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justjams2003 · 1 month

Note

Hiii! Super loved your recent work (fast pace) 🩷 I was really hooked and now it's one of my favorite Carlos fics here!

I was wondering if I could request a special part of it? Anything like their life with their kids, their life after carlos' retirement, or something domestic! Thank you 🫶🏻

Hi! I just want to apologize for making you wait for so long. I took a bit of a writing break after finishing Fast Pace. But I got inspired after Carlos won last weekend! Please enjoy:

Summary: Some domestic bliss as you and Carlos pick up your three eldest children after their first day of Grade 1 and kindergarten.

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Husband!Father!Carlos Sainz x Wife!Mother!Reader

Warnings: Carlos is aged up and is in this request now 41. Age difference. A cute happy family. Even still, manipulation, control, obsession. Carlos tampers with your birth control. Kissing. A very slight mention of alcohol.

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen @formulaal tjdjindahouse

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

The first year of marriage was amazing. You spent almost every hour with Carlos. Jumping from airplane to airplane, country to country. You were attached at the hip. The media either loved it or hated it...you actually didn’t know. At some point, a PR team took over your Instagram and it was rare for you to ever actually read the comments or news. Any information you’d receive would come from Carlos and his team, after all, they’re all you really can trust.

That was, of course, until, mysteriously, your birth control pills stopped working. It feels like so long ago, the day Carlos picked you up in his arms, celebrating the news of a child. Now, you wait outside the school gates, seven years later, with a much older Carlos but just as excited. His eyes now crinkle up and he has a few grey steaks at the temples of his hair. But he’s not any less handsome.

Especially when his big strong arms holds your daughter in his arms. Your little girl sits perched on his hip. The only other girl in his life, besides you. She looks so much like him. Dark toughs of hair that you’ve combed this morning with the same wavy texture as his hair. Her big brown eyes gleam up with such love at him.

And at the same time, he carries your son in his car seat with the other arm. He’s sleeping soundly, his dummy bobbing up and down as he suckles in his sleep. You’re so glad Carlos is here to help. You were sad three years ago when he decided to retire at the end of the season. But now, you’re so grateful. You don’t think you could do this with him on the other side of the world.

You feel like you’ve been pregnant forever now. Totally accidently five months after giving birth, now you’re 2 months pregnant again. You groan, everything hurts. Your breasts are engorged from breastfeeding and now being pregnant again. You’ve got constant heartburn and nausea. Your hair has thinned and your nails feel brittle. And yet, including all that, Carlos still believes wholeheartedly that you are the most gorgeous girl in the whole world.

Carlos steps closer to you and places a kiss on your temples. “¿Cómo te sientes, mi amor?” When was the last time that you spoke English? You can’t really remember, because now Spanish also sounds like English. “Tired, mostly, I’ve missed the boys all day, it feels so strange without them home.” He chuckles and nods, “It’s strange for the house to be quiet... You think everything went well?”

You smile and turn to the gates, you know Carlos is worried his children might be bullied or used for his name. That they won’t be able to make proper friends, that all the kids would just use them to get into the celebrity world. You had a meeting with the twins and Junior’s schools to handle this with grace.

You can feel the other parents whisper, talking with each other. You feel someone tap your shoulder. You turn, it’s a woman who looks to be your age, 31. Where has the time gone? She smiles and speaks in Spanish, like everyone else where you live. “Is this your first time?” She asks with a kind smile. You return the expression, “No, not at kindergarten. But it’s still as nerve wracking.”

She laughs with you as you begin your small talk. “But, after this we have to pick up our son at first grade, which makes our stomachs turn.” You laugh and lightly graze Carlos’ arm to show who ‘we’ are. “Is this your husband?” She asks and Carlos nods. “Hi, I’m Carlos. I would shake your hand but my hands are a little full.” He says, referring to the children in his hands. He refuses to let you carry anything while pregnant.

“And I’m Y/N.” You shake her hand and she also introduces herself. Then your ear catches the sound of excited children screaming as the first classroom door opens. Your head snaps to the noise and then you see the teacher you had met with walking to the gate with a trail of kids behind her.

You can see your twin boys anxiously scanning the parents trying to find you. And when the eldest of the two do see you, he grabs his brother’s arm and quickly runs over. “Mama! Papa!” They yell and excitedly run over into your arms. They wrap their arms around you, as you bend down and hug them close.

“Hello, my loves, how was it?” You ask, combing the hair out of their eyes. They look a lot more like you than the other kids. “It was fun, but missed you mama.” Dario, the youngest of the two says. Your girl babbles and makes grabbing hands at Antonio, the oldest of the twins. “Papa, wanna hold sis.” Antonio says, Carlos smiles and puts Bianca down on her little feet. Your kids hug each other, Carlos has raised his sons to have the same protectiveness as he has over their mother and sister.

“Come on, hold my hand.” You say taking each of their hands in your own. Carlos crosses the road first and then you. He opens the car door for you. It’s almost ironic for this retired championship formula one driver to now be the one driving a mini-van. It is his fault, he just can’t keep his hands off his wife. Carlos wouldn’t have it any other way.

He buckles each of the kids into their car seat. The twins next to each other in the back and the two youngest in the front. Your youngest, seven month old is the best behaved. He sleeps in his car seat, that is until the twins start arguing, like always. Who had the best lunchbox, who is tallest, who mom and dad like most. Even though, you made sure they had the same lunchbox, they’re twins and thus the same height and like all parents, you don’t have a favourite.

“Oi! Stop arguing, you’ll wake up your brother.” Carlos commands, his tongue moving fast in his home language. It still gets you all warm when he speaks Spanish. “Sorry, papa,” they say in unison. You just sigh and shake your head. “Papa?” Your daughter, Bianca calls out. “Yes, my princess?” Carlos replies. “Ice-cream?” The little girl asks, your heart melts and you’re certain that your husband is also a puddle. “After we pick up Junior, we’ll go out for ice-cream.”

Your kids scream in excitement, causing your baby to start whimpering and then soon crying. “Ai, mi amour.” Carlos sighs and shakes his head, his eyes meet yours in the rear-view mirror while you sit next to your youngest children. You slightly lean over your seat and give him a kiss on his greying temples. “It’s okay, my love.”

You’ve got Raúl, your youngest, strapped into your sling. Bianca sits high on Carlos’ shoulders, daddy’s little girl. Her fingers gripped into his salt and pepper hair. You can’t help but reach up and untangle her fingers. “My love, when did you start going grey?” You ask Carlos, staring into his warm brown eyes. He just laughs and shakes his head.

“Must you point it out? I feel so old compared to the other parents...” He mutters, the other parents are around your age, some even younger. “I like it though...a silver fox.” He once again laughs and sighs. “No, mi amor.” You grin wildly at his reaction. “41 Isn’t that old...” He mumbles and again you just smirk. “I mean, Alonso was still racing at 41...”

That really does get him, he bursts out laughing. “Yeah, you’re not wrong...” Then you feel Dario tug on your hand. “Look, Mama!” You see kids, with backpacks looking far too big for their tiny bodies, come pouring out of classroom. Then your eldest son, you can’t help but smile seeing he’s chatting with other kids. And then his big brown eyes look up and see Carlos, he begins running.

The little boy runs up and hugs Carlos around the legs. Your twins greet their oldest brother. Bianca waves down to her brother from above. Junior gleams up, you remember when you gave birth to Bianca, Junior wanted to do everything for her. He’d carry her around every chance he got.

“Come, papa said we can have ice-cream.” You tell Junior after he hugs you. “Really?” He asks, his eyes beaming up. Carlos winks and then nods.

Ding! Your phone has a notification. You grab your phone on the nightstand. “Who is it?” Carlos asks, coming out of the shower. All five of your kids are fast asleep. You read the text. “It’s Alex.” She and Charles had married 3 years ago, no kids yet. “What does she say?” Carlos asks, lying down in the bed next to you, taking your phone and reading the text.

“Hey Y/N, we miss you, why don’t we go out and party tonight? Leave the kids with Carlos.” She texted in the group chat, and Kika added. “We haven’t seen you in like years now that Carlos isn’t racing anymore.” Carlos just laughs at their antics. He hands your phone back to you. “Do you want to go?” He asks, raising his brow.

When was the last time you went out alone? When was the last time that you weren’t with Carlos? Since he retired...there hasn’t really been a second alone? It would be kind of nice, to talk about something other than the kids... “I’d prefer if you didn’t...” Carlos mutters, he crawls down to your stomach. He gently lifts your pyjama short and kisses your stomach. “Pregnant and all...”

You just smile, combing your fingers through his salt and pepper hair. You pick up your phone and text your friends in the groupchat. “Sorry, girls, can’t have alcohol...🙈” You get a quick reply back. “Again?!” “Didn’t you like just give birth???” Your cheeks go red at their comments. You feel the urge to send them a photo of Carlos kissing your stomach, but don’t. You do, however, take a photo, saving it for later and then put the phone down.

“I hope it’s another girl.” He mutters, placing small kisses on your stomach. You can’t help but smirk. “I hope it’s the last one.” You mutter, playing with his hair. He pouts, placing his chin gently on your stomach. “Why? You look so fucking good pregnant.” He says, lust in his gaze. You just laugh and roll your eyes. “To you, maybe. But I’m telling you, my love, I don’t want to have to drive a limousine to their schools.”

You can see him think for a moment. “You mean it? No more kids?” He says, jutting out his bottom lip and making his eyes gleam. It’s hard to say no to him, but you stay firm, for once in your life. You actually wanted to stop after the twins. Not that you love Bianca and Raúl any less.

But this number six is the most difficult so far. You’re taking both pre-and-postnatals at the same time. “Yes, I mean it.” You say, stern. You’d like your body to be yours again...“Alright, I’ll get the snip. I don’t want you on those damn pills. I can’t fucking stand them, they’re unnatural.” He mutters, his jaw locking...

Huh...Always thinking about your well-being...

“You look so fucking good as a mom. Seeing how much they adore you. It’s hard to keep my hands off you.” He snarls, his kisses on your stomach becoming more sloppy. He trails up to your lips. Capturing your lips in his. So furious and desperate on your lips. “I love you, mi amor. You’re mine. Only mine.”

Request are open.

#Fast Pace #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f 1 x reader

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poeghoul · 5 months

Text

hard times iii.

in which they're far too drawn to each other.

word count: 7,852 warnings: mentions of drug usage and abuse, unwanted advances, angst, possessiveness authors note: not proofread. only a few parts left to this series </3 im far too attached to them.

masterlist

part one part two

Y/n made her way out of the diner, the new waiter, Ross, following close behind her. “It’s not too bad, I promise. You’ll get the hang of it soon,” she turned to face him, smiling to try and relieve his anxiety. The poor boy had spilled orange juice all over his black sweater, the thick fabric sticking to his chest, and still slightly damp. “Plus you’ll be taking the night shift and barely anyone comes in.”

He exhaled through his mouth, raising his eyebrows at her, “so that means shit tips, huh?” he joked at her. She pulled her lips into her mouth, hesitant to answer, and when she went to challenge his assumption, he cut her off. “Fuck, really? Shit, I’m fucked,” running a hand through his hair, he shook his head. She pursed her lips at him.

“It’s not awful, I swear. And you’re new, so,” she trailed off, not entirely knowing what to say to the blue eyed boy. “They always start the newbies off at night,” the end of her sentence sounded more like a question, and he just smirked at her and tilted his head to the side.

“You’re shit at making people feel better, you know that?” he grinned at her, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth, shaking his head at her. She grinned at him, exhaling a laugh through her nose. “Ya need a ride or anything?”

“Mm, no I have a ride already, thank you though,” she gestured to the man standing next to the black SUV behind her. A ‘shit’ coming from the boy in front of her. “Yeah,” she pursed her lips. Ever since the first night Jax had picked her up, everyone who worked at the diner bombarded her with a million questions anytime the ‘mystery’ man stood in front of the building; how’d you score that, who is he, how do you know him, etc.

“No offense, but how the fuck are you able to drive that? Or have someone drive you in that,” he stared at her, a befuddled look graced his face.

She tucked her bottom lip in between her teeth for a second, his gaze switching from her eyes to her lips and back once the flesh was released, “um, a friend of mine kinda owes me a favor and this is how he’s paying me back,” she shrugged, her right arm coming up to rub her left, an anxious habit.

A humorless laugh escaped him, “I will never ask for a favor if this is what you’re expecting in return,” he gestured to the car. “I’ll see you in the morning, y/n,” he patted her shoulder before running his hand down her arm, barely even touching the jacket covered skin, and grazed her hand for a moment longer than he should’ve. She blushed from the action, taking in a sharp breath before nodding and bidding him goodbye.

They parted ways; Ross walking to a beat up ‘99 Honda Civic hatchback, and y/n to her (Harry’s) personal chauffeur’s car. She sent a smile to Jax before wrapping her arms around his torso, squishing her face into his chest (he was significantly taller than her, but not as tall as Harry).

“Hey, sweetpea,” he greeted her, she felt the vibrations rumble through his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, a hand coming up to caress the back of her head and a gentle kiss was placed on the crown of her head. “Wanna tell me who that was?” he pulled back to wink at her, she just rolled her eyes unwrapping her arms and crossing them over her chest and he opened the door for her,

“That was Ross, he’s the new waiter I told you about. Not very good though,” she stepped up into the backseat and sat her bag down on the seat next to her. A few weeks ago, she’d be getting in the backseat hoping Harry would greet her with an apology or an explanation. Now, she’d be surprised to even smell Harry’s lingering cologne. He’s been avoiding her since the last time he came to her apartment. No calls, no texts, no interactions whatsoever.

Jax laughed, closing the door before running around the back of the car and hopping in the front seat. His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror, “that bad, huh?” Her eyes widened and she nodded, her mouth agape.

“I’ve never met anyone that uncoordinated, I swear. He’s great with the customers, he really is, he just can’t balance a tray to save his life,” she sighed, “Dan put a lot of faith in me, too, which makes it worse. Like, I can’t just magically make someone a great waiter, especially if this is their first waiting job.”

“That’s rough, sweetpea, I’m sorry.”

“Is it bad I don’t think he’ll last long?” sympathy laced her tone.

“Not at all, and from the sounds of it, that seems likely,” he shrugged one shoulder and started the car. Pushing the parking brake down, he shifted into reverse before pulling out of the parking lot and on to the main street leading to her studio.

“Yeah,” she pulled her lips into her mouth, looking out the window. She had switched to the morning shift, paranoia suffocating her every night making her shifts much harder to get through without choking on her anxiety. And because no one else was willing to take the night shift, they had to hire another waiter. And apparently, for god knows why, they just had to hire one with no experience. And just had to make y/n train him. A form of punishment, she’s sure. “How was your day?” she looked back to him, eyes trained on his side profile.

“Mm, fine. Uneventful as normal. Just waited around for,” he met her eyes in the rearview, “Mr. Styles,” she looked down at her hands, picking at her over bitten cuticles, dried blood staining her nail beds. “He had another meeting with Mr. Horan,” she nodded slowly. Niall hadn’t even come into the diner. They both had disappeared.

The drive was short, it always was. Soon enough, she was thanking him, like usual, and running up the stairs to her apartment. Unlocking the door, she could hear the bells she had attached to the door handle on the inside sing loudly. It was annoying, but with where her mind had been the past month, she deemed it necessary. Kicking her shoes off, she plopped on her chair, rolling her neck from side to side trying to alleviate the tension.

After her third morning shift, she had started to regret asking to be taken off nights, she had no clue what to do in the middle of the afternoon. When she’d get off around ten, she would come home and get ready for bed and watch a show or scroll through tiktok until she’d be half asleep with the phone slipping from her grasp. It was a routine she’d been used to for about eight months, but developing new routines and sticking to them was not her strong suit.

Getting off this early highlighted how alone she felt. It got dark around 4:30 and winter was creeping in. Her seasonal depression started to settle in, making a home in the cavity of her chest.

+++

Harry sat across from Niall in his home office, sitting back in his expensive Italian leather chair with his leg crossed over his knee. He rarely ever hosted meetings in his home, never trusting anyone enough to invite them in, but Niall was entirely different. He managed to snake his way into Harry’s life; calling and texting him at all hours of the day, inviting him to attend church with his wife and two daughters or out to play a game of golf. Harry was suspicious about the amount of communication and invitations, but learned that Niall was one of the friendliest men he’d ever come across, and eventually accepted an invitation to a game of golf. That was entirely a bad idea, however, since Niall was practically glued to Harry’s side ever since.

He had even told him about what happened with y/n, to which Niall prompted him to just come clean to her about how he felt. But of course, it wasn’t that simple. If it was, Harry would’ve done that the moment he saw his sweet girl shed a tear. They never spoke about it after Harry yelled at Niall to stop meddling.

“Who do you think did it?” Harry asked the blue eyed brunette, referring to a shootout that happened at a Motel 6 twentyseven miles from where they were meeting. Motel 6’s were notorious for drug dealings, though Harry never dared to step foot near one.

Niall shrugged, “could’ve been anyone, really. But I’m sure it had something to do with Justus. He’s always down there, creepin’ around,” a scowl graced his gentle face.

Harry brought his fingers to rest on his mouth, tapping a finger on the skin above his lip and raising an eyebrow at the man's theory, “Hm, Justus, aye?” Niall nodded. “ ‘S a possibility, he loves his motels. Who else could’ve been down there, though? Couldn’t have just been a deal gone wrong, he had to have stepped on someone’s toes.”

“Well, it-” Niall cut himself off, perking up as he put the pieces together in his head, “Payne. It was fucking Payne, god that prickhead.”

“Niall, that name holds no significance with me, who is that?”

“Liam Payne,” Niall answered, leaning forward, “terrible prices, terrible stock, always lacing whatever he’s able to get his hands on to sell for less,” Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “Laced a batch of coke with fent and killed twelve people but of course, being who he is, no one ever ratted him out. Hells gonna swallow him whole rightfully so.”

“Hm,” Harry hummed out, “let’s hope he makes his way up here,” a grin took over his features. Niall stared at him in confusion.

“Why’s that? Don’t want him anywhere near me, if ‘m bein honest.”

“Well, you won’t have to deal with him. I’ll happily take care of him.”

Niall gulped, “I don’t know Harry, he’s shitty but,” he paused, trying to think of the right phrasing, “powerful. Very powerful.”

