#the two local little bastard mans are here

[hischokehold]

Pretty Please?

older!könig with a pretty girl who won't leave him alone.

"Hello, mister officer." Pretty doe eyes nearly melt in his, tilted up so sweetly just so you could meet his gaze. Arms locked around his, clinging so gently to his biceps like you have been for the past two weeks.

König grumbled, barely taking a glance at you and your provocative outfit, teasing him. "Back for more, little girl? What did I tell you?" He tsks, baby blues barely evading your exposed cleavage pressed up against him.

"To focus on my studies. I am. Swear I am. Aced my exams, don't I deserve a reward?" You hummed, though he found your words rather hard to believe when you were so obviously checking him out.

You've been getting bold recently, haven't you, liebling?

It all started with a simple encounter, really; with König saving your drunken state from a group of men in his local bar. The perfect damsel in distress. He had pulled you by his hip, dragging you to the nearest bench to slip your glittery high heels right back into your feet. It was one of the rare moments where the colonel wasn't in the front lines. Still, he found himself a little pastime, using his influence to do some shady deals in the city's biggest club.

He didn't exactly expect to have such a cute thing clinging to him.

After a few minutes of listening to your rambling, cooing at you, König finally called you a cab and sent you off. A nice encounter, that's all it was.

Until he found you and your little self began throwing yourself at him almost every night, practically begging for his attention. "Just wanted to thank you for last time," You pout, batting your lashes at him. "Can't I do that?"

You could still see the remnants of blues in his knuckles from beating those bastards to a pulp. His big hands pat the small of your back in a reprimanding manner, shamefully reminding you that you were smitten by a man who you met barely a week ago.

"A thank you would suffice, darling."

König stood his ground. He had morals— what little he has left anyways. You're pretty, no doubt about that. He knew he shouldn't be taking advantage of such a fragile girl. But at the end of the day, he's just a man. Surely, you knew what would happen if you provoked him too much with your womanly charms?

"Y'shouldn't be playing around with men like me, little girl." He drawls, accent thick as he lightly taps your soft cheeks. Something clicked in you at the mention of the rather degrading pet name, pupils fully blown as you nodded at his every word, unable to register anything anymore.

An "I like you." comes from your plump, glossed up lips before you could even control it. Your 100th confession this week alone. Many would call you shameless and maybe you'd feel an ounce of it if you weren't so busy eyeing up his bulging biceps through his tight-fitted polo shirt.

He's intense, you think. And he makes you painfully shy.

"Hm?" He tilts his head, and he's so handsome, and gruff, and big that he has your mind spinning around in circles and doing backflips. Soft brows furrow as brutish hands cup your cheeks, lips puckering up into a small 'o'.

The tip of his tongue swipes down his lips while he indulges in the sight. A pretty girl, a young thing looking up at him all stupid and dazed out. Begging for an older man's attention. "How naughty." He tugs you closer, puffing cigarette smoke all over your pretty face, leaving coughing from the sudden intrusion in your nostrils.

He chuckles darkly, lightly patting the small of your back. "Be a good girl and run along, ja?" He flicks his cig to the side, putting its flame out with a stomp.

"N-No! please," you breathe, manicured fingertips finding your way to his belt, slithering along the lines. His eyes never leave yours, darkening as you inch closer to his manhood, leaving you dizzied.

There's hurried chattering in the background, a scantily clad group of three wore worried expressions on their faces, calling out your name.

"Ah, your friends are here, darling." You don't even have time to respond before he's nudging you out the dark alley, sending you off your merry wya but not before giving your rear a little slap.

"And keep that backside lookin' pretty for me."

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: jeonghan x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, 70's au, little to no angst

warnings: none, maybe a few swear words here and there

summary: Jeonghan might be a cocky bastard but when it comes to you he will turn the world upside down, or so he claims.

words: 2k

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask.

a/n 2: i heard a podcast and it made me want to write this fic because the love story of the two hosts was sooo damn cutee.

You knew Jeonghan from when you were literally a kid.

His father had moved to your city after a presentation from little Jeonghan on how to make a pocketknife using ice cream sticks that he learnt from his local friends, his mother mortified that her little sweet child would grow up to become a goon forced his father to change cities to go as far away from the place they physically could.

It was during his fathers pursuit for a stable Korean community in Canada’s ever-growing cities did he come across the name of your grandfather’s in the phonebook that sounded very much similar to his. Your grandfather being the trusting and kind man he was invited his father for a dinner in his house the following day and this event kickstarted a relationship between the two families wherein, his father bought a house six minutes away from yours in the small part of your city inhabited by mostly Asians.

You both had met when he was seven and you were only three, he still remembers babysitting you when you were in middle school as your parents trusted no one more than him. So, when he broke the beautiful glass table in your living room, he had skillfully blamed you resulting in a three-hour long lecture from your parents about taking care of ones possessions.

You hated Jeonghan then, you really did, so you refused to talk to him for the next almost five years.

Until you both found yourselves in a duet dance opposite to each other because it was the neighborhood talent show and it was mandatory for the kids to participate. Typical Asian parents.

To no ones surprise your dance number got a tad bit too much hype from the watchers and it kickstarted another full year of you both not talking to each other at all because of the teasing glances and suggestive remarks from adults and children alike.

The time you both talked to each other again was when it was you senior year prom at high school and your father being the overprotective man he was, did not allow you to go because according to him ‘prom is how American kids end up getting pregnant.’

He was wrong of course; kids get pregnant due to having sex but you being the soft-spoken kid you were did not have the gal to inform him that. You would rather spend the night being sad and watching Simpsons and crying about how unfair it is for your parents to not let you go and experience the night considered to rank number one in peak American high school experience.

This was the first time you saw Jeonghan as your lord and savior, which you obviously will never tell him because it will do nothing but fuel his over-the-top ego. But that day he had stepped in and talked to you father.

“It’s an experience and everyone should be able to experience it, I think you are wrong sir to take away this from your daughter,” he had oh so righteously said.

“Son, I would let her only if you take her, as I don’t trust anyone but you with my daughter.”

“So, I shall then.”

Now did this conversation shock you? Yes, it did especially your father’s response to Jeonghan, but you were not going to stir up any feminist conversation with your father right now, not when you just got the pass to go to prom.

That night was something you barely remember; it has been twenty years since then and you barely care about the overly hyped kids and the future alcoholics that you encountered that night. Now that you are wise and older, you understand your parents concern. Suzy from you class had become a mother at the prime age of eighteen, nine months later. You are thankful that your father made the wise choice for you that day.

That night from what you remember was just plain boring, you had come back at 11 to a quite house, had talked to the boy for the entirety of the night, watched the sunrise with him and at the end had hugged him thanking him for taking you to prom.

After that incident, you both had again gone onto your own ways and had not talked to each other for another year till the next family function, where you both were the only kids of the same age present as all your other friends were out of the country for college.

That weekend had sparked a friendship between you both, as you always stuck to each other’s side seeking comfort from one another as talking to anyone else somehow always circled back to your marriage and their extreme concern for your depleting eggs.

The friendship you both wove lasted a long while, throughout your college. Till one day you come back from a trip to Daegu, and he was there standing at the airport ready to rush you away from your family to the nearest Starbucks because he had some news for you.

Once in the café he informed you that he had landed the job he had been trying for right after finishing college. You were elated for him, so happy that you almost forgot to tell him about the potential marriage partner your parents had whipped up during your two-week-long stay there.

Jeonghan being the man he was asked you up front to marry him, confessing his hidden feeling for you and how the weight of them might have just decreased his height. Dramatic bitch.

You being brough back to reality told him no and stated the reason to be man you could have potentially married. He obviously told you to say no to this unknown ‘son of a bitch’ and accept his proposal.

So being the bigger person, because Jeonghan obviously refused to, you reminded him that you had never dated anyone let alone him and you will not marry a man you have not dated.

This conversation then ignited your relationship the first step of which was turning down the said ‘son of a bitch’ while telling your father you wanted to focus on your career more, which you really did. Fast forward six months and while keeping up the long-distance relation with frequent phone calls late at night because your parents might pick up the landline and eavesdrop if its during the day, while at the same time trying to search for a job near Boston went on.

