#ben ten imagine

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

yin & yang pt. 4

Pairing: Ben Tennyson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.7k words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: You were an unlikely pair, everyone could see that. But what happens when you get a glimpse into a future where your differences were too much for you to bear?

A/N: Once again just a silly little self-indulgent fic. Hope you enjoy!

Ben groaned in boredom, laying his face against the dirty tables outside Mr. Smoothie. Not even the smoothie, cheekily titled banana-fantana, was able to cheer him up like Gwen had been hoping.

"What's up with you?" Kevin asked, drinking his soda that he got from a nearby vending machine, after he had refused a smoothie four times.

"I miss (Y/N)." He mumbled, pouting.

They shared a glance over his head. Gwen ushered for Kevin to speak but he shook his head adamantly, mouthing that he wanted no part in this and crossing his arms.

Gwen glared at him.

"Speaking of (Y/N)—" Kevin began, all too quickly.

Ben finally raised his head from the table to look at Kevin and his friend bit his tongue, turning back to Gwen with wide eyes and beckoning her to speak.

"Uh, it's not that we don't like (Y/N)—we do! She's a great addition to the team and a good friend even—and um, Kevin?"

The man in question gave her a wicked glare before Ben turned to him and the murderous expression on his face was wiped away, "Gwen's just concerned that you might be—how did she put it—'acting like a lovesick fool'."

The look he got from Gwen was in stark contrast to the pig-headed grin he was bearing.

"What are you talking about?"

Gwen finally sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder, "We all know that you have this crush on (Y/N) but—and I mean this in the nicest way possible—but don't you think it's time that you start, you know, trying to get over her?"

He raised a brow, "Why on earth would I do that?"

"It's nice that you like her so much, but you know what (Y/N)'s like; she's driven and focused and her career as a Proctor is the most important thing to her—not that that's a bad thing! It's just—well—someone like that doesn't really seem like the type to date or be into relationships, you know?"

"That's not all what she's about. I know it doesn't seem like it but she's actually really sensitive and sweet."

They shared another glance, unconvinced.

"Guys, I'm serious! We have something between us!" He defended, unconsciously clenching his fist, and crushing the half-full smoothie cup in his hand.

Gwen let out an irate sigh.

Growing up, she had only heard of how smart she was from everyone surrounding her—her parents, her grandfather, even Ben—and yet whenever she tried to explain something to people, they tended not to listen.

If only Ben would listen to her now, he'd be able to avoid so much pain in the future. Whenever she tried to gently nudge him, he'd never listen so this time she took a more direct approach and yet, he still wasn't listening.

"Ben, please. I can tell that you're actually falling for her but honestly, where do you even see this going? Do you actually believe that you're going to get married and have kids or something like that?"

"Gwen, I'm just sixteen, it's way too soon to be worrying about something like that!"

"So, you're just going to date her until it becomes a problem?"

Ben rolled his eyes, standing from the table, "How about you mind your own business and keep your nose out of my relationship. I don't have to sit here and convince you of anything."

Kevin watched him walk away before letting out a low whistle, ignoring his girlfriend's glare, "I told you that was a bad idea."

***

Ben kept a single hand on the wheel as he drove the two of you over the museum, where you were supposed to meet Gwen and Kevin for a mission. You had long stopped reprimanding him for not driving with both hands since he began throwing tantrums and claiming he couldn't focus if your fingers weren't intertwined with his free one.

The roads were empty at this time of night anyway.

"Hey, did Gwen talk to you about anything? Me, specifically?" Ben brought up and you immediately picked up on the slight squeeze of his hand in yours but didn't comment on it.

"Not lately, no. Is something wrong?"

Ben let out a relieved sigh, "Nope, nothing at all."

You raised a brow at this, staring at him with suspicious eyes. He eventually caught on to your prying gaze and immediately attempted to change the topic, pretending like you didn't notice his futile attempts to do so.

"That's a pretty necklace, where'd you get it?"

You rolled your eyes, watching as a cheeky grin grew on his face at your response. He was not hiding his giddiness very well, but how could he? You, his beautiful girlfriend, whom his cousin said was a monotonous emotionless dead-end (she didn't actually say this, but Ben was offended all the same), was wearing the necklace that he had gifted her.

It was fairly simple, a thin chain with a small pendant with a gemstone. He knew you wouldn't wear something that was flashy or too gaudy, so he settled for something he knew you'd like.

And the sight of you wearing the necklace even though you usually insisted that any accessories that weren't a part of the uniform could sometimes hinder the mission was completely worth the hours of time spent staring at different necklaces that all looked the same and troubling his mother for advice until she hurled a wet sponge at his head.

***

When he was responding to the distress signal on his Omnitrix at the museum, Ben wasn't expecting to get attacked by a bunch of ninja that seemed to appear out of nowhere before disappearing into thin air.

You stared at the green tablet in the crate as you wondered just where you had seen the artifact before.

"It's the Hands of Armageddon." You explained, going through your database quickly to pull up all the information the plumbers had on it, "It's an artifact that was secured by the plumbers more than 2 centuries ago. It's said to be a crosstime gateway created by the Chronians, but we have yet to prove that. It's virtually indestructible though. The Plumbers have had multiple attempts and they all resulted in mass disasters."

You turned to Gwen, "The vision you saw was probably an alternate dimension—"

"Right as always, young (Y/N)."

Before the flash of light behind you could even disappear, you were pointing a gun at it, only lowering it when you saw Paradox emerge through the blinding light, accompanied by someone you'd never met before and yet, still recognized.

"Who's your friend?"

Ben stared at him with apprehension before realization struck him, "Are you?"

The man responded with a startlingly deep voice, "That's right, Ben, I'm you—only even more awesome."

You were hardly surprised, the man before you was a splitting image of your boyfriend and you averted your gaze to hide the oncoming heat to your cheeks at the sight of his beard and his stronger build. He certainly grew up nicely.

Ben 10k and Professor Paradox didn't waste any time and began to explain just what problems the group of you had somehow managed to get stuck in once again. As the four of you heard their explanations, you heard a slight sound coming from the back of the museum.

"Shh."

Ben 10k raised a brow at you, opening his mouth to say something when you shushed him again, with a fierce glare this time. It was only a second more before you were swerving around to point your gun at another intruder, a woman this time, who was pointing her own gun at you.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, faced with an older version of yourself.

She looked like you, that much was obvious, but she was also different, much more womanly than you were, with more rounded curves and a more matured face.

Recognizing her younger self, the you from the future lowered her own gun and placed it back into her holster, taking a look around the room and registering just how many faces were there.

"What the hell is she doing here?!"

She raised a brow at him, lips pursed in annoyance, "Excuse me?"

Paradox sighed, "I apologize for this, Ben, but this involves her future as well."

He gritted his teeth in fury, rolling his eyes, "That's just great."

You spared a glance at your boyfriend, whose face had fallen so far it looked like he had just had his heart broken.

Gwen sighed, whispering something that had only been audible, to him and you watched as his face fell deeper, "I tried to warn you, Ben."

***

Professor Paradox was one of the most infuriating people in the entire universe. You had gathered as much since the first time you had the displeasure of meeting him, but he seemed intent on reminding you exactly why you disliked him.

He spoke in riddles, appeared and disappeared as he pleased, never made any sense but expected everyone to listen to him with no explanation whatsoever.

And so, it didn't help your opinion of him when the cargo hull of the jet began rumbling, signalling intruders, that he was all too quick to disappear without bothering to help fight them.

You cursed out his mother in your head as he vanished within a flash of light, pocket-watch in hand and a quippy remark on his lips.

The ninjas began appearing out of nowhere and despite there being the five of you, you were confined to a small space, and they multiplied like pests until the whole hull was full of them. It obviously didn't help that Ben 10k chose then to transform into humungousaur, taking up the remaining of what little space you had.

You didn't even have enough time to come up with a good strategy before you were being attacked with multiple opponents at the same time. It didn't take much to disarm one of them, now using their own swords to attack them.

There were too many and they just kept appearing. Your eyes bounced around the room, trying to figure out how to get the upper hand in such a cramped space.

Your older self, having the same idea, sprinted across the room, disarming as many soldiers around her as she could. Although, there was something odd about the way she moved.

She was at the same strength level as you were. After 20 years, shouldn't she be more adept than you were? Ben was capable of using his arsenal of powers without even transforming into any aliens, but she didn't display any remarkable feat of strength.

It was almost as though she wasn't able to. An injury perhaps? Maybe she was still recovering? You bit your lip, slashing the sword through another ninja. If you could find out what caused it, maybe you could prevent it from happening to you.

"Stay out of this, (Y/N)!" Ben 10k snarled, voice booming through the room and causing slight vibrations in the metal due to his size.

You paused for a second, sharing a glance with your boyfriend, who seemed equally surprised. Your future self, unbothered, continued to stampede through the other opponents until she reached the switch to the hangar and flipped it open.

Immediately the hangar opened, and you braced yourself, holding onto Ben's car that had been strapped down. Ben had the same idea, holding onto the handles and pressing his front against your back, making sure you were both anchored down.

The ninjas flew out of the jet, the vacuum of wind deeming too much for them and you watched them disappear, one by one, as they capsized through the air before the hangar door finally closed again.

"What the hell were you thinking?! That was so incredibly reckless—"

"Stop talking to her like that!" Your Ben interrupted his future self, wedging himself in between your future counterparts and glaring at him, "You're acting like an ass instead of apologizing! If I were you, I'd be on my knees begging for her to take me back!"

"Take me back? What are you—We're not broken up!"

Ben's eyes widened at this before he turned to your future self, "And you'd stay with someone who'd treat you like that?"

The woman in question sighed, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder, "Try not to be too upset, Ben. He's not usually like this. He's just mad—"

"I'm not mad at (Y/N)." Ben 10k argued, crossing his arms and everyone raised a brow, they clearly didn't believe him. Your future self merely gave him a blank stare before he caved.

"Alright fine, I'm mad at you." Hardly a surprise, "Need I remind you that we just left our son all alone at our home that was just attacked by a bunch of ninjas?"

Ben's jaw dropped open hearing that. Our son? He had a son? With the love of his life no less? This whole time he thought that there was nothing but disappointment and heartbreak for your future together but now he's finding out that he had a family with the girl he was in love with?

Funny that it was only this morning he was claiming that he was too young to be thinking of such things and yet, the thought had his heart swelling.

"I checked on him before we left, no one even made it to the hallway outside his room. Besides, when we go back, we'll be taken to the exact moment we left, not even a fraction of a second later. Kenny will be fine."

"It would be nice if you could show some concern at least." He huffed, "You're not even worried about the fact that we just left our newborn alone. All you're thinking about is this mission and you're putting yourself at risk."

Future you rolled her eyes, sighing as she took a seat on ship, "Here we go again."

"Oh, forgive me for worrying about my wife. Where do I get the audacity?" Her husband shot a glare at her.

Gwen's eyes flitted between the two of them, only able to see the similarities between their relationship in the future and also in the present. Her cousin apparently got married and started a family with the girl she didn't think was good enough for him.

Would Ben still not be able to see what a mistake he's making, even after a decade? Or was she the one who wasn't able to see clearly?

"(Y/N), you just gave birth five weeks ago and you haven't fully recovered. You're supposed to be taking it easy, not fighting some crazed time traveller. "

No wonder she was moving at a slower rate than usual, she was still in her post-partum recovery. For a woman who just spent the last 10 months of her life growing and then providing for a living, breathing human, she fought impressively well. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

"Firstly, I can take care of myself. Secondly, Paradox didn't ask before zapping us back here."

"Fair enough but I want you to be on the sidelines for the remainder of the mission unless absolutely necessary." He folded his arms, giving a firm stare that meant he was being resolute. Your future self held his stare for a second before coming to the realization that not much would deter him.

She sighed, "Fine."

A pleased smile made its way to his face as he leaned down to kiss her forehead, "Excellent."

"You're a lot of work, Tennyson."

"Right back at you, Tennyson."

You spared a glance at your boyfriend, choosing to keep the information that you found his impish grin at the thought of a future with you adorable a secret and instead asked, "Did you really think that we had broken up in the future?"

His brows went toward his hairline, "You didn't? They were practically at each other's throats the whole time."

"Firstly, they're each wearing wedding rings, and second," You walked over to your future self, reaching for her collar and pulling out a familiar chain from underneath her shirt, "I saw this the second she got here."

Ben blushed, "You still wear it? It looks a little different though."

"I replaced the gem." She explained, toying with the pendant.

"Why?"

"It's her son's birthstone." "It's my son's birthstone." Both (Y/N)'s said in unison and the others gave you a bewildered stare.

"How'd you know?"

You shrugged, "Because that's something I would do."

***

Once again, you were all left in the middle of the desert at night after Paradox abandoned you one again and you continued your line of curses about his entire family in your head as you trudged back to the jet to call a team of plumbers to get you home as well as begin repairs to the jet that was damaged in the fight.

Kevin followed you closely to try and see if there was any way he could repair it just enough to get you back to Bellwood. Ben was about to enter as well when he was stopped by his cousin, who seemed sheepish enough that he immediately knew what the conversation was going to be about.

"I owe you an apology, Ben. I'm sorry for not trusting your judgment and for thinking the worst of you and (Y/N). You both make a cute couple."

He nodded, "It's okay, I didn't exactly have faith in my own relationship when I immediately concluded that they had broken up."

"I'm sure the conversation we had this morning didn't help either, don't feel too bad about it."

He nodded once again and they dissolved back into silence before she gave him a teasing smile, "So, a son, huh?"

His cheeks went warm, and he gave her a look mixed with both embarrassment and a little bit of pride, scratching the back of his neck with a meek chuckle, "Yeah, I always pictured myself as a girl dad though."

Her grin went even wider, and she laughed, "I thought you said you were too young to think about things like this?!"

***

*Exactly Twenty Years Later*

Ben peeked his head into the nursery to greet his beautiful son that was most likely asleep after being fed and changed, only to find the room empty and crib missing.

His mind knew that if his son wasn't in his crib then he would obviously be in the arms of his mother and yet, as he sped to your shared bedroom, he felt a slight panic thrum through his veins.

Everyone had brought this to his attention time and time again; that he had become extremely high-strung when it came to his family. Especially since you had gotten pregnant. It was only when his son was on the way did he realize just how fragile everything was and how quickly it could be ripped away from him.

He passed his arm over the sensor at your door, it immediately recognizing the signal from his Omnitrix and unlocking the door before entering, finding you settled on your bed, Kenny clutched close to your heart.

You watched him cross the bedroom in long strides and settle on the mattress beside you, saying nothing about the clear distress that you had seen on his face when the door opened before it was flooded with relief. You understood; you had felt the same way, which is why you had rolled your son's crib into your bedroom so you could keep a close eye on him for the rest of the night.

You turned your gaze back to the baby in your arms, gently tracing his features with the tip of your pinkie finger, watching with a deep fondness and adoration as Kenny's little face would scrunch up every time you caressed his button nose.

"He's okay, right?" Your husband questioned, needing your reassurance for the last bit of worry for his son to evaporate.

"You think I'd be sitting here without a care in the world if he wasn't?" You murmured, not lifting your eyes from his precious face.

Ben chuckled at this, "Yeah, like that time he got the hiccups, and you couldn't sleep the entire night because you kept checking on him in four-minute intervals?"

"What if his little diaphragm got fatigued?" You mumbled; brows furrowed at the thought. Constant hiccups were painful to deal with as an adult, you could only imagine how painful it would be for a baby who didn’t know what the pain was or how to communicate his pain to his parents.

Ben didn’t respond, already having been through this conversation with you the very night it happened.

The two of you continued to watch your son in silence, finding every single little breath he took interesting as you continued to graze your finger over his skin, now tracing the outline of his little lips, the bottom lip tucked tightly into his mouth as he slept.

Ben shifted closer to you, taking the two of you in his arms and pressing a kiss to the side of your head as one of his arms came to support yours and bear the weight of your son as well.

"I'm sorry for saying that you didn't care about Kenny and only the mission. I know you worry about him more than you express, and I appreciate everything you do for the both of us."

"You were just lashing out of worry." You replied, leaning against him, "It was the first time we both left our home without him, even though we didn't technically leave him alone for a second. I felt uneasy about it as well."

"Regardless, I shouldn't have said that you didn't care, Kenny and I know you love us."

"I do."

You quietened down immediately when your son took a big breath, slightly stirring before he fell back asleep, the littlest smile on his little face.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@haniscrying

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

[joltrify]

Klyntar/symbiote Ben.

Return of BENOM

[slowlyfriedkingdom]

EVERY Ben 10 Theme Song on Guitar!

My childhood fr

But which version is the best or underrated to you?

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

Every time I remember that even after dying, obi-wan was most likely just as miserable as he was while alive, I die a little inside.

[mariasont]

Talking to a Brick Wall - A.H

a/n: rip erin strauss you would've hated this fic

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader

summary: in which you overhear your boyfriend aaron's phone call

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, miscommunication, self-doubt, happy ending but also a terrible ending bc i SUCK at endings xoxo

wc: 2.3k

You had called out your boyfriend's name multiple times as you wandered into his house. He had asked you a while ago if you wanted to come over for a movie night tonight and hell would have to freeze over before you ever declined that offer. However, upon arrival, you were greeted by silence; no response to the doorbell, his phone, or your voice. Thankfully, the key he'd given you last year jingled in your pocket as you let yourself in.

You had a pretty strong suspicion he'd be in his office--after all, this was Aaron Hotchner, a man who definitely did not believe in leaving work at the office. 

And sure enough, his voice filtered through the slightly ajar door, the rich hue of his mahogany desk framing the gap. You were about to move towards the living room, assuming he was on a work call of some sorts, but his words stopped you dead in your tracks. 

"It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm speaking, but the understanding isn't there. You know what I mean? It's like the concepts just float in one ear and out the other."

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, brows drawn together, as your hand found the wall, leaning towards the door. He couldn't have been talking about you, right?