Harry’s grin widened, the skin around his eyes wrinkling, “and I’m not?” he retorted. Niall shook his head, chuckling, knowing where Harry was headed. “Like I said, I’ll happily take care of him.”

“Devious bastard.”

Niall and Harry said their goodbyes, one of Harry’s men walking him out. Harry sat in his office, alone again. He sat back in his chair, messing with the H and S rings on his left hand, his mind wandering to his little lamb, whom he hadn’t seen in far too long. He wondered if she thought of him, wondered if her thumb ever hovered over the call button under his name in her contacts like he had done with her. She consumed his thoughts daily. He’d ask Jax about how her day went and why she switched to the morning shift, to which Jax couldn’t answer truthfully as he didn’t even know.

Papers scattered the desk in front of him, numbers, dollar signs and crossed out names on nearly every page. The amount of clutter on the desk made him restless, unable to think straight, but he couldn’t bring himself to organize it in any way. He’d begin to put things away but would quickly get overwhelmed with the amount of shit he had to file away. So, he just stared at the piles, his mind occupied by the girl he didn’t get a chance to know, by his own fault.

He reached into his jacket pocket, reading the time, 4:37 pm, and his notifications, looking for one in particular.

Jax D.

She’s home safe, area secured.

A small smile graced his lips, happy she was home safe and unharmed. He wished she would’ve told him instead, however. Wishing to hear the words fall from her pretty pink lips. He tapped at the screen to respond.

Harry:

Good. Thank you.

He set his phone down, his heart aching in his chest, missing his sweet little lamb.

+++

“What are you doing tonight?” Ross asked y/n as she unlocked the front doors for the pair, she looked at him over her shoulder as she pulled the door open.

“Mm, probably nothing, I work tomorrow morning so I don’t really wanna do much,” she let him walk in before her, following him inside before locking the door behind them. “Why, what’s up?” she quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Just curious, damn,” he held his hands up in surrender, she rolled her eyes and laughed at him.

“Well, why are you curious?” The two made their way into the back room, setting their stuff in their designated lockers. She sat down on the bench, retying the shoelace that had come undone. He sat in front of her, legs on either side of the bench.

“Well, I was gonna see if you wanted to do something cause I’m off tomorrow and I assumed you were too so,” he shrugged, staring at her as she sat across from him.

She looked up at him, mouth slightly agape. “Oh,” she nodded slowly. “What were you thinking?”

“What?”

She rolled her eyes at him, “what did you wanna do?”

“Oh, I’m dumb, I thought you meant, like, what are you thinking,” he said in a scolding tone, she laughed. “But whatever you wanna do, we can see a movie or something.”

She nodded her head slowly, contemplating the idea. It wouldn’t be bad, she could get a blue and red icee, but she didn’t want to give up her daily alone time (with working in the service industry, she looked forward to that very much needed time). But with how melancholy she’d been feeling lately, the alone time became very depressing after an hour.

“I’m down,” she smiled at him, a dimple cutting into her cheek. “What do you wanna see? The new Priscilla movie is out, I really wanna see that but we don’t have to watch that if you don’t want to,” she rambled.

“That’s Elvis’ wife right?” She nodded, “I love Elvis,” she cringed. She had a deep hatred for him and his stupid voice and stupid hair. She vowed to never step foot in Vegas because of him. “Let’s do it. Check the times, do you wanna go after work so you’re not staying out too late?”

“Oh yeah that’s actually perfect.”

He grinned back at her, “perfect. It’s a date.”

He got up before she had the chance to correct him; it was absolutely not a date.

+++

Harry sat on the edge of his bed, buttoning up a crisp white shirt. He had returned home from his morning jog and worked out for a little over two hours before getting in the shower and readying himself for the day. No meetings planned, which he was thankful for. He just had to foresee a shipment coming in from Arizona, some of the finest coke he had ever seen was set to come in today and he didn’t trust anyone enough to not tamper with the sweet white powder. Jax, Daniel and Lee met him in the hallway, ready to take him to the warehouse, while the rest of his men were already on their way.

“Morning, Mr. Styles,” one of the burly men greeted him, Harry didn’t bother to respond to the greeting, instead looking to Jax to inquire about his angel.

“She was dropped off at 5:45 this morning, I watched her go inside with the new waiter. She texted me she doesn’t need a ride home but I’ll still check the area out when she’s set to be off,” Harry’s neck almost snapped with the way he turned so quickly.

“What? Did she say why she doesn’t need a ride home?”

Jax shook his head, “She didn’t, sir.”

“Show me the texts,” he stopped in his tracks, his hand reaching out, waiting for the phone to be placed in his palm. Jax hesitated. Harry narrowed his eyes at him becoming impatient. “Show me the texts, now.” Jax reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his phone and tapped on the screen before handing it over to Harry.

Y/n 🐇☁️

Ross said he can give me a ride today:) love u see u in the morning

Harry reread the message four times over, his heart caught in his throat. He turned the screen off and gave the phone back to Jax, turning on his heel to walk out to the car. He settled in the backseat, Lee next to him, while Jax and Daniel sat in the front.

He sat staring out the window, the car not even moving yet. His breathing rapid, his heartbeat similar to one of a rabbit getting caught in the grip of a hawk.

He broke the uncomfortable silence, “Is Ross the new waiter?” Jax nodded, nonverbal. “He seems interested in her?” Again, the man nodded, not daring to say anything more thinking it would just piss him off further. But Harry wasn’t angry, he was more hurt than anything. He knew he had no right to be upset in any way, afterall he walked out on her, but it still didn’t sit well with him. “What time is she set to be off today?” He turned, looking at the man in the passenger seat.

“Scheduled off at 2:30, but depends on if she’s finished with her tables. She's still training the new waiter so it could be longer than that. She said he’s not very good,” Jax threw the last bit in there to appease Harry. It worked.

“You’ll switch cars for the day, you can take the beemer, I want to see her make it home safe.”

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

+++

Y/n and Ross made their way out of the diner, headed to his beat up little car (he swore it was the coolest “ride” and that the ladies “loved” it). He would take y/n home so she could change and lend him one of her oversized shirts, offering him that after they made the plan to go right after work thinking he’d be uncomfortable in a food stained sweater. He declined the offer at first but after he spilled a copious amount of coffee and syrup on him, he asked if it was still on the table.

Harry and Jax sat in the heavily tinted Beemer watching the pair as they walked out of the double doors and into the piece of shit, as Harry put it. He was fuming, his foot tapping against the carpeted mats of the car as he clenched his jaw, Jax thought he was closing to breaking a few teeth or the mandible all together. The two men followed them as they made their way to y/n’s.

Harry hadn’t been in this area in a week's time; he had been following Jax in that very car, watching to make sure she was actually making it safe to her little home.

He watched as he parked his car on the street, and watched as they walked up the stairs and stood at the door for him to unlock it. That made him even more angry, how was she so comfortable with a man she barely knew to allow him in her apartment?

The chiming of bells rang through her apartment as she pushed open the door.

“Bells?”

She nodded, “I’m a girl living alone, kinda a necessity,” she shrugged, setting her keys down. “Thirsty?” He shook his head.

“Ya know something’s really gotta be done about that.” She looked at him, a confounded look on her face.

“What?”

“Like women are scared to live alone, that’s, like, really shitty. And pads and tampons should be free.” She stared at him, her head cocked to the side before shaking her head and approaching her dresser.

“I have a few sweaters you can borrow too if you’re cold,” she reached into her pajama drawer and pulled out an old Jimi Hendrix shirt she had purchased at a record store from her hometown years ago. The neckline was fraying and the graphic design was barely dark enough to where it was easy to make out.

“Yeah, I’ll take one if that's alright,” he smiled at her, holding the t-shirt up in front of him. “Do you actually like Hendrix or is this just like a hand-me-down?”

She rolled her eyes, going through the bin of sweaters she had, trying to find one that would actually fit his lanky, but tall, frame. “Yes, I actually like him, asshat. I have Are You Experienced on vinyl,” she nodded her head to the turntable that sat in the corner, near her bathroom door. A collection of vinyl growing dust sat on the bottom shelf of the stand it sat on.

“Damn my bad, cupcake.” She hated that. She hated how he called her ‘cupcake’ or ‘sweetie’. She hated how it sounded, hated how it made her feel, hated how degrading it was. She handed him a plain gray sweater, saying nothing, not making eye contact. “Thanks,” he took it from her, his hand grazing hers in an unnecessary manner. Without warning, he pulled his shirt over his head and fumbled with the t-shirt she had handed him. He was just standing in her room basically half naked.

“Oh,” she said, turning around and facing the opposite of him. He laughed from behind her. She wished she had chosen her alone time. Or at least asked to see the movie later in the day as she was going on nine hours of being with the boy.

“I’m decent now.” She turned to face her dresser again, filing through her shirt drawer looking for a long sleeve to wear under her sweater. Even with the chilly fall weather, movie theaters cranked their ac all the way up. “I’m gonna change in the bathroom,” she shut the door after getting the last word of her sentence out, thankful to have a moment to herself.

While she was undressing her upper half, she heard a pounding on the door, the bells clanking against the wood. “Hey are you okay?” she shouted.

“Yeah,” he yelled back to her, “there’s some guy at your door, should I open it?”

Some guy? She couldn’t think of anyone who would drop by randomly on a Tuesday afternoon, other than Jax but he knew she didn’t need a ride so it couldn’t have been him, right?

“Gimme a sec,” she tugged her long sleeve over her head and opened the bathroom door, pulling her hair out of the neckline.

She covered the eyehole for a moment before briefly looking into it, but someone was covering the other side of it. She glanced back at Ross, shrugging her shoulders, silently asking what she should do.

“Here, I got it,” he approached her and she stepped back to give him some space. He cracked the door open slightly, just enough space for his head to be visible from the other side. “Hey can I help you?”

The door was pushed open, Ross groaning at the force from the man on the other side. Harry stomped his way in the apartment, looking around the space before his eyes landed on her. His gaze softened. He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.

“Dude, you can just fucking come into someones house man,” Ross said from behind him. Harry rolled his eyes, turning to face the significantly smaller boy.

“Don’t fucking call me dude, who the fuck are you?” Harry yelled as he approached him, towering over him and backing him into the wall.

Ross swallowed, his back hitting the brick wall. “I-uh, who are you?” he retorted, Harry chuckled.

“What are you doing here?” y/n spoke up, taking a step closer to him. Harry turned, locking eyes with her again.

He didn’t have an explanation that didn’t make him sound insanely jealous and possessive of someone who wasn’t even his. “I, y/n, I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I’m sorry.”

“Can we go outside for a second?” Harry nodded, his hand on the doorknob waiting for her to come with him. He closed the door behind him. She didn’t say anything, a sad look on her face.

Harry’s hand twitched beside him, wanting so desperately to pull her into him to hold her or even to touch her cheek again. She poked at the chipped nail polish on her nails.

“I still haven’t made any banana bread,” she broke the silence. A smile made a home on Harry's lips.

“Hmm, that’s exactly why I came, how’d you know?” she smiled up at him, a gleam in her eyes. Harry’s smile wavered. His hands twitched again, his subconscious begging him to run, begging him to stay far away from the sweet angel that stood in front of him.

“ ‘S just a guess,” her head dipped down again, her arms coming to wrap around her torso as the autumn air nipped away at her.

They stood in silence for a moment, none of the two knowing what to say after weeks of no contact. Harry felt he couldn’t ask her about the morning shift or about the things Jax has told him about her life recently; he wasn’t invited into that part. Rather, he uninvited himself to that part of her life when he sent he Jaxs information then proceeded to go back and forth with blocking and unblocking her number.

“We’re going to see Priscilla, it starts pretty soon.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t know you were an Elvis fan.”

“I’m not,” she was quick to disprove the claim, “it’s not about him, it’s about his child bride.” Harry chuckled.

“Hm, I’m not too fond of the ‘Viva Las Vegas’ bastard either,” she smiled, wryly. “I’ll head out then, I hope you enjoy your night,” he turned on his heel, she followed behind him, meeting him at the stairs.

“Harry,” he turned, surprised with how close she was. “If you’d like, um, you can come over after I get home.”

“I’d love to,” he grinned at her.

“Harry?” They were so close to each other.

“Yes?”

“You promise you’ll come back?” His heart broke, practically shattered at that. He shook his head fervently.

“Yes. Yes, y/n, I’ll come back once you tell me to.”

“I’ll see you soon, Harry.”

“I’ll see you soon, y/n.”

Harry descended down the stairs, she stayed in her spot, peering over the railing to watch him walk away. She hoped he’d keep his promise. The front door to her apartment creaked, Ross peeking his head out, warily.

“He gone?” she nodded, heading back into her space. “Who was that? He’s scary as shit, cupcake. How do you know him?” he asked, bewildered by the mysterious man who practically burst into her home.

“Ya know that friend who owes me a favor?” He nodded. “That’s him. He’s kinda temperamental, I’m sorry,” a pursed smile was sent to him as an apologetic gesture.

“Kinda is an understatement, sweetheart.” There it was again. A nickname coated in degradation. One she hated coming from him, but if Harry or Jax had said it, it would absolutely be and feel different.

“Are you ready to go, I’m sure we’re gonna miss all the trailers and you know what’ll happen if I don’t get my blue and red Icee.” she joked.

“First, I truly doubt something bad is going to happen to the county of Placerville and second its blue raspberry and cherry. Not blue, not red.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

“Yeah whatever, let’s go dipshit.” His laugh boomed through the room as she picked her keys off the counter.

+++

Y/n was sobbing. Her heart caught in her throat as Elvis was forcing Priscilla to pack a bag to take to her parents after she confronted him about finding a love note in his jacket pocket. He was terrifying and the movie just reinforced how poorly she thought of the beloved singer.

A hand grazed her knee, finding a place on her thigh. She was stunned, not daring to move her leg in any way. The thumb moving from side to side, a reassuring gesture, sure, but coming from someone she didn’t think of in any way other than a coworker; it was unwanted, unjustified. She swallowed back the acid building in her throat and reached for her watered down Icee, sipping on the cool liquid. She still hadn’t moved the hand and she wouldn’t for the remainder of the film, far too scared of potential consequences.

A flood of relief washed over her when the movie ended and the lights returned. A halo of light above their heads woke the sleeping boy next to her.

He stretched out, “ ‘s over?” she nodded.

“I take it you weren’t a fan?”

He shook his head, “I don’t think I was the target audience,” he shrugged, “you liked it?”

She nodded, “I loved it.”

They stood from their seats and headed for the exit, she tossed her melted Icee remnants and popcorn before they exited the building entirely. It was completely dark out and pouring. They ran to his car, trying to outrun the downpour embracing them.

Silence covered them as they sat in the car, the heater spat out cold air before finally heating the space to a more comfortable temperature. He put the car into reverse and sped out of the parking lot. Soft indie music played through the speakers, no artists y/n had particularly liked but she wouldn’t complain as she wasn’t the one driving.

His hand found a home on her thigh again, higher than the previous unwanted gesture was. She glared down at it for a moment before grabbing his hand in between her thumb and pointer finger, moving it so it sat on the gear shift instead. He chuckled.

“Sorry, thought it was fine since,” he turned to glance at her before looking back out the windshield, “you didn’t move it earlier.”

She stared at her hands in her lap, swallowing the saliva building up in her mouth. “I, um,” she pulled her lips into her mouth for a moment, “I’m not really interested in you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” he took a sharp breath, before laughing. “I’m really bad at reading people. I’m sorry, I got the wrong idea.” Relief washed over her.

“No don’t worry, I’m also extremely passive and I can’t really express myself like I should, I don't know.”

“Well, it's both our faults then,” he smiled at her and she sent one right back.

Harry watched as he put his car into park, having made it back to her apartment complex before them as his car went much faster than his beat up civic. He watched as y/n reached over the middle console to hug the boy and watched as she got out to ascend the stairs. Now he would simply wait to get a text to invite him up.

Y/n opened the door, greeted by her bells, and flicked on the lights. She ran around her studio, trying to tidy up quickly, and lit a pumpkin spice candle before running into the bathroom to take a quick shower, desperate to wash the rain scent off her (and Ross’ lingering touch).

Harry sat in his car, his fingers dancing along the dashboard impatiently as he wondered what was taking her so long. Naturally, his mind went to the worst case scenario; someone broke in and is holding her hostage or she fell and twisted her ankle and is screaming on the floor from the debilitating pain or-.

His phone chimed, her message casting a glow onto his face.

Y/n:

i’m home now you can head over whenever:)

His anxiety was alleviated from her text message, a confirmation of her safety and wellbeing. He immediately got out of his car, the warmth from the heated seats almost disappeared instantly with how cold and wet it was. And like her, he ascended the stairs to knock on the door.

On the inside, y/n was confused by the knocking, not realizing it was Harry with how quickly the knocking happened after she sent the text. She peered through the peephole and immediately opened the door, not wanting him to stay in the cold much longer. The bells on the handle sang.

“Bells?” She nodded. “Hm.”

“It’s a safety thing, I guess.”

“You don’t feel safe?” He stepped closed to her as she shut the door behind him.

“Well, it’s not that I don’t feel safe, I just wanted extra precaution,” she shrugged.

“If you don’t feel safe I’ll have Jax stay in the area and have hourly check ins or we can relocate you or-”

“Relocate? Harry, no it’s not that big of a deal I just wanted to be able to hear the door from the shower.” Harry glared at her.

“Not that big of a deal? Y/n, your safety is a huge deal.”

“Can we drop it? Please, I don’t want to talk about it,” she approached her bed and sat down, picking up a decorative pillow to mess with the trim.

Harry sighed and sat next to her on the bed, moving her hair from her face. She looked at him, the glimmer in her eyes returning. The little voice in Harry’s head returned, even louder, shouting at him to leave her alone; to get out of there and never look back.

“We can drop it, but you need to tell me if you ever feel unsafe, little lamb, understood?” She nodded. “Y/n,” he said in a warning tone, “tell me you understand, please.

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Yes, Harry, I understand.”

“Thank you.”

“How’d you get here so fast?” Harry froze, trying to come up with an excuse but blanking, just staring at her for a minute while his mind went a million miles an hour. “Harry?”

“I, I kinda just stayed in the parking lot while you were gone.”

She laughed. “No way, you waited more than two hours? Just sitting in your car?” he hesitantly nodded, a blatant lie.