On one late Sunday afternoon as you were sitting on the kitchen island sipping on coffee you got an email from on of the companies, you had given an interview to, informing you had gotten an onsite job that would require you to move to Cambridge, and you were over the moon.

So, the preparations began for your send off and again Jeonghan stepped in like the messiah he is. He is absolutely not one, you refuse to accept. The man went ahead and told your conservative father he will give up his life to take care of you, till this date you claim it will be the opposite if a situation like that befalls you both. After packing your bags, you were on your merry way to live with the man.

It took you both some time to adjust to the new settings he would be over at your place during the weekends and sometimes you would be at his. This continued for another year or so before one night as you both were laying on the bed together when Jeonghan suddenly piped up.

“I think you should see other people.”

Not understanding what he meant you turned towards the guy and asked, “what do you mean?”

“I know we will end up marrying each other, so I want you to experience dating other men too, so you don’t get to ever claim I was the only guy in your life,” he explained to you.

You had yet to get a taste of exactly how much of a cocky motherfucker you are dating, said innocently.

“But Jeonghan you are the only guy I ever dated.”

That was the end of that conversation that night before you both went to sleep, but his urging never stopped. It went on for a few days till one day your exhausted and a tad bit insecure self, lashed out at him claiming he wanted to cheat on you, and he wanted a break. So, you gave one to him.

That entire year you had a flower bouquet delivered early morning to your house with an apology letter, although the apologies lasted only for a month before you forgave the terrified man, who apologized profusely after you accepted to talk to him. Even though you did feel a bit bad after seeing him, the guy looked like he was living during the great depression.

After that all was smooth sailing and he never ever tried to upset you at all, but his playful nature persisted anyways, not like you minded that.

Five years later during your sister’s wedding in Singapore was when his proposal was finally accepted. You had just arrived at the airport and yet again the man had swooped in and taken you away from your family under the guise of some kind of sound check that was needed to be done in the wedding venue.

Your clueless self agreed to go with him and without a second thought he took you to the cables to take you to an island that was nowhere close to the wedding venue. As you were getting increasingly confused, you kept asking him where exactly you both were going. He kept deflecting the topic, so you ultimately gave up and, as another family came up on the cable car, you started talking about your flight that you took with your family. The poor man did not hear one word, he was sweating bullocks and was essentially confused why another family was in the cable car that he had fully booked for you both.

As the family got down at the end, he stopped you from doing so too claiming it is not the stop, even though it was the last one. It was then the nervous wreck of a man got down on one knee in front of asking for your hand in marriage once again, and you being so in love with him accepted to spend the rest of your life with the man.

The rest of it was history, you both had to tell your parents none of whom were shocked at all, rather relieved that you both had at last agreed to get married and be together forever.

Now ten years later and with your two children, you are perfectly content with your life. Waking up with Jeonghan beside you everyday sounds like a dream and you are happy it came true for you.

As you tossed around the bed you saw Jeonghan eyeing you in his half-awake state.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“Us,” you answer snuggling closer to him.

“What about us, huh?”

“The way you forced me to date some other guy because you wanted me to have more experience in dating,” you laughed at the memory.

“Don’t tell me about that it still haunts me till this day” he retorts with a shudder.

“Why did you do it anyways?” you ask.

“I knew I was going to marry you so I wanted you to have some more experience with dating others so whenever you have an argument I could say ‘hey remember that looser you dated!’”, he answers with laugh.

With a laugh you slapped his shoulder exclaiming, “I sometimes forget how cocky you can get!”

"How else do you think I got the permission to propose you in someone else's marriage!" he states sassily.

With that Jeonghan snuggles closer to you some more, its Sundays anyways the kids are with their grandparents and you both have all the time in the world to just bask in each other’s presence and not do anything at all.

[mickyschumacher]

𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒  .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you were in love with f1's beloved honey badger and you had been for almost year. but why in the world had you instead fallen for his teammate? or in which infidelity has laid it's sticky little hands on you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: slight angst, infidelity naturally, falling out of love, steamy makeout sesh, suggestive content, pining, sad boy hours for daniel, lando being kind of a sneaky bastard, age-gap between reader and boys (8 years for dan and 2 years for lan), reader born in australia, set in 2020/2021, false or incorrect marine biology lingo and protocols lol, mention of crossiant horner, poor explanation of f1, mentions of insecurity, proof-read...ish

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: daniel ricciardo x marine biologist!female reader, lando norris x marine biologist!female reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: i felt bad for not posting so here's me digging into my reserves! written when i did more song-based fics!! i wish life wasn't so busy 🤧 i have started a few thingsssssss but it's definitely going to be a while before i post them sorry 😣

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

You, honestly, were a normal girl. Mundane as mundane gets. Never once had you imagined of cameras, headlines and the need for a PR specialist in your life.

But it's what you had gotten. That's what Daniel Ricciardo came with.

You had met the Australian on pure accident. It was late 2020 and the season had just come an end. Hamilton was a six-times World Champion and Daniel had his last season with Renault. He hadn't got the result he wanted but he was optimistic about his future with McLaren. So eventually, he headed home to Australia for the Christmas holidays.

Now you would like to consider yourself a well-versed Australian. Especially considering you were born there. Robert Irwin was the most beloved Australian for years to come and Margot Robbie and Chris Hemsworth were your Aussie reps in America.

Somehow, however, you had never really got F1 or Formula One. That's not to say you hadn't heard of it. Honestly, for the past few years it was difficult to pass Albert Park in the summer of March without it flashing in front of your eyes. But if someone were to ask you anything about it, you would blink blankly and apologise.

Which is exactly what you did in early December. You were out having lunch with your closest friends at a local cafe, catching up on the year in the fresh yet skin-damaging Aussie sun.

You were in midst conversation when a brunette girl politely interrupted you. "Hi, sorry. This is going to sound really weird. I'm doing this on a bet. But do all three of you know that man over there? In the hat?”

You looked over to her table full of people. It seemed like she was with her family and friends. You and your friends zoned on the man in the hat, a guy who was trying to not make it obvious that he was aware of what was going on.

You scrutinised him carefully and unsurprisingly, you didn’t know him. Surprisingly, you did find that he was attractive. The curly hair, the scruff… you wondered whether he was actually Australian because no men in Australia looked like that.

Your two friends nodded while confirming with one another. “It’s Daniel, right? The driver?” One of them asked.

Your other friend hummed in agreement.

The brunette looked over at you. You blinked at her as your face slowly morphed into an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

The brunette, which you expected to be somewhat sad about it, ended up smiling while your friends’ faces dropped.

“Thank you! Oh my god. You have no idea what you’ve just done!” The brunette laughed loudly, capturing the attention of her table. She pointed at the man in the hat, clutching her stomach. “She doesn’t know who you are, Danny. Take that!”

Similarly to your friends, the male’s face dropped. He looked at you and tilted his head.

When Daniel actually saw you for the first time, he was in shock. Not the type of shock of an Aussie not knowing who he was. But rather the shock of being in the presence as someone as beautiful as you.

Your eyes were tantalising and your apologetic expression was cute.

He waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s okay. I’m just an F1 driver.”

You nodded in slow understanding. Maybe you had in fact seen his posters in Albert Park. Honestly, you couldn’t be sure. Life as a marine biologist was busy and all over the place. Recognising celebrities or athletes was kind of the last thing on your mind.

━━━━━━━━━━━

That day you went home with the expectation of a normal tomorrow. One where you were out at the ocean and exploring the waters you had loved so much.

You wish you could say it came as a shock to see that same curly haired man on the wharf, but given the current temperatures that heavily contrasted your winter, it was reasonable as any other Aussie here.

What you didn’t expect was you passing him to get to your boat and then hearing a voice enter the air. “Hey! Excuse me. Sorry. You’re the girl from yesterday, right?”

You turned to the man, hand over your eyes to protect yourself from the harsh rays and take a closer look at him. Just in case it wasn’t him.

“Uh, yeah? You’re the driver, right?”

Daniel gave a wide smile, extending out his hand. “I’m Daniel. Daniel Ricciardo.”

Oh my. What a smile he had. The type to make you feel happy just by looking at it. You couldn’t even help but smile in response. You reached out to shake his hand, not ready to feel a weird sort of spark between the two of you.

“I... I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Daniel slowly removed his hand from yours, grabbing any last second he could. He eyed the briefcase and scuba gear in your hands. “You diving?”