"I try to share details, to get her involved, but it's met with this vacant nod. As if the depth of it all just doesn't register."

Oh. Her. You tried to fan away the wetness that threatened to fall down your cheeks, each rapid motion a desperate attempt to convince yourself you were imagining things. 

"And I'm patient, I really am. But when you're met with that blank look, it's... disheartening. You start to wonder if it's worth explaining at all. It's like talking to a wall."

Okay, that stung. It was like an immediate punch to the gut, your heart seeming to drop into the pit of your stomach. Your shoulders slumped slightly as you tried to rationalize his words, but nothing was really making sense right now.

The internal battle was a cruel one: stay and endure the sharp sting of his words or leave and miss more of what he had to say. The latter won, pulling you away from the door. 

You knew you were never going to be the smartest person in the room, and in the past, it was a source of deep-seated insecurity, always a silent specter in the corners of your mind. But then you met Aaron. And he made everything just better. His own intelligence and impressive job never became a yardstick for your worth; he ensured you knew you were more than enough, just as you were.

He had always been the voice reminding you that you were smart in your own right, telling you that your worth transcended any numerical measure of intelligence like a stupid IQ score. But now you were questioning everything. 

Anger seemed like the appropriate response, right? But it was hard to be when his words carried a weight of truth to them. 

You did have a hard time keeping up when he talked about the complexities of his cases, sometimes feeling like an outsider looking in. But, even if you didn't understand, his passion for what he did was infectious, and you hung on to every word when he explained all the ways his smart brain was able to deduce things about people. 

Still, a part of you imagined it was hard for him, that it probably got old fast when you weren't able to hold an intelligent conversation. 

Your knuckles were white against the steering wheel, and it somehow took you only ten minutes to get home when it should've taken you twenty.

It was only when you had taken a shower, put on your favorite pair of pink sweats, brought out some Ben and Jerry's, and turned on Legally Blonde, did you check your phone.

Hi honey. What time are you coming over?

You tried to ignore the sensation of an invisible band drawing tighter across your chest. 

so sorry, not feeling good. rain check? xoxo

You hated lying to him. Hated lying in general, save for the occasional white lie to protect someone's feelings. The fact that you weren't lying to his face was a small mercy, because obviously he'd be able to see right through you.

Do you want me to come there? I can bring food.

You wanted to be with him, you really did, you had been counting down the days to this movie night all week. But the thought of sitting beside him, wanting to ask about his day, about his work, now seemed like an intrusion. Knowing that your well-intentioned questions might be a chore for him or a source of frustration. The realization pressed down on you, a heavy weight that threatened to snuff your light.

no that's okie! thank you though <3 i don't want to get you sick!

Your phone was ringing, his name lighting up the screen for a FaceTime call, it felt like a betrayal of your own making. It was a skill you had recently taught him (which took forever), and of course now he was using it. Your finger jabbed at the red button, your cheeks turning the same color. 

i look & sound disgustinggg rn

I know for a fact that's incorrect. You have a magical talent of looking incredible no matter what.

I want to see your pretty face.

you can be so flattering when u want to mister!

im going to take some medicine & then ill call u l8, k?

Hmm, okay.

love u! xoxo

I love you too, pretty girl.

You hated this. Your eyes were puffy, swollen and wet as you discarded the phone onto the nightstand. He deserved someone who wasn't so pathetic. 

You wallowed in self-pity all night, and then all day, and then all week. You went through the motions--getting up, going to work, and then making up some lame excuse when Aaron asked to see you. Name it, and you had probably said it. In reality, you had been holed up in your room, trading glossy magazine pages for confusing behavioral books.

The subject matter was as dull as dishwater, making paint-watching seem thrilling. But you were committed to bringing some depth to your next conversation with him.

Today's excuse had been some half-truths about being buried in work--which in hindsight seemed comical, given you worked at a bakery and there wasn't much that could take up your time outside of contract hours.

You were splayed across the couch in an upside-down sprawl as you attempted to focus on the scholarly gibberish that filled the pages. 'Homology,' 'dichotomy,' and 'typology' melded into a migraine-inducing blur, tempting you to slam the book shut. You were fighting every urge to throw it out the window and paint your nails with that new glittery polish you've been dying to try.

At the insistent knock, you clapped the book shut (thank god) and stood, brows knitting, as you navigated to the door with a soft scuffle of slippers on polished wood. 

Flinging it open, you halted, breath caught. "Aaron? Oh, hi, what are you doing here?"

The words sprang forth before you could catch them, your hands scrambling up to smooth the evidence of your couch-induced disarray. 

He fixes you a pointed stare as he steps into your apartment, invitation be damned you guess. "I find myself repeating this, yet it seems necessary--peephole first, then the door, sweetheart."

You clamp your teeth onto your lip with such force, you're convinced you've tasted blood. "Oh, right, sorry... I should've remembered."

A flicker of foolishness and a heavy dose of self-consciousness threaten to surface. However, you quickly subdue them, tucking them away as you wrapped your arms around your body, offering him a small smile. Despite everything, your heart leaps at the sight of him. You missed him.

His face softens, his touch soft as he tilts your chin upward. "Look at me. It's fine. I just want to make sure my best girl is safe, that's all."

The temptation to simply crumble there and then, to forget everything and cocoon yourself in his arms, was overwhelming. 

You leaned into his hand without thinking, which now claimed the entire area of your cheek. He was always so warm. 

You watch as Aaron glances around the room, no doubt noting the absence of work-related clutter. "Still working?"

"Oh, I was, I told my boss I'd help with inventory reports." That part wasn't totally a lie, but it still made your conscience squirm with guilt.

"Do you want help?"

The proposal touches a raw nerve, sparking a defensive reflex. Did he think you were incapable?

 "Thanks, but I'm actually all done with them," you lie, your a smile a little too rigid as you head into the living room.

You're keenly aware of his approaching footsteps as you hastily stash that stupid book under a magazine, silently praying he didn't notice. You settle onto the couch, and he joins you, casually drawing your legs over his lap as you recline against the cushions.

"How was your day?"

You wince internally at the automatic question. 

"Not too bad," He replies with an easy shrug, his fingers sneaking under your sweats at the ankles, tracing lazy circles on your calves. "We wrapped up some paperwork, had a couple of briefings, and oh, we were introduced to our new consultant today. She specializes in crypto linguistics--really fascinating stuff."

Your eyes flutter briefly, a constriction forming in your throat, a twist in your gut. The mere mention of the consultant being a she amplifies your feelings of insufficiency. It leaves you wondering, why would Aaron ever be interested in someone like you?

"Crypto linguistics?" you repeat, trying to sound curious rather than lost. 

He leans in closer to you. "It's a specialized area of linguistics focused on decoding encrypted languages."

You offer a nod, managing a convincing "Yeah, of course," even as your eyes unwittingly drift away from his unwavering stare, betraying a hint of your confusion.

Aaron's hand cradles your head, his fingers sifting through your hair. "Hey," he murmurs, drawing your attention back, "what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Your chin touches your chest as you mumble, barely audible, "hardly anything."

Aaron's expression turns to a frown, his broad hands guiding your ass and thighs as he positions you atop his lap, face-to-face, leaving you exposed with no place to hide. Your name escapes him with a sigh. "I don't believe that for a second."

You match his frown with your own pout, nestling your face into his neck, concealing the rosy hue that has claimed your cheeks. "Just a rough week is all."

"Is that so?" His voice was a gentle murmur, his hands soothingly moving in gentle sweeps across your back as you breathed out unsteadily. "Funny, that's been my week too. My gorgeous girlfriend seems to have been avoiding me all week."

"Have not," you mumble, your breath warm against his skin, fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He hummed. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong."

"It's silly."

He guided your face back to his, eyes searching yours. "Listen to me. No, it's not. I don't like when you try to diminish your feelings. Talk to me, honey."

That was your tipping point. A wobble in your lip betrays the onset of tears as your voice breaks.

"I just--I know I'm not as smart as the people you work with or even your past girlfriends. I know I don't get things right away especially when you talk about work, and I see how everyone else is so quick, and I'm here, always a few steps behind. I know that it must be frustrating for you, and I'm scared that one day, you'll get tired of explaining, and your patience will run out, and well, you'll see... you'll see that--"

"Baby, whoa, slow down," Aaron urges, his palms tenderly framing your face, a frown plastered over his face. Your heart hammers against your chest, its rapid beats almost audible, as if it might jump from your body. "Take a deep breath, okay? Can you do that for me?"

You draw in a breath.

His thumb delicately erases the tears that have made their way down your cheek.

"When there is something about my work you don't understand, I will gladly go over it as many times as you need. I don't expect you to know everything about that stuff, why would you? That's not why I'm with you. I'm with you because of your incredibly kind heart and the way you see the best in people. I love you because you are you. What is making you think this way, honey? It's breaking my heart."

"I overheard you Aaron," you said, "saying that sometimes it feels like you're talking to a wall when you talk to me."

"What?" he questioned, but his confusion was quickly morphed into concern. "Oh, sweetheart, no. I was talking about Strauss and her lack of understanding of our fieldwork."

"Oh."

"I would never speak about you like that, you know that, right? And if, in some alternate universe, I did, you need to break up with me, or better yet, set me straight." His hands stayed firmly on your face. "You should never tolerate that from me or anyone else, understood?"

You bit down on your lip, hands resting on his shoulders as you nodded. "Yes, sir."

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, sending fireworks to every inch of you as he mumbled against your mouth, "that's my girl."

taglist: @hotchhner

[roach-works]

i feel like there's a rich vein of SOME kind of ore to mine with regards to the romantic woes of visibly "freakish" and inhuman superheros, especially in silver age comics. like, because of the comics code, the writers could not in-universe admit that some people are really kinky and would absolutely nut in an instant if a gigantic alligator man or a living rock monster or a ten foot tall woman who's on fire gave them a little smooch on the head. like maybe most people in the 70s and 80s had no idea this was the case, either!

but so you end up with these romantic plot lines where some poor freakish superhero with a heart of gold and the skin of, i don't know, a bunch of octopi, is miserable because they'll never find true love, except for a totally normal woman has the power to see their inner heart (which is normal) and fall in love with them for that (normally). villains can sometimes be like 'yeah this chick is super into the fact that i'm an eight foot tall deathbot, we're both evil like that' but ben grimm can't get a date! even blind women are a little concerned that he's literally made out of rocks. it never works out because the writers either can't imagine or can't admit that no matter the freak, there's a bigger, hornier freak who's praying for a chance to shoot their shot.

i don't know. it's just interesting. obviously modern comics can acknowledge a lot more sexual variance than the stuff from fifty years ago, but it's just kinda neat to consider the bizarre limitations a heteronormative paradigm enforces on a population of very strange characters.

and also i feel like in real life ben grimm's DMs would be full of incredibly horny geologists going PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE all day long.

[anundyingfidelity]

OUT OF MIND — Soldier Boy/Ben

Summary: Ben believes he's alone in the lab, that you're just a product of his imagination and insanity. Is not like that, you're more real than he ever thought.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1.3k.

Warnings: sexual content, p in v, blowjobs, handjobs, heavy non-con (such as reader taking advantage of Ben), nudity, some angst, mentions of torture and being unconscious.

Note: *another one* this is part of @artyandink Jensen's drabble marathon (if it can't be due to the content of this is totally okay tho!) Anyway hope you like this dark piece of crap I had on my drafts because I could never write a long fanfic ever again, I'm taking so damn long to write.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

The last doctor left, metal door closing behind his back, leaving you all alone with the man lying down in a too uncomfortable stretcher, hands and ankles tied.

The doctor's instructions were clear. He didn't care what you'd do to the experiment in the room. No one cared. As much as a scientist you were yourself, you stayed until late, admiring the former hero at your complete mercy, with nowhere to go or a voice to yell for help. Not that he might needed though.

The room was cold as you paced to remain by his side. His chest going up and down, eyes closed as he slept thanks to the dosis of gas you always administered before taking the tests of his blood and getting into the good part: the torture.

Tens of scientists and doctors stepped the lab to test his strength and powers, gifting him of endurance and new abilities along the way. You were one of them. And this was your price for making him indestructible instead of killing him, switching completely the main objective of the reds. You never really talked to Soldier Boy, more than just the silent moans and gasps leaving your mouth when you actually got into business. Ninety nine percent of the time he was unconscious under the effects of the gas, but he did caught you on top of him a couple of times, or just sucking him off until he was hard in your mouth. The only thing further than talking was his green eyes staring at you, just as he woke up from the slumber. But that made it a thousand times better.

With your fingertips, you traced his bare arm. The skin hot against your hand, finding the way up to his muscular chest, and then down his stomach, stopping right above his crotch. Your mind started wandering all over with the past memories of you and him inside that same lab room.

It was wrong, but you couldn't stop.

You've done this countless of times, what was with doing it again? Besides, he was a piece of shit of a man as far as you knew, using women as appliances and then tossing them like garbage once he was bored. You had to have fun too. Your hand went under his pants, softly playing with his shaft, as your free one went to brush away the mess his hair was doing on his forehead, so delicately.

His cock grew hard thanks to your touch, jerking him off smoothly. It only made you yearn for him more, the wetness between your legs increasing as you rubbed your thighs together to feel some friction that could relief you for a moment.

You pushed your skirt up and took off your panties, completely desperate to feel him inside you. But before you pulled his pants down enough to free his dick, ans you leaned down to take the tip of his cock between your lips, sucking him just right to earn a somewhat loud gasp from his throat. You took him deeper in your mouth, soaking his shaft with your saliva and stroking with your hand what couldn't fit.

Just as you tasted some pre cum, you pulled back and climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs and lining his cock with your cunt, rubbing yourself on his length. You moaned softly sinking down on him, your tight, wet walls engulfing his dick, until your ass met the hot skin of his thighs. His cock twitched inside you as you rolled your hips in slow, deep movements, that soon became desperate. Biting your lip, you unbuttoned your blouse and pushed your bra down. Quickly, you held on his chest with the palms of your hands, riding him.

Soldier Boy brows furrowed, his breathing became unsteady as much as yours. Sometimes he looked like he would wake up in any minute, but he wasn't really able to. The features on his beautiful face used to change as you had your way with him because it was natural, and you loved to be in control. The only thing you'd regret was his big hands not being put into good use because of the restraints around them. You were so close to your climax that you wished he could bury his nails on your ass and mark it red while you're bouncing on his cock. Maybe someday you'd do it the right way. But not right now. Control suited you and you liked being on top anyway, playing with your tits at your own pace as they bounced with every thrust.

His cock met the deepest parts inside your pussy and you played with your clit and your folds, reaching sweet release and coating his cock with your juices. You continued the steady rhythm of your hips, going for a second orgasm, his dick throbbing so hard you would just fuck him until he spilled inside.

You let out a raspy moan as he came, filling you up and triggering your climax again, thighs shaking. You recovered your breathe, feeling his cock softening inside your pussy. His brows went back to normal, but you felt his heart still racing. Shifting on top of his cock, you reach his bearded cheek, caressing his features.

"I wish I could see underneath all this," you mumbled. "But I'm afraid you'll wake up for real and kill me."

You smirked just a little at the thought. Probably he'd just agree to fuck you if he was awake and back to his old self again, not drugged, not put into sleep. He was the perfect toy nonetheless.

But then, his eyes fluttered open softly. He thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, watching your face as the bright, white lights iluminated the room. Soldier Boy often believed you were a ghost from his twisted mind, that there was something inside his mind tormenting him to the point he was being used for sexual pleasure by an unknown entity. But your touch, the heat of your body, and your weight over his own told him otherwise. You were fucking real, straddling his lap, with his dick buried balls deep in your tight cunt, tits out and messy hair and lab coat. Soldier Boy groaned, hands clenching into fists.

He spent so much time, decades, inside those concrete walls that there was this primal need inside that couldn't be met. And you were there to make it true from time to time, even if he wanted it or not.

"Good morning, sunshine," you mocked when he tried to free his wrists, but was too weak to do so. "The gas effect is fading away I see."

He grunted as you pulled off from him, climbing down to fix your clothes and putting your panties back. Soldier Boy tried to scream, but his throat was sore; he had to fight the restrains on his limbs, however it was useless. He was so powerless and fragile for a moment.

"Shhh, it's okay," you whispered, putting your hand on his forearm. He looked at you with a mixture of fear and rage. "You're gonna be okay. I always take care of you," you smiled as the stretcher began to shake while he tried to set himself free. "Now don't try it, you're a good boy. Aren't you?"

Soldier Boy groaned like a scolded puppy once you combed his hair with your fingers.

"You've been here for a long time, and no one has ever taken such good care of you as I do," you said, leaning down until your lips were close enough to his ear. "So you better obey me and keep being a good bitch for me."

Once you pulled back, he got the perfect close up of your face before you turned around and left the room, the sound of your heels echoing before the metal door finally closed. In less than five minutes, the chamber was filled with novichok.

Before sleeping again, Soldier Boy knew it was real.

The woman fucking him on his dreams and living nightmares was so damn real.

Soldier Boy taglist

@delaynew

@k-slla

@thesilmarillionblog

@onlyangel-444

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@daisy-the-quake

@jackles010378

@mostlymarvelgirl

@deans-spinster-witch

@drasticemotions

@stoneyggirl2 @sapnaploves

@believeinthefireflies95

[st-eve-barnes]

Leverage (Michael Gavey x fem Reader)

Chapter 3

Summary: When your ex threatens to release some very personal videos you are left with no choice but to do what he asks: seduce the biggest nerd on campus, Michael Gavey. Will you rock his world or will he fundamentally change yours?

This chapter: You try to bring Michael out of his shell but he's not making it easy on you. After a few confessions at the pub things get heated. First kisses and first oral (male receiving). Touch starved sub Michael.

Word count: +4200

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Kissing, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, hand job, fingering, p in v sex. First kiss and loss of virginity. Experienced reader. Enemies to lovers vibes.