He absolutely did not wait in his car outside of her apartment. He followed them to the theater, bought himself a ticket to the same movie, and sat at the very top with his head low, and watched them the entire time. He watched as her shoulders shook from crying, watched as she ate her candy and drank her Icee, watched when the boy she was with, whose name he never bothered learning, placed his hand on her lap. He watched them leave the theater with anger coursing through him.

“You didn’t have to do that, Harry.” He shrugged, not caring to continue this conversation.

“Why are you on mornings now?”

She sighed, “I got scared,” her tongue was thick in her mouth, scared to cry again if it resulted in him leaving once more and ending contact for another month. His hand met her back, lightly rubbing the tender flesh beneath his rough hand. Her hands fumbled with the zipper on the pillow. “The night we met really freaked me out. Like when you left, I swore someone was still here watching me. It was freaky. And the next morning I was so drained, I think that's why I forgot Jax was coming to get me. And then the time changed and I got even more scared cause I would just basically be working in the dark the entire shift and I don’t know I just psych myself out sometimes,” she ended her tangent, partially forgetting to breathe throughout it.

Harry’s hand moved to tangle in her hair, slightly gripping the strands between his fingers, before removing his touch from her all together.

“And you forgot your phone,” he joked, a soft smile on his lips.

She pulled her lips in her mouth, exhaling a laugh through her nose, “and I forgot my phone.”

Silence dawned on them once more. A comfortable one, neither needing to speak as they basked in each other's presence.

She scooted closer to Harry, her head making contact with his shoulder. Harry gulped at the contact, unsure of what to do with himself. His hand raised, touching her cheek gently. They sat there, in silence, for what felt like an eternity. A comfortable, blissful eternity.

She had fallen asleep on his shoulder, her breathing became evenly paced and softer. Harry laid her down under her sheets, and saw himself out after kissing her forehead and blowing out her candle.

+++

Y/n was having an okay day, nothing bad had happened at work, so far. No rude customers, no shitty tips and best of all, no training needed to be done. So, yes her day was going well. Until she received a message from Harry saying they needed to have a talk and that he’ll be picking her up. He was consistent with punctuation, but the period at the end of his sentence horrified her. She was a sweaty, anxious mess her entire shift.

She reread the message every ten minutes. Time was moving so slow. Her anxiety was eating away at her, like it had been starving for months and had finally found a body to ravage to satiate the hunger. She had four cigarettes during her shift.

Harry leaned against the passenger door of his car, waiting for y/n’s shift to end. She could feel his eyes on her every time she passed by the window at the front to attend to her last table, she knew he was watching her; he was so attentive. It made her sick.

When her shift finally ended, after what felt like an eternity and a half, y/n pushed the doors open and made her way to Harry. He looked down at her with a smirk. She hoped he couldn’t see her throat bobbing while she swallowed down the excess saliva building in her mouth.

“Ya kept me waiting, little lamb.” he opened the car door for her and she could feel her coworkers staring out the window at the pair.

“‘M sorry.” She sat on the heated seat, placing her bag on the floor between her feet. Harry leaned over her to connect her seatbelt. “Thank you,” she muttered before Harry closed the door.

“How was your shift?” he asked as he buckled himself in.

“S’fine.” she mumbled.

“Angel,” her heart pounded against her sternum, you could practically hear her heartbeat in the silence. “What have I told you about mumbling?”

She bit her lip, gnawing on it before answering. “You don’t understand it.” she practically whispered.

“That’s right, little lamb. Now, why do you keep doing it?”

She could cry, sob and dry heave even. Fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness as if she had angered a god. “I don’t know, I’m sorry.” she fiddled with her fingers. Harry’s hand grabbed her own and pinched the inside of her palm, a squeal escaping her lips. He laughed.

“Don’t apologize, ‘m just messing with you,” he smiled at her as he parked his car, already at her complex. He was quick to undo his seatbelt and get out, running to her side to open the door for her. “After you.” he gestured to the stairs, allowing her to go in front of him.

She opened the door, her bells greeting the two. She stood by the door as Harry took a seat in her chair (it finally was free of clean clothing).

“Can you tell me what you want to talk to me about? Please?”

“Eager?” she nodded.

“More scared than anything.” her breathing was heavy.

“Oh, my sweet lamb.” remorse covered his face, so sorry and upset he had made a literal angel wait in apprehension. He stood from his spot on the chair and moved to stand before her. Without hesitation, he held her face in the palm of his hand, her nuzzling into the warmth of his touch. “I’m sorry I scared you, didn’t mean to, angel.”

“S’okay, Harry, I know.”

“Sit with me,” he removed his hand from her face, instead reaching for her hand to sit with him on the chair. He sat and patted his lap, an invitation for her.

“There’s not enough space for the both of us.”

He tugged on her arm, “s’fine, just sit.”

“Harry, that chair is 100 years old, I’m not breaking my favorite antique piece.”

“Y/n,” his tone laced with warning.

“Harry,” she whined back. “Just sit on the bed with me please.” she pouted.

And, of course, Harry would give in, standing up with her hand still in his and sitting on the bed to please her. Their thighs were touching with the proximity of their bodies, y/n hoped he couldn’t hear her heartbeat or feel the sweat coating her palm.

“Can you tell me now, please.” she rested her head on his shoulder, Harry could hear her pouting as she spoke.

He sighed, squeezing her hand in his. “I feel very,” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts so as to not scare her with how he truly felt. “I feel very protective of you, y/n.”

“Wow that’s a shocker,” she interrupted, sarcastically.

“Y/n” he warned, again.

“Sorry. Go ‘head.”

“No interruptions, please.” she nodded, “Good girl.” she grinned, “I feel very protective of you and I thought leaving you alone would make it not as intense but it definitely only made it worse, angel. I just, I need to know you’re safe and okay and I have no idea why but I just need to know. Your safety means so much to me, your wellbeing.” he swallowed, taking in a shaky breath. “I need to tell you, or warn you, about what I do.”

She lifted her head, making eye contact with him, a puzzled look replacing her previously smitten expression.

“I kinda sell drugs.” Still, she maintained eye contact. He looked at her, waiting for a response.

“Is that it?”

“What?” Harry asked, confused.

“You sell drugs?” he nodded. “Oh okay.”

Still, Harry stared at her, bewildered by her nonchalant response. “You’re okay with that?”

“Harry, there’s like ten people in this town with nothing to do, literally everyone deals or buys. Not a big deal.” she shrugged a shoulder, her fingers messing with his rings.

Still, he stared at her, his expression growing concerned. “It’s not just weed, y/n.” She laughed, his eyes were bulging, his jaw slack and a furrow in his brow.

“I can assume it’s not just weed, you won’t be making much with just weed here.”

“Your casualness with what I’m telling you is concerning.”

Her smile faded, “I'm sorry, what do you want me to say?”

He ran his hand through his hair, dropping his gaze to their hands entwined. “I don’t know. I just didn’t expect you to be so calm.”

“I used to do coke,” she shrugged. Harry’s eyes snap to hers, squeezing her hand a little more. “I had really bad issues maybe, like, last September. It was really bad, the withdrawals were insane but one of my friends' brothers had, um,” she swallowed down the acid building in her throat. "He got some laced with fent and he passed. My friend only got worse because of it and the guy who sold him it didn’t even care, he was just like ‘well that happens sometimes’, such a fucking asshole like he had just killed someone and that didnt even spark anything in him! I stopped after that cause I was so scared,” she admitted. “My friend never got better, he had to move in with his parents and they forced him to go to rehab but that didn’t even help.”

“I’m sorry.” was all Harry could offer.

She looked up at him through her lashes, “I trust you, Harry. I do. But if you’re selling anything laced,” she shook her head, her breathing picking up.

“I’m not, angel I promise I’m not, I’d never.” he let go of her hand, placing both hands on the sides of her face, forcing her to look at him.

“If you ever work with Liam Payne I’ll kill you.” He laughed at her threat, the name going over his head at the idea of a girl her size trying to cause harm to a man of his stature. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m being serious, Harry. If you ever work with him I’ll never wanna see you again. Liam is a terrible person. I don’t want you to get involved in that too.”

He deadpanned, “Liam Payne?” she nodded. “How do you know him?”

“Who do you think sold the laced batch?” Harry was furious. He removed his hands from her face, standing up and letting out a frustrated groan. “What’s wrong? Do you know him?”

“No,” he responded immediately. “Never met him, Niall was telling me about him. There was a shootout the other day and we think it was him, probably was that stupid fuck. He could be the reason we fucking get caught! Fuck!” he shouted, the girl flinched, her gaze returning to her hands.

“I'm sorry I brought it up, I didn't mean to make you mad at me.”

He stared at her, his breathing heavy. She couldn’t look at him, wouldn’t dare to make eye contact with him out of fear of him taking it out on her. She knew deep down, however, he would never lay a finger on her; never cause any harm to her whatsoever. But the thought was still prevalent.

“ M'not mad at you, never at you, little one. Look at me,” she looked up at him, her eyes meeting the green ones she adored. He sat back on the bed, taking her face in his hands one more. “not at you at all. Promise.” she nodded, grabbed his hands from her face and nuzzled her face into his neck, her hands gripping his jacket. “I’m sorry for scaring you, won't do it again.” he apologized as he rubbed her back.

“Thank you.” she kissed the side of his neck, momentarily feeling his pulse with her lips. Harry’s heart fluttered in his chest.

Harry wished he could stay like that forever, with her warmth against his, her face nestled in his neck. Peace was finally in his grasp, holding onto it so delicately like a fine piece of china, far too scared to drop it and destroy the delicate art, but it was never in his nature to be deft. He’d take what he could get, and if this was all he would be offered, he would accept it with open arms and a half empty heart. He longed to be full again.

and know that one day, you and I could be okay.

tags: @tiaamberxx @jerseygirlinca @n0vaj3an @tpwk-mia @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921 @love-letters-to-uranus @ribbonknives @annesauriol @moneybaby07

if your @ is in red the tag doesn’t work. thanks for reading and supporting ₊˚⊹♡

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olderthannetfic · 8 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/727841287119814656/ehh-generally-they-were-like-ask-specifics-about Can you expand on writer’s block not being real?

Sure!

I think everyone who's ever made art has hit points where it's hard to go on making art or where a particular project isn't moving. So from that perspective, sure, a version of it is real...

But there's a particular version of it that's what a lot of people mean where you're A Writer™ and then the magic inspiration gnomes come and steal your inspiration juice. This is mostly nonsense, and quite a few author types who've actually finished long projects will tell you so.

When you sit down to a blank page and it stubbornly stays blank like your head, that's a symptom of something... and the something in question is often either depression and overwhelmed feelings that are taking over your whole life or an entirely correct instinct that your project is flawed and the next step is not writing that next scene.

Many people try to be pantsers instead of planners, get maybe a quarter into a project, and then choke. It's because they started with the kind of concept that requires planning, but they haven't planned. If your plot revolves around the characters eventually learning the meaning of life, you'd damn well better start with what you, the author, think that meaning is and work backwards. Same if your characters are solving a twisty mystery or complicated thriller conspiracy: you will not come up with a genius idea that ties everything together just by writing by the seat of your pants. If you don't go in with the ending in mind and some waypoints to write towards, you're going to choke. This is exceptionally common in grandiose fic concepts that are like "What if this true blue hero were a viiiiillain, oooooh!" where it's neat, but 99% of the point is showing us the work of getting from A to B. People write the prologue showing us the big concept and then flash back to how it all started... and then stop.

I see it a lot in projects that start with a character sheet for RP. Yeah, for RP itself, noodling along and figuring out what X would do in situation Y is great fun... but for many longfic/novel plot types, you will not arrive at a workable plot this way. You'll end up with a mess that can, at best, be used as brainstorming and completely rewritten from the ground up, using only key cool images or character observations. There are authors that start from individual characters and then see where they go. In my experience, they don't tend to be working in the genres that fic fandom types tend to want to work in. It's also something that often takes a lot more experience and skill than starting with a basic plot outline, and inexperienced writers often overreach.

It's not writer's block. It's a project that needs to be taken out back like Old Yeller.

Even the salvageable projects that are making you pause usually have some other issue like you not being clear on the central emotional themes even if you've outlined some factual plot. Or you've demanded that your characters do a particular thing for plot convenience, but you know deep down that it doesn't ring true. You can't write the next scene because there is no next scene. You need to rework the forced part till the rest can make sense.

And even more common than any of the above is people thinking that just because Danielle Steel sits down every morning and writes for eight hours, that means they can and should with no warm up or experience. Trying to force yourself to be a type of writer you're not—majorly overdoing it on any work, in fact—just leads to burnout and inability to function.

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princessleechan · 4 months

Text

Imagine wanting to climbing up the social ladder with coworker!Wonwoo’s help.

How do you get with the in-crowd of the most prestigious networking organization in the country: set up their chairman with the hottest guy in your department. AKA one of the most eligible bachelors of the literary world, Jeon Wonwoo. Your setback: how were you suppose to do that when all he can think about is you? So he says.

You think it’s a joke since he could possibly get with anyone he wanted, why would he want to get with you? The person still getting coffee for your shared supervisor while he was already in the acknowledgment pages of his actual clientele, You thought it was a downgrade, and you knew that he would be punching down his league if he was actually pursuing you.

What you really think is that he’s just trying to get you off his back by pretending he wants you to be on yours. You aren’t dumb enough to be even enticed simply because of the intimidation. Although, you’d be lying if you hadn’t imagined it once or twice on a whim.

Of course, you have. He’s attractive (an understatement), an academic (another understatement), he rides a motorcycle to work everyday (hot as hell), and somewhat a decent human being (proclaimed by 99% of the women in the the office that most certainly want to get in his pants). It’s a mystery why he stays working in midsize workplace getting paid half of what he could be earning at high level facility.

“Just do it, please.”

“Depends, what do I get in return?”

“Uh a sugar mama that makes six figures a year?”

“I’d rather have you though.”

Admittedly, his words made you shudder. Once in a while they do. “No, you don’t. You’ll be doing us both a favor. This is an opportunity once in a lifetime.”

“Not interested.”

Through days of persisting, you somehow managed to do it. You’ve worn him out. You’ve convinced him to do you this small favor and let himself be set up. For once, things are looking your way, and you see a light at the end of that tunnel. Your name in brights lights, your town Ted Talk, the fan signings. You are a step closer to your true destiny.

But Wonwoo looks too well put. Too handsome for words. Too irresistible to not stare.

Lucky for you, he stares back, and impish gleam in his gaze. Walking towards you, one foot of the other, he stands tall before you with hands tucked in both pockets. “How do I look?”

That Cheshire smile on his face, dark pupils staring back at you in curious anticipation, and he catches the seize of your breath before you expel it out of your lungs in the deep exhale. You nod back at him, saying he looks agreeable. Just perfection for this kind of situation.

When he walks out the door, you didn’t expect the sinking feeling in your stomach, nor the squeeze of your chest. But you settle back down in your chair blinking back at the door the had just closed shut.

A split second later that same door opens, and the man that walks through it once reappears from the other side. “I forgot something.”

You start back at him puzzled. “Forgot what?”

He grins before his hand closes around your wrist, pull you up from your seat and pulling you towards the door, “the date I wanted have to dinner with.”

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somedaylazysomeday · 3 months

Text

Experiment - Part Two

Tech x fem!reader

Tech decides to prove how simple female bodies can be.

Can be considered a second part to my one-shot 'Experiment', but can also be read as a stand-alone work.

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3,800

Warnings: Antagonism, ill-advised bets, assumptions about females, mentions of sexual behavior, sexual touching, fingering, unprotected piv sex, creampie

Previous | Masterlist

---

It wasn’t rare, per se, that you and Tech found yourselves alone.

Your relationship could be contentious, but it wasn’t anything bad enough that you needed to keep a referee on hand. You found him slightly grating and he thought you were oblivious at times. You also vented some of that low-level irritation by sleeping together every so often, but you had never decided to be anything close to exclusive.

That being said, Clone Force 99 was busy enough that neither of you had much time for finding another partner. It had been a particularly bad dry spell for you. Which was why you were unashamedly eavesdropping on a few troopers behind you in a market on Savareen.

“Anyway, I told her I wanted to bring someone else with us and she freaked out,” one of the troopers was telling his friends. “She said I wasn’t even good enough to keep her happy, let alone two people at the same time. Can you believe that? Not my fault that making her come is harder than defusing a det on a countdown timer”

Thankfully, you were facing the other direction, because that made you grin broadly. From everything you had heard so far, the relayed statement from the trooper’s girlfriend had been harsh but true. The trooper was a remarkably selfish lover if his stories were to be believed. Personally, you thought the girlfriend had a point.

“Are you almost finished?” Tech asked. “We need to return to the ship.”

“Shhh!” you hissed. “I want to hear how this plays out.”

You couldn’t be sure whether the troopers had heard you or if they simply weren’t bold enough to tell their friend that his girlfriend was right. In any case, the only answer they offered was a simple, “That sucks, man.”

“Yeah,” the other agreed. “Females are a mystery.”

“We will miss our rendezvous,” Tech warned.

You huffed at him and went to pay for the basket of produce you were holding. After weeks of nothing but rations, the prospect of fresh fruit and vegetables was something you couldn’t turn down. Still, you were irritated at losing your stolen entertainment and you glared at Tech when he fell into step with you on your way back toward the Havoc Marauder.

“I don’t know why you were rushing me,” you said eventually. You were passing the last of the small town’s buildings and the forest grew thicker around you. “Hunter sent a comm that the window needed to be pushed back by an hour. They won’t be at the rendezvous for at least two hours and we’re not that far from the ship.”

“And I don’t know why you were so eager to continue listening to those regs.” Tech shook his head. “It was hardly an interesting story, especially given the trite and untrue assurances at the end. Females are hardly a mystery.”

Your jaw twitched. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“Females across most species barriers share several characteristics,” he spouted instantly. “The majority of them prefer to be listened to rather than have their problems solved, prize social bonds rather than holding leverage over others, and are often capable of more complex, circuitous thinking than most males.”

“They were talking about female bodies, Tech.”

Tech fell quiet at that. You gloated for a moment, happy to have silenced him for once, but it didn’t last. Apparently, he had needed a moment to consider that, but came back with a reply soon enough:

“There are too many species to narrow down what he was talking about. Different species have different physiology, and need different stimulation to achieve pleasure.” He adjusted his goggles, and you could see the brightness of his eyes behind them. “For instance, did you know that female Dianogas derive pleasure only from having the pressure in their eyeball increased by a factor of twenty percent?”