You looked at your equipment. “Well, testing. I’m a marine biologist. Although, I guess I’m still diving.”

Daniel pursed his lips. Now he had to get to know you. You were beautiful and a marine biologist. An Aussie dream.

“Oh yeah? What are you testing?” He queried with a raised brow,

“Oh! Uh, currently things like the local fish populations in decline. Their habitat. Whether they’re safe or not. Algae growth. Predators. pH levels. All the fun stuff...” You sheepishly trailed off once you realised you began rambling.

You didn’t know but in that moment Daniel was in awe of you. The twinkle in your eyes that rose once you talked about your work. Like your work was your passion. That’s how he felt about F1.

You watched Daniel nod as if he were actually interested. “Do you mind if I come with? I won’t contaminate anything. Promise.”

You mended your brows together. It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask to join. But the way Daniel said it… like it was something he had to do or he would regret it for the rest of his life, you couldn’t help feel compelled. “Um, yeah. Do you not have to be on the road or something though? ‘Cause your a driver?”

“Oh F1 only goes between March and November. We’re on holiday at the moment. Well sort of.”

“Oh,” you mumbled out cluelessly. Your cheeks burned with a tinge of embarrassment. How had you managed to get through all these years of living and not known about this?

Daniel laughed lightly at the reddening of your cheeks. Just when he though he could find you any cuter. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you F1. And you can teach me the ocean.”

So the two of you went into your boat. The sun beat down onto you so harshly that for most of it, you had retreated to driving the vessel in the shade as Daniel sat next to you.

It had gone so well that this, whatever it was, became a regular occurrence after you exchanged numbers that day.

You were learning a lot about him and his job. He was actually Italian-Australian. He started this passion with go-karting. You found out F1 wasn’t just racing but it was racing to another extreme. 300 kph. God, getting your car to 100 kph for the open road was thrill enough for you.

That made Daniel wheeze with laughter and promise he would take you for a drive in a sports car to get a taste of the speed he craved for.

Apparently F1 had 10 teams, each with 2 drivers. In each of the teams, the drivers had the same car to drive, cars that were constructed originally by each team. The point of the races were for two championships. The Driver’s World Championship, the title the driver wanted to win, and the Constructors’ Championship, the title everyone from the driver to the team strategist wanted to win. They were calculated by the amount of points received by the drivers in the races.

All the races were settled through a long weekend of sorts. Fridays were for practices to see how the car was on the track as they had different conditions per track. Saturdays were for qualifying. Here, Daniel would push the car to its limits to get the fastest lap time as the drivers were ranked to then get a position for the actual race tomorrow. Sundays were where they raced for points.

All of it was slightly complex, especially with the penalties and rules that they followed. Buy you seemed to get the gist of it.

Daniel had learnt that you had grown up in Australia and like him had to travel a lot for your work. Weirdly, some times his race dates would match up with your travelling. Daniel chose to take that as a sign. You were 8 years younger than him, taking him by a slight surprise. You were 23 and he was 31. But it didn’t seem like it mattered to you. Communication between the two of you was a smooth sail.

Daniel even opened up about his time with Red Bull. A whirl of bad and annoying memories. But when you had said that you would like to see Christian Horner step on to your boat and throw him overboard into a tank of piranhas, only for thirty seconds of course, Daniel had never laughed harder.

━━━━━━━━━━━

By the billionth time you had hung out, the sun was setting in the evening, providing a refreshing cold breeze to match the heat. Christmas was close soon. And Daniel was aching to ask you out.

He had to go into this next season of driving knowing he had you by his side. Even his own family was pushing him to ask. Especially his sister, Michelle, who had dubbed herself the cupid as she was the very brunette who had technically introduced you two, or so she claimed.

The both of you had finished a dive and were heading to Daniel's car. You were supposed to have dinner with his family on this fine evening.

"You good, Danny?" You looked over to the man. Daniel, for the loud and outgoing person he was, was being rather quiet today. You couldn't really put your finger on why either. You took pride in being able to read people. But it looked like his mind was at some sort of battle.

He gave an idle hum, getting into the driver's seat.

You raised a brow, closing the door on the passenger side shut. Your hand reached out to his thigh, making him break his trance and flicker his eyes towards you.

"Listen, I don't know what it is or what's going on. But I'm all ears if you want," You smiled, patting his thigh. You went to remove your hand but Daniel placed his hand over yours, keeping you there.

Daniel's heart was in his throat. He was not normally a nervous man. He was the epitome of confidence. But you seemed to tear that down, in the nicest way, quite easily.

Daniel absorbed your curious eyes before releasing a shaky breath. "Uh," he awkwardly chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not normally like this. I can't really explain it... but these past few weeks, I... I haven't felt like this in a really long time. With you I feel free... happy... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really like you. And even if I'm ancient, I would really like to be with you. You know. Together. If that wasn't clear."

The smile on your face the moment you realised what was going on hadn't stopped growing. You watches his eyes dart around, looking for a signal of anything. A yes. A no.

You looked down at your hands. The warmth of his spread among your one. You turned your hand to intertwine them with his and squeezed his hand, looking back up at him. "I think you took the words right out my mouth. I like you too, Danny. A lot. Even as an 'old ass man.'"

An odd silence settled within the car as Daniel simply stared at you, honey brown eyes hold your own.

"Danny? Are you okay?"

Daniel's eyes turned into crescents while his infamous wide smile sprawled onto your face. "Can I kiss you?"

You stilled in the passenger seat. Your eyes flickered to his lips before meeting his eyes once again. You weren't sure if you could trust your voice at the moment so you gave a curt nod.

Daniel smiled softly at the flustered expression you sported. Instead of leaning his head in like you expected to, he reached over to your seat and lifted you out of it. You released a small yelp before landing onto his lap, straddling his crotch as you faced towards him.

Daniel's fingers played with the slightly dampened tresses that had fallen around your face and pushed them behind your ears. His fingers trailed down to your heated cheeks and to your jaw. Bringing you closer to him, he leaned his head towards you.

Daniel's lips fell into yours. His hands soon fell to your back as your arms snaked his neck. The world... your surroundings were all gone. All you could feel was each other. His fingers sneaking past the hem of your shirt and grazing your bare skin. The action sent a wave of heat within you.

You let out a small muffled moan causing Daniel to adjust himself in his seat. A bulge had formed in his pants, aching at your touch. You released yourself from him for a gasp of air, which fell into further pleasurable gasps as Daniel's swollen lips had found your neck, leaving a trail of small sloppy kisses.

Daniel rested his chin onto your shoulder before pulling back to look at you. He grinned at your dazed expression. "As much as I would like to continue this in such a fitting setting like a car, I would rather our first time in an actual bed."

You let out a small laugh, feeling yourself fluster even further while you gave him a tight hug.

And that's how your relationship had started. Since then, it had been almost a year. In that year, you had gotten impossibly closer. You had visited his races without telling him because you were scared. You were scared of distracting him and scared for him. The first F1 race you went to matched up to your meetings with other marine biologists and techs in Spain. God, you didn't know cars could even go that fast. The occasional toss of a car to the side sent fear coursing through you.

Eventually, Daniel had found out and reassured you that you being there wouldn't harm anything. In fact, the thought of it calmed him down and encouraged him. He had even introduced you to some of the team and whispered in your ear when he pointed to Red Bull's team principal.

"Oh... so that's the man going overboard. That's a shame. You didn't tell me he look like a sea otter. Sea otters are supposed look cute. I'll just pretend he's plant plankton."

Daniel had never laughed harder at something. Just when he thought he couldn't love you more. God, you were a sight to behold. He would never understand how you managed to be who you were.

You had felt the same.

Well, at least that was until when you met his new teammate in McLaren, Lando Norris.

Lando was two years younger than you and what some people called the British Ricciardo. He was constantly smiling and cracking jokes. He was the moodmaker.

The vibe he had was like an annoying little brother of a sort.

But people obviously didn't feel attracted to someone if they truly thought of them like that.

You shouldn't feel this way. It was wrong. You had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who adored you. You had tried to keep yourself occupied with your job to avoid having to attend too many races and meet the McLaren team, in fear of meeting Lando.

But of course, how were you going to refuse to celebrate Lando's 2nd podium of the year in Monaco when Daniel asked?