Fluff, smut and of course angst (my favorite combination! lol) I haven't watched Saltburn yet so all characters in this fic except for Michael are my own.

Read the first chapters Here

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

The pub felt overcrowded, too warm and too loud and the majority of visitors was drunk or halfway there. This right here was exactly why you had stopped going out every week. You’d only been here fifteen minutes and you already missed the comfort and silence of your room.

It was hard to imagine these people in front of you were among the best and smartest students in the world and were supposed to be the future of the country. It was clear you were all doomed.

You took another sip from your Bacardi Breezer and scanned the room for Michael but there was no sign of him yet. When someone placed a soft hand on your shoulder you turned around with a hopeful smile but it faded as soon as you saw who the hand belonged to. 

“Oh, it’s you,” you sighed.

Ben leaned in much too close for your liking to be able to talk to you over the music,”How’s it going?”

“It was going great until just now,” you replied, trying to ignore him and praying for Michael to arrive any minute now.

“Let me rephrase that,” he smirked,”How are things going with you and Michael?”

“It’s going, don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” you nodded, looking into his eyes,”I had to improvise a little but I’ll make it work, don’t worry.”

“It better, you know what’s at stake.”

“Yes, I fucking know, okay,” you snapped, shooting daggers at him,”You fucking pathetic asshole.”

Ben just laughed and you were ten seconds away from slapping him in the face when you noticed Michael stepping through the door.

He looked like a fish out of water, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes cast down to the floor as he tried to make his way through the crowd and tried to avoid bumping into people. When he noticed you his lips curled into a small smile and he gave you a little awkward wave. You couldn’t help but smile back and you rushed over to him, and as far away from Ben as you could.

“Hey,” Michael nodded, avoiding your eyes and biting his lip anxiously. You had never seen him this nervous before. He looked like he was about to bolt any minute now and you couldn’t exactly blame him.

“Hey,” you give him an encouraging smile,”Can you at least try and look like you want to be here?”

“Sorry,” he sighed,”It’s just…yeah, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know this probably isn’t your thing. But thank you for doing this, I really appreciate it.”

“Not doing it for you,” he said quickly,”Just don’t want him to get what he wants.”

“Well, regardless, thank you for coming tonight,” you gave him a grateful smile and leaned in to wrap your arm around his shoulder for a swift hug. Michael froze when you pressed your body against his.

”I should get you a drink, help you relax a little bit,” you said after you leaned back.

“I don’t drink,” he stopped you.

“Oh, okay well, then this is going to be harder than I thought.”

“I’m just…not used to this,” he tried to explain.

“Define this.”

“All of it,” he gestured.

“Okay,” you sighed.

He gave you a sad smile and you actually felt had for him. You realized it must have cost him a lot to step out of his comfort zone tonight, yet he was here, just like he had promised you, to help you deal with Ben. Whatever his motivations were, he was proving that you could count on him.

“Okay,” you gave him another smile,”Why don’t we find a quiet spot to sit somewhere? Get away from the crowd for a bit?”

Michael nodded in relief and followed you to the bar until you found a spot away from all the noise but still close enough for Ben to see you both.

You ordered drinks and tried your best to bring Michael out of his shell, which proved harder than you thought.

“So what do you do for fun then?” you asked.

“Fun?” he shook his head with a little smile,”Fun is nothing but a distraction, I mean look at them…I can practically hear their brain cells deteriorating, one drink at a time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh,”Okay, but you don’t need to be drunk to have fun.”

“I’m here to graduate and secure the best future I can for myself, that’s the only thing that matters,” he continued to ignore your question.

“Right,” you sighed.

“We don’t all have mummy and daddy’s money to fall back on,” he explained, letting his eyes meet yours,”As you know, I think.”

You nodded,”Yeah, unfortunately I do. It’s just me and my mum, we’re not bad off but…ever since dad died it hasn’t been that easy, money wise.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been a hard loss to deal with,” he spoke softly, his sudden empathy taking you by surprise.

You shrugged,”Thanks. It happened years ago, it’s fine, I’m used to it by now.”

Just as you were starting to give up your attempts at keeping the conversation light Michael turned the question back around. “So, what do you do for fun then, Y/N?” he asked. 

He seemed relieved when you responded with a smile.“Me? I don’t know, I hang out with friends, we go see movies or get something to eat mostly. Sometimes we go out and I get a little drunk. But not too often, wouldn’t want to kill those precious brain cells.”

Michael laughed at that and then shook his head,”Very funny.”

“I know,” you teased, making him smile some more and you felt proud at finally making him feel a little more relaxed.

“What else?” he asked, now actively doing his best to keep the conversation going.

“Sometimes I take a guy back up to my room,” you blurted out, causing Michael to blush.

“Of course you do,” he nodded.

You took another sip from your drink while you kept your eyes on him,”You ever taken a girl up to your room, Gavey?”

He shook his head with a grin,“Is that your clever way of asking me if I am a virgin?”

“Are you?”

He blushed again and avoided looking at you.

“You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” you quickly added, realizing you were probably overstepping but he just nodded his head.

”It’s okay,” he shrugged,”I mean…it’s not like it’s a secret. I’m a virgin, there. Happy now?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, as long as you’re happy with that choice. I mean, several of my girl friends are virgins, it’s nothing to be ashamed of and it’s not as uncommon as you’d think.”

“Really?” he asked, seemingly comforted by your words.

“It’s not that big of a deal anyway,” you continued,”Having sex with someone isn’t going to fundamentally change you, it’s just sex.”

“Trust me, for someone who hasn’t had it…it’s not just sex.”

You nodded with a soft smile,”Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And…don’t you think that it should fundamentally change you?” he then added,”Being with the right person, I mean…otherwise what’s the point?”

“The point is to cum, Michael,” you answered bluntly and he laughed at your words, almost choking on his drink.

”Sex is fun, anything else is just what books and movies would like you to believe,” you added,”It’s not like that in real life.”

“You don’t believe in true love then?”

“True love?” you shook your head and laughed,”Oh please, you do? You actually want to wait for the right person to come along before you have sex with someone? What if she, or he, never comes along?”

Michael just shook his head,”First of all, it’s she. And second of all…I guess I’m better off alone than with the wrong person, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes,”You’re so naive.”

“And you’re so bitter,” he answered quickly.

“Yeah, well, having Ben as an ex will do that to you.”

“Maybe you should think twice before fucking someone then,” he blurted out.

You looked at him,”Okay, that’s kind of rude.”

“What? Am I wrong?” he continued,”How well did you even know him before you slept with him? And how many other guys like him were there?”

“That’s…none of your fucking business.”

“What? I showed you mine but you’re not going to show me yours? That means the answer is plenty, I guess,” he answered his own question and you wanted to punch him. Who did this guy think he is?

”You shouldn’t be so willing to spend time with assholes,” Michael then added.

“You know what, you’re absolutely right, Gavey,” you gave him an angry look and moved away from him and out of your seat.

“Shit,” Michael sighed,”Wait…fuck, I’m sorry.”

He rushed after you and reached for your hand, pulling you back to him,”Wait, please, don’t go, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just…I don’t know how to talk to girls.”

“You can’t keep using that as an excuse to be a dick.”

“I know,” he sighed,”I know. I'm sorry.”

He was still holding your hand in his and much to your surprise it didn’t feel unpleasant, quite the contrary. You squeezed his hand and he let go instantly, as if he just realized he was still touching you.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s…fine.” You weren’t sure if he was still apologizing for his words or because he grabbed you but you realized it didn’t matter. Your urge to flee was gone now.

“Sit back down with me?” he asked,”Please?”

You nodded and followed him and you both sat down again, in silence.

“I’ve never even kissed anyone,” Michael blurted out after a while.

“You haven’t?” you asked, genuinely surprised,”Why not?”

He blushed but smiled, clearly embarrassed by his own confession,”Girls just don’t look at me and see something they want, I guess.”

“Maybe you should try being a little nicer then,” you pointed out.

He shook his head,”I used to be…nicer, it didn’t matter. They take one look at me and bail so…now I don’t even bother.”

“There’s nothing wrong with how you look,” you tried to reassure him but he gave you a knowing look.

“Come on now, I already called you a bad liar once, don’t make me say it again.”

You shook your head but smiled.”Okay, fine, so the clothes could use an upgrade and…maybe you’re not conventionally handsome,” you tried to explain and Michael just started laughing.

“That’s the most polite way I’ve ever been called ugly.”

“You’re not ugly!” you objected,”That’s my whole point, it’s like…oh, it’s like Adam Driver, you know that Star Wars guy?”

“You're really asking a nerd if he knows Star Wars?” he teased you.

“Okay, so Adam Driver isn’t conventionally attractive either but he’s got tons of fangirls everywhere who adore him.”

“Yeah, well, my fangirls seem to be absent, for now.”

You smiled and let your eyes meet his.”You have really pretty eyes,” you then confessed,”And you’re really tall and lean. Girls like that. And your hands are…really nice and…your lips look very soft.”

Michael was blushing hard now and he looked away from you but his lips curled up into a warm smile.”Thanks,” he whispered.

“My point is you’re not ugly, Michael,” you added,”And I’m sorry if people made you feel that way.”

He sighed with a smile,”Thank you. It’s just…I thought it would have happened by now, you know, that first kiss. It’s stupid and I don’t even care but…I just wish…”

“Do you want to kiss me?” you blurted out.

He shook his head with a shy smile,”No, I don’t want your pity kiss, it’s fine.”

“It wouldn’t be like that.”

“Oh, really? What would it be like then?”

“Well…we’re trying to convince Ben we’re fucking, right? If he sees us kiss that might make it more believable. So it’s not a pity kiss, you��d be helping me out with the plan. It’s a win-win.”

He stayed quiet.

“But it’s okay if you don’t want to,” you added,”If you want to wait for the right person, I get it, no pressure…”

“No, I don’t,” he interrupted you, quietly, as if he was surprised by his own words,”I mean I…want to…I want to kiss you.”

“You sure?” you checked.

He nodded eagerly, putting a smile on your face.

“I’m sure,” he confirmed,”I just…I don’t know…how to do it right.”

You turned to face him and allowed yourself to really look at him. His beautiful sincere eyes and that deep blush on his cheeks, the way his mouth twitched nervously as he tried to avoid your eyes but also couldn’t stop himself from wanting to look at you. You had never in your life met anyone like Michael, he was insufferable at times but he was also the purest soul you’d ever met. 

And you wanted to kiss him with every fibre of your being.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him,”We’ll start slow. Look at me.”

His eyes met yours and you could tell he was struggling to keep direct eye contact, he was so flushed already and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

“Keep looking at me,” you asked firm but gentle.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, breaking eye contact.

“That’s alright,” you gave him an encouraging smile,”Maybe we should…take these off.”

Your hands reached for his glasses and you carefully took them off and placed them on the table next to you.

“Is that better?” you asked.

“You’re all blurry now.”

You smiled,“Well, I’ll just have to get a little closer then.” 

You inched closer to him on the couch and Michael turned so you were both facing each other. You were so close to him now you could feel his warm breath on your lips.

“This better?” you asked softly,”Can you see me now?”

Michael nodded nervously, his blue eyes locked with yours.”I see you,” he whispered.

“Good,” you smiled and then you both just stared at each other, letting him get used to being this close to you.

After a little while you carefully moved your hand up to gently trace your fingers over his cheek. His breath hitched at the contact.

“It’s alright,” you whispered and gently cupped his cheek in your hand,”Don’t be nervous, it’s alright.”

Michael’s eyes closed for a moment as he leaned into your palm. You ignored the way your heart melted at the gesture. Then you leaned in closer, his nose gently bumping against yours before you leaned in further and kissed him softly. It was just a peck of your lips against his but it was enough to set off a very unexpected spark in you.

You looked at each other again. Michael’s gaze was hungry but he didn’t move, patiently waiting for you to make the next move and guide him through it.

“Just follow my lead, okay?” you whispered.

“Hmm,” he nodded.

You kissed him again, just as soft as the first one but this time you opened your mouth slightly to move your lips against his and he reciprocated immediately. 

His lips were incredibly soft, as you has expected, and he tasted of mint and the sweet fruity soda he’d been drinking and he kissed you as if you were the best thing he'd ever tasted. When you carefully teased his bottom lip with your tongue he was quick to do the same, slipping his tongue into your mouth and deepening the kiss.

He didn’t need much more guidance after that. His technique might be clumsy and he was a little over eager but he was also a goddamn natural. You felt dizzy from how good it felt to have his lips on yours and after a few minutes you were panting into his mouth and had to stop yourself from crawling into his lap. 

What was happening?

You were clinging to his neck with both hands, needing to touch him but he still hadn’t touched you back. His hands were nervously digging into the fabric of the couch as he whimpered into the kiss.

“Put your hands on me,” you breathed,”Please, Michael.”

He whimpered again at the sound of his name from your lips and then his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he teased your tongue with his and kissed you even deeper.

You were drowning in him. All the other guys you had kissed before were nothing but a distant memory and you’d give them all up in a heartbeat if you could just remember this one kiss. 

Who knew nerds could kiss like that?

You weren’t sure how much time had passed but after a while you leaned back to get some air, your lips red and swollen and still aching for more of him.

Michael’s entire face was flushed a deep red and he was breathing so hard it was making you lose focus.

“Fuck,” he breathed,”Was that…was that okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh and you pressed your forehead against his and nodded while biting your lip.

When Michael noticed he leaned in and bit your lip as well, then pulled you in for another long, slow kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered afterwards,”God…what have you done to me?…I don’t want to stop…I just…please can we keep kissing?”

You innocently kissed his cheek and then moved your lips down, kissing and licking the curve of his neck and his collar bone until Michael whimpered into your ear. His hands firmly clinging to your back.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Michael was cursing under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” 

“I’m..I’m hard,” he confessed with another whimper,”Fuck, I’m so fucking hard.”

You just smiled at him,”Yeah, a few good kisses will do that to you.”

You continued kissing his neck, relishing in the soft little moans spilling from his lips and then you noticed how he was bucking his hips up, seeking for contact that wasn’t there, desperate for some friction or relief.

You moved one hand over his hip and then down to his inner thigh, the huge bulge in his pants was growing right before your eyes and it made you absolutely feral. You hadn’t planned for this at all, you’d just wanted to kiss him and maybe tease him a little bit. But having him squirming under your hands now and moaning so desperately into your ear you realized you wanted to give him so much more.

“You want me to take care of it?” you whispered into his ear, caressing his erection slowly. Michael just moaned and buried his face against your neck while he nodded his head.

“I’m going to assume you’ve never had a blow job before,” you whispered to him,”Would you like one?”

He looked up into your eyes, shock all over his face as he breathed,”I…no, I haven’t…obviously I…fuck…Are you for real?You would…you would do that? With me?”

“Do you want me to?” you asked softly.

“Yes,” he breathed,”God, fuck yes…yes. Please. Please.”

You pulled out of his arms, making him whine in frustration at the loss of contact but it was forgotten quickly when you took his hand and dragged him with you towards the bathrooms. 

Ben smirked at you both as you passed by him but neither you or Michael noticed.

You pushed Michael inside one of the stalls and locked the door behind you.

He was quick to grab you by your hips and push you up against the door while he kissed you again. You reciprocated eagerly, letting your hands caress all over his messy hair, down to his chest and then his stomach.

When you started fumbling with his belt Michael started cursing again, trying his hardest to keep it together. His hands moved over your ass and tried to push up your dress but you stopped him.

“What?” he asked, disappointment all over his pretty face.

“This is about you tonight, not me.”

“No, I wanna touch you, please, let me touch you,” he whined.

“Not tonight,” you pulled his pants down, freeing his erection and it made the both of you gasp out loud, for very different reasons. He was big, exceptionally big, and really beautiful, and so fucking hard. You knew he must have been desperate for that sweet release.

You bit your lip and leaned in to whisper into his ear,”I want to put my mouth on you, Michael, is that okay?”

He nodded quickly, his breathing picking up again. ”Yes, yes,” he whimpered,”Oh god, please…please. It’s so painfully hard, just…just touch it please.”

No guy had ever begged so beautifully before and it had you down on your knees so easily, your eyes looking up at him while you carefully placed your hand over his length and started jerking him, slowly. He sighed in relief at your touch, eyes closing in a blissful moan.

You couldn’t help but smile up at him.”You’d better not cum on me within two seconds, Gavey,” you warned him with a teasing grin.

Michael laughed in between heavy breaths,”Can’t make any promises.”

And then your mouth was on him and all he was left with were heavy moans and whimpers as he fought very hard not to burst on the spot.

His hands were nervously balled into fists until you grabbed them and guided them into your hair, giving him something to hold onto. He caressed your scalp so gently it was pulling at your heart strings and distracted you from what you were doing for a moment. 

You took him deeper into your mouth, all the while jerking the rest of him in your hand. Michael’s fingers tightened into your hair while his hips bucked forward desperately. The moans spilling from his lips were enough to make your cunt throb for him but you had meant what you said. Tonight wasn’t about you. You just wanted to make him feel good and you knew he wasn’t going to last long anyway.

When you started moaning around his cock he was done for and he finally gave in, holding the back of your head while he fucked up into your mouth with hard short thrusts, making tears spill from your eyes and the next thing you knew he was spilling into your mouth with a muffled cry. 

He wanted to pull out but you didn’t let him, keen to swallow every last hot drop and make him cry even more.

“Oh god, oh holy shit, that was…fuck, that was so good,” he was babbling again and trying to catch his breath, coming down from his high and you smirked while you wiped your mouth.

He was quick to pull you back up into his arms and into a deep, hungry kiss.

“Fuck,” he breathed, licking into your mouth,”I can…I can taste myself on your tongue…that’s so fucking hot.”

When he cupped your face he could feel the tears on your cheek and he pulled back, looking at you while he gently wiped them away.

“Made you cry,” he whispered and then he leaned in to place a few soft kisses on your cheeks, taking his time to gently kiss your tears away,”Sorry…I’m sorry.”