You nodded slowly. “Gross.”

Tech had been preening at his masterful display of knowledge, but his expression dropped into one of derision when you failed to be as impressed as he thought you should be. “It is far more complex a system than is possessed by most species. Humanoid species are all similar. And human females are the least complex of all.”

That sounded as if you were being challenged. With the frustration stemming from your recent dry spell and the general irritation of being around Tech when he was in one of his ‘I am the god of all knowledge’ moods, you accepted that challenge. “Go on.”

“Human females share close similarities to each other, likely stemming from a narrow evolutionary path. Even ignoring the genitals, human females have a set of several extragenital erogenous zones. They are, in descending order: breasts, lips, neck, ears, and buttocks(1).”

You rolled your eyes, readjusting where your bag sat on your shoulder. “That’s ridiculous. Not everyone likes having all of those places touched.”

“Not everyone, but a majority,” Tech expanded. “And the type of stimulation can vary between each place. For example, lips are best stimulated orally while breasts can be stimulated either orally or manually. That means manipulated by hand.”

You hissed at the condescending explanation, but he paid no attention to you. Tech could get this way when he was convinced that someone would benefit from his knowledge. “And that is not taking the actual genitals into account. The human clitoris has over ten thousand nerve fibers, some of which extend into the vaginal channel to form what is known as the g-spot.”

“I already knew all of this, Tech,” you bit out. Okay, maybe you hadn’t known the exact number of nerve fibers in the average clit, but you didn’t appreciate being lectured on your own body.

Tech turned to you, raising his eyebrows. “And yet you believed those troopers were correct when they said human females were a mystery. There is nothing mysterious about the body of the human female. If given the proper stimulation, most human females can reach orgasm in under three minutes.”

“That can’t possibly be true.”

“Are you doubting the research or my knowledge of it?”

“Are you admitting that you’ve done research into how quickly you can make someone come?” you countered.

“Of course.” Tech was, as ever, matter-of-fact. “And you personally have benefitted from my research. Yet you still doubt whether I’m correct.”

“I’ve been with some talented people,” you said, making sure to emphasize the plurality so he wouldn’t think you were solely talking about him, “but I’ve never come in less than three minutes. So, according to my personal experience, you’re wrong.”

“I am not wrong,” Tech disagreed, clearly appalled. “If you don’t believe me, that is your choice, but I am not incorrect.”

You didn’t answer him, relieved when you saw the Havoc Marauder just ahead. As you had expected, you had plenty of time before you needed to go meet the others, but that meant you could put away the provisions and get some time away from Tech until he started to annoy you less.

Unfortunately, he didn’t seem capable of letting your disagreement lie. He followed you as you went to the storage room where you kept the rations. “The research is simple and well-supported. Even if you ignore anecdotal evidence, there are clear trends that prove-”

“Tech, can we just let this go?” you asked, trying not to sound overly antagonistic. “We can just agree to have our different opinions.”

“It is not a matter of opinion,” he insisted. “There is a single answer, supported by science, research, and experimentation. I can prove it to you.”

That made you pause and turn to him. “What? What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Allow me to prove that I am correct,” Tech repeated.

That was not enough of an answer, so you watched him in silence. There was a strong chance that he meant to show you the papers and studies where he had gathered his information.

When you didn’t agree, Tech apparently decided to offer more of an explanation: “If you agree, I will use the knowledge I’ve gained to bring you to orgasm in under three minutes.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea-” you started.

“I understand it can be frightening to have one’s worldview challenged-”

“Yeah, I’m terrified of an orgasm.” The sarcasm was thick in your voice. “You know what? Fine. And when you’re wrong, you’ll have to admit that your research wasn’t as effective as first-hand experience.”

“I look forward to proving you wrong.” Tech took the bag from your shoulder, tucking it neatly inside of the (little-used) produce cabinet in the ration storage room. He latched the cabinet with sure motions, turning expectantly to you when he was finished.

“Bunks,” you suggested. He inclined his head in agreement and followed you to the small barracks aboard the ship.

You shoved aside your sheets and the discarded clothing that was still tangled in them. When you had woken up, it had seemed impossible that you would be bringing anyone back to your bunk, so you hadn’t bothered keeping anything neater than they needed to be. Tech was more than a little messy, himself, so you didn’t worry that he would look down on you for it.

“How do you want to do this?” you asked, hesitating before you climbed onto the mattress.

“I do not believe that you undressing should count toward my time,” he pointed out.

“Fair enough,” you agreed, stripping quickly. You had been dressed casually to visit the nearby market, so the process didn’t take long. When you were naked, you rested your hands on your hips and tilted your chin at Tech. “Next?”

Tech swallowed hard, like the sight of your bare body had made his mouth go dry. It was a heady feeling, and your confidence soared.

“Remember what I told you about extragenital erogenous zones?” Tech asked, switching into lecture mode.

“Yes,” you agreed, adding, “which is not an attractive term, so I don’t think you’re helping your own case, here.”

“The attractiveness of the term is not what matters.” Tech stepped closer, hand rising. “The important thing is how they impact you.”

You opened your mouth to loose a sarcastic comment, but stopped short at the feeling of Tech’s fingertips brushing lightly against your bottom lip.

It was… odd, having someone touch your mouth. But the warmth and familiar smell of Tech's skin kept you where you were. You would at least let him have his chance.

His hand went to your chest, fingers splaying to cup your breast. When you were nestled in his palm, he trailed his fingers together, letting your breast slip under his fingers until they met with a soft pinch on your nipple.

Tech's head tipped closer, letting him mouth at the line of your throat. Those lips traveled upward until he could scrape his teeth lightly over your earlobe. You fought a shiver.

And then you did anyway, shuddering against him when Tech reached to run his gently squeezing fingers across your ass.

“Breasts, lips, neck, ears, and buttocks,” he murmured. “Slightly out of order, but have I managed to convince you?”

“You've managed to waste thirty seconds of your time,” you replied, fighting to keep your voice almost steady. “Two and a half minutes to go and I'm not anywhere near an orgasm.”

“Patience.”

You frowned at the chastisement, but Tech paid no attention. He guided you down to lay on your bunk, feet on the edge of the mattress supporting your half-bent legs. It left your core exposed to the chill of the air on the ship, and you abruptly realized that those simple touches had left you wet. Not soaking, but well on your way there.

You watched between your own legs as Tech studied your core. He seemed to be plotting his methods. Before you could remind him again of the time requirement, he brushed gentle fingertips over your labia.

It felt more intense than you could believe. And when that delicate touch moved to caress your inner lips, you shifted your hips impatiently.

Tech's attention turned to your clit. His first brush over it was so light that you could hardly feel anything, but he soon grew bolder in his touches. He worked you faster and faster, pausing only to sink two fingers deep into your channel.

You arched against your bunk, a shocked and plaintive cry leaving you before you could even try to bite it back.

“Good,” Tech said softly. “I want to hear you. Let me hear that you like what I'm doing.”

You weren't entirely sure how you would have responded to that, because Tech crooked his fingers inside of you and started hunting. Deliberately, he mapped your channel until he zeroed in on a rough, spongy patch on the inside of your front wall.

A slight smile appeared on Tech's face. You had a moment to think about how handsome it made him before he stole your ability to see.

He bore down on your g-spot, putting pressure on it until you cried out again. If you had the ability to remember words, you would have told him that it was too much.

Tech hummed in understanding anyway and shifted his efforts. His thumb worked against your clit as his fingers started a circular sort of thrusting motion. Your g-spot was still getting more attention than it ever had, but it managed to be less direct - and with that, less intense.

Just when you started to wonder how close you were to three minutes having passed, Tech's mouth dropped to your hip. He applied lips and teeth to the sensitive crease where your hip met your thigh.

Your orgasm rose up and swallowed you whole, and you never had a chance to fight against it. One moment, you were treading water in the assault and the next, you were drowning in sensation.

Dimly, you became aware of the fact that your fingers hurt. With that realization, you came slowly back to your body, letting your stiffened fingers uncurl from where they had been fisted in the sheets. Your thighs unclenched, releasing Tech's hand from where it had been trapped between them.

His fingers were still working gently inside of you and you gathered your strength to push him away. “How… how long?”

“Two minutes and forty four seconds,” Tech informed you, sounding obnoxiously matter of fact about it. “It likely would have taken less time if I had not stopped to test my understanding of extragenital erogenous zones.”

You would be irritated, but the strength and suddenness of your orgasm had left you largely unable to do anything but stare up at the ceiling. The heaviness of your limbs felt strange without a full buildup of activity, and it almost seemed as if your body was in a state of shock at how quickly the pleasure had been pulled from you.

“Tech, can- can you-” you trailed off, reluctant to ask him for anything else. Eventually, you settled on, “Water?”

“Of course,” he agreed, instantly on his feet and rushing to get you a canteen.

When he handed you the water, you could watch Tech eyeing how long it took you to accept it, then to raise the canteen to your lips. Even so, he waited until you had finished drinking to ask, “Is something wrong?”

You lifted one shoulder. “I- no? I don’t think so. It was just weird to come that suddenly. It’s like my body is pissed that there isn’t more.”

“Do you want me to do it again?” Tech asked.

You searched for sarcasm or mocking in his tone, but there was only patient curiosity. “Can you.. kiss me?”

“Gladly.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips. Then another, kneeling on the bed to reach you more easily. Eventually, he was lying on the bed beside you, all so he could kiss you without putting either of you in an awkward position. One of his hands gently cradled your cheek while you pressed a palm to his chest so you could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat.

You continued far longer than you had expected, past the solace of a simple kiss and into the realm of need. You didn’t think it was entirely one-sided. Maybe the kiss had started for your benefit, but nothing said Tech couldn’t enjoy it, too.

And he did. You could tell by the way he squirmed closer, by the heat of him pressed against you, by the steady deepening of the kiss you shared.

“Is this helping?” he asked.

His eyes were bright with desire, a faint but undeniable rasp edging his voice. Maybe you should let him ask, to help assuage your pride. But you took pity on him instead. “Yes, but it might help more if you made me come again. Slower. The old-fashioned way.”

Tech started to ask what exactly ‘old-fashioned’ meant. You could hear the question rise behind his parted lips. And yet it faded away before it could be asked, answered by the way you gripped his length through the material covering his lower half.

His breath shuddered out and his hips twitched, but Tech still asked, “Are you certain-?”

“Yes, if you are.”

Tech’s response to that was to reach down and grasp the back of your leg, tugging your knee up and over his hip. You were both still cradled by your mattress, but he was perfectly between your thighs.

“You are stunning,” he told you.

“You’re still dressed,” you told him.

Tech paused, glancing down with a mixture of irritation and dread. “A problem I intend to fix momentarily.”

He pulled away from you, rolling to his feet with his hands already working at the fastenings of his body glove. He had stripped it off in moments and you couldn’t help but be impressed at the efficiency of his movements.

When he slipped back into your bunk, he was all tan skin and subtle musculature. Tech arranged you both the way you had been before the interruption and, without the body glove in the way, the head of him was notched at your entrance. You were noticeably wet from your earlier orgasm, and he started to slip into you simply due to the position and your proximity.

Tech’s voice was completely unsteady as he asked, “Precisely how slow do you want this to be?”

“More than three minutes.”

It may have been a dry witticism, but Tech accepted it like it was the most sincere request he had ever heard. And you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it, not when he pushed into you in a series of shallow thrusts.

When he had bottomed out inside of you, Tech reached to brush a bead of sweat from your temple. “Slow.”

“Slow,” you confirmed with a nod.

Tech began to move. He stayed deep inside of you for the most part, using tiny pulses to keep you building toward a reasonably paced orgasm. Occasionally, when he couldn’t help himself, he withdrew further and plunged back into you. Each of those thrusts pushed the breath from your lungs, shocking you no matter how often they happened.

It wasn’t the frenetic sprint toward pleasure that you had experienced before. Rather than having pleasure ripped mercilessly from your system, Tech’s efforts were coaxing it from you.

His pelvis rocked against yours, pushing and pulling incrementally inside of you. The bunching of his muscles against your body told you how much he was holding back even as the thick press of him stretched your channel. Compared to the jarring shock of your rushed orgasm, this pleasure felt utterly lazy and self-indulgent.

And you didn’t seem to be the only one who thought so.

When Tech wasn’t watching you intently, his eyes fell closed and his brow furrowed as if he needed to concentrate so he could process everything he was experiencing. After one particularly deep pulse, your body tightened. It wasn’t your second orgasm - not yet - but it was a warning that another one was coming.

Tech’s eyes flew open and he made a rough, helpless sound. Ridiculously, that was the thing that finally pushed you over the edge. The fact that you could pull such pleasure from him even without the extensive research he had done into erogenous zones - genital or otherwise - made you feel extraordinarily powerful. And, of course, it didn’t hurt that he was such a gorgeous man.

In any case, you gasped a warning a half-second before your body clamped down around his. Tech kept going, working you through it, and it only pushed you higher. The pleasure went from silver to a blazing white, blinding in its intensity and almost painful.

It was hard to come down when Tech’s rhythm was speeding up, but you could tell he was close by the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Where-?”

“My implant is still good.”

Tech’s lips parted and his brows furrowed, but you couldn’t see any more of his face than that. By the time he started to spill inside of you, he had buried his face in your neck. His arms wrapped around you, squeezing hard enough that it took extra time for you to catch your breath.

When the desperate thrusts finally stopped, Tech fell utterly boneless against you. You sympathized as you slumped against the bed. You dozed lightly, rousing only when you felt him pressing his lips against your shoulder.

You chuckled lightly, glancing down just in time to catch his eyes flicking up toward you. “You okay?”

“Rather wonderful, actually,” he admitted, his lips still brushing your skin as he spoke. “And you?”

“Good,” you said, wincing slightly as he moved against your core. “I’ll be sore, I think.”

“I shouldn't be surprised.” Tech gingerly moved away from you, the stickiness of your activities trying to keep you together. “I'll see if we have any bacta.”

“Bacta can't do anything about soreness,” you reminded him. Of course, as the Bad Batch's makeshift medic, he was well aware of the limitations of bacta. “Save it for the next mission.”

Tech's head snapped toward you as your eyes widened. “The rendezvous!”

Weak-kneed and as bare as the day he was decanted, Tech sprinted for the front of the Havoc Marauder.

You braced against the shift of liftoff, then started gathering his clothing and a washcloth for him. Hunter would know what had happened, of course, but there was no need to be blatant.

---

Author's Note -

I can't remember if this is a first for me, but it's definitely in character for me as a person: I referenced an actual paper posted in 2016 to get Tech's information about the extragenital erogenous zones. I'm posting the citation below in case anyone wants to read it! I thought it was very interesting, even if you just read the abstract.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you thought!

Younis, Ihab, et al. "Female hot spots: extragenital erogenous zones." Human Andrology, vol. 6, no. 1, Mar. 2016, pp. 20-26, www.ingentaconnect.com/content/wk/xha/2016/00000006/00000001/art00004.

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yuurivoice · 24 days

Note

I’d love to know what you think! When people theory craft about your characters and stories, how much of it would u say is actually warranted and how much is wild over-analysis and speculation, connecting dots that aren’t actually there?

It doesn’t really matter as long as people are having fun, but when it comes to stuff like that one big theory board, is your reaction more of a “it’s not that deep, this was never intended” or a “wow, they’re actually picking up what I’m putting down”?

Feeling self-conscious about the ol ‘tism, so thought I might as well ask and clarify how much overthinking can actually be justified in this case. Regardless, I think if people are thinking THAT MUCH about your work, that’s defo something to be proud of :]

I actually love the big ol theory board, shoutout to Clain! 99% of the time I think I just love that people are invested enough to give a fuck.

There are the occasional theories I see that are a little silly and not grounded in any sort of connective tissue, but that's just every fandom ever and it also helps to remember that for my SFW narrative stuff there might be younger folks who are engaging with media like that for the first time in a fandom space and I would feel shitty if I was like lol wow are you DUMB when someone was just trying to have fun enjoying a story and wondering about the next step or the mysteries yet to be solved.

I haven't always held my tongue and as I've grown older and been around longer I recognize that most often the best option is just to be grateful and let people do their thing. It helps that my brain doesn't feel like it's in a pressure cooker so much anymore.

I typically see people with theories that are quite well thought out and at least are based on asking the right questions. That's the big thing. There are degrees of foreshadowing and mysteries. Some have all the pieces and can be reasonably understood with some thought. Others don't have many pieces available at all. Some are things people don't even realize are things yet. Layering it like that makes sure that the process will be rewarding in new ways over time vs AHA, PLOT TWIST!

Not that I'm opposed to aha moments, obviously. But there are many ways to do reveals and build a story that provokes thought and theory crafting!

tldr: I love it. I've seen some that really made me go OMG YOU GET IT! Which is really gratifying 🥲

#yuurivoice

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honeybeeloxs · 1 year

Text

SOBER FRIEND

Ethan Landry X Male Reader

This was very much inspired by Cici Cooper’s leadup. sooo... yea that’s it :)

REQUESTED: No

SUMMARY:

SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6 (Sorta of)

Y/N picks up the landline and is interrupted by a call from "L/N residence". He asks the caller if he's Ethan and if he should stop with the Ghostface voice changer.

A not so follow up of Part 1.

RING… RING…

Y/N picks up the landline, “Hello?”, He tenses up, waiting for a response. “Sorry, forgot to call you back.” the person on the other line responds. “Jesus, Jessie, you fucking scared me. Y/N sighs; with the crazed killer stalking around campus trying to kill Sam and Tara, it was pretty scary. “Yeah, sorry about that!” Jessie says with glee. Y/N rewinds the movie he’s watching. “What are you watching? It’s so loud I can hear through the phone.” Y/N pauses momentarily, trying to think of the movie name, “Uh… Cruel Intentions? Y’know, the movie from like 99..” Jessie scoffs over the movie choice and mocks him, “I haven’t seen it in forever. Aren’t Sarah Michelle Gellar and the guy like together?” Y/N lies down on his side, holding the landline with his shoulder. “No? Are you crazy? They are like step-siblings.” They chat momentarily; however, their conversation is interrupted.