So here you were. In a club dressed in a cream coloured set: a long sleeved bralette and a long skirt starting from your waist, ending just before your heels with a slit in the middle.

The compliment you had received in your ear from Daniel made you wish you could say you were dressed for him in the first place. But it would be a lie to say that.

You had navigated yourself around the club to drown yourself in some alcohol. You needed a distraction and you felt that being some what drunk and out of it would've helped.

you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talk. you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong. and i got a boyfriend, he's older than us he's in the club doing, i don't know what you're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.

You were out of it for sure. Because sober you did not have the guts you had right now. The guts to not only sit at the same table as Lando but next to him and make fun of his British accent with Carlos.

"No, Carlos. I'm pretty sure he sounded like 'No no no... you ruined my ice cream,'" You laughed lightly as the Spaniard refused to agree with you.

"No he has bit of a weird sound at the 'ruined' part. He sound like those kids in the UK... on the road? What are they again..."

Lando's face burst with amusement. He laughed so hard, he had to prevent his cup from falling out of his hand. "Do you mean..." He gasped for air, "Roadmen?"

Jesus. Carlos Sainz discussing roadmen was the funniest thing that had happened so far.

You weren't sure where Daniel was even. All you knew he was probably talking to some other team member of McLaren. You were rather preoccupied and entranced by the British male next to you.

You couldn't explain it but it was as if there was a magnetic field around him and you, like an element, were simply attracted to him. As if there was no other path to go. He made you laugh differently. Feel differently. He was also a looker. That boyish charm that simply pulled you in. It made you wonder how strong his magnetic field was.

The science of it was simple. You may be a marine biologist but you hadn't flunked physics. The stronger the intensity of a field, the further the magnet, Lando, will be able to attract elements, like you. All you knew was that he was strong enough to inexplicably take you attention away from your own boyfriend.

you're so gorgeous i can't say anything to your face 'cause look at your face. and i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way but what can i say? you're gorgeous.

This attraction you felt to Lando what ridiculous in itself. But you had felt it from when you first met him and you felt it now. Lando was simply gorgeous. His smile was breathtaking. His laugh felt pretty.

And it infuriated you. You wanted to yell at him, tell him to stop. These feelings, this flutter, this tingle... make it all stop, you wanted to say.

But you could never say that to his face. How could you? Those same things came back every time you looked at him.

The smile. The flutter. The tingle.

You wondered whether he had even looked at himself in the mirror. You wondered whether ever had felt insecure about the way he looked and that if he did, you wished he hadn't.

Everything thing about him was simply enticing. A delightful view... from the arms of Daniel.

you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you. and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room. if you've got a girlfriend, i'm jealous of her. but if you're single that's honestly worse. 'cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts.

This feeling... this infatuation was overwhelming for you. You were a taken girl. You had even made it was to the multiple Instagram F1 'WAGs' accounts and were met with the most glorious welcomes by fans.

You needed to get a grip on yourself for Christ's sake. Lando was also taken. Even if he was single, which if you were being honest was an insult to romance itself, you didn't have a chance let alone now. No matter how jealous you were, you had to be realistic. You paled in comparison to the fame Portuguese models that F1 drivers often found themselves with.

Of course, you had to admit they were beautiful. You had no conflict with them. They weren't your classic mean girls. They were impossibly nice and you even found yourself in some interesting conversations. But at the end of the day, you were simply a marine biologist.

So in the darkness of the club, you had managed to isolate yourself from Lando, who had gone with Pierre somewhere, and made the struggling and gruelling effort to talk to anyone else but him. You had conversed with Carlos before he had gone somewhere with his girlfriend. You had settle for Charles as a distraction.

Charles was a pleasure to talk to. As always, he was also so kind and sweet with his words. The type you were sure that when you looked at the, you knew that their mother raised them right.

Daniel had finally found his way to you, mentioning that Zak Brown had just pulled him aside for a talking to. You asked if he was okay, in which he responded with a smile and said: "Now that I'm with you, yes."

You managed to give him a soft and believable smile. Daniel was standing behind you, joining in your conversation with Charles. It wasn't until you were in the midst of a conversation about life in Monaco that you felt a hand on yours.

You smiled gently, expecting it to be Daniel's but instead it was Lando's.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine. i feel like i might sink and drown and die.

Your eyes snapped up to meet Lando's face. His blue eyes bore into yours.

Those goddamn eyes of his would be the end of you. The similarity of them to the oceans you had travelled and the beautiful creatures you had seen was uncanny.

Your heart paced furiously against your chest. He must've been drunk or tipsy to the very least to stumble onto you. There was no way he had purposely wanted you to drown in his eyes.

You sucked in a quiet sharp breath and edged to removed your hand. But as quickly as you had made that decision, the gnawing feeling at your heart had grown more intense and taunted you. Lando's hand hurried to grab yours and place it back where it was.

Your eyes shook with awe and lingered with a dangerous thrill. You could feel his fingers rub the back of your hand gently before intertwining them.

You looked blankly at the table in front of you while Lando had joined in the conversation so casually, like nothing was even going on. You had to thank your stars that the club was able to be as dark as it was.

A lot of the noise around you had turned into white noise and blurs of sound. Charles must've complimented you as you had managed to capture some mention of fish and coral reefs from your boyfriend.

you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and you are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad. you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats alone unless, you wanna come along?

It was Daniel kissing your cheek fondly and Lando's hand grazing your knee under the table that had brought you back to reality.

The happiness and adrenaline you felt was wrong. You knew with every crevice and fibre of your body that this had to stop. This attraction and sickly sweet infatuation with Lando. God, he just made you so fuzzy. You could barely think straight.

You were stuck in between two men who had their touch on you. It wasn't right. As much as you liked Lando, he angered your entire being. He had simply waltzed into your life. He was playing along with your feelings.

Lando's damning eyes averted to you when he felt your hand slip away from him forcefully.

You hoped the guilt in your eyes shone as much as they could in this darkness.

You were going to have to break up with a man who would give you everything. You would have to leave all of... this... and get away from here.

You needed everything to return to normal. You had no idea how exactly you were going to explain a sudden return home without inflicting any suspicion.

All you knew now was that you had to make a lengthy apology to a man you had not realised you had fallen out of love with.

You supposed that was love.

Love was a bittersweet feeling. It was beautiful and fluttering but brought a lot of tragedy and strife along with it.

That was love: simply gorgeous.

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[bogleech]

MY DRAGON QUEST MONSTERS THREAD

Dragon Quest Monsters: The Dark Prince is the first DQM game I've ever gotten to play after admiring the series since childhood. The bad news is that it leaves out exactly the three DQ monsters I love most. The good news is that everything else about it is great. I've been taking regular screenshots as I play and I am going to start adding things about it to this post, so it is going to get long. First of all here are exactly my next three favorite monsters in the franchise, which they fortunately did include, and were all available to me by almost the first area:

"Mad Mollusk" or in other dq games "taileater" is great because it has a sad flabby slug face at one end and a fanged leech mouth at the other end. When it uses magic, it reveals giant eyeballs in its antennae somehow?! Love how big the "carnivorous" mouth gets in the attack animation. What a stretchy guy!

"Lunatick" is just called "meda" (eye) in Japanese, I'm glad they decided it was like a parasite thing in the localization.

Finally there's DROHL, a classic DQ enemy that looks like...well I'm not gonna say what it really looks like but I think it's a cool little freak unrelated to that and I think it talks exactly like Droopy dog. Oddly it's known as a "Drohl DRONE," and I believe there are other "castes" in other DQ games, but only the "drones" are in this one sadly. I've yet to find this in the wild; I got it through the breeding system!

....Which is by far the most addicting thing about this game. The actual gameplay is good solid turn based RPG stuff, if a bit basic, but every monster can be bred with another monster to unlock a slew of other species. This is one of the first games in which they actually call it a "fusion" system now, I guess dropping the word "breed" from the English localization, but all other in-game dialog still calls these the 'parents' and 'offspring' and even makes jokes that they're getting married, so yeah, it's still breeding. What happens when you breed a slime with someone's dead grandpa??