His soft and sweet caresses almost made you want to cry for real.

You grabbed his wrists and leaned back,”It’s okay, they’re not real tears, having a dick shoved down your throat will do that to you.”

“Oh. I didn’t…hurt you, did I?”

You smiled softly and shook your head,”No, you didn’t hurt me, Michael, you’re good.”

You wanted to step back but he was quick to place his hands on your hips and keep you in place. His eyes were staring at you, satisfied and tired but also still hungry and you smiled softly and shook your head.

“No, not tonight,” you whispered.

“Come on, why not? Aren’t you horny as fuck right now? Don’t you want me to…touch you?” he leaned in to place a soft lingering kiss on your lips,”Don’t you want me to fuck you?”

You almost gave in right then but you pulled away and shook your head.”Shouldn’t your actual first time be in a soft, comfortable bed with candles and sweet music?” And someone you actually love?

He smirked,”You just sucked me off in a dirty bathroom stall and it was the best experience of my life, you think I care about music and candles?”

You couldn’t help but laugh.”I think you’ve had enough firsts for one night.”

You pushed him back and he didn’t object this time even though his face was clouded in obvious disappointment.

“Next time then?” he asked hopeful and relief flooded his features when you smiled and nodded.

How could you refuse him anything when he looked at you like that? 

You leaned in to place a soft lingering kiss on his lips, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach,“Yeah, maybe next time."

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie asked you on a date. Maybe. Possibly. But you definitely accepted. (5.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, mentions of sex, Reader wears a miniskirt, drinking, tipsiness, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter ten: this foolish lover's game

“I’m telling you: it’s a date.”

Nora flicked through the items on the clearance rack, searching for something in your size. She pulled out a floral shirt, wrinkled her nose, and promptly put it back. 

“It’s 1993. A guy and a girl can hang out without it being something romantic,” you retorted, trying to ignore the fuzziness that filled your head at the potential classification of your upcoming night out with Eddie as a ‘date.’

“Very true. But that’s not the case here.” Nora sighed at the limited clothing choices and at your stubbornness. She stalked over to a rack of regularly-priced skirts, evidently on a mission. “And you know it, too, which is why you asked me to help you choose a new outfit.”

You had done that, though you definitely regretted it now. It had been so long since you’d actually gone out with friends that you really did need new clothes, but you had no idea where to start. 

Enter Nora: best friend extraordinaire. She was just as great at finding clothes that flatter your figure as she was at being a study buddy. Her opinion mattered to you; it was necessary, especially considering the way you currently teemed with self-doubt. 

She plucked a denim miniskirt from the lineup and held it against your waist. “Go try this on,” she said. You reached for the price tag, almost certain that it was out of budget, but she clamped her hand over yours. “My treat. Now, go.”

There was no arguing with her, not while she was shooing you into the dressing room. She clasped your shoulders as she steered you towards a curtain, yanked it open, and shoved you inside. “I’ll wait here,” she said.

You closed the curtain once again, unbuttoning your shorts and letting them fall to the thin carpet below you. 

The skirt hung on its hanger, buttons all along the front, and it was impossible not to imagine Eddie being the one undoing them. His nimble fingers would dance across the seam as he positioned himself between your legs. You could practically feel his hands as they crept further upwards towards that dangerously sensitive part of you—

“Can we stop by the food court when you’re done? I’m dying for one of those cinnamon pretzels.”

The sound of Nora’s voice instantly cooled your heating skin. “Y-Yeah, sure,” you stammered. 

Focus on that, you silently reprimanded yourself. Focus on Auntie Anne’s or Orange Julius or Panda Express—not Eddie tracing his tongue along your inner thighs. 

You stepped into the skirt, warding off any lingering Eddie-related thoughts. Monday night would be like hanging out with Nora or Ben. There was no need to worry about your hair, or your clothes, or your makeup. Eddie was a friend, and only a friend, despite what absurdities your other friends planted in your head. 

With the last button fastened, you allowed yourself to glance at your reflection in the mirror. The denim hugged your curves delicately, providing just a hint of what laid beneath without giving too much away. It looked odd paired with the old t-shirt you’d thrown on this morning, but the right top would make a world of difference. 

Nora clapped her hands together the moment you opened the curtain. Her brown eyes lit up, and a soft squeal of excitement emanated from her throat. 

“You’re gonna have Eddie eating out the palm of your hand,” she declared, reaching out to give you a little spin. 

You gently pulled away from her as though it would offset the fluttering low in your stomach. “I told you, it’s—”

“Yeah, I know. Just two friends going to the bar, pretending they don’t wanna bone each other.” Nora rolled her eyes, already sick of the will they-won’t they song-and-dance. 

You ducked back into the fitting room to change out of the skirt. “He doesn’t wanna bone me.”

“But you wanna bone him?” 

It came out as a question, but you knew she meant as a statement. 

“First of all, stop saying ‘bone.’” You hissed, tugging your shorts back over your legs. “Second, Eddie and I are friends, and he’s taking me out for graduation. End of story.”

Nora’s sigh was audible from the other side of the curtain. “Not ‘end of story.’ You didn’t answer my question. Do you wanna b—have sex with Eddie?”

Your hesitation was enough of an answer for her, and though you couldn’t see her face, you were certain she was grinning when she announced, “I knew it!”

“It’s not like that,” you protested. The fitting room was suddenly far too crowded and depleted of oxygen despite you being its only occupant. You threaded the teeth into your shorts zipper and grabbed the skirt, now heavy in your hand. “Yeah, he’s pretty cute, but—”

“But nothing. C’mon, just admit it: you like Eddie.” You could detect a hint of exasperation in her tone. Frustration, even, or confusion as to why you continually denied yourself life’s small pleasures. 

You couldn’t answer that, either. 

Protest died with the subtle twitch of your lips that gave away the truth. You hated your tells, the ones that swiftly uncovered the feelings you worked diligently to stifle. And you knew that if Nora kept pressing you about this crush, you would eventually break down and divulge it all. 

Not just your burgeoning romantic feelings towards Eddie. Not the way you told bad jokes just to see his lopsided smile and the nose crinkle that often accompanied it. Not the multiple occasions when you caught yourself staring at the muscles in his arms and ached to kiss right along the hardened edge of his biceps. 

Once you said those thoughts out loud, gave them the weight of spoken words, they became real. Able to hurt you when he inevitably didn’t reciprocate them. 

And that terrified you. 

“You have a big ol’ crush on him,” Nora continued, “and he has one on you.”

“He doesn’t have a crush on me,” you mumbled, purposely averting your gaze from hers.

Through peripheral vision, you could see her raise one brow. “Says who?”

Says the song lyrics about his ex-girlfriend. But that was too much to explain, so you slapped on a tight smile and shook the thought away. “Never mind. Let’s just pay for this.”

Nora swiped her credit card with an ease that only comes with the luxury of not having to worry about paying the water bill. She never had to dip into her own savings to keep the lights on. Buying her friend a miniskirt for a maybe-date wasn’t going to affect her grocery budget. 

“I have the perfect pair of Docs to go with this. You can borrow them,” she said, pointedly adding “for your date.” She was either oblivious or didn’t care that the cashier was eavesdropping on your conversation. 

“Not a date.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Nora plucked the bagged skirt from the cashier, flashed her a grateful smile, and shoved it in your direction. “Just answer one question for me—are you gonna wear lace panties underneath this, or cotton?” 

When you once again failed to look at her, her grin widened.  

“That’s what I thought.”

On Monday evening, you found yourself poised in front of the mirror, still fogged from your shower. The inky blue sky leaked into your room through the time-worn blinds, the sun almost fully faded into nighttime, which meant that Eddie would be knocking on your door at any moment. 

The hem of your black fitted t-shirt met the waist of your skirt, the slightest gap between the two fabrics. It wasn’t scandalous by any stretch of the imagination, but it still conveyed one message: you wanted Eddie to look at you. Wanted him to notice your soft skin the way you noticed his flexing muscles, with awe and more lust than you cared to admit. 

Did it all reek of desperation? What if Eddie was wearing the sweatpants he’d donned to remove the wallpaper? Just the possibility of him looking at your own outfit, at the effort you put into your appearance, and realizing you’d interpreted a friendly gesture as a date had you cringing. 

No, this was a bad idea. You had to back out, now. Claim that you weren’t feeling well, maybe even take some ibuprofen in front of him, and promise a raincheck. You did feel the familiar throbbing that accompanied a tension headache, so it wasn’t a total lie—

Knock knock. 

Sweat overrode the antiperspirant you’d lathered on, flooding you with a nervous heat. You frantically wiped your slick palms on the bed sheet like a cat at its scratching post and opened the door. 

Eddie's eyes widened and his tongue brushed over his lower lip. There was no hiding the way his gaze dropped to your exposed thighs, drinking in every ounce of visible skin as though it was the only sustenance he’d ever need. His stare was hungry, if only for a moment, before his words broke the trance. 

“You look…good. Pretty.” He swallowed thickly and forced himself to meet your eyes. “Sorry…just not used to seeing you all dressed up.”

Pretty. Eddie Munson thought you were pretty. The notion sent serotonin surging through you, a soft giggle passing through your lips. It was embarrassing, this schoolgirl crush, the way a simple word from him rendered you pathetically speechless.

A barrage of compliments perched themselves on your tongue, waiting to be untethered. He looked good, too; beyond that, he looked handsome. His cream colored shirt was baggy around his torso but clung to his biceps, drawing your attention to the vein that ran up his forearm. 

You willed yourself to say something, anything, to reciprocate his kind words.   

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, mirroring your nervous energy as he gently rocked from the heel to the toe of his Reeboks. “We should get going,” he said.

Opportunity slipped from your grasp; anything you said now would seem like pity. Your only response was a nod as you locked the door and started towards the lobby.

Pretty. Pretty. Pretty.

Mom stood behind the desk, flipping through the check-in sheets with the  cap end of a pen clenched between her teeth. She looked up, blinking in rapid succession when she saw you and Eddie approaching. You weren’t sure what surprised her more: you going out, or the man accompanying you.

“Well, don’t you two look nice!” She grinned, though the smile didn’t quite reach her tired eyes. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just getting a drink,” you said as casually as you could. “Celebrating my—the wallpaper.” It was a lame finish, one that Mom didn’t quite believe, but she lacked the energy to push further. 

Guilt panged in your chest, not just at the lie, but because part of you felt like you were taking advantage of her exhaustion. You couldn’t tell her the real reason for the celebration; bile rose in your throat at the thought. Instead, you smiled and promised to be home before the start of your shift. 

“I’ll make sure she behaves,” Eddie added with a mischievous edge, not sexual in nature but still had your stomach doing somersaults. “I know she can be quite the troublemaker.”

Mom laughed at this, so pure and genuine that you were half-tempted to ask Eddie if you could stay here and talk with her all night. Maybe he could break the news to her, since they seemed to get on well enough.

You felt her watch as Eddie opened the door for you and gave the tiniest bow to let you pass, though you didn’t dare look back at her. Not because she wouldn’t approve—just the opposite. Looking at your mother would confirm what you already knew deep down: she’d be beaming at the sight of you going on a date. 

If that’s what this was. 

Eddie shuffled to walk right by your side, sneakers scuffing against the broken pavement. A flicker of hope ignited within you that he would do something to confirm that this was, in fact, a romantic endeavor and not just two friends getting a drink. Perhaps an arm slung over your shoulder or a hand laced with yours. 

There was only the gentle brush of his fingers against yours, knuckles grazing one another as they nearly slotted together. It was taunting, the way they could be a perfect fit if given the chance. 

You almost went for it, almost grabbed hold of his hand yourself, but fear had you in its own grasp. Even if the benefit outweighed the risk, you couldn’t stop picturing him tugging his hand away from yours in a humiliating show of rejection. 

“You okay? You’re not, like, mad at me again, are you?” Concern creased Eddie’s brows, and your heavy heart realized that the last time you were this quiet around him was after the argument. 

“Not at all. Sorry.” You shot him a reassuring smile. “Just lost in my own thoughts.” You sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t ask you to elaborate on those thoughts. 

Luckily, he just tilted his head towards you, his eyes taking on an even more doe-like quality than usual. “That’s the problem with you smart people: you’re always thinking too much.”

You laughed as you nudged him, your right shoulder colliding with his left. He stumbled slightly, quickly catching himself before he could fully lose his balance. 

“Hey!” He yelped, rubbing his upper arm. The muscles beneath it flexed at his touch. “Don’t damage the merchandise.”

“I wouldn’t dare. I…” You shook your nerves loose and faced him, speaking before you fully lost yourself in his full, waiting lips. “I’d never damage merchandise as priceless as you.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks, the compliment seemingly rebooting his brain. Was it too forward? No, it couldn’t have been; he’d called you pretty just moments before. And it wasn’t as if you’d been forward enough to say he was sexy (though he was) or accidentally emasculated him by pointing out how adorable his soft dimples were (another fact). 

His exhale was a disbelieving chuckle. “I, uh, don’t think anyone’s called me ‘priceless’ before. ‘Worthless,’ maybe, but…” He trailed off in an attempt to contain it as a lighthearted joke, but it was anchored by an undeniable truth. 

If you could, you would wash away the ego-marring stains left behind by those who hurt him. Scrub and scrub until it was once again pristine as though they’d never been tarnished by self-doubt. 

“Priceless.” You said it definitively, leaving no room for further argument. 

Eddie ducked behind his hair, letting the curly locks dangle over his mouth to mask his flustered smile. You were willing to bet that a blush was spreading across the apples of his cheeks. 

Curiosity loosened your inhibitions enough for you to reach out and tuck a few strands behind his ear. Sure enough, a delicate pink tinged his skin. You wanted to kiss it until your lips grew swollen from where his stubble scratched them raw.

Doing that would require something far more potent than inquisitiveness. 

There was a decent crowd that night, not as packed as the weekend would have been, but there were enough people that only one empty stool remained in front of the bar. Eddie gestured to it, offering you the seat just as he had on the subway last week. 

You tucked the denim fabric of your skirt behind your thighs as you sat. Eddie watched every movement, an unreadable desire darkening his expression, as if he wished it were his fingers on your skin. 

Your smile seemed to snap him from his trance. He waved down the bartender, who held up her forefinger to signal she would be right over. 

A shadow draped over you as you scanned the liquor-cluttered shelves, bathing you in a welcoming darkness. Protection. Eddie’s arms framed your torso, his hands planted firmly on the bartop. And when you lightly grasped his wrist, your thumb rubbing against the soft hairs on his arm, you could have sworn you felt the tension leave his body in one swift exhale.

“What are you gonna get?” The grainy pop music playing from the speakers and a cacophony of neighboring conversations muffled his voice, and he had to shout just to be heard. 

“A vodka tonic.” Simple, classic, and most importantly—not expensive. Though you probably should let him be the judge of that, considering it was his treat. “If that’s okay?”

Eddie laughed softly and nodded. “It’s your night, Heiress.” The tip of his tongue swiped over his lower lip. 

He ordered your drink first, then placed his order for whatever beer was on tap before declining to open a tab. Your chest went slightly concave; you should have followed his lead and ordered the cheaper option. 

As if sensing your guilt, Eddie pulled back enough to look you in the eye. “It’s your night,” he repeated, grabbing your short, stout glass and placing it in your hand. He raised his own taller mug, proposing a toast. “To a badass future social worker and all of the lives she’s gonna change. For the better,” he added quickly. 

Before he could clink his glass to yours, you locked eyes with him. The brown eyes that steeled themselves against you the night he first checked into the motel were now pillow-soft, beckoning you to fall. He may not have even been aware of it himself. 

“To the coolest rockstar I know,” you said, allowing the lips of your glasses to touch. “And the second-coolest guest to ever stay at the motel.”

Eddie raised a brow. “Second?”

“You really think you’re cooler than Phyllis?”

“Touché.” He relented with a smirk, taking a swig of his drink that left a foamy mustache on his upper lip. Without a second thought, he licked it away. 

The movement enraptured you: his tongue swiping over his skin, leaving no residue in its wake. That same tongue that peeked out from his mouth when he was focused, a simple muscle, but it held your attention for a beat too long. 

“Are you…” Eddie gestured towards your vodka tonic, and you realized you hadn’t even taken a sip. 

Cheers to embarrassing yourself ten minutes into the date. Non-date. Whatever it was. 

The vodka’s bitterness and the bubbles from the tonic water seeped into your tongue. You savored the burn as you swallowed. It had been so long since you’d had a drink, and just the first taste had you buzzing. If you didn’t pace yourself properly, you’d be tipsy far too soon. 

The sound system crackled and microphone feedback shot through the bar. You and Eddie winced in unison, each taking a gulp of your drinks. 

A man in his mid-thirties, balding with a goatee, stood at a makeshift stage at the back of the bar. “Welcome to Music Mondays here at The Brink. That’s right…it’s karaoke night!”

There was a smattering of applause that didn’t  match the emcee’s enthusiasm, but he remained undeterred. 

“Sign up here with your name and your song, and we’ll get started in a few minutes. Drink that liquid courage and come on down!” The microphone screeched once more as he slid it back into the stand. 

You turned to Eddie, your eyes wide with mischief. “You’re gonna do it, right?”

Eddie scoffed. “Fuck, no. I’m not getting up there and making a fool of myself.”

“But it’s my night,” you reminded him. “You said so yourself.”

He looked poised to argue, one hand gripped tightly around the mug’s handle, his mouth ready to say no. But then you batted your eyelashes and pouted, all in jest. A dramatic showing that you didn’t expect would convince him. 

A wry smile betrayed his tough exterior as his thumb ghosted your lower lip. Lightning crackled at his touch, soft as it was, illuminating your bones and surging through your veins. When he pulled back, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, a light red stain tinged his skin. If he noticed it, he made no attempt to wipe it off. 