Y/N rolls his eyes before telling Jessie he’s getting another call, ��L/N residence.” Y/N says quietly over the phone, “Hello.” the caller says, Y/N stops the movie and puts it in ‘In my Watch-List’ before going back to cable and flipping through the channels. “Yes?’, The caller asks Y/N who he’s speaking too. “Uhm... Y/N, Who’s this?” Y/N stops momentarily, and he’s been telling his business this whole time. He can’t stop now, “Who do you think?” the caller asks, intrigued Y/N asks the caller if he’s Ethan and that he should stop with the Ghostface voice changer; Y/N doesn’t like it when he plays those games before he can respond Y/N tells him to hold on before changing lines.

“Ethan’s on the other line.” Y/N tells Jessie, who scoffs, and he can practically see her eyes roll, “Listen, I’ll call you right back, okay? Alright, bye.” Y/N huffs before switching lines, “Okay, Ethan, what’s up? Chad giving you a hard time?” The caller immediately responds, “Who’s Ethan?”. Y/N’s eyes face the phone as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion; he chuckles to himself, “Oh, I’m sorry, my bad, I thought you were my boyfriend.” a smile creeps on his face as he gets up from the couch before locking the glass door in front of his living room. “Oh, that’s okay.” the caller tells him; Y/N walks around his house, looking out his windows before heading back to the couch, “Well, Mr. mysterious, would you like to leave a message? Nobody’s here.” as his torso slides back on the couch laying on his side once more. “Where is everybody?” the caller asks, intrigued. “Parents, out of town, staying with them for this semester, and my friends are at another Halloween frat party,” Y/N asks, flipping through the channels going from CBS to MTV. “Why aren’t you there?” the caller asks; Y/N finally stops his converting through channels to look at a building on fire in Australia, “I’m a sober friend, in case someone needs a ride… drink with your brain, that’s our groups' motto, are you calling for my mom? Do you need to leave her a message?”. Y/N questions messing with the tassels on the couch pillows, “What if I say you're the message.” Y/N can’t stop himself from smiling before slowly getting up from lying to sitting upright. “Well, what if I hung up?” the caller asks why he would want to do that, “Well, why did you answer my question with a question?” Y/N looks around his living room, looking out the big glass windows. “I’m inquisitive.” the man on the other line tells him, but Y/N interrupts him, “Well, I’m impatient. Do you wanna leave a message for anyone?” his face scrunches up in annoyance. “Do you wanna die tonight, Y/N” the mystery caller hangs up. Y/N throws the phone on the floor before getting up from the couch, eyeing the phone.

RING… RING…

The landline rings, and hesitantly Y/N picks it up, “L/N residence…” he is relieved when it turns out to be Jessie, “So? Was it, Landry?” Jessie comments, and he can tell she’s taunting him by her voice. Y/N brushes his white pants off, “No… It wasn’t, and it was some creep asshole trying to scare me.” Y/N stutters as he walks to the kitchen and locks the door before looking out the windows. “Well, they have been getting calls like that all around the city; it happened to Anika yesterday, Ms. Crane and Jason got one a few days back, and you know what happened to them,” Jessie comments; Y/N tells her that’s not funny as he locks the front door. Y/N jumps as he hears a thud upstairs, “Fuck this.” he says as he opens his sliding door and runs into the backyard.

“Where are you? You’re breaking up?” Jessie calls out to him, static over the line. “I’m outside….” Y/N stops and looks around; Jessie tells him to back inside and call the police; that is an intelligent decision. Y/N tells Jessie his farewells before hanging up and calling the police through the landline, His cell is on his desk, but he’s not going there. Y/N panics over the phone, telling them someone’s harassing him, but his phone call is interrupted when his patio table flies through the window by the living. Y/N screams as he runs to the kitchen with Ghostface’s chasing him, his tassels flying. He grabs a kitchen knife holding it out as Ghostface corners him in the kitchen.

The Ghostface lifts his mask to reveal himself as Ethan; Y/N could only smile, “Jesus, shit, you scared me. Next time you do this to practice, don’t throw my patio table through my window.” Y/N leans over his kitchen island, putting the knife back into the knife block. “I’m sorry, babe, Quinn recommended me the idea, me scaring you n all.” Y/N could only bite his check; of course, it was Quinn. “Well, you need your dad to fix the window you broke before my parents notice.” Ethan walks up to him from behind and puts his head on the back of his neck. “Mkay… I'll do that.”

#scream #scream x male reader #ethan landry x male reader #ethan landry x reader #Ethan landry fluff #sorta of #jack champion

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pageofheartdj · 3 months

Text

I am 99% sure we have fake Lilith.

Just comparing. In the story Lilith has her up hair back. And we know it's Lilith, it's the story about creation.

On the portrates where the whole family is happy(and I refuse to think it might be possible with fake) Lilith still has her up hair back and her beautiful face.

And then.

We have a card with hair falling on her face. And face is darkened with eerie smile and shh gesture. As if stay silent, keep the secret hidden.

In the flashback the hair once again falls on the face with the face being fully blurried out.

This direct separation is suspcious.

Popular theory that it is Eve, because Eve had long hair most likely falling on face. And she was brough up for a reason, she can step up and appear in plot.

We have 53 cards, right? What if the Lilith card is the fake Lilith card? And later we will have two more cards. With real Lilith and real Eve.

Now the beach scene. This one is confusing. Because this time we have full face which looks like Lilith's(her nose is weird though, it looks more like Charlie's even though on photos it was not like that). The hair we can see looks like Lilith's, at least it doesn't fall on her face. But then eyes are hidden under sunglasses. Which creates a mystery. Is this real Lilith or not.

#hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel eve #hazbin hotel lilith #lilith morningstar

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doctornolonger · 11 months

Video

youtube

Did you know the BBC wanted a young Doctor spin-off, but the Doctor Who production office shut it down, so all the ideas for it became the CBBC show Leonardo?

or,

You want a Deca spinoff? We’ve had one all along!!

It’s well-known that CBBC had planned a young Doctor spin-off before they commissioned The Sarah Jane Adventures. As RTD put it in The Inside Story (2006), “Children’s BBC approached us. They wanted to do a drama based around the idea of a young Doctor Who, but I said no to that. Somehow the idea of a fourteen-year-old Doctor, on Gallifrey inventing sonic screwdrivers, takes away from the mystery and intrigue of who he is and where he came from. So instead I suggested doing a series with Sarah Jane Smith, because she'd been so popular in School Reunion.”

But is it possible that CBBC didn’t throw out the idea, and “a fourteen-year-old Doctor on Gallifrey inventing sonic screwdrivers” became “a fourteen-year-old Leondardo da Vinci in 15th century Florence inventing new futuristic technologies”? Many thanks to my friend Poseidome for pointing me to this connection, which came from the same rumorhound who told me about the Dalek rights situation and abortive BritBox reshoot plans:

Leonardo is what the young Doctor spin off was going to be. “Fantastico!” as his catchphrase. The series would follow the Doctor, Master, Rani, and friends uncovering a conspiracy within the Academy and Time Lord society. The Doctor and the eventual renegades at the heart of it all. The Doctor’s ideas being stolen, his future has been foreseen, Time Lords trying to stop it, etc. All that kind of stuff. There’s even a Borusa stand-in played by Alistair McGowan!

(More under the cut…)

The cast I believe would have been the same, along with the budget, filming locations and costumes. Just adapted to be more sci-fi. CGI shots of Gallifrey, actual futuristic technology, classic monster cameos, that kind of thing.

Most if not all the ideas for the young Doctor series are in the Leonardo trailer still, as they kept 99% of the concept. The independent company tasked with adapting it had already done all the development before the idea got canned. Storylines, scripts, characters, costume ideas, locations, sets. If you watch the first series, the story arc and scripts should still be clear what they originally were, so it sort of still is, in a weird way, a bit of Doctor Who media.

I think it would have been really popular. I believe it would have broadcast in a gap year, or between split seasons. Similar to what they later did with Class, but instead of late teens, it was for the Sarah Jane Adventures demographic.

I’ve not seen the second series, but my understanding is its a lot more it’s own thing, as by then they’d had time to redevelop it outside of being a reworked young Doctor show. Hence why series 1 is the way it is, and series 2 tonally different.

I’ve done some digging to try to verify this rumour, including reaching out to one of the series 1 writers, but I haven’t found anything definitive yet. I rather doubt that development had gone as far as costumes, sets, etc., given how early in the process RTD seems to have shot it down, but it’s certainly true that the cast list matches perfectly. Plagiarising freely from the Leonardo Wiki:

Jonathan Bailey (Psi from “Time Heist”!) as Leonardo da Vinci, a young apprentice who loves painting, inventing, and creating new things. As the BBC Press Office put it, “He’s not just a genius; he’s an unstoppable, free-thinking creative force who’s always ten steps ahead of the rest.” Obviously the Doctor.

Flora Spencer-Longhurst as Tomaso/Lisa (of “Mona” fame), a girl who lives disguised as a male apprentice at Verrocchio’s workshop in Florence. According to the rumorhound, this would have been the Rani – although she also sounds a bit like Alanir …

Akemnji Ndifornyen as Niccolò Machiavelli or “Mac”, the number one man when it come to fraud or theft. He has a network of urchin spies and cut-purses throughout the city, and he likes money-making schemes and mingling with the rich and famous. Leo sometimes has to get him out of trouble. Obviously the Master.

Colin Ryan as Lorenzo de’ Medici, a wealthy boy largely bored of his life of luxury who enjoys sneaking away to join his friends. He is anxious to please his father, whom he greatly admires. The Monk, perhaps?

Alistair McGowan as Piero de’ Medici, an ambitious man and cousin to the Duke of Florence. He keeps a close eye on all happenings in Florence, and he heads a mysterious secret society. Borusa.

James Cunningham as Andrea del Verrocchio, Leo and Tom’s strict maestro. Leonardo is very loyal to him. The Doctor’s mentor Azmael, or an original character?

In light of this, I could totally believe that the blueprint of the young Doctor series was reused for Leonardo. If true, the transposition of the characters from Gallifrey to late 15th century Florence was frankly inspired. TIL Machiavelli and da Vinci were actually contemporaries!

(Incidentally, one of the script editors of Leonardo, Nina Métivier, also played a role in some of my favorite stories from the Chibnall era: she edited “The Woman Who Fell to Earth” and “It Takes You Away” in Doctor Who series 11, and of course she wrote “Nikola Tesla’s Night of Terror” in series 12.)

This wouldn’t be the first time that planned Doctor Who stories have been repurposed for other series: Wizards vs. Aliens (2012–2014) was made by the same creative team and played in the same timeslot as The Sarah Jane Adventures, and at least one episode was based on a SJA script that had gone unproduced after Elisabeth Sladen’s untimely death; some Dirk Gently and Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy stories had their roots in Douglas Adams’ rejected or unproduced Fourth Doctor pitches; and quite a few rejected Wilderness Era book and audio proposals eventually found homes outside Who, such as the Sixth Doctor pitch Smoking Mirror, which ultimately became into the Faction Paradox novel Against Nature.

But unlike those cases, where we know the character dynamics of the Doctor and their companion or Sarah Jane’s friends so we can spot their analogues in the new contexts, this young Doctor series is an attempt to do something new. Maybe we can spot the young Doctor and Master [edit: or can we?!], but we’ve never seen their friendship anything like this before – and as for the Monk being an impressionable kid trying to impress his father? It’s completely new.

We don’t have anything to compare Leonardo against: its existence is literally the only surviving hint of CBBC’s vision for the young Doctor and friends. And what a compelling hint it is!

#WhoCU #doctor who #young doctor #leonardo #the deca #gallifrey #deca #time lords #koschei #cbbc #bbc #first doctor #the doctor #the master #the rani #the monk #borusa #azmael #effortpost

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years

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Sub Rosa | Chapter 5: Sorry to Keep You | Bradley Bradshaw x Kazansky!Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, semi-public touching, swearing and other sexual content, pls read at your discretion and this work is **18+** minors please DNI.

The deployment lasted almost three and a half months. Bradley kept your secret for a total of 99 days. He was so careful. Especially on the rare occasions he got to talk to you on the phone. He made it 99 days with only Hangman and Maverick knowing about the two of you, the same people who knew when he left.

Rooster lifted his bag onto his shoulder, adjusting his sunglasses as they arrived in Miramar. It was hot, the sun was at it's highest point, but the heat was nothing in comparison to what it had been like on that carrier for the last three months.

Coming back from deployments like this always gathered a big crowd. Girlfriends, wives, children - whoever you had at home was usually waiting for you on the runway when you got back. For Bob, it was his fiancee. For Fanboy, it was his girlfriend. For Hangman, it was his nieces, his sister and his mom.

Rooster stilled. He could have spotted you a mile away. You were wearing a sweet little summer dress, standing beside your mother. He watched you step forward, then halt in place as you remembered your surroundings. Admiral Kazansky accidentally brushed past his shoulder, walking ahead and wrapping his arms around his wife and daughter.

"So, where's your mystery girl, Rooster?" Payback asked, his arm slung around his younger brother's shoulder, his other arm around his wife's waist.

Hangman turned to look, following Rooster's gaze. He watched you peer over you father's shoulder. Rooster shook his head and tugged his back closer to his shoulder,

"Couldn't make it." He answered simply.

It wasn't your fault. Neither of you was to blame. That didn't make it any easier.

Admiral Kazansky turned, watching the disappointment set into Rooster's features. You watched your father sympathise. There had been a number of times when there was no one waiting for him on the tarmac before he had met your mother.

Rooster had had a hard time of things. Your father liked him.

You bit your cheek, wiping a tear from your eye quickly. It was surreal. To see him again, standing just a couple of feet in front of you. His hair was a little shorter than when you saw him last, other than that he was exactly as you had left him.

"Hey, Bradshaw," Maverick and Hangman turned away from their visitors at the same time, eyes wide as they waited for what Ice had to say next. They were so bad at this. "Do you have any plans later, son?"

Hangman and Maverick looked between Rooster and you.

Rooster didn't let his gaze waver from your father's. He gave his head a small shake.

"Well, we're having a couple of people over later - Mav included. Would you like to join us for dinner?"

Rooster felt Maverick's glare burning into him. Still, he nodded and smiled politely, reaching out and shaking your father's hand. "I'd love to, Admiral Kazansky."

You watched your dad nod curtly. Glancing to the side, you watched Hangman laughing as he filled his sister in on the gossip. Her eyes widened as she looked between you and Rooster. You cringed. Maverick glared at Rooster like his arm wasn't wrapped around Penny Benjamin's waist. Admiral Benjamin's daughter Penny.

Your mother tapped the back of your arm, guiding you away from the pilots on the tarmac. Your father wrapped his arm around your shoulder,

"All finished with college now, huh?"

Rooster felt eyes on him. Top Gun pilots might have been overly confident in most aspects of life, but they were undeniably smart. Rooster knew that several of his colleagues had just pieced together who his girlfriend in college was.

He bit his cheek, clearing his throat as he turned towards Maverick and clapped a hand onto his shoulder, "Let me know if you want me to drive later."

"Bradley." Maverick sounded serious. Bradley just smiled at him, digging his keys out of his pocket and heading in the opposite direction of you and your parents.

He knew that there was only so much longer that the two of you could keep this up. It played on his mind all afternoon. Even as he was standing on the porch with a bottle of aged whiskey in his hand, he considered how bad Ice's reaction could possibly be.

Ice didn't need to know the dirty details of it. Parents loved Bradley. His ex-girlfriend's mom still sent him christmas cards every year and they had broken up four years ago. Plus, Ice already liked him.

You both froze as you opened the door to him. Neither of you had really expected the other to be on the other side. He was dressed up, wearing a shirt and tie and black dress pants. Your lip quirked - aside from his Navy get up, you hadn't ever seen him so dressed up.

You stepped out, swinging the door shut behind you and rising up onto your tiptoes. You pressed your lips to his, feeling your whole body relax as his arms wrapped around you.

It took a moment for him to kiss you back. The fear of being spotted from the window primarily being the cause. But then he did, his lips moved against yours and you were pulled tight against him.

His cologne flooded your senses. He wore a cedarwood and vanilla blend that his mom had got him for christmas one year that he just kept repurchasing. You had been looking for it while he was away, desperate to replicate it. Nothing was as good as the real thing.

He pulled back first, pressing a delicate kiss against your forehead, lifting your chin. You smiled, watching him just examine your features for a moment.

"You changed your hair." He whispered, lips quirking up into a small smile. You nodded, it was a little shorter now. He reached out and ran his fingers through the ends. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"I missed you." You admitted, almost in disbelief that he was standing in front of you now. He wrapped an arm around your waist and brought you in for one more kiss. This one was longer, it said a lot of things that Rooster didn't gave time to say. Your back hit the door, his body pressed against yours. He pulled back, licking his lips.

"We should-" You nodded, opening the door again already. It didn't feel like long enough. You could have stayed out there for hours. He passed the whiskey to you, shutting the door behind him and following you through the house into the sitting room.

He wasn't the last to arrive, but there were already a few people there. It was always a big deal when your dad made it back from deployment. You almost reached back and grabbed his hand, your grip tightening around the neck of the whiskey bottle as you stopped yourself.

"Bradshaw, good to see you.” You both jumped as your father’s voice came from behind you. You turned to see him patting Rooster on the shoulder. Rooster turned and they shook hands politely. “Could your girlfriend not make it?”

“No, she, uh…” Bradley swallowed his nerves, “Well, actually I wanted to talk to you about-“

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t discussed this.

“Roo- Lieutenant Bradshaw got you this, Daddy.” You interrupted, correcting yourself before you said his call sign, stepping between them and passing the bottle of whiskey into your father’s hands. You shot Rooster a panicked look while your father examined the label.

“This is very kind of you, thank you.” Ice smiled, earning a smile from Bradley in return. “Come on, Bradshaw. Me and some of the guys are playing pool. You can come join.”

You opened your mouth in protest, realising very quickly that you don’t have a leg to stand on with your argument. Rooster grazed his knuckles gently across yours as he passed you. You stood in the centre of your sitting room, watching him walk away with your father. You dropped onto the couch, scowling.

Three and a half months and you hadn’t had a moment of privacy with him.

“What’s got you all upset?” Your older sister planted herself beside you on the couch, pressing her elbow against yours. You just turned towards her and pressed your cheek against her shoulder, grumbling quietly.

“You doing okay, kid?” Ice’s hand landed on Rooster’s shoulder once more. “Let me guess, your girl’s giving you a hard time about being away for so long?”

Rooster loosened his tie a little, shaking his head, “No. She gets it, I think.”

“Oh no,” Ice laughed, shaking his head as they walked towards the pool table in the back sun room. “Tell me you’re not dating a navy brat, Bradshaw?”