.....There are multiple monsters you can get from that, but one of them, and the one that makes the most sense, is Slimeshroom! This is a new DQ slime that's some fungus! What's also fun is that every monster has up to three skills, and each skill actually unlocks a ton of spells, attacks, boosts and effects as you spend skill points on them. Then when you breed two monsters, you can give the baby any three skills from the parents. Any at all! I used this to make my Slimeshroom both a healer and a fire mage in the early game. This catches you up with the same progress I talked about when I first got the game almost two months ago so here's some things that have happened since:

I bred a flying cat and a vampire chinchilla to get a.....sexy bat??

I helped a fat rat - that's the name of his species - rescue his son

I bred a people ghost with a lamp ghost to get a bag of dirt!

I fought this bastard giraffe man who called an elderly wizard a "naughty boy" and put him in candy jail.

"Duffer" from the Giraffe quest is also best friends with Eileen the eye demon, and when you rescue him, they become your loyal subjects! BAD NEWS: this entire game is actually a prequel to Dragon Quest 4, and the player character of this game is the villain of Dragon Quest 4. Duffer and Eileen are also in Dragon Quest 4. They die :( .......Maybe this game gives you a chance to fix that future??? I don't know.

[cinnamonest]

Yan childe x teacher reader BUT the reader has a lover OMG I CAN'T-

//cucking + filming noncon, age gap, Ajax is an awful little bastard as usual

(also here's the original Delinquent!Childe x Teacher!Reader post, and the second sequel post)

Oh anon. Anon. I love this, but consider: take it a step further.

The poor boy finding out that his precious teacher he’s been fantasizing about fucking silly is MARRIED.

Typing away on her keyboard when his eyes drift and he stiffens up when he sees the ring he never noticed before. The pain. The horror. Devastated.

He’s never even met the guy, and yet he hates him so much. It’s not fair that he got to you first, just because he was born earlier than he was!

He’s probably not good enough for you. Some old guy who can’t rail you with the vigor and intensity that a young guy like himself can, probably can’t keep up with your drive either. You must be so frustrated and unsatisfied.

Now it feels so awful on his tongue to call you what he normally does. Miss _____, he says, and it feels like he’s spewing poison from his mouth, knowing it’s some other man’s name practically forced on you by dumb traditions and social standards (not that he wouldn’t do the same, but that’s different). It makes his chest hurt to hear it, the name feels like a constant reminder that some other man basically has laid claim to you, that the name marks you as belonging to someone who isn’t him.

He does some digging, finds everything he can on the guy, any online profiles or social accounts. Ugh. You deserve better. If it were him, he would just support you himself, you wouldn’t have to slave away doing paperwork all the time.

Even worse is the fact that the guy has a nice job — you know, the kind you need some higher degrees for, which he definitely won’t get seeing as his behavioral record is pretty much guaranteed to keep him out of any credible institution… still, you don’t need that much money to get by. Sure, he’ll never make that much (without getting into crime, at least, which isn’t an impossibility…), but still, he’s better for you.

It’s so much worse, though, when he stalks your accounts, sees pictures of the two of you together. Makes him feel sick to his stomach, you look happy and he doesn’t like that. He ends up having to close the window, unable to handle any further emotional damage.

He starts to pry, little by little. Can’t be too blatant, but he slips in a question every now and then — how you met, what you two do for fun, so on and so on. It makes his stomach churn to hear you talk about him, but he can’t refrain from continuing to ask, practically a compulsive urge.

God forbid you express any sort of discontentment. Even the slightest frustrated sigh, passive-aggressive comment in regards to the man, and so on, he perks up and zeros in. Oh, so you are unhappy. Typical unsatisfied wife that’s getting pent up from unmet needs and all that.

He’s very attentive to those complaints, the things you mutter under your breath and the implications of it all. He works too long and is never home (terrible, he would never leave you so lonely), he’s never helpful around the home (which wouldn’t be so much of an issue if you were home all the time and didn’t have work responsibilities), he suspiciously disappears sometimes for “work trips” or unexplained entirely (unforgiveable, your suspicions are well-founded, he’s definitely cheating and you shouldn’t forgive it).

Sometimes you sigh and shake your head — ah, sorry, I shouldn’t trouble someone your age with all this… but he assures you it’s fine… also he’s searched a list of local divorce attorneys, you know, if you consider that, which you should.

He’s not the best at being subtle or exercising restraint, so he can’t help but actually mention it out loud — life is short, better to divorce than stay in a miserable relationship! But you sigh and say it’s not that serious. He holds out on the hope that there’s an unspoken “yet” at the end of that, that eventually you’ll get fed up.

But you don’t. You keep tolerating it. It’s somewhat understandable, since divorces are difficult and messy, and you would need somewhere to stay and all that.

But getting one’s own place isn’t that hard. He would know, now — he’s actually been picking up odd jobs recently, all to get his own place. Hard to balance that with schoolwork, but he manages (and he’s in the absolute bottom-tier difficulty for courses anyway, with very little actual homework, and it’s not like he’s prepping for college like a lot of his peers). You’re very pleased with it, say you’re proud of him for being so dedicated and responsible, completely unaware that he only really has one intention for doing it all anyway.

He was planning to take that part slowly, ease his way there, but you push the limits of how much he can tolerate when he’s forced to meet the guy face-to-face. He’s just sitting there as per usual in your after-school sessions, talking a mile a minute as per usual, having a good day, completely unprepared for the psychological gut-punch he’s forced to experience when that same face he saw online comes walking right into your classroom. The sacred space that’s supposed to be just for you and him.

His soul is crushed when you get up to greet the guy all happily, practically ignoring him for several extended seconds before you gesture over to where he’s sitting and introduce each other — with himself as the student I’ve been tutoring, you know the one. The man nods, casts a single uncaring glance his direction.

Right. She mentioned you before.

The hell does that mean. He keeps the smile plastered to his face, but it’s twitchy. What did you say? Was it bad? No, you wouldn’t say anything bad about him… except maybe certain factual statements like the whole behavioral record thing, but he can accept that that’s his own fault.

Still, he doesn’t like the way the guy looks at him. A vague condescending, disdainful glance. Makes him curl his hands into fists and clench his jaw. If it weren’t for the whole “impulse management” thing you’ve been hammering into his head for months now, he might have outright attacked the guy.

It’s practically torture to sit there. You say something about how you’re going out for your anniversary, so he came to pick you up. Awful. Like you might as well have stabbed him. Not to mention it’s cutting into what’s supposed to be his time with you, and now he has to leave early.

So he’s forced to walk to the front doors with you both, listening to you talk all happily about where you’re going, while he’s forced to continue to pretend to be perfectly fine with it. Ugh.

You bid him goodbye, and he smiles and waves and walks the opposite way… and the moment you’re out of sight, he’s scowling and grinding his teeth and kicking rocks on the road all the way home, sulking like a petulant kid, imagining all the horrible ways he hopes your date goes terribly wrong.

It makes him seethe all night long, laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, nausea ruining any chance he had of sleeping. He can’t even go sulk around his parents with the hope of getting attention like he used to do when he was mad, now that he lives in this little apartment by himself.

How is he supposed to live under these conditions, no attention available on demand. You don’t even text him to see if he got home safe like you do sometimes. Probably too busy doing whatever with your husband who’s more important than he is. Hmph. His mind briefly flickers to wondering what you’re doing now that it’s later in the night, but the obvious realization only makes him feel ten times more sick. He doesn’t get any rest.

And the longer the night goes on, the more irritated he starts to feel, the misery and hurt begins to turn to bitterness and anger. He starts to feel like you probably know — no, you definitely do. And yet, you willingly tortured him like that. You've been so nice to him, giving him all that attention and affection, knowing you won't ever give him what he really wants and being totally fine with causing him so much pain. He's hurt, and more importantly, mad.

But he can't hate you… your husband, however, is a different story.

That guy kept his arm around your waist walking outside, rubbing it in his face like that. He’s certain that your husband must realize that he loves you (way more than said husband does, for the record), but that look of disdain — he doesn’t even see him as a threat, does he. Thinks that he’s not even proper competition. That much is painful. Bothersome. Annoying. Rage-inducing.

Well, he’s wrong.

That’s the thought that pushes him over the edge. He’s already had the idea in his head for a long time, he just kept bailing out every time he gathered the gall to go through with it, much to his own shame.