“It is your night,” he mused, gaze flickering to your mouth before promptly returning to your eyes. When you lit up in anticipation of him conceding, he couldn’t help but grin back. “One song. And I’m choosing it.”

You couldn’t argue with him, not when his touch still lingered on your lip. He disappeared for a moment to add his name to the list. As soon as he was out of sight, you took a much larger gulp of your drink. A trickle escaped out of the corner of your mouth, and you haphazardly swiped at it with the back of your hand, lest it ruin the shirt you’d picked out especially for the date. 

This isn’t a date. The reminder was as harsh as the vodka itself. You lifted the glass once more and drained it until the half-melted ice cubes clicked against your teeth. Whatever this evening was, you needed to relax. Enjoy Eddie’s company without reading too much into his every move. 

You turned your attention to the TV mounted above the shelves, engrossing yourself in the scrolling closed captions. A weatherman announced that this summer was going to be a ‘scorcher,’ and though he said it with a plastic grin, you inwardly cringed at the impact the air conditioning would have on the electric bill. 

“I’m up third.” Eddie’s voice broke in, turning the upcoming weather into a distant memory. He raised his brows when he saw your glass, now empty on the sticky bartop. “You finished that already?”

“Mhm.” Your smile was sloppier than you intended, your head starting to float from your neck as tipsiness crept in. 

Eddie breathed out, shaking his head with a glimmer of a smirk. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or impressed, and you didn’t have time to ask before he waved over the bartender. “Just water, please.” He nodded his thanks when she slid it over. “Drink,” he said to you, and you dutifully obliged. 

“What song did you pick out?” Something that is supposed to be screamed more than sung, you assumed. 

He just shook his head again and swallowed more beer. “It’s a surprise.” His eyes twinkled when he said it, and you wondered if his choice erred more on the side of Madonna than Metallica. 

A woman got up on stage and began her rousing rendition of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. 

Peppy? Upbeat? A great way to kick off karaoke night? Absolutely. 

On-key? Not even close. 

“If you ever start a new band, you should ask her to join.” You chinpointed towards the woman currently butchering the Cyndi Lauper classic. “She’s got that star power, I think.”

Eddie snorted but composed himself quickly to play into your joke. “I’m worried she’d outshine me.” He widened his eyes in faux concern. “Go solo and leave me behind, y’know?”  

“She’ll probably steal all of your groupies, too,” you added, tutting as if to say, what a shame. 

“Even you?”

You cocked your brow. “Who said I’m your groupie?”

He leaned his elbow against the bar, mouth slackjaw at your rejection. Disbelieving laughter left his throat in a huff. 

“I take you out, treat you to the best watered-down drink this city has to offer, and this is the thanks I get?” His curls brushed against his cheeks when he shook his head. “Who would you be a groupie for? Wait, no; lemme guess.” He tapped his finger to his chin. “New Kids on the Block? Boyz II Men?”

“I think I’d die if Joey McIntyre so much as looked at me.” You hadn’t meant to say that aloud. The watered-down or not, the alcohol was certainly turning sober thoughts into tipsy words. 

Eddie chugged half of the beer, watching as the woman on stage finished her song and left with a triumphant bow. “Pretty sure your shitty taste in music is what plays at the gates of Hell,” he said to you. 

Your response was a mere flick of your middle finger. 

A man in a suit took the stage next, loosening his tie as he positioned himself behind the microphone. A group of similarly-dressed men started hooting and hollering obnoxiously the moment the opening chords to Don’t Stop Believin’ blared through the sound system.

You looked back to Eddie. If he was nervous about singing karaoke, he didn’t show it. His shoulders were relaxed, his posture much less tense than on the walk to the bar. Maybe the alcohol loosened him up as it had you. 

“What about you?” You asked. “Whose groupie would you be?”

“Easy,” he said, not missing a beat. “Joan Jett. Total badass, killer musician, and hot as hell.” He nodded to confirm his choice before leaning in and loudly whispering. “Bad Reputation was basically my secret anthem in high school.”

You laughed. “Did you imagine it playing in the background when you walked down the halls?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Eddie grinned and polished off his beer. 

His confession warmed you—or maybe that was just the vodka working its way through your bloodstream. Regardless, you were intrigued by the glimpse into his past and found yourself hungry for more. 

“Can I ask you a non-groupie related question?”

“Shoot.”

Your tongue was heavy, the resulting slurring softening your words. “If your hometown is so shitty, why are you trying to go back?”

He loosened a chuckle, glancing at the shelves of booze before looking back to you. “My uncle still lives there. He, ah, he raised me after my dad split and my mom…y’know.” Eddie cleared his throat and managed a small smile. “Why? You want me to stick around?” 

The hair on his forearm tickled when he slid it over to nudge you, his pinky finger overlapping yours. 

Of course you wanted him to stick around. You’d smear honey all over the motel’s siding to lure more bees, tempt them to build their nests among the sticky sweetness, just so he would have a reason to stay. 

The man on stage belted out his final “don’t stop believin’” as his buddies enveloped him in drunken hugs. 

“All right!” The emcee bleated into the microphone. “Next up, we have…” He checked the sign-up sheet. “…Eddie! Let’s give him a hand, folks.”

A smattering of applause echoed throughout the room, the excitement of karaoke night already dwindling. If Eddie noticed, he didn’t show it. 

“This one’s for you, Heiress.” He winked and sprinted towards the stage. 

Eddie pressed his foot on the microphone stand, adjusting it so it was level with his lips. His fingers curled around its neck, dramatically tugging it closer as the instrumentals piped through the sound system.

Well, since my baby left me Well, I found a new place to dwell Well, it's down at the end of Lonely Street At Heartbreak Hotel

His hips swung back and forth, the gyrations not quite as precise as Elvis’s, but he still snapped them in time with the staccato guitar chords. The right heel of his sneakers tapped the floor as he continued, voice dipping into his lower register.

Where I'll be, I'll be so lonely, baby  Well, I'm so lonely  I'll be so lonely, I could die

Free hand pressed to his heart, Eddie leaned in your direction and tilted the mic stand while he sang. The movements were reminiscent of how a man would dance with someone he loved, impassioned yet graceful. Charisma oozed from every pore, his natural command of the stage an enduring reminder of his brief foray into rock stardom.   

The other patrons faded into the background as his eyes fixed on you, a personal serenade rather than karaoke night amongst a sea of drunks. Easiness weaved through each note he sang, his body loosening and his lips curving into a smile when you let out a vodka-fueled whoop of admiration. 

Now, the bellhop's tears keep flowin'  And the desk clerk's dressed in black  Well, they've been so long on Lonely Street  Well, they'll never, they'll never look back

Eddie pointed to you when he referenced the desk clerk, the crowd following his every move. The heat of their stares only exacerbated the warmth that the alcohol already sent coursing through you, but you felt no need to hide. The rich timbre of his voice was a magnetic pull, drawing you in until it echoed deep in your bones. 

Although it's always crowded  But you still can find some room  For broken hearted lovers  To cry there in their gloom  Where they get so, they get so lonely, baby  Well, they're so lonely  They'll be so lonely, they could die

He ended the song with one final swing of his hips, one foot turned inward in an Elvis-esque pose. If anyone else applauded for him, it couldn’t be heard over the sound of your cheers. 

He made a beeline for you. “Did that live up to your expectations?” Sweat dripped from his flushed forehead and down his temples. 

“Exceeded them, actually.” 

The bartender slid over two shot glasses filled with amber liquid. “On the house,” she explained when you and Eddie looked at her in confusion. 

You shouldn’t. The TV set that broadcasted the news showed that it was nearly nine o’clock and you were already tipsy from the one drink. Adding a shot—and subsequently mixing liquor—was a recipe for disaster. 

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t wanna,” Eddie said. “I’ll take them both.”

With a shake of your head, you took the glass nearest you and downed it, the whiskey burning stronger than you had anticipated. Tears reflexively welled in your eyes, leaving you clinging to the hope that you had blinked them away before Eddie could notice.

He let out a soft, low whistle. “Well, okay then.” His own shot disappeared past his grimacing lips.

A familiar synthesized beat replaced the idle hum of conversation as a middle-aged woman began her song. Eddie threw back his head when he heard it, groaning as though the ‘80s hit left him in agony.

“You’re such a music snob,” you lamented, reaching out with both of your hands to grab onto his. If this is what liquid courage felt like, you were more than happy to ride that wave. “There’s more to life than heavy metal.”

“I just sang Elvis!” He protested, but his efforts were all in vain as you hopped off of the barstool and led him away from your empty shot glasses. “Heiress…” His tone was a warning, one that you promptly ignored.

You let your gaze meet his, the vodka-and-whiskey combination working overtime to stifle your nerves. 

“Dance with me.”

Eddie laughed. “You’re tipsy.”

“I’m tipsy and I want you to dance with me.” 

“You wanna dance, huh?” He laughed again when you nodded. “All right; let’s dance.” 

Eddie’s hands slid down to your wrists and adjusted your arms so they draped over his shoulders, his curls tickling your fingers when they clasped behind his neck. He hesitated for a second before letting his own fingertips rest on your waist, careful to avoid dipping below the small of your back.

Watching, I keep waiting, still anticipating love  Never hesitating to become the fated ones  

The current performer was marginally better than the first two, but her voice wasn’t nearly as polished as Eddie’s. She kept getting too close to the mic, the lyrics muffled each time her purple-lipsticked mouth grazed the cover. 

You inched forward, your chest against Eddie’s as the two of you swayed in tandem. His fingers flexed before tugging you closer, evidence that you weren’t the only one affected by the shot. 

“Can’t remember the last time I heard this song,” he mused wistfully. “Probably my senior prom. The last one, anyway.”

“You had more than one senior prom?”

His cheeks, already pinkened from the liquor, flushed a deeper shade of red. “Yeah, it, uh, took me a few tries to graduate,” Eddie admitted. “But I did it.” A sheepish smile still held a twinge of pride. 

“You did it.”

“Yeah.” One arm reached back to grasp your hand and twirl you around, and you breathed an audible sigh of relief when the room didn’t spin with you. “But tonight,” he grinned, “is all about you.” 

You. Not the motel or its crumbling financial infrastructure. Not the guests or your parents. Not school or exams or term papers. Just you. 

An involuntary giggle wriggled its way up and you ducked your head to hide it, your forehead brushing against Eddie’s lips. Did he purse them slightly in a hint of a kiss, or was that a figment of your imagination?

Turning and returning to some secret place inside  Watching in slow motion as you turn my way and say  Take my breath away

“You okay?” Eddie asked, a smile in his voice.

“Mhm. Just happy.”

“Yeah? Good.” His forefinger tucked under your chin and tilted it upwards, granting him a better look at you. The tip of his tongue parted his lips and swiped over the whiskey-scented residue. “You deserve to be happy.”

You did deserve to be happy. You deserved joyful moments in your life, people who surrounded you in sunshine even when rain poured.

My love, take my breath away  My love, take my breath away

You deserved Eddie.

Standing before you, his eyes never strayed from your form, flicking from your face to where his hands gripped your waist. His chest rose and fell in time with the music. 

“I…” You swallowed your fear, already tempered by tipsiness, curling your fingers into the back of his ribbed t-shirt collar. 

Desire rippled down your spine and you leaned in to close that godforsaken gap, already tasting him on your tongue. 

But not before he pulled away. 

--

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[the20thangel]

The Dragon and The Raven Chapter 12: Funeral Pyre and New Beginnings

Chapter Summary: As the Targaryen, Velayrons, and Blackwoods say goodbye to Prince Jacaerys, a new life begins. A baby for House Blackwood and Targaryen. A new rider for Seasmoke.

Tags: Child birth, funeral

Word count: 3.8k

Taglist: @callsignwidow @whimsicalmystic02 @mercedesdecorazon @rhaenyrathecruelwithteats @ithilwen-blackwood @poppyflower-22 @alastorhazbin

(please let me know if I missed someone)

Keep track of the story: Masterlist

Wails of pain rang out throughout the halls of Dragonstone. Maids and servants go in and out of Princess Aemma's birthing chamber. The princess lay on the bed, sweating, her hair messy and knotted. As she took haggard breaths in between sobs, she tried her best to push her child out of her body, but no matter how much she did, they would not come. Her Grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, with tears running down her face, tried as best she could to comfort her sea dragon, but to no avail. 

“Please…please… I want him…please,” begged Aemma, reaching her hand out for the person she was looking desperately looking for. 

Elinda sobs as she turns away, memories of Rhaenyra’s tragic birth of Visneya coming back to her mind. Her Queen and Princess, history repeating itself. She could only pray that the gods would be merciful this time to help the princess give birth to her child. 

“My princess, he will come soon. You must push for your son,” the midwife pleaded, unsure if she was talking about her child or her husband. Poor child, the midwife thought. 

Aemma just sobbed more, trying her best to be strong, and gave another weak push before the midwives made her stop, telling her to rest for a while. All were getting worried; it had been nearly ten hours and nothing. As Rhaenys moved the hair from her granddaughter's face, Aemma turned to her; her heart broke even more from seeing her in such a state. 

Rhaenys turned and quietly asked a servant if she knew where the queen was. The servant girl answered, saying the queen was still with the prince’s body. Rhaenys exhaled through her nose. She could not imagine being Rhaenyra and choosing where to be with her daughter or son. She nodded to the girl and focused again on Aemma, leaning in to hear what the princess was whispering. 

Aemma turned to her grandmother, grasping at her hand when another wave of pain hit her, trying her best not to push since the midwives told her to hold in. She quietly began to whisper.

“Please, bring him to me…” pleaded Aemma, her brows creasing from the pain. 

“Who sweet, girl… who are you asking for…” Pondered Rhaenys, looking for answers as the princess gave a loud groan of pain. 

Groaning, Aemma raised her voice into a scream: " Him… jace… Luke… BEN… I WANT THEM HERE……AH!” 

Aemma could no longer hold it; she needed to push. Raising her body, she pushed with all her might, pleading for her babe to get out. Still, nothing came as the princess flopped herself to the bed, exhausted. Rhaenys, feeling helpless, began to shout to the midwives and the maesters to find something, a drink, an herb, or a technique to help the princess. 

In the corner, she silently stood, Baela, watching her step-sister struggle to bring life into the world. She could not help but feel in awe of Aemma’s strength she was displaying given the circumstances. Even if it didn’t look like it, to keep pushing and not giving up, she didn’t know if she would have been able to if she was in her position. Seeing Aemma plead again, Baela decided she needed to help, and the only way she could think about was to bring Benjicot faster to Dragonstone. Baela pushed through the crowd, ignoring the protests as she leaned into Aemma’s ear, whispering her plan. Aemma panted, looking at her, and with a weary smile, she nodded, encouraging Balea to run out of the room. 

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

Rhaenyra was silent, crying on her son’s cold chest. Jacaerys’ body was moved to his chambers, and a few maids volunteered to prepare the prince’s body for his funeral pyre. As Rhaenyra mourned, her heart clenched with every wail she heard coming from Aemma’s birthing chamber. She was torn; she wanted to be there for her little girl, but her body would not move. As she took another shaky breath, a servant came in quietly. She whispered to her Queen that the maesters were becoming worried for Princess Aemma’s health. She was getting weaker and weaker as the hours progressed, with no sign of her babe coming out. They wanted to consult with the queen for the next course of action. 

This made Rhaenyra's blood freeze; surely they wouldn’t dare to advise her… she would never do what her father did to her mother…Never. Becoming angry, Rhaenyra asked the maids to prepare her son as she hurried down the hall into Aemma’s chambers. Rhaenyra recoiled at the scent of blood coming out of the room.  She nearly sobbed, seeing her darling girl suffering, pushing her way to her daughter’s side. She quickly kissed her brow, letting her know she was finally here for her daughter. 

Aemma whimpered as her mother kissed her brow; she was terrified. 

“Muna…please…I can’t do it anymore…I… I don’t want to die…” cried Aemma, closing her eyes in despair as her mother hushed her. 

“Don’t speak like that, my pearl, you will not die… you are the blood of the dragon…you are fierce and strong.” comforted Rhaenyra, sorrowful as she saw her daughter shake her head. 

“I heard the maesters… they fear…my babe could die…please help me, Muna,” slurred the princess, her chest falling up and down heavily. 

Rhaenys and Rhaenyra glared at the maester, who started sweating at the sight of the intensity of the purple eyes. 

Rhaenyra kissed her daughter’s crown, turning her face as she spoke, “Yes, you can. You are Crown Princess Aemma Velayron of Houses Targaryen and Velayron. You have the Blood of Old Valyria. You do not hide from battle but go headfirst to protect those you love. This is a different battle, but nonetheless, this is a battlefield we women face at one point in our lives. You must track through this battle with the confidence and strength of a dragon. Your babe is ready to come into this world. They felt your sorrow and wanted to comfort you. I will be here, and I know I am not who you wish to be on your side right now, but when your babe finally enters, I will gladly place them in your arms. You both will survive this battle, so when I say go, you will take a great inhale and push with all your might.” 

Aemma nodded at her mother, feeling a new strength come over her. As Rhaenyra commanded her, she inhaled, pressing all her might, letting out a gruntle yell, and began pushing again. 

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

Benjicot was anxious, but he couldn’t pinpoint the reason why. He just woke up with the sensation. He felt that maybe Harrenhal was starting to affect him, but he also thought it might be that he had yet to receive a raven back from Aemma. It was not like her to wait too long to reply to his ravens. Aly tried to calm him, claiming that Aemma might have been busy or too tired to respond as quickly as before. As he tried to convince himself, he couldn't help but let his mind wander. Benji was breaking his fast with his good father, Cregan, and his aunt. He thought he heard dragon wings in the distance as he pushed his food around. When a servant came running in, holding a raven for Daemon. Demon slowly raised his head, looking tired again, and opened the letter. Before the Rouge Prince could start reading, Baela burst into the hall, causing everyone to stiffen. 