Rooster stopped walking and turned towards Ice, his heart racing.

Maverick’s eyes widened from his spot beside the pool table. Not here. Not here. He cleared his throat, panicking silently on Rooster’s behalf. “Are you two done gossiping yet?” He interrupted.

Rooster groaned as Ice walked away from him and grabbed a pool cue. Maverick spent the next hour and a half keeping Rooster away from Ice, interrupting their conversations and standing between them.

You didn’t catch Rooster again until you were called for dinner. There were eight guests tonight, in addition to your own family. You sister frowned as you slid into the seat she had been planning to take, securing your spot beside Rooster.

Rooster glanced across the table at you, his lips quirking slightly. You took the bottle of wine from the table, leaning across as you filled his glass, “What is your problem?”

“Huh?” He chuckled slightly. He couldn’t help it, it was adorable the way your brows scrunched angrily at him.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

“I have not.” He answered, taking his now slightly overfilled glass and taking a sip. “I just — I think it’s time.”

“Time?” You frowned. You glanced around, glad that people were too busy in their own conversations to notice that you were engaging in more than small talk.

“To tell your parents.” He answered, fixing his tie as he glanced around the table too. You widened your eyes, leaning closer to him again. He sighed gently, “People are catching on. It’s better that they hear it from us before they hear it from someone else.”

You wished you could argue with him, but he was right.

“Not tonight,” You were adamant about that much. You smiled softly at him, leaning in just a little closer, pretending to adjust the order of his cutlery, “I want you to fuck me one last time before he kills you.”

Rooster laughed, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. He nodded in agreement, squeezing your knee before turning to the captain at his side and striking up conversation.

Dinners like these were always very formal. Your dad liked to feel important, he was sitting at the head of the table with an empty seat for your mother at his left and Maverick on his right. Your mother had dressed the table with her favourite table cloth — it was the one from the head table at your parents’ wedding, she broke it out on special occasions.

You tucked your chair in closer to the table and brushed your hair back over your shoulders. Your father smiled proudly at you, wearing the new gold necklace he had gotten you as a graduation gift. You smiled sweetly back at him, sliding your fingertips over Rooster’s thigh.

Rooster didn’t react. He continued his conversation with the man beside him like he had no idea what you were doing. You bit your cheek. He was calling your bluff.

“Y/N, it would have been nice if you could have helped with this.” Your mother emerged from the kitchen, carrying plates with your brother trailing behind her. Your palm slid between Rooster’s legs. “Sorry, Mommy.”

You watched a muscle in Rooster’s jaw tick. He still wasn’t looking at you. You knew it was going to get you in trouble later, but you stayed in your seat whilst your brother and mother brought out the rest of the plates.

Despite his best efforts to ignore you, you smirked as he hardened against your hand. Rooster placed his hand over top of yours, turning his head and looking at you. You smiled sweetly at him.

Across the table, your sister’s fork was knocked from the table by her husband. She knelt down to grab it. You were too busy staring down Rooster to notice.

The table was silenced as she bumped her head on the way back up. She moved back into her seat, cheeks red as her eyes flickered between you and Rooster. Rooster’s fingers curled around yours as he put your hand back into your lap. He realised what she had seen before you did. Your cheeks flushed as you met her gaze, both of your lips parted.

Maverick was silent at his end of the table. Silently wanting to bang his head against a wall.

“You okay, princess?” Your father asked.

Your sister looked at your father then back at you. She nodded uncertainly, “Yeah. Sorry.”

Rooster squeezed your hand, taking a sip of his wine like nothing had happened and then moving his hands away from yours. You sat side by side for over an hour, practically buzzing as you tried not to look at him for too long.

It was torture. Each time you heard him laugh at someone’s joke. Each time his hand accidentally brushed yours.

“About time you thought about getting a boyfriend yourself, huh, Y/N?”

You were drawn from your sulking by the voice of your aunt. Your mother’s sister. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“Now that you’re finished with college, I mean.”

You saw Bradley turn his head in interest out of the corner of his eye. You could feel your sister’s eyes on you. Maverick had been periodically glancing over for the whole meal.

“She’s in no rush.” Your father interrupted. Your sister scoffed. Rooster bit his lip as he noticed you shift in your seat and swing your foot into her shin under the table. He squeezed your knee gently. There were too many eyes on you for him to look at you but you knew that meant to behave. “Right, Y/N?”

“Right.” You agreed. Rooster sipped at his wine, shaking his head a little.

After dinner, your mother appointed you part of the clean up crew. Given your reluctance to help with the set up, you spent the next forty minutes doing most of the work. You were just finishing up, humming gently to the radio as you put away cutlery in the empty kitchen.

You flinched, sucking in a sharp breath as strong hands wrapped around your middle, tugging you back against a firm chest. You relaxed immediately against Rooster, cheeks flushing. His lips pressed gently against the top of your head.

“What the hell was that in there?” He murmured, lips grazing your ear and making you shiver. You turned to face him, he pressed his body against yours, pushing you between him and the kitchen counter.

“Just showing you how much I missed you.” You played it innocent, smiling up at him as your fingers toy with the bottom of his tie. The kitchen door was open and there was a room full of thirty people on the other side but Rooster couldn’t have cared less in that moment. He moved impossibly closer, gripping the back of your neck as he kissed you.

You pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, licking into his mouth.

“I missed you too, baby.” Rooster murmured against your lips, stroking the length of your throat with his thumb. You closed your eyes as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Show me how much.” You teased, looking up at him through your lashes. Rooster’s lips quirked slightly, he glanced across the kitchen at the door into the dining room.

He shook his head and pressed his lips to your temple, “Make an excuse and come to my place.”

You grabbed his tie, “You know where my room is.”

Rooster groaned at the thought, “I don’t think I can look your stuffed animals in the eye again after last time, honey.” You giggled softly, pushing your hips against his, “Please.”

He leaned down a little, fingers curling tighter around the nape of your neck as his lips pressed to yours. That’s a yes.

The two of you were separated by the sound of the kitchen door opening, jumping apart like you had been shocked.

Maverick stared straight ahead, completely aware of what he had just walked into. Your father, however, was too busy looking back at Maverick - explaining the details of some old story.

Bradley’s adams apple rose and fell in his throat as he wiped any residue of lipgloss from his mouth then shoved both hands into his pockets.

“Rooster!” Your father was a little drunk. He stepped forward and pulled Bradley into a hug. You and Bradley shared equally surprised and confused looks over your father’s shoulder. “Mav and I were thinking of taking a little fishing trip this weekend. You in, kid?”

Maverick pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I, uh— I’ll have to get back to you on that one, sir.” Bradley decided. He looked at you then back to your father. “I was hoping to spend some time with my-“

“Mav, did you know this kid is dating a navy brat?”

The whole room was silent, except for your father’s drunken giggle. You smiled at Rooster. Your father had no idea of the leverage he had just provided you with.

“Is he?” Maverick’s tone was dry.

Ice turned suddenly back to Bradley, “I don’t know her do I?”

“No, sir.” Rooster was quiet. He felt bad lying to your dad now, especially with how kind Ice had been to him during deployment. He was broken from his moral dilemma as he watched you take your lip between your teeth to keep from grinning. He’d lie to whoever he needed to for you.

Ice then seemed to realise you were in the room. He turned and wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head, “Stay away from pilots, princess. They’re all the same, even sweethearts like Bradshaw.”

“Even you?” You teased, making him laugh.

“Ask your mother.”

You groaned, feigning disgust, and pushed yourself out of your father’s arms.

“I’m going to bed.” You looked at Bradley again, the invitation extremely clear to him and completely invisible to your father. “Night, boys.”

Maverick did his best to make Rooster stay with him and Ice, to just behave and go have some beers in the yard. It was ten minutes before you heard him knock at your door.

The guests had spread out far and wide now, talking and drinking in completely separate sectors of the house — it would be impossible for your mother to keep track of who was missing and who wasn’t.

He let himself in and shut the door behind him, stilling as his eyes landed on you. You were wearing a very fitting navy blue set, and nothing else.

“Did you have this on all day?” You heard him click the lock on your door.

You giggled as you crossed the room to him, nodding, “Well, I didn’t realise that getting you to fuck me was going to be such hard work.” His arms wrapped around you, pulling you against him and lifting you off of the ground.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting, honey.”

You pressed your lips to his, hands on either side of his jaw. Then, you pulled back and trailed your fingertips over his cheek and smiled. He was really back.

“You can make it up to me.” You teased, wrapping your legs around him. Rooster pressed his lips to your throat, nodding in absolute agreement, “Planning on it.”

You toyed with his tie, lips quirking, “Navy brat, huh?”

“Hey, I didn’t say it.” Rooster defended himself, he carried you to your bed and groaned in frustration as it creaked under the weight of the two of you. You laid back against your pillows, he propped himself up on his side, fingers dancing across your stomach.

“Do you think it?” You reached up and loosened his tie, sliding it slowly from around his neck and dropping it onto the floor. Rooster smiled at you. His silence said everything he needed to. “I can be a brat. If you want me to be a brat.” You teased him, sliding your hand down to palm at him through his pants.

“Aren’t you already?” He quipped, brushing your hair back delicately off of your face. He slid his hand between your legs, brushing your underwear to the side and sliding his two fingers along your core.

You simply smiled at him, lifting your head and kissing his lips.

“Look at you, all worked up. Haven’t even touched you yet.” He murmured, pressing his lips to your shoulder and then your jaw. You whined, pushing your hips up against his thigh, “That’s the problem.”

You nuzzled the bridge of your nose against the crook of his jaw, just grazing your lips across his skin. Rooster’s lips quirked slightly, glancing down and watching as your hands worked at his belt.

“Honey.” His tone was amused, vaguely stern. You groaned and pushed yourself up onto your knees, “Rooster.” You mocked his tone.

He reached up and brushed your hair back off of your shoulder, lips toying at a smile. You gasped as he tugged at your hips, pulling you back down onto your back and pressing his body over yours.

He pressed his lips to yours first, then to your jaw, your throat, your collarbones. You whined gently. Rooster’s thumbs pressed into your hipbones as he kissed across your sternum, his hips grinding forwards against your barely clothed core.

Your hands slid between your bodies, fumbling with his belt. Rooster chuckled gently, scooping both your wrists up with one of his hands, holding them against the headboard out of the way.

You opened your mouth to complain, silenced as he moved in and kissed you again. He rolled his hips forward against yours, pleased as you moaned softly against his lips. You pushed your core eagerly against him.

His fingers nudged your underwear to the side and brushed your clit. He slid one digit down and just teased at your entrance as his tongue pressed against yours.

“I thought about you every day.” You admitted, your tongue darting out and wetting your lips. He blinked at you, you watching him try to figure you out. If he was adamant on teasing you, you could do the same.

“About how good you make me feel.” You whined as he stroked your clit, his eyes locked on yours. “How pretty you look when you’re between my legs.” You tugged softly, his grip around your wrists tightening, keeping them above your head. His lips quirked at the notion of being called pretty. He hadn’t heard that one before.

“Touched myself every day thinking about your cock.”

You watched him bite his cheek, his fingers stilling against your clit.

“Wasn’t as good as you.” You murmured, pushing your hips hard against his hand. “Nothing is.”

Rooster took his lip between his teeth.

“Want to feel you so bad.”

He released your wrists, moving forward and capturing your lips in a kiss that was all tongue and hard breathing. Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, this time he let you undress him.

He stood up from the bed, pulling you with him as he kicked off his pants, leaving him in black boxers before you. Your fingers reached out and touched his dog tags, smiling as you looked up at him.

He wrapped his fingers around them, lifting them over his head and dropping them to the ground. Then, his lips were on yours again. His fingers pinched the clasp in the middle of your shoulder blades, sliding the bra off of your shoulders.

You gasped softly as he lifted you into his arms, grabbing your duvet with his free hand and tugging it onto the floor.

“You’ve gotta get a new bed.” He murmured against your lips as he laid your back against the duvet. You giggled, dipping your hand into his boxers. He groaned gently against your lips as you swiped your thumb across the tip of his dick, gathering the precum that had gathered there. Rooster watched as you brought your thumb up and slipped it between your lips, flicking your tongue over it.

His lips parted slightly, he shook his head at you, “God, I love you.” He murmured, pushing his boxers down his legs. You parted your legs for him, lifting your head and nipping at his bottom lip. You both ignored the sound of ripping as he tugged your panties off.

He planted one arm beside your head, his eyes focused on your features as he pushed into you. You whimpered softly, pressing your fingertips into his shoulder. He sank himself into you agonisingly slowly, sucking against the curve of your shoulder.

You whined in frustration, “Rooster, fuck me or I swear to god I’ll scream.”

He grinned against your throat, nodding, “Yes, ma’am.” The strangled noise you made as he fucked into you drew a groan from his lips. He sat back on his knees, guiding your legs over his hips, gripping onto your waist for better leverage.

Your walls clenched around him as they adjusted to the wonderful sting of him pounding into you. The sight of his head lulled back in pleasure, his skin more tanned than usual and a little red around the shoulders, each muscle in his stomach rippling as his hips crash into yours, was better than you could have imagined.

He grunted softly, watching your knuckles whiten around the fabric under you. You slid your hand between your legs, your eyes on him as you stroked your clit whilst he fucked you. You felt his cock twitch a little.

“Jesus Christ.” He managed, each vein in his arm and his neck bulging as he let out a heavy breath. He gripped your hips tighter, “You know what you do to me?”

You smiled up at him, tugging at his heartstrings, nodding your head sweetly. “Yes, sir.” You answered. He groaned softly, pulling out all together and flipping you onto your front. You gasped as he lifted your hips and filled you again.

Broken moans of something vaguely similar to his name spilled from your lips as his hand pressed on the back of your neck, his other keeping your ass up for him. His lips pressed feverishly across your back. Your knees buckled under you.

Rooster didn’t care, nor did he stop. He held your hips up just enough to angle himself as deep as possible, you were almost flat on your stomach as he drilled into you.

“Please don’t stop.” You felt his hand slide between your legs, working over your clit. You came with a strangled moan, muffled as Rooster’s palm pressed over your mouth.

“Can’t wait to take you home with me and let you keep my neighbours up all night.” He grunted softly into your ear and for a moment you thought that that alone might make you cum again. He pulled out all together and nudged you onto your back again, hiking your leg around his waist as he thrusted into you.

You brushed your fingertips against his jaw delicately, wondering if he could feel how much your hands were shaking. He could.

The second time you came was even more intense than the first, and you knew it was because Rooster was trying not to cum himself. He always let you finish first — he hadn’t ever finished before you once. This time, he had his tongue in your mouth, his hand stroking your clit and he was thrusting fast and deep.

He grabbed your jaw, forgetting his strength just a little bit as he watched you experience your high. You gasped as his arms wrapped around you, holding you impossibly tight against him as you felt him fill you up.

Rooster held you against him for a moment, pressing gentle kisses across your skin until he reached your temple. He pulled out and laid down next to you, pulling you close against his chest, lifting your chin to look at him.

“You’re always in such a rush.” He mumbled playfully, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. You smiled in response,

“Can you blame me?”

He shook his head and smoothed the top of your hair down, “Brat.” He teased. You looked up and saw the amused smile on his lips, pinching his nipple in retaliation.

His mouth fell open, watching you in surprise as you stand up and head for your en-suite, “You did not just do that!”

You giggled, shutting the door and turning on the shower. Rooster followed behind, finding you already in the shower by the time he reached you. He stepped in and pressed his chest to your back, his lips to your earlobe. You gasped at he pinched your nipple, feeling him grin against the crook of your neck.

He kissed your jaw, wrapping his arms around you, “I really did miss you, baby.”

You turned and smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, “I believe you.” You teased, waiting to see if he would give you shit for not saying it back. He pressed his lips to yours, then to your forehead.

“Tell me you missed me.” He whispered, making you grin against his skin. You shook your head playfully. He tightened his arms around you and repeated the command, “Kazansky, I said: tell me you missed me.”

You grinned as he pressed your back to the wall of the shower, fingers pressing into your waist.

“Okay, okay, I missed you too!” You admitted finally, watching the smile spread across his features. You trailed your fingers tips across his stomach, stretching up onto your tiptoes and kissing his lips. You really had missed this.

Rooster managed to slip out of the house unnoticed. There were still guests there after him, no one even knew he had gone. You were kept awake late into the night by your plans for he next day. Rooster was going to come over after work and the two of you would tell your parents together.

Your parents would receive the PG version, of course. That you had met at Maverick’s place and Bradley had taken you on a few dates, that you hadn’t wanted to mention it until it became more serious.

The next morning, you left for breakfast with your sister. She spent the entire time quizzing you on what the hell you had been doing with your hand on a pilot’s crotch last night. She did not receive the PG version of events when you explained your romance with Rooster to her.

Whilst you were out, your mother realised she was missing her car keys. She was certain that they were in the bag she had let you borrow. So, she let herself into your room and began innocently searching.

A glint of silver under your bed caught her eye. She knelt down and reached under the bed, her fingers curling around the metal. Her eyebrows furrowed as she pulled the item out into view, realising there was something stuck to the metal.

Her lips parted. The chain was wrapped around the strap of an unlined blue balconette bra with entirely sheer lace cups. She discarded the bra, though disgusted. That wasn’t the worst part. She recognised the chain.

She untangled it, turning the metal dog tag over in her palm and reading it’s engraving.

…

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #miles teller #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #sub rosa

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goddess-aelin · 1 year

Note

Rowaelin Prompt: “what do you mean you’ve been flirting with me for [x] years?”

Thank you so much for the prompt! Here's a fun little neighbors to friends to lovers fic :)

Masterlist

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: none!

“Well, Rowan. It looks like this is the end,” Aelin said as she picked up another box of various items belonging to the man in question.

“I’m moving across the hall, Fireheart, not across the country.”

“Yeah, but now that you’re moving across the hall, I can’t exactly call you my neighbor, can I? I blame Lorcan and Elide for this.”

In truth, Aelin had been in love with her neighbor for four years, which also happened to span the entire time that he lived next to her. She and Rowan had met when he moved in with Elide’s cursed boyfriend, who Aelin wanted to murder every time she talked to him and also happened to be her neighbor. But she dealt with Lorcan’s presence only so she could see Rowan more often, the silver haired man quickly weaseling his way into her heart.

It was the dimples that appeared on his face when Aelin brought him half-burnt cookies on move-in day.