But clearly, continuing to be passive is not going to get him anywhere. Come to think of it, a few months ago, he would never have hesitated to go through with whatever impulse struck him, no matter how violent. It’s not like he hasn’t been expelled or arrested before.

He appreciates the time he’s spent with you, but he’s starting to think that all those little speeches about “self-control” and “thinking before you act” and all that have only really just made him docile and tame. How embarrassing.

A man should just take what he wants, right? Anything less is practically a blow to his pride.

He’s still not the brightest when it comes to formulating plans, but his rather straightforward plan ends up working. You actually agree to swing by when he says he has something to give you, something too big to carry to school himself, so he needs you to come pick it up with your car and all that. You must really trust him. Or you’re just naive, maybe, but he likes to think you trust him, however unwise that may be.

He worries that you might back out, but you show right up to his door. The motions from there are mechanical, putting his brain on a sort of autopilot mode in which he just goes through with it, without thinking too much, lest he hesitate, until you’re secured.

Grabbing you by the shoulder and jerking you inside, hand over your mouth, other arm around your waist and picking you up. It's a short distance to the bed (well, mattress on the floor), since it's just a studio apartment and all.

You being so weak makes it so much easier. He can technically tell you're struggling, but it barely feels like resistance, just weak squirming and thrashing that doesn't even loosen his grip in the slightest. You make cute little noises of surprise and confusion and fear, muffled by his hand over your mouth.

Sadly, he can't afford to have you attracting attention from the neighbors, so he's forced to keep you gagged, pulling your shirt over your head (to which your whimpers turn to full-fledged sounds of panic), and — after the brief moment where he has to detach his hand from your mouth, hearing you stammer out a wait, wait— balls it up and stuffs it into your mouth, quickly grabbing the duct tape (he, feeling very proud of himself for such clever forethought, thought to go ahead and tear some long strips off and stick the ends to the wall ahead of time), and placing it over your mouth, flipping you over onto your stomach.

You're so cute. You make the cutest little noises, your eyes get all teary, you squirm and whimper and try to pull yourself away, but he's got your wrists pinned behind your back with one hand, the other pulling your hips back. The cutest part by far has to be when you feel him jerk your skirt up, his cock pressing against your flesh and pushing inside of you, your squeals get louder and higher pitched and you struggle so hard, to no avail.

So mean, though, to pretend like you didn't see it coming. You know what you did. You led him on on purpose. Knowing full well the sort of things he's done to other people — beating his peers black and blue on impulsive whims, getting into fights because he felt like it, stealing stuff and vandalizing stuff and all those other things he knows you know he did, since it's all on his records… you willingly came all by yourself, in private, with someone like that, who you know full well is so much stronger than you are—

What did you fucking expect?

Up until then, the stream of words from his mouth are all amused and teasing and sadistic, but in those words, and the sharp jerking thrust accompanying them, you hear that underlying anger breaking through. You really hurt him, you know, by being married. He loves you so much, and you had to go and do that to me, he says, as if it was a retroactive choice, as if you should have predicted his presence in your life years in advance, as if you willfully did it to spite him years before you knew he existed.

Is it irrational? Sure… but it isn't going to change that he feels that way, and he’s mad and you can't do anything about it anyway, so he's going to keep blaming you for what you did wrong.

He keeps muttering about how stupid you are — for coming here so naively, for choosing your dumb fucking husband over him when he's so much better and loves you so much more, for all the little things you did to lure him in and make him want you so badly, for being so nice to him and having a body you should have known would make him want this so badly.

It's all your fault.

The words get more and more muffled and slurred as the movements get faster, harsher, you squeal with each thrust that makes the springs creak and the whole mattress itself move back and forth against the floor. He points out that you're leaking all over him, fluid drooling out of your hole and spilling onto his hips and thighs, satisfied by the shameful little whimper you make and the way you hang your head. You must not get fucked good enough at home, huh.

And then, he starts to slow down. There's a pause. You see him reach over, to where he tossed a few things that were on you when you came in onto the floor. Fishes something out of your purse.

You made a confused, panicked little sound when you notice he's holding your phone. Easily unlocked, whatever method you use — he holds it up to your face or forces your thumb to press against it, or, most alarmingly, even if it's protected by password or pattern, he enters it with a single try. Shouldn't have opened your phone around him so much, of course he would pay attention to that.

You're flipped onto your back, reeling from the sudden harsh movement, grunting and squirming when your bra is pulled up to your collarbones and your skirt pulled up even further, exposing your body completely before shoving back inside of you, and oh, what a euphoric sound you make — and this time, you visibly clench down on him when he does. Perfectly timed, too.

Your stomach clenches in dread and panic as you see your phone’s front side facing you.

Smile.

You cry out louder than ever before, struggle so hard, so good. His hand latches onto your throat and squeezes hard, and your hands, now no longer in his grasp, reach up to claw at them, all entirely futile. The sound of skin slapping skin reverberates around the room, and you see him tilt the camera downward, ensuring he captures the sight of his cock pounding into you, stretching you apart, all the slick fluid now coating everything from your thighs to his hips, and the sweet, precious sounds you make for him.

He wonders if anyone has ever made you react like this before. If your husband is going to be torn apart by the realization that he's made you feel better than he ever has, that he's better and bigger than him. The sheer fear on your face would suggest that. The thought feels euphoric.

He re-angles himself, leaning forward a bit, ensuring his body presses against your clit — you start to tense up, push back, your heels dig into the mattress and your body writhes with greater force than ever before. Your eyes squeeze shut and you shake your head but he doesn't stop, and you hate yourself so much in the moment for the sensations your body feels, the guilt and despair overwhelm you, you feel a cold chill in your gut — but you finally spasm and shudder on his cock all the same, clearly trying so hard to minimize it and hold back the sounds and movements, but the involuntary shudders and soft little cries are unmistakable all the same.

Normally, he would want to stay inside you longer — but there will be plenty of chance for that later. This time, the prospect of pulling out and capturing it is too tempting, and God, is it satisfying when he does. The squelching sound, the way his cum starts to drool out of you onto the mattress, the way your hole twitches from the sudden absence, slightly agape from the intrusion. It's so, so perfect, better than he could have even imagined.

You rip the tape off your mouth, gagging and coughing from the strain on your throat, and the overwhelming sensation leaves you in a dazed stupor for a few moments… your head slowly drags over to him, and an ice-cold spike of fear strikes through your heart when you see that he's still on your phone.

Slight movement from you as you try to push yourself upright takes his attention away from it, eyes flickering over to you.

Ah, right.

You make a scared little sound and pull your hands close to your chest (very cute!) as he looms over you again, but you're helpless to do anything as he puts the phone down to flip you over again, this time taping your wrists behind your back, adding a new layer over your mouth, and finally one on your ankles. Your struggles barely faze him.

You see him zip his pants back up and pull his shirt back on, standing and making his way over to the door, shuffling his shoes back on before grabbing your car keys.

I'll bring these back. Your place is only five minutes away if I drive, you know. I won’t get into any wrecks this time.

It occurs to you that you've never told him where you live, but it's the least of your concerns then and there. Your heart sinks to your stomach as he takes your phone again, grinning as he types and, after a pause, makes one distinct, final tap that you know can only be hitting 'send.'

His head turns over to you, that same dopey, carefree smile on his face as always, that now seems so much more sinister than before.

Don't worry. He won't have enough time to call the cops.

Your muffled words don't stop him. You writhe pathetically on the ground as the door opens and closes before you, listening in dread and despair as his footsteps slowly fade away.

[annabelle--cane]

so I don’t have the knowledge of details that you have (complimentary) but is there anything in the computer code Colin looking into being written in German and Jonah Magnus’ buddy living in the Black Forest and finding that crypt that one time? Or is that Too far a reach?

vibrating at the speed of sound. so there are a couple of floating details around from the podcasts, the arg, and some promotional materials that may point back to germany having particular relevance. some of this is absolutely me going full pepe silvia, but there are enough threads here that I feel like it has to amount to Something.

so. germany.

archives 'verse:

-> point 1: johann von württemberg. while staying with his nephew in the schwartzwald in 1816, albrecht von closen finds an old mausoleum with the inscription "johann von württemberg" over the door, and it is guarded by a man with no eyes who nonetheless seems to be able to see. in a deep chamber well beneath the ground is johann's coffin, and the room is completely lined with books so old that they'd all rotted through and fused together, the marble shelves they're placed on having little carvings of open eyes all along them. the only two objects in a good state are an illuminated manuscript in arabic that had been kept apart from the rest of the books, and a gold coin with an engraving of a young man with flowing hair, the initials "JW," the year 1279, and the words "für die stille" (google translate tells me that’s “for the silence”). albrecht asks around for any information about johann because the name is unfamiliar despite his quite good knowledge about local history and nobles, and someone says they remember him being called "ulrich's bastard," likely referring to ulrich the i or ii, two counts of württemberg from the 1200s. with that information, in the present day jon is able to find some historical records that point to ulrich i having a son out of wedlock in 1255 who was rumored to keep the company of witches.