Daemon stood shocked, “Daughter, why are-”

Baela shook her head, tears streaming down her face; she turned to Benjioct, whose heart dropped to his stomach. Did something happen to Aemma? 

“Ben, you need to come with me quick, Aemma… she is struggling to give birth, and Jace-” Baela couldn’t finish her sentence as a sob ripped out of her throat. 

Benjicot stood with such force, his chair banging on the floor, that he ran to Baela, grabbed her arms, and shook her. 

“What happened? Aemma is not due yet, so why does Jacaerys have to do with her giving birth?”

“Benjicot, unhand her!” cried Aly as she ran and separated her nephew from the lady. 

She understood him and was worried for the princess, but getting upset at Lady Baela would not answer anything. 

Daemon looks at the scene in front of him, nearly wanting to slice the Blackwood lord for roughing handling his daughter. When he glanced at the letter that burned to be opened and read, it was from Dragonstone; quickly, he opened the letter, his blood running cold as he read. Jace was dead, and Aemma, in her anguish, began her births early. His son was dead, and his daughter was fighting for her and her child’s life. His dragons… Daemon shouted angrily as he slammed his fist on the table, causing everyone to pause, looking at the King Consort in fear. 

Swirling, he faces his daughter with grief-stricken disbelief. Baela sucked in a short breath, knowing that her father now knew what was happening to their family. She nodded in confirmation to her father. 

Daemon was conflicted about leaving Harrenhal and possibly giving the greens the advantage over the Riverlands or going to his family in their most dire need. Baela saw her father’s internal battle, but she did not care; if he wanted to contemplate what he believed was more important, he could stay, but Aemma needed her husband. 

“Please, Ben, just come. I’ll explain everything on the way; you just need to go to Dragonstone.” beseeched Baela, hoping he would quickly follow. 

Benjicot nodded as he turned to his aunt, who wordlessly confirmed she would stay and take charge of House Blackwood until his return. His wife and child came first. As Balea and Ben ran out of the hall, ignoring the concerned looks of the men, Baela walked to Moondancer, asking her dragon for this once to allow a second passenger. As the dragon gazed at the lord, Benji stood cautiously. He wanted to get to his wife fast, but he knew better than to rush to a dragon unless he wanted to risk being decapitated. Moondancer crawled his body to the lord, analyzing Benji and sniffing, judging if he should be allowed. After a moment, Moondancer lowered his body, permitting Baela and Benjicot to climb him. Quickly, the two sat themselves, Baela noticing Caraxes going to the entrance of the ruined fortress, with a figure running towards the long-necked dragon. Giving the command, Moondancer soared into the air, flying as fast as he could to Dragonstone. 

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

Back at the castle, Rhaenyra and Rhaenys grinded their teeth through the pain in their hands. Aemma had a death grip on them as she continued to push. Both women guided her breathing to ensure she placed the correct energy in her pushing. The midwives started expressing joy to the Targaryen women; the babe's head was out, and two more pushes should be enough to bring the child out of the princess's body. 

Rhaenyra sobbed in relief. She turned to Aemma, “You are so close ñuha prūmia, nearly there, two more pushes.” 

Aemma nodded as she breathed in; she raised her body again and gave a push, feeling some tension slowly releasing, everyone around her expressing joy; her babe was almost here. As she prepared for her final push, she began to hear Sliverwing, Syrax, Vermithor, and Seasmoke singing. All dragons were feeling the emotions of their riders. With one final yell, the tension was released. The midwives' relieved cheers resounded through the air as a small whimper leading into a wail lifted the hearts of those in the room. 

“A boy, my princess! A beautiful boy!” celebrated Elinda Massey, who handed the baby to Rhaenyra. 

Rhaenyra let tears flow down her cheeks; she was a grandmother. Her heart broke slightly as she took in the baby’s features. He looked so much like Lucerys, Jacaerys, and Joffrey when they were born. She kissed the babe’s crown, turning to her tired daughter. 

Aemma was leaning on pillows stacked behind her back, and seeing her mother’s tears also made her emotional. Her boy was here, but not his father. She felt guilty that Benji missed their son's birth, but as the baby was placed in her arms, she thought it was worth it. He was perfect; he had lighter skin than hers, and Ben’s beautiful dark hair seemed to want to curl like hers and her brother’s. As she caressed his face, her baby opened his eyes, purple staring at purple. Aemma grinned as she kissed her son's forehead, causing the baby to sigh and snuggle to his mother’s chest. 

Outside the window, Seasmoke passed the room, chirping and singing. The dragon knew his rider was finally in the world. Aemma tearily grinned, hearing her father’s now son’s dragon coming to greet her son. As she let Rhaneys take him to the window for Seasmoke to see. Aemma finally let herself grieve. Yes, she was happy her son was alive and in her arms, but her brother was gone. Her brother, who, as a child, expressed how he wanted their children to have a close bond like siblings. Her brother, who confessed to her a moon ago, would petition to marry Baela quickly because he and Baela wanted to give a cousin to her son. 

She barely accepted that Luke wouldn’t be here, and now she had to admit that Jace wouldn’t either. She cried for her sweet brothers. The world was too cruel for them. They could not help the circumstances of their birth or their hair color. She knew the rumors about Ser Harwin and her mother but did not care. Jacaerys and Lucerys were her brothers; Laenor raised both. That was all that should have mattered, but a bitter green queen ruined everything. Now, because of her and her poisoned words, her brothers were gone. 

Rheanyra, seeing her daughter’s tears, hugged her, hushing and comforting her.

“I know, sweet girl, I wish they were here too,” she whispered as she kissed her cheek. 

Aemma weakly smiled at her mother, taking her baby back from her grandmother. As she began to feed him, she turned back to them. 

“I wish to see him…” Aemma muttered. 

Rhaenyra and Rhaenys share a look. They knew she would want to see Jace, but she should not put too much strain on herself, not after such hard labor. 

Rhaenys sighed, “I know, but you will need to wait. You had a difficult labor, and your body is still weak. Let your body rest and bond with your boy. Then we will help you see your brother. Nothing will be done until Baela returns,” Rhaenys assured her as she combed her granddaughter's hair. 

Aemma sighed, knowing they were right. Feeling tired, she asked her mother to keep her son safe. Laying down, while closing her eyes, she wished Ben was here. 

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

After a day, two dragons arrived in Dragonstone, with three people jumping off and running to the castle. As Ben burst into the castle, making a maid jump in fright, he quickly apologized, asking her where Princess Aemma was. The maid answered that the whole family was in Prince Jacaerys chambers. Nodding, he followed his good father and Baela to Jace’s room. As the guard opened the door, they saw a melancholy sight. Aemma was sitting to Jace’s right, holding a red and black bundle in her arms. Rhaenyra is behind her daughter, leaning on the wall with her eyes closed. To the left were Corlys and Rhaenys, with Rhaneys humming a lullaby, staring at Jace.  In the foot of the bed stood Addam and Alyn Velayron with their heads bowed.

 Hearing the chambers open, Aemma raised her sight, gasping at the people. Everyone turned and nodded at the three. Ben first moved to his wife, stopping to bow to his good mother before turning to Aemma, kneeling in front of her. Aemma smiled at him, looking at him with love and grief. 

“You’re finally here…” whispered Aemma, leaning into her husband’s kiss, making sure not to squish their son. 

Benji gave another kiss and apologized for not being at her side sooner, which Aemma waved off; he couldn’t have known. As she moved slightly back, she rose from her seat, telling her mother she would take a walk with Benjicot. As the queen nodded, Ben took hold of his wife and left the Prince’s room. As they walked out to the courtyard, Ben stared at his son. He had a son; looking at him, he couldn’t tell if he looked more like him or Aemma. 

Aemma, seeing his gaze, smiled and kissed her son’s cheek, making the baby stretch and open his eyes. The baby stared at his father for the first time. As Ben took in his son’s eyes, he rejoiced; he had hoped their children would inherit Aemma’s eye color. Expressing his thoughts, Aemma let out a quiet giggle. 

“He may have my eyes, but he is pure Blackwood, just like his father,” Aemma explained happily. She loved how, every day, her son looked more and more like Ben. Of course, there were a few differences, mainly in his hair texture; her son was graced with her curls. 

As the princess handed her son to Ben, Seasmoke sang again, landing in the quiet courtyard with as much grace as a dragon could have. Crawling to the small family, he sniffed Benjioct briefly before turning his head to their son. The babe turned his purple eyes to the grey dragon, his face scrunching as he yawned, snuggling further into his father’s arms. 

Aemma smiled, “I fear we will never be able to separate them once he is older.” 

Benji smiled; he did not mind if it meant his boy would always be protected. As the family and dragon stood in tranquility, Aemma turned to Benji. 

“He needs a name; I did not want to give him one without your input.” 

Benjicot smiled at her, touched by how much she thought of him. He hummed while looking at his son; he would once ask for him to be named after his twin, Davos, but looking at him now. His son did not seem like a Davos. As he suggested Jacaerys or Lucerys, Aemma teared up, shaking her head. 

“No, he doesn’t look like a Jace or Luke…I don’t think I could name my child after my brothers, at least not yet… it's too soon.” 

Benji smirked slightly, teasing his wife, “But maybe one day if we have more children.” 

Aemma flushed at her husband’s teasing, “I will have all the children you wish to give me, my love. I will proudly carry them as long as my body permits me to.” 

Benji groaned at his princess's words, kissing her lips. If only she knew how much power she had over him. He would give every babe she desired from him. Smiling into his kiss, the dragon princess separated herself, returning to the question of names. 

Trying to remember the names he briefly read from a Valyrian book here, he remembered one that he felt could still honor Jace. 

“What about Jaesys… it still a unique name while honoring your brother?” said Benji, looking at his wife’s reaction. 

Aemma’s eyes widened to her son, Jaesys; she liked the name. Touched by Ben's always-considerate nature, she smiled and agreed. Jaesys Blackwood, first of his name, heir to House Blackwood and the scion of houses Velayron and Targaryen. 

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

After Aemma and Benjicot left, everyone else besides the queen departed to prepare for the Prince’s funeral. Walking to his son, seeing his ghostly color and closed eyes, Daemon wanted to rage; another of his boys was lost to those greens. In the background, Rhaenyra stared at her husband, wishing she could understand his thoughts. She was upset with him yes, but it did not mean she stopped loving him. Walking to sit next to her son, she saw Daemon walk closer to her. He kneeled infront of her as he took Jace’s hand, crying at the loss. 

Here was another reason she loved him: even if he did not sire them, Daemon loved every single one of her children from her first marriage, taking them as his own and loving them as fiercely as he did with his daughters from Laena. Both parents closed their eyes, mourning their dutiful and caring son. 

Rising, he gazed at his wife. Daemon stood, kissing her on her cheek, making Rhaenyra look at him. 

“I love you…” he stated, taking a loose strain in his hands. 

Rhaenyra tearfully smiled at her husband, “I love you.” she assured him. 

She did love him; she was just upset at his actions. He was rash, doing things he meant to show as a sign of his love and protection without seeing the more immense consequences. Nevertheless, she loved him; he was her blood-bonded husband and twin flame, always burning for each other. 

“They will pay for this… the greens-” 

“Shh…” interrupted Rhaenyra, taking her husband’s head to her chest as they both began to cry again. She knew this was his way of grieving, but they would not talk about revenge, not today. Today was just about saying goodbye to their son. 

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

Houses Blackwood, Targaryen, and Velayron stood by the cliff, looking at the pyre holding Prince Jacaerys’ body. Daemon and Rhaenyra were at the front, with Aemma, Baela, Jaesys, and Benjicot at the queen’s side. Ben was holding the babe as Aemma and Balea leaned onto each other. Corlys, Rhaneys, Addam, and Alyn at Daemon’s side. All were looking at the prince with sadness. Corlys looked to his family, clearing his throat; he would be the one to give the speech before someone lit the pyre. 

“Prince Jacaerys was a true prince. He knew the hardships of duty and never faltered from them. He knew what he needed to do to support his family, fighting bravely for them. But he was more than that; he loved fiercely. His duty was based on love. Everyone here was touched by his love in some shape and form. We mourn the kind, respectful, honorable, loving, and fierce prince. We hope his family that has passed will greet him in the Realm of Balerion. May his soul rest.” 

Everyone bowed their heads with tears streaming down their faces. As they turned to Rhaenyra, she sobbed, closing her eyes. She couldn’t do it… she could not light this pyre had she not done it enough times already. As they all saw her struggle, Aemma walked forward, her eyes red from crying. She looked at all the dragons present: Sliverwing, Vermithor, Grey Ghost, Caraxes, Syrax, Seasmoke, and Moondancer. All dragons stared at her, gulping at their power; she turned back to her brother’s body, Whispering the words Dracarys. 

A beat passed, and then all gasped as Seasmoke walked up first, blowing a short flame to the pyre. Leanor’s dragon said goodbye, and as Seasmoke stepped back, each dragon took turns stepping up and breathing more fire into the pyre, ending with Syrax. As the golden lady finished sending her flames, she screeched, leading the other dragons to screech, all seemingly mourning like their riders for the Dragon Prince. 

Daemon stared at the flames as he whispered, “He was a true dragon.”

[janetsboys]

gally x female reader pleaseeee anything

here you go baby

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❀ characters: gally x fem!reader

❀ A/N: i’m so sorry for the amount of time it took me to post this

❀ summary: y/n has been in the Glade for three months, she’s a Builder, but she doesn’t get why her boss hates her.

❀ warnings: can’t think of any

english is not my first language<3

.:｡✿*ﾟ‘ﾟ･✿.｡.:* *.:｡✿*ﾟ’ﾟ･✿.｡.:* *.:｡✿*ﾟ¨ﾟ✎･ ✿.｡.:* *.:｡

❀ ❀ ❀

“Why do you even care so much about what this jerk thinks about you?” Newt asks you as you’re both sat under a tree during your work break.

“I don’t know, we spend our days together and I just, I just wanted him to like me but every single thing i do makes him angry!” you say agitating your hands in incomprehension.

“He hates everyone, pretends he likes his friends, and he doesn’t like you because you get attention for being the only girl in here. He knows everyone likes you.” Newt was your best friend and always brutally honest with you, which was why you loved him so much.

You were looking at the grass under the “sun”light when a tall shadow came up to you and Newt. “Hey, it’s ten minutes break not five hours so get your ass back to the cabin.”

Gally was looking down on you, talking to you with a severe tone as usual. You in fact didn’t know why you wanted him to like you. He’s your boss and you spend all your days with him, you thought maybe you could see something behind his cold personality because weirdly, he didn’t intimidate you. Maybe that’s why he didn’t like you.

You were fixing a fence for the Slicers to keep the livestock in the Glade when you heard Gally saying there was a bonfire tonight. You thought that would be the perfect occasion to try to make friends with him. Though you didn’t want to chase him down and beg for friendship, it was your last try.

When the night started and you joined the gladers at their little celebration for being alive another day (that’s what you guessed), you didn’t know everyone perfectly well yet. You liked Zart because he was really nice to you, you liked Ben and Minho cause they were unintentionally funny to you, and Newt was your favorite of course.

You looked around to find someone you know because you didn’t want to be in the middle of all the boys by yourself and also, you don’t like all the attention being on you (— which was unfortunate since the attention was always on you).

Minho waved at you with a straight face because he saves his smiles for rare occasions. You felt relieved as you walked to him sitting alone but you also felt a huge pressure as if someone was looking at you.

“Hey, how is this bonfire going so far for you?” Minho kindly asked giving you a cup of a weird drink, “Well, i like parties, i think i do, at least. I’d like to know everyone here but apparently, not everybody wants me here.” you respond taking a sip before making a face.

“Gally again?” Minho said exhaling, “I know i shouldn’t care but it makes me upset.” you say sitting next to him, sighing.

“Don’t worry, it’ll come. He’ll end up liking you just like we all do because, there’s absolutely no reason to hate you.” he kindly answers with a little smile. Your best friends really treated you well for the past three months because, even though they couldn’t understand how it was to be a girl in a world of boys, they knew how hard it was for them when they arrived here. They could only imagine it was harder for you.

“Thank you.” you say with a tiny smile before resting your head on his shoulder. You knew Minho wasn’t really the one to say kind words to everybody. Or the one to accept a head on the shoulder easily, but he let you.

“Hey Newt.” you saw him walking up to you with a huge cup, “Do you guys want to taste THIS?” he said laughing like he knew something you didn’t. “That thing has to hold a deadly virus.” Minho said before you added “No thank you, i’d rather stay alive.” slightly giggling.

Newt then turned around to look at everybody then told you; “The hell is he staring at?”, “Who?” you answered a bit concerned. “Gally.” Newt said laughing again, “Maybe he doesn’t hate you that much after all.”

“You know what? I’m gonna talk to him and we’ll see if tomorrow he still hates me.” you reposted getting up to go there. “He doesn’t hate you!” you hear Newt add as you walk away. Always the devils advocate, always staying positive for some reason.

You felt a little stressed out, your hands were slightly shaking as you got closer to him while he was focused on laughing with his friends and drinking, you started regretting but you were too far into your mistake to go back. Of course, the alcohol in your blood made you braver which was good in this situation.

You sat next to him as if it was totally normal. “Hey, Gally, this drink is really good. I heard the recipe was a secret.” you boldly told him putting hair behind you ear, trying to look confident.

“Thanks. What are you doing here? Your boyfriend and your lil’ best friend must miss you already.” He says loudly as all his Builder friends laugh (— they laughed like that was the funniest thing ever, i think they laugh at everything Gally says).

“I don’t have a boyfriend, i have good friends though. And some guys seem to dislike me for unknown reasons, they miss out on a lot of fun.” you smile, looking really friendly and nice. You’re not trying to seem patronizing or something. That would only make him despise you.

“So, Gally, you want us to go get another drink?” he stares at you for a while before getting up to follow you. Your legs shake from stress as he walks besides you.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything about you?” you break the short silence. “There’s nothing to say.” he coldly answered. “Oh come on, you like building and fighting, what else do you like?” “Having a purpose. And a home. I guess.” he finally opens up a little bit more to you. You feel a small smile growing on your face, breaking the ice.