It was the way he’d hold the elevator for her when she was running ten minutes late and was low on caffeine.

It was the way he’d let her snuggle into his side during their friends’ movie nights, where she’d inevitably fall asleep and drool on his shirt. Yet despite the drool, he didn’t seem to mind.

So yes, she was in love with her neighbor, her best friend, dare she say the man of her dreams. She was pretty sure he felt the same way.

So why was it so gods-damned hard to tell him that?

Oh, right. It was because despite her flirting, silly cat-calling, and cheesy pick-up lines, Rowan had never acted upon any so-called feelings. After a year, Aelin chalked it up to nerves. Rowan wasn’t the most outgoing of men. So, she persisted. After two, then three, then four, Aelin didn’t know what else to do. She sure as hell wasn’t going to just blurt it out. Maybe she had it all wrong and he didn’t feel the same way. What if her confession ruined everything good they had? Aelin would rather have a small piece of him than none at all.

And that was how she found herself moving all of Rowan’s belongings across the hallway, quietly stewing in her feelings. Elide decided that she was finally ready to move in with her brute of a boyfriend and Rowan happily offered to move out of the two-bedroom apartment he and Lorcan currently shared so the happy couple could have more space than the available one-bedroom across the hall.

Aelin considered just telling Rowan how she felt so that instead of moving his things across the hall, he could simply move into her one-bedroom with her. But that was wishful thinking, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Oh yes, the five steps it’ll take to get to my door is so much more difficult than the four it used to take.” With an exasperated eye roll, Rowan pulled her into his side and squeezed. “Now, I’m going to go see if I can get Lorcan to help me with my bed frame. Can you start setting up these books for me? You always were better at organizing that stuff anyway.”

With a nod, Aelin took the heavy box from his arms and made her way to the bookshelf in the corner of his room.

Aelin was so engrossed in the mystery that was Rowan’s reading material that she mistook the light footsteps she heard for Rowan’s.

"Hey Rowan, why in Mala’s good name do you have Knitting for Dummies in your book pile?”

A twinkling laugh echoed through the room. “Not Rowan but I, too, would like to know why a burly man such as himself has a book on knitting.” Elide continued chuckling and Aelin smiled back at her friend. “Though I will say, it’s kind of hot.”

Aelin sighed wistfully. “Tell me about it.”

Elide took a casual stance at the doorway, leaning against the door frame with crossed arms. “Aelin just tell him. I’m like 99% sure that it won’t be as bad as your thinking.”

“So you’re saying there’s a 1% chance that it will be as bad as I’m thinking?”

Elide gave her a stern look. For such a small woman, Elide could be extremely scary when she wanted to be. “Look, all I’m saying is that the way that Rowan looks at you should be illegal, ok? I’ve never seen anyone who looks so soft yet so lustful at the same time. He wants you, Aelin. And I don’t think it’s just physically. I mean, do you remember last week when you fell asleep on him at movie night?”

“I did not…”

“You did. And when you let out the loudest, most obnoxious snore, that boy had the gall to smile at you like you just hung the world.”

Aelin let out a frustrated sigh. “Elide, I’ve been flirting with Rowan for four years. And I have nothing to show for it.”

“What do you mean you’ve been flirting with me for four years?” Rowan appeared behind Elide, looking as handsome as ever despite the shocked look on his face.

If Aelin could have wished for one thing her entire life, it would’ve been to crawl into a deep, dark hole where no one could find her. Especially Rowan.

Elide’s eyes widened as she turned to face the man behind her. “I’m…I’m gonna just go.”

Aelin closed her eyes and let out a huff of breath. Thanks, Elide. She kept her eyes closed but could hear Rowan’s footsteps entering the room, could hear the door shutting quietly.

“Aelin,” he whispered. “Please open your eyes.”

Aelin shook her head. She could hear him laughing softly. She felt a hand gently brush hers before it picked her own up with tender reverence. Another hand slid up her jaw, tilting her face upwards.

“Aelin.” She wasn’t sure if it was the soft tone of his voice or the fact he sounded slightly panicked, but Aelin decided to listen to him.

Teal met green as she opened her eyes.

“You’ve been flirting with me?”

She exhaled roughly. “Pretty much since the day we met.”

Rowan gave her a sheepish look. “I had no idea.” Aelin just shrugged. “You are a very charismatic person so I just assumed…I don’t know. You’re like that with everyone.”

“I definitely don’t tell Fenrys when his ass looks good in his khaki pants. Or give Lorcan bear hugs when I haven’t seen him for a day.”

Rowan gave her a small chuckle. “That’s not a good example since you hate Lorcan.” Aelin rolled her eyes in reluctant agreement.

“Maybe I hate Lorcan. But I’ve sort of been in love with you for a while.”

Rowan at least had the decency to look shocked. “You love me?”

Aelin took a sharp inhale of breath, not realizing what she was saying until it was too late to take it back. Before she could give him an answer or excuse, however, his other hand came up to cup her cheek, bringing her face closer to his.

“That’s good to hear because I think I might be in love with you, too.”

The first brush of his lips was so gentle, so fleeting that she thought she might have dreamed it.

She couldn’t help but tease him a bit but she also needed confirmation. “You might be in love with me?”

She could feel Rowan’s smile against her own. “No, I definitely am.” And with those words, he crashed his lips down onto hers, the fervor and intensity surprising a gasp out of her. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, each of them basking in the presence of the other and using every minute to make up for the four years that they could’ve been doing this.

“You know, we could’ve saved a lot of time if you had confessed earlier. I wouldn’t have had to move all of my stuff into this apartment when I know that I’m just going to be spending all of my time at yours anyway.”

“Mmmm. I think it was perfect this way. Just the way it was meant to be.” Aelin silently thanked the Gods for this moment. “Now about this book on knitting…”

tagging:

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#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #rowan whitethorn #Aelin galathynius #Throne of glass #tog #throne of glass fanfiction #asks #my fics

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crownmemes · 8 months

Text

Detective Sentences, Vol. 6

(Sentences from various sources for detectives and/or muses that like to solve mysteries. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I think we need to put a fresh pair of eyes on this."

"Since when do you care about other people's privacy?"

"Why are you asking this if you know it all anyway?"

"Even a novice reader of detective stories knows not to touch the crime scene."

"I'm heading to the pub. You coming?"

"I've had a look in your suitcase. You'll have to forgive me for that."

"Respectfully, I don't like that theory."

"What now? Are you going to arrest me?"

"You set me up!"

"It is a poor detective that blames her evidence."

"May I remind you that there is an offence called Wasting Police Time?"

"If you're not prepared to go to the police and tell the truth, then I will!"

"Is it my imagination, or are you asking me questions as if I were a suspect?"

"Cold cases are 99% forensics, so we need to do everything we can to help the scientists find that DNA golden nugget."

"There is still a lot about this that doesn't make sense..."

"I see more questions here than I do answers."

"I think someone who's been hiding an affair might have other things to hide."

"No detail is too small."

"Given the opportunity, men like him always kill again."

"Each victim was found with their liver ripped out."

"I must say, you seem strangely reluctant to follow a promising lead."

"But who would want to kill her?"

"I am not a murderer!"

"You never had a chance. For every step you take, they're three steps ahead."

"Would you mind telling me exactly what happened last night?"

"People murder for two reasons: money or love."

"Do you like detective stories?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how confident are you of his innocence?"

"I'm not the one going round and poking my nose into places where it's liable to get cut off."

"Sometimes new eyes on a case can be just as useful as new information."

"If you find the right starting point and follow it, not even secrets of the darkest of men are safe."

"You know better than most that we are not put in this world to avoid danger. Not when an innocent person's life is at stake."

"Nothing disappears without a trace."

"You can't come in here, sir!"

"Get you, acting like a proper copper!"

"You know, some of the best murderers are women."

"If you refuse to tell me what you know, it shall be a very serious matter indeed."

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #assorted;#detective;

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hiatuswhore · 1 year

Text

♕ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʇɐᴚ ʇǝǝɹʇS ǝɥ⊥—ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ǝpıɹԀ

♕ A/N: Ahhhh here is The Prince and The Street Rat—A Game of Pride. So this was originally always where the story was going but for a minute I did consider taking it an alternative direction. If I did change it though every hint of this ending throughout the chapters would be some meaningless. There is one more part to this story. Let me know what you think, comments are a great motivator! Thank you for enjoying this story with me😁.

♕ SUMMARY: The world works in mysterious ways and so does the residents of Kings Landing. One never knows what they find in the alleyways and rooftops. Whores, drunks, knights, thieves, sometimes even Princes.

♕ WORD COUNT: 5.9K

♕ WARNING: Nothing out of the ordinary 🕺🏽

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Swallowing thickly, you exit the room with Aemonds cloak covering your shoulders. Your dismissal lacks directives, the guards trailing behind you aimlessly. The corridors are still more maze than familiar, finding your way through without thought.

“(Y/n)!” Taliya exclaims, rising to her feet taking two steps forward. You step back, staring as though a puzzle sits before you. Biting the inside of your cheek, Daltis blinks, studying you without pause.

"I want the truth. Did Cayde die for some foolish cause of having me rise in station?" Narrowing your eyes, Taliya turns to Daltis, who wears a face of stone. Bawling your fists, your head tilts as you meet Daltis's gaze. You grimace, barely above a whisper, "Do not lie to me."

"No. He died because he loved you. He knew not of these dealings—of the hope a Flea Bottom girl has inspired in thousands," A breathless cry leaves your lips, clutching the Targaryen cloak without care of the shooting ache through your muscles. Thousands.

"I will not be the face of an injudicious movement. The weaponization of my familiarity with the Prince is an act of treason. This cause will come with senseless deaths in my name. I will not bear this. I won't," Somethings never change. Not your stubbornness or Daltis's patience. All these years and still, your defiance shines, exhausting your elders.

"Do tell what Flea Bottom girl speaks as you do. Stands as you do, flouts about amongst high Lords and Princes. You have cemented your place in the histories. Done things no other has and lived to tell the tale. No matter how fast you run, how cunning you are—(Y/n) you cannot escape this," Daltis's gruff tone commands the room as a Lord Commander demands his men. A reminder of the strength that allows his underground dealings to flourish. Your grimace softens, lips trembling into a strangled cry. A long sigh leaves Daltis as you wipe away your tears before they build, "You are the very best of your father. Do better than he. Put trust in this. It is you who will better the realm. The world will never forget (Y/n) Rivers, I am certain of it."

Alicent structures your day-to-day with heavy vigilance. Roslyn aids you in the mornings and nights. Breakfast consists of terse silences leaving Taliya failing to garner conversation beyond the briefest of words. After you sit for lessons in etiquette and houses.

The days seemingly never end. You are Helaena's companion in your free hours. Joining her for walks, reading to or with her in the Godswood, and her favorite part of the day—braiding her hair.

"I hear you jumped from Vermax into the Bay. Far above the water and land," Helaena says, smiling gently in the mirror. You make careful work of lacing her hair with flowers. Not looking up to meet her gaze. Your second dance with death floods your memory.

"Rather pushed. I fear the story muddles in my memory. I cannot recall great detail," Helaena's smile widens as you finish her braid, using a flower to lock the ends. You offer a tight-lipped smile.

"I hear songs sung of your fearlessness. The people are quite fond of you. As am I," The young Queen's eyes shine with a level of obliviousness never known to you. A childlike glow. Forcing a broader smile to your lips, your stomach turns. No one speaks of your time with the Velaryon Prince, not to you, at least. The whispers and rumors fall deaf on your ears. You place your hand on her shoulder, offering a gentle squeeze.

"I am nothing but a humble servant. While your praises honor me, I am just a girl," Helaena shakes her head, placing her hand on your own. She looks up at you over her shoulder. The light squeeze of her hand earns a strained smile, and the moment ends as swiftly as it begins. A distant stupor seizing the eccentric Queen.

"Ablaze be the city as the bells ring, surrender leaving only the river," Helaena blinks with a shake of her head, rising to her feet with a giddy smile. She spins in the mirror, gushing at how the white flowers compliment her lilac gown.

"I beg your pardon?" You say, but she only reiterates her love of the flowers in her braid. Shaking your head, you take her hands. Meeting her gaze with urgency, "Before that, your grace. Your mumblings. You have shared them before."

Helaena frowns, your grip on her hands firm. She tilts her head, letting her shoulders fall, her eyebrows pulling knit, "The bells?"

Helaena turns to her mirror and grabs her earrings from her table, fastening them as a servant announces Aemond's arrival.

"My apologies for the intrusion. Lady (Y/n), can I have a moment of your time?" You glance at Helaena, who only smiles. He rubs his thumb along his fingers, carefully tucked at his sides. Aemond gestures to Helaena's empty library, allowing you to go first. You cross the room with your hands clasped before you, saying nothing as he closes the door behind you. Meeting your gaze, the room stills, neither of you eager to speak first. At the break of silence, you almost fail to hear the low him of his voice, "How are you?"

"You disappeared before my departure to Rivverrun. Then avoid me for weeks, and rather than presenting an explanation or anything for this new life thrust upon me, you inquire of how I am? We both know very well your grace, the answer expected of me as a proper lady," Your jaw clenches, eyebrows creasing in disbelief. He mutters an apology that drowns beneath your scoff. Shaking your head, a mirthless laugh leaves you. Squaring your shoulders, you supplant exasperation with a courteous smile, "I thank you, my lord, for your care of my well-being."

"Don't do that. Do not close me out," He's across the room, standing before you in seconds. You stare up at him, narrowing your eyes with an incredulous glint.

"The Dowager Queen made her expectations clear. What is it you want me to say, Prince Aemond? My fear is of no import. My lack of protection in the Keep walls concerns no one. So why bother shouting when no one will hear me?" You shove him back, one push becoming three, three becoming five before he stands pressed to a wall. He makes no effort to stop you, the dejection in his demeanor fueling your fire. He mutters you are right, halting the assault you inflict upon him. Your hands trembling as his words cut through your anger with ease. You release a strangled cry of frustration, stepping away as you run your hands over your face.

"I am sorry, (Y/n). The mess I have made of your life is a wrong I cannot undo. My selfishness has brought us here, but I swear to you. Ask of me anything in the realm of possibility, and it is yours," You drop down onto a chair, your leg bouncing incessantly beneath you. Realm of possibility. A gentle reminder of the reins that hold you steady. Little to no leverage to support your wish to leave. You stare off, focusing on nothing, in particular, the bounce of your leg coming to an abrupt stop. Aemond saying nothing as your face turns to stone.

"Break your oath to the Baratheon girl. Wed yourself to me," The words leave your lips without a second of reconsideration. Before your very eyes, the gentle Prince vanishes. Aemond's gaze darkens, a sneer taking his features.

"Do not toy with me," Aemond seethes, pacing the room like a caged animal. You rise to your feet, his theatrics doing little to curb your composure.

"I do not jest. I do not love you as you wish me to, but I do love you, my childhood companion. This marriage is not to appease you but of self-interest. Your mother is right; you have endangered me so. The assassination of a Prince's whore is of no consequence, but a Targaryen Princess? That comes with a hefty debt to be paid, a costly one. Your brother will gain the favor of the common people in light of our union, further solidifying his claim to the throne. You trapped me in this storm, now aid me in weathering it," Your perfect posture and level head conceal all evidence of your parentage—your history. A known girl through the streets of Kings Landing.

You speak plainly, watching Aemond blink vehemently. His eyes scan the room aimlessly. The offer of his dreams, and he stands like a bumbling halfwit. You bite your bottom lip, your chuckle filling the silence. Aemonds incertitude written across his face, "Quite the love story you and I, huh? They'll sing songs of our love. The poets will write ceaselessly of faux tales of the long journey that brought us to our union. One of passion and wild romance."

Helaena skips through the doors hooking her arm through your own, announcing it's time for supper. You half nod in Aemond's direction, leaving the room without another word. Like breakfast with Cayde's parents, dinner with the Royal family carries on in agonizing silence. If Aegon's drunk enough, he entertains you all with his nonsense that reminds you all of the imbeciles who sits the Iron Throne. Tonight he sits fiddling with his potatoes with the focus of a maester performing a procedure. The clanging of cutlery against plates fills the air.

"Your hair looks lovely this evening, my girl," Otto beams at Helaena, an earnest you would not believe was there without witnessing firsthand.

"Thank you, Grandsire. (Y/n) did it for me. She is very good at braiding," Helaena leans her head on your shoulder, smiling up at you before retreating to her food. Otto nods his head, his gaze cutting to you.

"Very impressive lady (Y/n)," You bring your cup to your lips to cover the scoff that edges to the surface. Taking a long gulp, you lower the cup displaying a dazzling smile. The Lord Hand only chuckles, turning to his food as his daughter wears a pointed stare. You stare back with a blank exterior, giving no inkling of submission.

"I have an announcement to make," All eyes move to Aemond. Grabbing your chalice once more, you raise an eyebrow as his eyes meet your own. On his feet, even Aegon refocuses his gaze from his plate to his brother. "I am to wed the Lady (Y/n)."

You continue eating even as Otto turns to you. The clang of Alicent's fork against her plate echoes through the hall. Helaena's claps in approval fall into her lap as her mother pinches the bridge of her nose. Aegon's eyes bounce between yourself and his mother, chuckling while reaching for Helaena's glass. He takes several gulps of it as Alicent reminds her second-born of his betrothal to Floris Baratheon.

"Why in the seven hells would we break our needed alliance with the Baratheons?" Alicent focuses her glare on you as she speaks to Aemond, her father's gaze never leaving your calm composure. You bring a fork of potatoes to your lips, chewing slowly as your skin crawls the room granting you audience.

"The favor of the people. People of Kings Landing know her. Tales of her exploits have swept the realm. The people love her. Wed her to our Aemond. A common girl to a Targaryen creates an illusion. They say Targaryens are closer to the Gods than men, and with their union comes a fantasy. That of the low-borns being closer to Targaryens. Closer to the Gods. Bringing much-needed favor to Aegon's claim to the throne," The twinkle in Otto's eyes brings you pause. He turns to Alicent with a pleased expression as she openly gapes. She questions the solution to appeasing Boris Baratheon, a simple fix. The promise of Aegon's heir to a Baratheon child, the promise of a Baratheon with a Royal title. A pipe dream.