-> point 2: the von closens. it seems that a servant nicked the coin albrecht found before he could go home with it, and that was probably for the best for albrecht, because that servant Died Badly from what was ruled to be an animal attack. albrecht did take the book with him, however, and presumably went on to show it to jonah magnus. he then must have gone back for the rest of the rotten books at some point, though, because when doctor jonathan fanshawe visits his estate in 1831, albrecht has a full library of recently re-bound books that he tells fanshawe he got from the tomb, and owning them has done terrible beholding-esque things to him. fanshawe, in his capacity as a doctor, says they should return the books for albrecht's health, and they do so, but just as the last book is returned, albrecht dies, and fanshawe realizes that all the books were blank and finds out that jonah arranged to have them all swapped out by the book binder. when fanshawe performs an autopsy on albrecht's body, all of his insides are covered in eyes.

in his statement from 1816, albrecht says he and his wife carla have been unable to conceive, though in 1831 fanshawe mentions that all of albrecht's sons were away at school when he came to visit. not something that's impossible, they could have managed to have children shortly after 1816, but it does make me raise an eyebrow. magically blessed fertility? dimension shenanigans? fanshawe does mention a tree being burned on the von closen estate that feels remarkably similar to the tree on hilltop road.

anyway, wilhelm, albrecht's nephew, has some children, and the family stays in germany for about another century, but one branch eventually moves to england, and their descendants include mary and gerard keay. according to gerry, mary was big into mythologizing about the von closens and really tried to get him to continue her idea of a legacy for the family, but he thought most of what she said was made up.

protocol 'verse:

-> point 3: colin's comment about source code being written in german. nothing much to explain here, just that it's Weird that source code for some Weird bespoke program for the british civil service is written in german, right? Bit Odd.

-> point 4: the usenet forum. okay so I'm an avatar of the idiot and only read up about the arg after it was already over and don't know anything about code and whatnot, but as best as I can understand: on the OIAR's official website, if you try to submit a form, you get an error message, and if you look into the source code for the error then you find Some piece of code with an IP address shaped hole in it, and there's an IP address hidden in an OIAR advertising video, so you put that IP address into the code, do something else (???), and then find yourself at an old defunct usenet forum from the 90s/00s for people who left east germany.

(it is from here that I got too verbose for my own good, so the rest is under a cut)

notable things about the forum: most of it is pretty normal, and, naturally, it was pretty much all in german, massive shoutout to everyone who helped to translate all 21k words of it. there are threads about finding work in various countries, weird cultural idiosyncrasies, resources, reminiscing about berlin, yknow, normal stuff. the mod “SandmannS” (translates to exactly what it looks like) ran the forum with a bit of an iron fist, which I guess makes sense, it’s the kind of forum that attracted people who wanted to say some heinous stuff and he was really serious about not letting anyone solicit personal information, but he was also kind of overzealous about keeping threads on topic and locking any discussions that he thought were “pointless.” he was eventually strongarmed into opening a thread for cat pictures, and that’s as good an opening as any to talk about some of the Weird things about the forum.

one of the cat photos was posted in february 1994 and shows a cat standing in front of the thames, with what looks like the completed o2 arena in full view (great choice of a red flag landmark to include @ whoever chose it. nice big landmark that was called “the millennium dome” when it first opened, a handy reminder that it was made to celebrate the turn of the millennium and construction wouldn't even have started in 1994). several comments across the threads are dated as earlier than the comments they’re replying to, one person references the content of the phantom menace a few months before its release, and several comments were somehow made after the mod locked the forum in dec 2001/jan 2002.

and okay. the forum locking. I’m going to condense this to all hell because this is already [redacted] words long but basically, “einsamernarr” (translation: lonely fool) was an active user of the forum with a big conspiratorial streak, real paranoid about “the government” spying on him, always getting warnings and just dodging getting banned just before going too far, yknow, a Type of Guy. in december 2001, he mentions in a book rec thread that he was trolling through some databases and found a bunch of old records and he can’t tell if they’re fictional or not, but he’d like to share them if he can. about five days later, he starts posting in several threads that he did something really dumb, people are after him, the meetup they were planning is not safe and this forum is being watched, people should look for him if he doesn’t come back within a week, and he’ll try to leave some info behind for them just in case. a few days later, a couple of people post worried messages asking if anyone’s heard from einsamernarr and that they’ve been getting weird cryptic emails about an “institute” from him, and sandmanns says that he did everything he could, but he can’t keep doing this, and he closes the forum.

marina “avatar of the idiot” annabelle--cane showing my face here again, I don’t know how this next part happened, but it’s possible to retrieve the email einsamernarr sent, open it with a password found in colin’s code repository (that’s a whole ‘nother thing), and find inside: 1. some pictures of bonzobucks, 2. a weird pdf of an old german book on alchemy with a lot of symbols and codes in it, and 3. a spreadsheet of the names, ages, and test results of the hundreds of children the protocol 'verse magnus institute was performing psych studies on. which finally brings us to our next, much shorter section.

-> point 5: “gerard kaey” (sic). gerry’s name is on that spreadsheet, which I think is relevant to this conversation given mary’s obsession with the von closen legacy. archives ‘verse mary keay resented the magnus institute for what she felt it stood for comparison to what she felt she stood for; she saw jonah magnus as a thief who stole away her family’s honor, so what might be different about the protocol ‘verse situation? why would mary keay in this universe send her only heir to go get scrutinized by a bunch of self-important academics?

-> point 6: the berlin dead drop. more arg stuff, we’re getting into things that I’m sure probably have more to be said about them than I’m capable of saying, but from some clues in a picture of cookbooks that einsamermarr posted in the cat pictures thread of the usenet forum to annoy the mod, and a voicemail on the OIAR’s telephone line, people found out the date and location of the first irl arg event, and it was for somewhere in berlin. a newspaper covered in alchemical symbols was found in a bookshop, and from that people somehow derived coordinates, and those coordinates lead to the last irl event where a battered old video tape with a video of a creepy ritual was found (note: the tape was too badly damaged, so another copy of the video came from an arg affiliated tumblr account).

-> point 7: klaus.xls. from a floppy disk found in the second irl arg event, klaus.xls is a spreadsheet originally written in german with about 100 dates and times of potentially paranormal sightings. a lot of it is corrupted and unreadable, but there are columns for category, rank, “TSHU,” and notes. translated into english, notes sections that aren’t corrupted say things like “mr. b,” “war people,” “avoid, “unhappy child,” “ink,” “lady m,” “cats lol,” and “I hate witches.”