“Great, you know what, I like that too. We have a common point, see?” he stops walking when you finish talking.

“You know, (y/n), i didn’t like all the changes you brought with you. Everything was new when you arrived in that box.” he says looking at you. “And you hate change, i get it. I’m sorry.” you say smiling again. You finally started to understand what kind of guy he was, he needed stability, and control.

“It’s not your fault, we made those adjustments for you and you turned out to be a Builder. I think it is- nice to have you with us.” wow, Gally was complementing you? That made you blush for a reason you ignored. You then started walking again towards the drinks. “I’m glad to work with you guys too. It’s tough for me but i try to stay positive and fit in, you know?” you confess to your new friend.

Maybe his drink convinced him you weren’t that annoying after all. He handed you a glass of whatever that was and you walked back to the others to sit down with them.

You relaxed a little bit and started making jokes, your coworkers were really dumb (most of them) but pretty funny and nice even though they were kind of onerous sometimes — as you are a girl and of course it means there are a lot of inappropriate jokes they’re allowed to make.

You knew Alby made it very clear no one was allowed to touch you, or go too far, so you felt safe with them. You knew teenagers like them wouldn’t hurt you, even the dumbest ones.

Surprisingly, you started laughing with Gally, he was actually chill in parties, unlike the bossy guy you knew at work and also in the glade in general. Maybe those nights were important to him because it was a traditional thing, you were staring at him as he told a story about Zart, that you never heard before.

You didn’t know why exactly but you needed to analyze his face, you liked the way his eyes moved and the way he smiled telling that anecdote. You bursted out laughing at the exact same time the other Builders did, he was a good storyteller.

When everybody started separately talking, you looked at Gally and spoke, pretty loudly so he could hear you “You’re a good storyteller” you smiled, he leaned over a bit, to hear you “What?” he asked smiling, you put your hand on his arm and got closer to his ear, you were more confident, you felt like you usually do when you’re with Next and Minho. “I said you’re a good storyteller” you chuckled slightly.

He pulled away and looked at you, he was smiling way more now that you guys had talked. Now that you knew he didn’t exactly hate you. “Really?” you nodded, and he stood up and you tilted your head slightly.

He held his hand out, you took his hand without hesitation and walked with him.

You walked in the Glade without really knowing where you wanted to go, you chuckled as you talked about the story he told.

“Did he really wake up with those drawings on his face?” “He really did, and he stayed like that the whole day.” he laughed.

You sat down together at the end of a tree, you were both a bit tired but you still wanted to talk.

“You’ve been here three years, right?” you say looking at the trees around you. The “moon”light made everything look peaceful in the Glade.

Gally nodded “Three years.” he said staring at a random tree. You looked at him “Do you think they’ll find a way out?” you ask, you still had the innocence of being here for three months, because you had no idea how it felt for them. This was the only home he’d ever known.

He shrugged, “I don’t think anything, I wait.” you looked down, you wondered everyday why you were all here, why you were the only girl, why didn’t you remember your life.

“Do you think we like, knew each other out of the Glade? In our other lives, i mean.” you look back at the trees, not noticing he had turned his head to look at you. “You think we were friends or something?” he asked then continued, “maybe we were like- high school enemies.”

You giggled and looked at him “I’m sorry but you must’ve been a bully.” he nodded chuckling “Alright alright i’ll give you that one. You must’ve been the girl that talked back to teachers but still had good grades.” you laughed at his statement, you had thought so many times about what your life could’ve been like outside the Glade.

Somehow, you always thought you used to know Gally. “I’m almost sure I knew you.” you say, looking in front of you, your two bodies sitting pretty close to each other. He turned his head to look at you. “Is that why you wanted to be my friend here?” he wondered, he’d always been curious about you, he just never admitted it.

You nodded then answered “I think…Maybe i was looking for comfort and landmarks. I thought maybe what i felt towards you was that research of something. Because i couldn’t let go of the past even if i didn’t remember anything.”

He was listening closely to every word you said, you didn’t think he’d want to understand you and genuinely listen. He nodded “So, i was like, a magnet and you were metal?” he said sounding surprisingly soft and warm.

You giggled slightly looking at him “Yeah, that’s it. That’s why i didn’t want you to hate me.” you smiled. He shook his head “I never hated you, i was just, scared, i guess.” you could hear the slight shake in his voice, because you paid so much attention to details.

You heard him say i guess and he was trying to make his fear seem like nothing, but it mattered to you. “I think, you had every right to be scared.” you said with a gentle tone, nodding your head slightly.

You kind of just, looked into each other’s eyes for a while, it was like there was some sort of connection between you, you felt seen. The real you, the one you didn’t even remember.

He leaned towards you, you stopped thinking, you stopped hearing the loud thoughts and worries in your mind, he carefully placed his huge hand on your face, you closed your eyes as he tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips against you.

That was both of y’all’s first kiss ever, which felt weird, you gently took his hand into yours as he kissed you. You quickly both heard Clint screaming as he was looking for you guys.

You both pulled away and bursted out laughing, you had no idea what all that was, but it was surely a new connection.

.:｡✿*ﾟ‘ﾟ･✿.｡.:* *.:｡✿*ﾟ’ﾟ･✿.｡.:* *.:｡✿*ﾟ¨ﾟ✎･ ✿.｡.:* *.:｡

thank you for reading me🩵

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Yin and Yang Pt. 3

Pairing: Ben Tennyson x Reader

Warnings: Torture

Word Count: 3.0k words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

A/N: If I'm being completely honest, I'm not feeling that satisfied with this oneshot but it's completely fine. Part 1 of Y&Y was a oneshot that I really put a lot of effort into writing but part 2 and 3 were kind of just self-indulgent strike of the moment passion fics which I shouldn't be finding guilty about. But anyway I still hope you guys enjoy it. Hopefully I will be writing a part 4 because I just love their dynamic so much in this series even though Ben is very OOC lmao.

You crouched down behind a stack of crates, plasma gun clutched tightly in your hand and ducked your head forward, only to be met with a wall directly in your line of vision.

Turning your neck, you made eye contact with the plumber across from you, hidden behind a pillar and held out your hand, asking him in sign if he was able to count the number of victims and criminals.

This mission was one that your squad had been working on for 4 months. A huge trafficking ring that you had managed to track onto their Megacruiser Spaceship.

Most of your squad had been caught up in the hull, fighting off soldiers and freeing the victims while you and another proctor made your way to the front of the ship.

You had already disabled the escape pods on the ship so if they wanted to escape they'd be heading for the docking bay to find a small ship to board.

Proctor Drax held 5 fingers up and then 8 and you sighed; 5 hostages and 8 captors. There was no way the two of you would be able to take all of them down while protecting the hostages.

You pressed down on your plumbers badge, signaling the rest of your squad that you'd require some backup.

You lost hope however, when they began to approach the ship. If you didn't do something to take them down now, there's no telling what they would do to the hostages.

Drax nodded at you and you ran out from behind the crates. Aiming the gun for the ships propulsion jets, you tried to damage them as much as you could to prevent them from attempting to take off.

You were able to damage 3 out of 4 ships before your opponents began charging for you. Your partner and you fought hard, keeping the fight away from the victims.

"Keep back! There are other agents coming, they'll help you!" You shouted, ushering them toward the door but you froze when one of them pulled out a weapon.

They were hostages. Why weren't their hands bound?"

"It's an ambush!" You cried, just in time for them to swing and land a hit against your skull. You gasped, feeling excruciating pain explode through your head, the taste of blood invading your mouth when you bit down on your tongue.

The world began leaning and you hit the ground, vision going black.

***

You grunted in pain as he grabbed your hair, punching you so hard you felt blood crawl up your throat. You panted in exhaustion. Your body was so weak, you could feel it going limp but every time your neck went slack, the painful grip on your hair would give you just enough stimulation to keep from going unconscious.

"Aw, looks like she's going to faint again. Can't have that." The man smirked before dunking your head into a barrel of cold water.

You gasped at the temperature shock, water invading your nostrils and throat until you were yanked out. You spluttered and coughed violently until your stomach squeezed painfully and you threw up.

Proctor Drax had gone unconscious, taking his fair share of beatings like you had. They kept you awake, on the edge between consciousness and exhaustion, thinking a woman would bend to their whims faster.

"I'm getting tired of asking. Tell us the codes now." He punctuated the sentence with another punch to the stomach and you gasped for air, yelping in pain when he grabbed your hair again to keep you from going unconscious.

They wanted to codes to enter a highly classified part of the plumber's database, the codes of which were only shared with Proctor's or higher for security reasons.

It was highly protected, any hacking attempts were met with layers and layers of firewall while a program tracked their address and they were meant with squads of plumbers. If you gave them the codes, it wouldn't alert anyone, leaving them to get the information they required with no one the wiser.

You couldn't give them what they wanted. You wouldn't. Which meant when they got sick of asking, you'd be killed. Your hands were bound, you were beaten black and blue and there was no possible way for you to escape. At this point, death was a better option than the painful misery they were putting you through.

Your eyes fluttered shut, pain ripping through every muscle in your body. Your mind drifted to Ben and you felt your heart squeeze in your chest at the thought of him finding out he lost you.

Sure, your parents would miss you and mourn the loss of their only daughter but you knew the utter despair and grief that would go through Ben when he found out you were captured and killed.

You had only ever seen him get angry once, when his grandfather was threatened and it was like he was a completely different person. Was that version of Ben what awaited the world? Would he go mad trying to find who did it?

Your bottom lip quivered. You missed him.

You gritted your teeth, groaning as another punch was landed, "The codes, bitch!"

"Over my dead body." You growled.

He smirked, "I was hoping you'd say that."

***

"Is she still not answering?" Gwen asked, trying to focus on the mana surrounding your jacket. She had been trying for days now but couldn't track you down. You were way too far from her range.

"No! And I'm really starting to get worried. She said she'd be home 3 days ago." Ben panicked, ringing up your cell again while trying to track your Plumber's badge with his Omnitrix simultaneously. But he was disappointed twice when the Omnitrix gave no results and your phone went straight to voicemail.

This wasn't like you. You were ordered and punctual. If you said you were going to be there at a certain time you'd always be there 5 minutes early. And if on the off chance during a blue moon, you managed to be late, Ben always received a text explaining why.

But they had been unable to contact you for days and it was stressing him out.

"You don't even know what the mission was about?" Kevin asked and Ben sighed in frustration.

"No, she said it was confidential and that I wasn't allowed to know anything. All I know was she was supposed to be back 3 days ago!" He was pacing back and forth, biting on his thumb in nervousness.

He didn't know what to do, this was the first time someone was too far out of Gwen's range. He knew absolutely nothing about the mission and he didn't even know who to contact.

He heard the sound of rings in the background and thought Gwen was trying to call her again when he heard someone pick up.

"Hey grandpa have you heard anything from (Y/N)? She was supposed to be home 3 days ago and we're not able to reach her." Gwen asked and Ben felt his stomach sink in slight disappointment. He thought you had been the one to pick up.

"Uh, kids you might want to sit down. You're not going to like this."

The three of them shared a glance and Ben felt his stomach fall farther.

"The Plumbers have an extremely fortified database that contains a lot of sensitive information. Information that's so sensitive it would mean chaos if anyone ever got their hands on. It's so classified that no one other than Proctors or higher are able to access it."

His brows furrowed. What the hell was he talking about?

"Thing is, this database is so fortified and protected that, as a failsafe, the plumber's created a decoy and decoy codes have been given to every proctor in case of a hostage situation. And, the thing is, (Y/N)'s code was activated 4 days ago."

He stood up so quickly that his knees hit the table with a loud smack, "(Y/N)'s been taken hostage?! We have to find her!"

"Not just her, kid. Another proctor has also been abducted along with her."

"Then we have to go after them! Who was it?! Who took her?!"

There was a deep sigh on the other side, "Ben, I'm sorry but I don't know and if I did I'm not at liberty to tell you."

"What do you mean?"

"The protocol is: if the decoy codes are ever activated, the agent is abandoned. The plumbers are not allowed to go after them."

His heart felt like it had stopped in his chest and his throat closed so painfully that he felt tears bubble in the corner of his eyes. He stared at the phone sitting on the counter for a few moments, trying to understand just what his grandfather told him and wondering if he had heard him wrong.

This couldn't be happening. It was supposed to be an easy mission. You had assured him of that before you left, squashing his worries with a few reassuring words and kisses. How could this be happening?

You were taken hostage for god knows how many days and now his Grandfather was saying that he would never see you again? And that he wasn't even allowed to try looking?

It felt like the world around him was crumbling to pieces, the ground beneath him shaking as tremors went through his body.

Finally, he choked out, "W-What?"

A small nagging voice began poking the back of his head, eventually making it's way to the forefront. Gwen's magic; the magic that flowed through every living being in the universe, couldn't track you.

What if you weren't out range? But you were--?

It felt like he had gotten punched in the stomach.

"I'm sorry, kid. (Y/N) knew what she was getting into. She's on her own."

***

The floor was in absolute chaos. The members of your squad were running back and forth like headless chickens that were caught on fire. Ever since you and Proctor Drax had been captured, they had been trying to track you.

A couple of magisters had attempted to follow when you were taken but they shot them down and then lost them in an asteroid belt. Since returning back to plumber base, they were going crazy trying to track you, process the criminals that they did manage to catch and try to find the families of the victims they had rescued.

Not to mention that they were down a couple magisters since they got injured during the fight.

It was hard though, the ships that were used to abduct you and Proctor Drax were the most common in the universe, which made them impossible to track. It would be even more difficult to track you if your captors dumped the ship at any rest stop and stole another.

Which was most likely what happened.

They were stretched thin as it was but then something worse happened.

Your decoy code was activated and they were told to give up on the search for the both of you. A lot of them protested, they didn't want to give up on the search for their commanding officer but they were shut down.

They had to give up and abandon you and Proctor Drax.

Then, something even worse happened.

Legendary Ben Tennyson, the wielder of the most powerful weapon in the entire universe, came storming into their office and grabbed the closest Magister by the collar.

Ben gritted his teeth, "Where is she?! Where is (Y/N)?!"

"We're not at liberty to divulge that information, Mister Tennyson." The magister stuttered, trying to squirm out of his grip. They had all heard the stories of what he was capable of and they did not want to be on the receiving end of it.

"You're going to tell me, or I'm going to beat it out of you."

"Ben, stop!" He was pulled back by his cousin, pink threads wrapping around his body and yanking him away from the magister. He struggled in her grip, reaching for the his wrist when his hands were pinned down.

"Gwen, let go!"

"Calm down! You can't threaten them into telling you where she is!" She yelled, pulling him back into an empty room so they could talk. She still didn't let up with the restraints, keeping him firm in her constraint.

"So, what? You want me to just give up on her?! Like hell!"

"No one's saying you have to give up! But this isn't the right way!"

He snarled, gritting his teeth and thrashing in her grip, feeling part alien even though he hadn't transformed yet. This emotion was new, he had never felt anything like this before.

Pain that was so intense, so overwhelming, so painful, that he couldn't do anything other than scream and get angry. Because he knew that if he broke down, he'd never be able to put himself back together again.

"Let go, Gwen. I have to find her." He said, calming down.

"I know you do. But it's been over a week since she was taken. Her code was activated 4 days ago and we haven't heard anything from her yet. What do you think these crooks are going to do with their hostage, who is a highly deputized agent of the plumbers after they got what they wanted? Let her go?

His lip quivered and he squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Ben wanted to cover his ears, not wanting to listen to the cold slap of reality that Gwen was determined to give him.

"I don't want to believe it either, but we might have to come to terms that (Y/N) is de--"

"NO! SHE'S NOT DEAD!" He screamed, finally letting the tears he was holding at bay go. Once the dam had been broken, he couldn't keep it all in anymore, grief rushing out of him like tsunami waves.

The restraints holding him let go and he was reduced to a sobbing pile on the floor, holding onto his cousin in a death grip as he wept and wailed into her shoulder. She cried too, hugging him close and running her fingers through his hair to calm him down.

"I can't lose her." He whispered in between gasps but Gwen didn't reply and instead rubbed circles on his back, coaxing him to let it all out.

***

Two hours later, Gwen sat on the floor of the Plumber's satellite, Ben sleeping soundly in her lap after crying himself to a point of exhaustion. She watched him carefully, using her powers to manifest positive emotions for him, hoping he wouldn't have any nightmares.

She was just about to wake him up so they could go home when alarms starting blaring and red lights began flashing. Ben, now startled awake, and her immediately ran to the other room.

"What happened? What's going on?" Gwen asked the Magister that had previously been threatened by Ben.

"As if this day couldn't get any worse! We have an unauthorized ship flying toward us." He groaned, typing in something before he pressed and held down on the intermission button.

"Unauthorized vehicle, you are approaching Plumber's Base 2. You are not authorized to land here. Turn back now or be arrested upon landing for trespassing on restricted grounds." He spoke, voice so commanding that it was a stark contrast from the pitiful whimpers he had let out when Ben had his collar.

There was a beat of static before they received the vehicles transmission, "Don't engage. This is Proctor Drax. Have a couple officers ready to process the arrested criminals."

He didn't have to say anything else, they were all marching out of the room and toward the docking bay, with Ben following close behind them

Time seemed to slow down to a stop as he watched the ship land and his heart beating was the only sound he could hear. There was a cruel voice telling him not to get his hopes up. The fall from that much higher would only hurt more.

He swallowed painfully, watching the hatch of the door finally open and then came Proctor Drax, looking severely injured but Ben couldn't let his gaze linger on him, eyes darting instead to the figure behind him.

He waited for the figure to come out of the shadows and was once again disappointed when a handcuffed criminal made his way out of the ship. And another one in handcuffs followed him. And another.