"Well, then, I believe congratulations are in order. To my brother and his lovely bride-to-be. A wonderful addition to the family indeed," Aegon grins like a madman raising Helaena's cup as he stares at you. You raise your own cup, the falsity of your gratitude covering nausea plaguing your gut. The ache of shackles that forever bind you. A Targaryen Princess.

The Green Council are the first to learn the news. You sit relishing in Lord Lannisters sneer. No one dares to question your presence or the need for an emergency meeting. Your smile grows as Otto makes the announcement. Lord Lannisters eyes widen as silence takes the room. Otto regales their rationale briefly, shifting to the true purpose of the meeting, the expectations of your own and Aemond's union.

Word spreads like wildfire with the summons of all Lords in the realm expected to be in attendance. House Baratheon coined an honored guest. An array of events carefully crafted by the Green Council.

Escorts by the King's Guard through the city, a stroll through the markets. Many familiar faces do not miss the opportunity to congratulate you, feigning more familiarity than necessary. Both you and Aemond are present at food banquets, personally handing food to the needy of the city. Low rides on Vhagar showcasing your unheard-of betrothal, a Prince, and a nameless girl.

You go from a pawn to a show pony in a blink of an eye. How delightful. Overnight your wardrobe changes drastically. Hightower green at the forefront, if not green, then an emblem skillfully sewn to the bodice. You say nothing about the constant changes in your environment. Each day brings a new public outing, carefully orchestrated by the King's privy council down to the styling of your hair. Feeding off the fondness the common people share for you. Outside these outings, Aemond often disappears, and every inquiry of where earns long silences.

"Very lovely choice, your Grace," Roslyn laces the back of your gown. The fabric traps your body's heat.

"Must I wear this all night?" You squirm, rolling your neck, relishing in the light pops of your muscles. Roslyn chuckles as you grumble about the gown choice not being your own.

"Smile, my lady. Today you make history. (Y/n) Rivers. A Targaryen Princess. Your betrothed wished to start your day with a surprise," You shiver against the cold against your skin. The blue sapphire sitting between your collar bones. Bringing your hand to the shimmering gem, your back stiffens.

"He gifted me this?" You turn as she finishes tying the gown. Her smile widens as she nods. Chewing your bottom lip, you turn back to the mirror. Closing your eyes, the faint hum of water plays at your skin's edges. You take a deep breath basking in faux weightlessness.

"What do you think?" Aemond's lips pursed as you stood before him. Your lips gapped as no words left you. The silence in the room was without a hint of its beginning or end. He released a heavy sigh, muttering a slew of regrets as he adjusted his eye patch.

"Prince Aemond One-Eye. The most fearsome warrior in all of Westeros. I think when read in the histories, you shall sound quite legendary," Your hands grab his wrists, the eye patch resting on his eyebrow. A tight-lipped smile on your lips as you looked into his eye. You moved slowly, not taking your eyes off his lone one. The removal of his eyepatch came with a deep shudder from the young Targaryen.

"I—do you ever yearn for something you cannot have?" Aemond shifted on the balls of his feet as he dropped his gaze.

You chuckled while deeming him a fool, "There's plenty Flea Bottom girls yearn for that they can never have. If I had to say, then I would say family. But whilst looking at yours, I fear maybe not."

"We're family. You and I."

"Are you alright?" You wet your lips, opening your eyes with a deep exhale. The chamber doors open with a quick knock, Taliya offering Roslyn a half nod.

"It's time," She says warmly, holding out her hand with a wide smile. Neither of you says a word whilst journeying to your carriage. A sea of guards surround you at every turn. The open top leaves you privy to watching eyes. Gripping Taliya's hand, the whites of your knuckles contrast the rest of your palm. "All will be well."

Her touch gentle as the guards lift you both up from the ground. The march out of the Keep reveals cries of excitement through the streets. Smiles greet you with urgent calls of hello. Your mind awaits the second you open your eyes to greet the sun beaming down on your hammock. It never comes. The many faces blend into an indiscernible crowd chanting in unison.

(Y/n)!

"Smile. They love you," Your gaze cuts to Taliya. She smiles happily at the city's people as though it's a common occurrence. No longer a nameless face in the crowd but the cause of the gathering. A weak smile takes your lips, the Sept drawing near in the distance.

Soldiers struggle against the masses who fill the road to see you, just a girl, on her wedding day. Swallowing thickly, you raise your hand, earning a thunderous roar of cheer. The soldiers stop at the Sept stairs. Daltis stands at the bottom behind a row of soldiers. He dons fine blue silks, with ripple stitching decorating his lapel—matching his wife.

"It's quite strange. Despite all he has brought to my life, I question if I can do this," Squeezing Daltis's hand, you pull him close, shielding your trembling form from onlookers. Holding back a shudder from wracking your body, you release a mirthless laugh, "I scheme for the Black Queen."

Daltis meets your misty eyes with a sharp gaze. The wordless interaction lasts mere seconds before he nudges his head toward the Sept. You grip your skirts, stabilizing your feet as Daltis continues with a smile ghosting on his lips.

"Did you not hear me?" Tugging at his arm at the top of the steps, the blinding shine of the sun matters little. Dalits turns to the crowd with a wave, fueling their cheers that fill the air.

"Your machinations are for the good of the realm, are they not? Why bother looking back? You're not going that way," The squeeze of his hand on your own comes with a quiet that clashes against the many yelling patrons behind you.

At the top of the stairs, you look up where the structure's edge meets the sky. The ground beneath you exists in mind only. You know you stand before the people of King's Landing, an indisputable truth.

Yet still, your body lays, the soft ripples of the Bay swaying your limbs above the surface. Just because you don't get it right away doesn't mean you will not.

The moments blur into a peculiarity unknown to you. You take note of every second from the moment you step into the Sept. The eyes of strangers watching your every move, all trained in the art of neutrality. Deceit beneath boards.

The eye of Aemond stays on you as though no other exists in the world. His boards now dismantled, adoration painting his features. Dalits drums his fingers against your palm the entire way without faltering, and you spare each other mere glances. His eyes find Aemond, the wordless transaction leaving to a path you have long traveled. To the House of Dragons.

Even now, as the world erases history, your mind screams reminders of the past. Before you stands a blubbering young Prince eager for his own dragon. In front of him? Not a woman grown, not a Targaryen Princess, but a sharp-tongued Flea Bottom girl—a bastard, oh the irony. Two children, spouting vows lost on the schemes of larger powers.

"The love of the Seven is holy and eternal. The source of all life and love. We stand here tonight in thanks and praise to join two souls as one. Father. Mother. Warrior. Smith. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. Hear now their vows," Inhaling sharply, your gaze stays on Aemond. Your eyes cut to your hand bound to Aemond's by ribbon, the tremble of your hand clear.

"I am his, and he is mine."

"I am hers, and she is mine."

His lips on your own reveal the tether tied all those years prior while two fools scaling an alleyway wall. Oblivious of all to come. A fate only the Gods could foresee.

On the Sept stairs, you both wave, masks of joy painting your expressions. In your carriage, away from the prying eyes, you both find yourselves watching the other.

"Are you alright?" You break the silence, fiddling your fingers in your lap. Aemond's eye travels from your own to the sapphire between your collarbones. The silence deafening.

"I had hoped you'd want this as much as I. Have I doomed us?" He speaks barely above a whisper, watching as your eyes focus on your fingers. You lift your shoulders, dropping them with a childlike huff. The calls of your name make your head snap up, and your eyebrows pull knit.

"Princess (Y/n)!"

"Princess (Y/n)!" Aemond chuckles softly to himself, the voices of many filling the carriage. Your eyes lock with his own, a faint smile on your lips. We'll figure it out, you mouth, a weak smile taking your lips.

Stepping into the grand hall hand in hand, a line of congratulations awaits you. Aegon toasts to Aemond and yourself, announcing Boris Baratheon as an honored guest. You narrow your eyes as Aemond grins to himself, the servants setting out an array of dishes.

"By the gods!" Reaching forward, the familiar Dornish candy garners stick between your fingers. The sweet mixing with the sour on your tongue pulls a hum of approval from your lips. Aemond chuckles, sipping his wine, "Well, you're the clear culprit behind this. This is my favorite of all sweets."

"I'm aware I specifically requested it. Aemond the generous remember," He says. A soft chuckle leaves your lips, turning forward, your cheeks burning as you scan the room with wary eyes. Nothing. Not a single element of the festivities sit out of place, your stomach somersaulting as your heart hammers. The high merriment and endless wine do little to pull your avid overview of the feast.

"Are you alright?" Aemond's hand finds your knee. His eyebrows pull knit as you offer a contrived smile. "We can retire early if you like."

"No, I guess I'm just not used to so much attention," You murmur, looking around the room once more. It all remains the same. If the Rogue Prince plans to strike, he offers no clear warning to you.

In the corner of your eye, you watch Aemond follow your careful scan of the room. His eye narrows, swallowing thickly as your corset becomes a slow choking death. He knows. Your frantic state hides beneath a blank stare. Rising to his feet, an eerie smile takes his lips, "I have a surprise for you."

"Uxoricide is frowned upon, I've heard," You joke, failing to break the pressure that holds your chest. Aemond only rolls his eyes. His smile faint as he guides you toward the dance floor. The crowd parts like the sea in a wise old tale. Nobles make haste at the sight of your presence, offering bows and curtsies in reverence except for one.

The coils of her hair strike you first, a clear connection as only one other in the room shares such a rare look in Westeros. Your strides slow as you take her in from a distance, almost trailing behind Aemond as a result. Her skin glows beneath the candlelight like your own, her parentage and connection to yourself without a shadow of a doubt.

You come to an abrupt stop. Aemond's body jerks back to find you akin to a statue. Staring forward like a woman possessed, your eyes glaze over as your mind scrambles to make sense of who stands before you. Aemond returns to your side, his touch cautious as his breath tickles the shell of your ear.

"My absence in recent weeks has been little to do with the pending war. Your father's Pentosi background proved to be a challenge, even I could not conquer it, but Dorne was not. This is Syva, your mother's mother," Syva stands with a gentle smile, and her eyes crinkle in the corners. You turn to your husband, swallowing the fire that bubbles in your throat, willing the tears to remain in your ducts.

None of you move, Aemond pursing his lips, likely scrutinizing his actions to deem them good or bad. It's Syva who breaks the standoff. She stands before you taking your hands with a gasp.

"By the gods. You look just like her, my Mala," She cries, a misty haze in her eyes. Mala, her name was Mala. Aemond greets her with a familiarity that rings truth to his recent absences. You watch as your grandmother places her hands on both of his cheeks, thanking him profusely. Words evade you, your throat drying as Aemond excuses himself. His smile beaming as he passes you, joining some nameless Lord not too far from your shrinking form. Opening your mouth to speak, nothing leaves you. "I imagine you have many questions for me, dear girl. Not for a second do I ever want you to think I didn't want you. Pranar…your father, He and I never truly saw eye to eye. When I got word of his—I looked for you, but I just couldn't seem to find you. For a time, I thought maybe you had been taken too."

Lacing your fingers in her own, your lips tremble into a crumbling smile. The music and dancing around you now distant fixtures in a grand hall far beyond anything you know. Syva smiles, wiping the salty tears from your cheek, disregarding the few who whisper of you both. "Oh, but look at you now. A Targaryen Princess. From the day you were born, a force like no other."

"Please, grandmother, join us. I wish to know you. To know my mother," Your request leaves you in a raspy plea. Syva chuckles, urging you to remember yourself.

"You are no Lady or nameless Princess of some quaint Realm. You are a Princess from the House of Dragon Riders, dear. I have no place at that table with you, but if you'll have me here at court, I would be honored to know you," Swallowing the ache of your cheeks, your smile does not falter. Nodding your head like a giddy child, you swear to her she's more than welcome, confessing familiarity to be what you most desire. "I have heard the tales of your husband. The cruel Prince, the kinslayer. And that may all be true, but the fervor that boy carries for you, dear. You don't see that every day."

Following Syva's gaze, your eyebrows raise at the outlandish sight. Aemond stands with his brother, a boisterous laugh consuming the two—a new cup in his hand. You excuse yourself from your grandmother, promising to find her before the night's end. At Aemonds side, you ask the dragons to share what humors them so fervently. A pause sits between the three of you as Aegon retells his tasteless joke leaving Aemond to shift on the balls of his feet. The frivolity of your laugh breaks the ice leaving the three of you in a band of grins.

You find Aemond already looking at you as the laughter dies down. No longer at your wedding feast but on your rooftop without a care in the world. Smirking up at him, he narrows his eyes, raising his eyebrows.

"My apologies, my Lord, I almost mistook you for my husband, Prince Aemond. About this tall, a brooding Maester with love for awfully boring things. Such as philosophy and history," Aemond chuckles, intercepting his next cup of wine you down it lacing your fingers into his own. A gag leaves your lips silently, cursing the Lannisters and their coveted Lannisport wine, "While this arrangement may not have been my hearts to desire. I give you my word, I will try."

"Are you certain of this? If today marks the day I become dragon food, the history will write of the Kings Landing Bastard who haunts the Targaryen dynasty," You whined as Aemond rolled his eyes. He walked several paces ahead of you, practically dragging you to the Dragon Pit.

"We are bonded. Even now, Vhagar knows of my care for you. She will not harm you," Aemond insisted. You halted in place as she came into view, your eyes wide as Aemond tugged at your arm to go with him.

"You ride that?" You visibly gulped as Aemond grinned with pride. Aemond's pleasure did not falter at the hesitancy that seized your body. You squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to guide you, the low rumbles of Vhagar making every muscle in your body tense.

"Lykirī! Dohaerās!" Aemond rested his hand on top of your own as he pressed your palm flat upon the beast's scaly skin. Your eyes remained shut as you pushed back into Aemond's chest. “Vhagar, rhaenagon issa jorrāelagon.”

"What's that mean?" You asked, eyes still clamped shut. The low rumble of the world's largest dragon eased beneath your fingers. Aemond only chuckled, the warmth of his hand atop your own gone without warning. Your eyes whipped open, "Aemond!"

"Avy jorrāelan," Aemond rests his head against your own, Aegon grumbling as he abandons the two of you in the center of the dance floors.

"What's that mean?" Meeting his gaze, your chest knots, weaponizing incompetence easily. If he knows, he reveals nothing studying your face with a smile akin to a giddy child. Cayde sits in your mind, the lines of your morality blurring. Have I betrayed him? Does he hate me?

"At the latest hour, leave with me on Vhagar. There's a home for us in Dorne, isolated enough to hide Vhagar close enough to Sunspear for you to find work, which I know you enjoy. I can dedicate my days to my studies and to a new life. Syva lives in Sunspear. You can know her—our children can know her. She helped me with all this. It's your family home," You stumble from his hold, an incredulous look in your eyes. Onlookers eager to be privy to the dealings of the odd marital pairing.

"What of your family? Your sense of duty and pride would never allow such fantasies, so what is this?" You narrow your eyes, practically hissing as you visibly seethe. No care for the crowd that forms around you.

"You and me, this friendship is my greatest accomplishment. My pride and joy. You're my family. My duty is to you. This marriage is an oath I will not break. I love you," You cannot evade this, his words clear. Aemond pulls you back in, his smile unfazed by your venom. The fury that bubbles in your chest renders you silent, the weight of his words crushing you, "Feel no obligation to say it back, for my words are nothing. I have broken every oath to you, but I love you, and I wish to show you rather than tell you. A home away from all this awaits us. Let's start our lives together. No Iron Throne. No Hightowers or Targaryens. No Royal drama. We can be happy. I can make you happy."

"I—" Your eyes flutter shut, opening and closing as your vision splinters. Stumbling forward, Aemond takes your hands as the room turns, a fog consuming you whole as your body melts into your husband.

“(Y/n)?” A faint ding reaches your ears, drowned by a chorus of gasps. You whip your head toward the doors, following the gaze of the masses. A Kings Guard stumbles to his knees, clutching his throat. Crimson red paints the floor, Aemond muttering of it being one of his niece and nephew's guard. The clanging of his armor to the ground echoes through the room, a barrage of screams following, the room descending into utter chaos. The Rogue Prince.

"Aemond?" You cry. Violent gags jerk your neck forward, your vision blurring and refocusing as it pleases. The buckle of your knees comes with the chill of the hard floor beneath you. Aemond cradles you close as legs race around you in an endless flurry.

"I need Maesters now!" The ferocity of his screams small against the thunderous screams of scattering nobles. You clutch his shoulders, a strangled cry leaving your lips, a raging pressure setting your windpipe ablaze, holding you captive.

"The b—" Your eyes wide as he screams for a maester a final time turning his attention to you. A loud cry leaves his lips as his eye lock with your wide ones, terror dancing in them as you frantically grasp at his shoulders. Your nails claw his skin as though holding him keeps you tethered to the earth.

Head tilting back, the sky blue sky greeting you with the beaming of the blindingly hot sun. Taking a deep breath, your chest swells at the ease that comes with the taken-for-granted task. Water creeps further up on the sides of your head, a cramp shoots through your chest. You jerk forward, a hand flat on your back, keeping you above the surface.

"Dad?" A frown takes your lips, and in a blink of an eye, the dark ceiling and strands of white take your vision. Your lips crumble as a cry leaves your lips once more, finite doses of air invading your windpipe.

"It's going to be okay. Issa jorrealagon. I'm right here," Aemond coos. Wiping your tears from your cheek, he pulls you to his lap. His voice wavers and cracks as he rocks you both back and forth. "We'll name our little girl Mala, like your mother. I pray to the gods she looks like you, but she'll be a brooder, and you'll hate it—I just know it. And a son, we'll name Cadis to honor your friend. He'll be every bit of you. He'll have your laugh and your distaste for anything scholarly. I'll steal eggs for them from Dragonstone. No child of ours will go without a dragon. We'll be happy, our little family. Can't you see it?"

Violent tremors cut through your body, specs of black dancing across your vision. Each of your senses collapses into each other except one. A clear ringing sits in your ears, the tintinnabulation becoming your focus. The bells. Aemond takes your hand in his own, your hands trembling as your mouth opens. He leans down, your breathing low and choppy, "For water can withstand the beast. Pride will drain it dry."

The line between consciousness and unconsciousness blurring. Your head tilts once more, reality and fantasy colliding all at once. The Blackwater Bay greets you. The ripples of the water knock your body gently, but still, you stay afloat, basking in the fresh air. Closing your eyes, you open them once more, releasing a deep breath. A distant roar rips your eyes open, far above a shadow soars, earning a giggle from your lips.

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