulled out a can of Spaghetti-Os… “Yeah, you’ll do.”

Eddie cooked you dinner then sat opposite you at the table, respectfully observing you some more. He clasped his hands together on the tabletop and rested his chin on them.

“Why are we here anyway?” you asked.

“You have someplace else to be? Hot date at the disco?”

It dawned on you then. “Wait. Please don’t tell me we’re staying here tonight,”

“Nobody’s making you. Free country. You can do what you want,” he said dismissively, sitting up straighter and concealing a smirk. “Look, I know we only just met but I think I deserve a little more credit than you’re giving me… It’s late and we need a place to stay. We’re gone first thing,”

“You’ve done this before,”

“So have you,” he countered.

It wasn’t the same, you thought. Sully had tricked you. Hadn’t he?

“Is this… how you live?” You didn’t mean for it to sound like a judgment call. You waited for Eddie’s cold reaction but it never came.

“Not every night. But, yeah. Sometimes.”

You nodded. For a moment you just looked at each other. He had deep brown eyes that reflected the world back at you. Before you could get lost, you blinked hard and stood up.

“You take the bed,” Eddie said, his voice too gentle.

You didn't deserve the level of kindness you were being shown. But Eddie was like you. If you were bad then he was too? If you were a monster, didn't that mean he was one too? And kindness from a monster isn't kindness at all. 

You nodded and walked away from the kitchen table with every intention not to turn around. But then you did.

“You’ll be here… in the morning?” You felt embarrassed to ask. Did you sound like a child? Or a girl with a crush?

“You think I’d bail on you?”

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone had.

“No… It’s more… In my head, you know? Like, did I make you up?”

Eddie didn’t expect the honesty or for you to expose yourself like that. He stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ll be here,” he promised, omitting the part where he totally expected you to de-materialize and be revealed as a figment of his own lonely imagination.

You nodded once then disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“Fuck,” Eddie mumbled to himself, sitting back down and pulling your bowl towards him. You’d finished the lot, but he still put your fork in his mouth and sucked on it.

Next Chapter: 3 - The Shire

End Note: To those who have seen the movie and/or read the book: feel free to let me know your favourite details so I can make sure they're in the fic! To those who haven't: get on it; you will not regret!

Fic Taglist: @harrys-tittie @azydrateanatomy @pussy-drunk @mrsdollardog

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24 @mel-the-fangirl