13 criminals. All there are accounted for stalked out of the ship and towards the barrage of plumbers that were there to receive them.

And then nothing.

Ben clenched his jaw shut. Trying hard to keep himself from shedding anymore tears. He'd do that when he was in the comfort of his bedroom. He turned to leave when another figure finally limped out of the shuttle.

You looked like you had been put through hell and back, sporting a black eye and split lip, paired with a stream of blood that ran down the side of your face and then over the handprints on your neck.

You limped down the stairway, grimacing it every step you took when you froze, red-rimmed eyes meeting his own teary green.

"Ben." You breathed, your body so broken and bruised that you couldn't tell whether you were moving toward him or if he was moving closer to you.

But then it was all okay because you were caught in his arms and finally smelling the comforting scent of his deodorant. You were in so much pain, you had constantly been in so much pain for so many days that now that you were finally safe and in his grasp, you allowed yourself to shed a couple tears, burying your face into his shirt.

"Missed you. So much." You whispered shakily. He was holding you too tight, you could feel numbing pain go through your broken ribs but even then you stayed in his embrace as you heard him sob softly. He needed this just as much as you did.

"I missed you too."

You were together. Everything was in balance. Everything was okay.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@haniscrying

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

[newtonsheffield]

Anthony is going to enact the most balls the wall certifiably cooked proposal anyone could imagine. Remember when Beyoncé and Jay Z rented the louvre for a day to film a video? That times ten for Viscount Anthony when he finally proposes to auctioneer Kate, not to mention a ring big enough and wow enough to get her colleagues (a group of people who deal with luxury and antique jewellery every single day) gasping and gossiping.

In my head it’s something like this but maybe not? [Brand is Chaumet, icons of ridiculously ott jewellery]

I think his proposal would be so understated Kate would almost miss it. His first instinct would be to do something insane like get his voice used instead of Big Ben’s bongs and then he’d calm down just a little. Well, calm down for him.

He gets Ben to paint something for him, with the most important question he’s ever going to ask hidden somewhere in it. Then he takes it in for Kate to appraise. Watching her brow furrow as she looks at it.

“Anthony, I don’t… know who painted this but-”

“Keep looking, babe.”

“Really desperate for some money hey? Am I bleeding you dry?”

“Just keep looking.”

“This is worth- Oh my god.”

“Ah you’ve found it.” Anthony grinned, dropping to one knee.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Are you going to marry me though?”

“Yes, Anthony. Always yes.”

“I can’t believe you called this painting useless. Benedict’ll be so disappointed.”

Her engagement ring is enormous. Visible from space, she’s sure. An antique that made even her coworker’s mouth drop open when they saw it. There’s articles written about it the first time they step out to an event and a picture ends up in the society pages. People stop her and ask to look at it, which Anthony loves. He loves people gawping at his engagement ring because it means that everyone knows that Kate said yes. Kate’s his wife. Well, soon enough.

[threebea]

I suddenly had thoughts about Luke.

Owen and Beru were in contact with Obi-Wan, but didn't let him near Luke, at least not for the first ten years of Luke's life.

But also they're raising a baby Force Sensitive. Luke has an extra sense that they don't have a grasp of and they're looking for it.

So Beru comes to Obi-Wan one day. She says Luke is antsy and distractable. He has a hard time focusing.

And Obi-Wan wonders if that's Force senstivity or if it's just an active mind, but he teaches Beru moving meditation. Both Force Sensitives and non-Force sensitives can do it.

She goes back and has Luke bake bread with her to help him focus.

And Owen comes one day and says that Luke is overly sensitive. Sometimes he gets picked on and he has a hard time holding in his anger.

And Obi-Wan tries not to think of Anakin, but of course he does. And it may be a normal child having struggles regulating emotions, or it might be Luke picking up on the heightened emotions of the other children and an echo chamber moving through him.

So he teaches Owen to have Luke sit with him. Tells Owen to focus on his love for Luke and calmly talk Luke through what he's feeling. Naming emotions working through them, learning to identify what he's feeling and what he's reacting to. Because that can help force sensitives and non-force sensitives.

And Beru comes later and says that Luke gets bouts of anxiety. And Obi-Wan says that their bread making might help, or trying to get him to focus on the here and now. The present moment. And if that doesn't work have him do exersizes and he thinks about how Master Qui-Gon had him run laps to clear his head and he always felt better after running. It could be Luke having spikes of foresight, or it could just be the boy has natural anxiety.

And when Owen comes to him in the middle of the night about bad dreams, dreams that could be visions, Obi-Wan tells Owen that the future is always in motion, sometimes dreams are dreams, but to write them down just in case, and to hold Luke and reassure him.

And Owen sees how Obi-Wan was probably raised and feels pity for him. Owen didn't understand that the Jedi were family, but he sees it now. This was how Anakin was raised, and maybe his childhood wasn't as cold and loveless as he imagined. He doesn't tell Obi-Wan that.

And when Luke finally meets Old Ben Kenobi and Obi-Wan walks him through how to use the Force, it comes naturally. Not because he's super powerful (although he his), but because his parents prepared him, and helped him learn how to process the extra sense that he had grown up with even if he didn't know that.

[lilacliquors]

pairing: soldier boy x reader

sweet or spicy: spicy

word count: 627

prompt: [TABLE]: sender touches receiver's thigh under the table at a restaurant or a dinner party

notes: here's day ten! i went a different angle with this one that i originally planned, and i liked it better. and there's only four more prompts to go, and i can't wait to write the phillip graves one like y'all have no idea omg

if there was one thing most people knew, it was not to seat you and ben next to each other at vought events. everyone knew how handsy ben liked to get, and with you, with was like a thousand times worse. you fed off of each other, like tossing wood onto a bonfire. and tonight was no different.

it was vought’s annual shareholder dinner, and whoever made up the seating chart was not let into the industry not-so-secret secret. you and ben were seated directly next to each other, and to most people’s surprise, things were going well. there was no fuss, no commotion, nothing out of the ordinary. you were both well behaved, and it was a breath of fresh air. people had heard horror stories of the two of you, and most didn’t want to believe them. but, there you two were, chatting people up and simply enjoying the atmosphere of the night.

little did anyone know, however, the tablecloth was hiding a little sin.

ben’s hand was resting on your thigh, creeping ever so closely up towards his major prize. the dress you wore had been picked by him specifically, and he was pleased to see that you had obliged his one request: you’d forgone any underwear that night. he could feel the heat of your cunt as his hand crept higher, and to your credit, you kept an amazing poker face as his fingers gripped and rubbed and squeezed the soft skin of your thigh. he almost wanted to break your facade, but at the same time, he wanted to keep this to himself. he didn’t want others to know that he was so dangerously close to the warmth of your pussy, he could practically taste it. and lord knows he wanted to. what he would have given to just lower himself to his knees, push your thighs apart, and bury his head between them, to lap at your folds and listen to the melodic sounds that left those gorgeous lips of yours …

but he was good. well, as good as he could be. and as his fingers continued to massage your skin, he couldn’t help but picture you, your hair wild and unkempt, the straps of your dress down your arms, your skin slick with sweat as you bounced desperately on his cock. he envisioned his hands on your hips, loosely guiding you as your own hand rubbed furiously at your clit. your head tilted back as soft moans and delicious whimpers left your plump lips. plump, of course, from the number of times he had captured them in a passionate kiss, his teeth nipping at them the way he knew you liked. you were his even match, enjoying the rough as well as the gentle. but you were his, he knew you in and out, in all ways. and his filthy imagination was only running more and more wild.

more vivid scenes flash in his mind: his hand covering your mouth as he fucked you from behind in the bathroom. your arms pinned above your head as he fucked into you slow and deep, missionary style. his head between your thighs as you rode his face, using him as you saw fit until you leaned down and were generous enough to take his cock into your wet and waiting mouth …

he gripped your thigh in a vice like grip, and it caused you to finally look over at him, a small smile on your lips.

“active imagination again?” you whispered.

“you have no idea. when we get back home, you’re mine. in all ways. do i make myself clear?” he murmured back, and you took a sip of your wine before you leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“crystal.”

[pygmi-cygni]

T Minus Ten

remember that miguel fic I talked about....

here she is!!!!

series warning: eventual smut (light), angst, pining, lovesickness, adorable migs, enemies (?) to lovers, more like emotionally repressed to infatuated, angst, miscommunication, as many tropes as I can possibly manage

warnings for this chapter: lots of exposition, medical inaccuracies, introduction basically, canon violence

miguel o'hara x reader (afab) no description other than reader is v strong and has some small tattoos on hands (important later i swear)

enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

The medical field was essentially obsolete in the Spiderverse. It takes hundreds of years to name a disease, let alone cure it, and then to add in the factors of different biology, different gravitational boundaries, bacterial possibilities....you honestly just felt like hanging up your lab coat and starting an Etsy.

Each branch of the Multiverse was grouped in the extensive medbay located in HQ. The branches with the most similar biology and treatment varieties were closest together. Every spider was given their hall number that had any resources they'd need depending on their genetic makeup.

It was tough work, remembering where everyone was from and the unique characteristics that came with them. Especially when some varieties blurred the lines.

Namely one.

Miguel O'Hara, head of this shit-show and arguably the biggest pain in the ass you'd ever seen, rarely found himself in need of the medical ward's services. Which is probably why nobody thought to figure this problem out.

See, most spider-people were predominantly human. The spider that bit them had only added on to existing capability: extreme strength that improved muscle mass, improved grip on fingers...the only 'inhuman' factor was the webbing.

Miguel had a slightly different build. His DNA had been spliced; like two ropes being braided together. The spider DNA had rebuilt his human DNA, therefore it didn't follow the same pattern in response to medicine or bandages. Which made his medical aversion a little more realistic.

Either way, it didn't matter how much he hated doctors, he couldn't fix a poisoned spear through his chest with an at-home first aid kit.

Eight of HQ's most qualified doctors sat around various scans of the monstrous Spiderman, puzzling through the bizarre data. Your education had been focused on epidemiology, or the spread of disease. Poison wasn't really your thing, but you thought it might be cool to watch.

Dr. Ben Parkinson, the 'head' doctor, was explaining the possible treatments.

"It doesn't seem to be deadly," he reasoned, "but prolonged exposure without medication might have some deteriorating effects." He pointed to a highlighted area of the wound. "See, the muscle tissue is deteriorating, and long-term deterioration could be permanent."

The medical staff shot amused glances at one another, trying to imagine Miguel as anything other than a hulking boulder of muscle.

Ben rolled his eyes and tapped the scans. "Do we have any base vitals for him? Any logged info?"

Maria, his assistant, scrolled on her tablet. "Uhhhh....negative on that. Looks like he hasn't done his immunos either."

You frowned. When HQ had established itself with a medbay, you and the few other nurses had done rounds to make sure any necessary vaccines and medications had been administered. How did we skip him?

"New plan," Ben said slowly, "let's get him up to date and then we'll evaluate. he's relatively stable right now, so let's keep up the current treatment and move from there, yeah?"

He looked at you. "You're the nurse responsible for his wing, right? Do you mind doing his vitals and reporting back?"

You nodded, faltering. What if the spider DNA screwed up his vitals? His resting heartrate was probably higher, and his metabolism had to be insane...the rest of the staff clearly did not share your concern, glad to be rid of the Miguel problem.

Maria handed you her tablet and gave you an apologetic smile. "At least the sedatives will stop him from scratching you," she whispered in your ear.

You shuddered. Here goes nothing.

Miguel was laid out on two beds with the guardrails removed. He couldn't fit on one, so the staff had to quickly improvise. You tried to hum a calming tune, hyperaware of the large claws hanging off the blanket.

Even though he was unconscious, a ripple of fear went through you. He was enormous. If he got mad....you shuddered.

Tenderly, you angled your stethoscope under the mess of tubes feeding into his chest. His skin was unbelievably warm, and you pursed your lips. Definitely feverish. You took his heart rate, tried as gently as you could to do his blood pressure, and measured his blood sugar on the dial near his bed.

Well.

His DNA was definitely strange, because all of his vitals pointed to cardiac arrest and a 104F fever.

"What...the fuck?" He should be dead by those numbers.

You did everything twice more, just to be sure. Still the same. Elevated heart rate, high temperature, and blood pressure that wasn't physically possible.

It confirmed your theory. That meant you had to do a full body scan, analyze the numbers, try to find some kind of pattern....ugh.

His hands were beginning to twitch, and you scurried out of the small room. He'd likely be pissed, waking up in a hospital room with a poisoned stake sticking out of his chest.

Reading through his file, you chewed on your pinky nail. Apparently, a new variant of Green Goblin had been discovered on the fringes of a random universe. It produced a highly acidic venom, the same that had infected the rebar impaling Miguel. The science labs were analyzing the poison, and little info had been found.

Corrosive, acidic, highly destructive on human tissue.

Huh.

Miguel seemed to be holding up okay. Explains the elevated temperature and heart rate. His body was cranking out energy, repairing the damage almost as soon as it occurred.

A grin teased its way onto your face. This was the part of your job that you loved. The puzzle, all the little bits that opened up a bigger picture and eventually, the solution.

You wrote up his chart with your hypothesis and sent it to Dr Ben. Tomorrow would be exciting, to say the least.

-

Exciting was one word for it. Apparently your prediction was correct: Miguel was decidedly not happy with his living situation at the moment. The nurse who'd gone in to give him his IV had dodged a flying chair, and it had escalated from there. Jess had intervened, resorting to an anomaly cage to keep him secure.

After that frazzling morning, Ben was ready for some good news. You were excitedly explaining the deductions you'd found last night, when a small knock came from the office door.

Gwen, one of the newer spiders, shyly poked her head in. Ben went to shoo her away, but you beckoned her in warmly.

Wait a second, you nodded to your boss, and he sat back with a sigh.

The young woman's colored hair hung limp and unwashed. She had been on the backup team to help Miguel and his crew, and the fallout had been hard on her. It was a big mission, especially for a rookie. She was struggling.

"Hi, Gwen, how are you today?" You pulled over a chair, nodding at her to sit. She folded her hands tightly and didn't meet your eyes.

"'M fine," she mumbled, fidgeting with her hoodie. You grabbed the notes you'd taken earlier and a pen.

"...Do...you wanna talk about it? Anything you remember, something we might have missed?"

The room was quiet as you waited. Ben shot you an exasperated look and nodded towards the clock. Not much time.

You sighed and leaned forwards. "it's okay if you don't have anything, Gwen, but we want Miguel to get better, so if you remember-"

"He was glitching," she blurted, cheeks flaming.

You exchanged another glance with Ben.

"He...when the..."she gestured vaguely, "spear thingy went into him, he started glitching. Like, really bad."

That made you stop. "Was...did you see his watch fall off at any point?"

She shook her head sharply. "No. It was like as soon as the venom hit him, he glitched. and it didn't stop until Jess and the guys got there. He was..." she shuddered, and you patted her arm comfortingly.

Though you did technically have spider abilities, you would never in a thousand years want to be fighting. You couldn't imagine dealing with that every day, especially at Gwen's age. You made a mental note to ask the psychiatrist for a check in.

"What were the details of the mission? was there anything specific about the Goblin that made him so strange?" As a member of the med crew, you didn't have access to mission files.

Gwen nodded, wiping her eyes. "Yeah. He was portal jumping like crazy. Miguel was so pissed," she laughed weakly, "he was jumping in circles like a cat."

"Was he glitching?"

"No, he was fine. It was weird...like he somehow belonged to all of the dimensions. We chased him through three different ones before..." A glazed look came over her, and you figured she needed a break.

"Thank you Gwen," you said gently, walking her to the door, "you've been very helpful. Get some rest, honey."

Watching her shuffle down the hall, you puzzled with the information she'd given.

What the fuck was going on?

Ben's serious look confirmed your bewilderment. This was clearly a bigger problem than you anticipated.

"We should give that to the labs," he pointed to your notepad. "They'll wanna know that info."

You nodded wordlessly, handing it over. What did that mean for Miguel? If this Goblin wasn't following the multiverse rules, was there even a possibility of fighting this?

Ben disappeared around the hall as you groaned into your hands. The excitement of the last 36 hours had done a number on you. Despite your heightened energy levels, you still felt sluggish. Flipping to the surveillance footage, you peeked in on your burly patient.

He was laying awake, the sharp spikes on his heart monitor indicating his agitation. His limbs were lightly restrained to keep him from disabling the glowing red net cast over him.

Oddly, you felt bad.

It was hard enough being injured and alone, but he was being treated like a prisoner. Poor guy. No wonder he doesn't socialize much.

Figuring you had some time, you grabbed your med kit and strolled down to his room. Maybe he'd have a good explanation of his situation. He was a renowned geneticist, after all.

The spider positioned outside his door gave you a wary look. "Miss, you might wanna-"

"Doctor," you corrected crisply, "and I'd like to see my patient."

The young man hesitated, but let you through anyway. He rambled about precautions and avoiding Miguel's temper, but you weren't listening.

His eyes were red.

A bitter, furious shade of scarlet that made your tongue dry and your heart cower. He was pulsing with so much restrained energy that you felt three times smaller. Again you were reminded of his size. You clutched your kit and dismissed the guard.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Despite his condition, Miguel could still easily snap your arms in half. Sharp canines dug into his lower lip. Maria's earlier comment came back to you. I'm more worried about the teeth than the claws, honey.

"Miguel?" Your voice was surprisingly stable, though quiet.

He blinked but gave no further answer. Swallowing, you walked slowly around to the side of his bed and sat. His straining thighs were inches away. The net hummed gently, resisting any movement.

You squinted against the bright threads. Miguel continued to scowl, eyes narrowing to slits. Trying to breathe steadily, you pulled out a capped syringe.

"I'm going to give you your vaccines is that alright?" stay calm stay calm oh my god oh holy fuck-

A singular, clawed finger poked through the net.

"Be my guest, mija."

He'd broken the restraints.

______________________________________________________________

part two out on Aug 18! love you xox

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