-> point 8: albertus magnus and the philosopher’s stone. right, this is where I go a bit off the rails, and credit to this post by @misfitmagpie for discovering some of this. first, nearly every official visual we’ve had for tmagp has been covered in alchemy symbols. they’re all over the logo, they’re all over the in-universe OIAR and magnus institute websites, they highlighted hints in the arg, they’re everywhere, and the end goal of alchemy was the pursuit of the mythical philosopher’s stone, a substance that could turn base metals into gold and produce an elixir for eternal life. the tmagp logo/the coat of arms for the OIAR is centered around an upside down alchemical symbol for the philosopher’s stone, a circle in a square in a triangle in a larger circle. 

albertus magnus (aka saint albert the great) was a bavarian philosopher and scientist who did some writing on alchemy and has been widely rumored to secretly have been a master alchemist, mainly as a result of a lot of people attaching his name to writings about alchemy that he never touched. some have credited him as discovering the actual philosopher’s stone, and while he never made that claim in any way that survives, he did record that he’d witnessed seeing base metals be turned into gold. something of which to take note is that he didn’t go by the name “magnus” during his life, that was appended to him posthumously, it’s just another way of calling him “the great” with a fancy latin word, but it does kind of remind me of that edmond “reimer” halley -> maxwell rayner thing from mag 140. if you discovered the elixir of life and became immortal, you would probably need to nab a new identity at some point, and if people have already been nicknaming you “albert the great,” well…

anyway, the thing that’s really cemented his potential relevance in my mind is his birth and death dates: c. 1200-1280, lining up perfectly with the time period of johann von württemberg (thought we’d moved on from him, didn’t you?). I know magnus timelines are notoriously a bit unruly, especially the further back into the past we get, but it’s scratching at my brain. besides that, I think it would be a really cool move if the magnus this podcast is named for was a completely different person than the magnus the last podcast was named for.

if albertus magnus isn’t directly relevant then I’ve got another theory about the title that I’ll be posting in a hot minute, but it’s not germany related and this ask is already long enough. 

just, to sum up, a lot of protocol content so far has been germany-adjacent, and even if nothing more comes of it I think there are a lot of interesting threads here to speculate about.

[krypticcafe]

Happy Super Late Valentines </3

rating: PG-13/teen

pairing: harry warden/the miner x gn!reader

warning(s): reader had a boyfriend, brief mention of cheating, small mentions of blood, violence, and gore, and harry being scary, for j u s t a bit.

synopsis: you had a shitty valentines day, and harry comes to pick up the leftovers.

a/n: okay, I haven't written fanfic in years, so please excuse me if this comes off as an uber corny dumpster fire. I'm just trying to have fun :'))))

So what if it's Valentine's Day?

So what if you wanted to spend a peaceful time with your boyfriend at home with some baked cookies?

So what if you accidentally burnt those cookies?

So what if you were so paranoid that it felt like someone was watching you the entire time?

So what if your boyfriend pushed asked you to go with him and his friends in some spooky abandoned mineshaft?

So what if you were surrounded by couples making out in a cramped, dark, and cold nooks and crannies and one of them happened to be your best friend and your now ex-boyfriend?

So what if you lashed out, dumped him, stormed out of the cave only to get more lost due to the heat of your anger?

It's fine. It's whatever. Could be worse.

Or at least that's what you told yourself to cope with the shredding of your heart and the burning tears.

Oooooh, but that bastard! The audacity to cheat on you, with her of all people! And he was such an idiot to do so after inviting you to come! Did he not think for a fraction of a second that he'd get caught? Or did all the blood in his brain just go to his dic-

God, what were you thinking, coming here with those guys, giving him the time of day?

Looking back on things, you realized you dodged not a bullet, but a whole missile. But did it reslly have to be on Valentines Day of all days? The world really is just that cruel.

And it was about to get even more cruel.

Screams, maybe half a dozen of them, echoed and bounced off the walls of the cave, finding their way to you. At first, you assumed the group was messing with each other. Either way, you could care less.

Then they started growing more frequent and louder, and you scowled.

'In here after that fiasco? Really? Christ, I'm never going out with any of them ever aga-'

Then you heard a blood-curdling scream. Suddenly, you started to prefer the possibility of what you originally thought they were doing.

Your head whipped to the tunnel left of you as you heard a scream far too familiar, and your body began to curl in on itself as you sat in a ball in the corner.

Footsteps began beating from the same corridor where the scream originated.

Anticipating the worst, you wiped the blur from your eyes, took a deep breath, and braced your hand over a nearby stone that you deemed good enough to buy you some time.

The footsteps grew louder, but remained at a painstakingly steady pace, as if to tease your demise. There was a loud thunk! before the screech of metal scraping rock pierced your ears. You were half expecting to see the grim reaper at this point.

Instead, you were greeted with someone else who might as well be the same person. They were tall, broad, and clad in nothing but a full set of miner's gear. Not a single speck of skin peeked past any part of their clothing, and their mask even managed to hide their eyes behind the dark lens. With what little brightness there was provided by the dim cave lights, you just barely noticed the glistening of the blood on their uniform and the way it dripped down the tip of their pickaxe.

You recognized him as the man from the town's local urban legend. It always seemed cheesy and way too cliche to you but here you were, face to face with the man, the myth himself. Would he make you another one of his victims tonight? Would your death become just another story told at the campfire? The thought made your stomach turn.

The two of you stayed in silence, your hand still gripping the stone while you stared at the miner, searching for any movement that suggesting that you'd be the next one to eat metal. But all you could see was the way his chest heaved, rising and falling from what you understood as the cause of all those screams from earlier.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Clank!

To your surprise, he set down his pickaxe and approached you, kneeling down to your curled form. His head tilted slightly, as if to get a better look at you. A part of you wished you could see his eyes, wondered where he stared, why he stared. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you froze like a deer in headlights, squeezing your eyes shut when he lifted a hand and-

... wiped a tear on your cheek.

You didn't even remember the stone until he pried it from your hand and interlaced your fingers with his, pulling you up with him and into his embrace as he lightly petted your head.

Was he... comforting you?

It would've worked well if uh, he didn't reek of blood and dust.

Staying still as if your life depended on it (it probably did), you let him do as he pleased.

He pulled away from you but kept a gentle grip on your hand, nodding his head in the direction of the tunnels. You couldn't be bothered to question anything anymore, shock was the only thing that kept the fatigue from catching up.

He led you down countless tunnels and caverns, passing by bodies mangled beyond recognition, except for one. You were pretty sure that one was the cretin.

The entire time, the hold his hand had on yours was nothing short of soft and comforting, it almost warmed your heart. Almost.

Eventually, you found where he was taking you, back to the entrance of the mineshaft. He let go of your hand and urged you to the opening. Hesitantly stepping forward, you paused and looked back. He still stood there, though less menacing than he was before despite all the blood and dirt caked on him.

"I- uh... thank you."

Your voice was shaky from processing the events of the past few hours and you had no requirement to thank him, but you felt like you'd regret it if you didn't. The sentiment came across, and he nodded, reaching up again to trace a thumb on your cheek before giving it an affectionate pinch. You watched as he turned and left back into the abyss of the mines, disappearing into the cavern.

It was still dark outside, but you knew the way back from here. You were no longer shaking, nor seething, and the walk back home was oddly peaceful for it being so late in the night.

So what if you might want to see him again?

Bonus

The next morning, you woke up with your eyes feeling raw and your feet sore, but work calls and you had to get up nonetheless.

Nursing a cup of coffee, you checked your door for any mail, instead finding a bright red, heart-shaped box at your doorstep. Fortunately, it didn't contain any beating human heart as the urban legends told, but interestingly enough, a single wild rose and a card.

"Happy Valentines, won't you be mine? - Harry"

[kaivenom]

Bar fight

Summary: you have been on Kidd's ship for a while now but you always seem to be a very calm person until the crew decides to go into a bar for a "fun" night and your feelings for your captain start to show.

Pairing: Eustass Kidd x reader

Warnings: bad language, violence, jelausy, reader being a little menace to the society, Kidd being the bastard he usually is, a little bit of sexual innuendo at the end (but no smut)

Masterlist

The crew, especially your captain decided to go get some drinks to a bar. It was the first time since you got in the crew that you're going to pass the night on land, enjoying some time outside the ship. You don't say that it wasn't good but sharing every space in there with men it's not the best, especially with Kidd. You two had a thing going but for the time you guys are keeping it in secret. In fact, you need this night to relax and spent some time a little far from him. Maybe you had the oportunity to talk to other female, if your crewmates doesn't start a fight before.

The local was cool, with many people, perfect to go unnoticed. You got to the bar when they got their drinks so you can have your time alone. Kidd and you fighted sooner that morning, for something stupid, because he was jelous or something about that reading your feelings it's hard. It's true that you are calm, because you think about what to do, unlike him who shouts and uses violence everytime he can. You like him that way but he made you think that maybe you need to start being a little less calm and a little more comunicative, and you don't now how to be like that.

A woman got next to you, somehow you ended up talking, thanks to the waiter not serving you both the drinks you ordered.

"So, you are here alone?" she asked.

"No, i'm him with my crewmates and my ..." you couldn't continue.

"Wow, someone is having troubles with a man? How is him?" at first you were suspicious but then you decided to tell her.

"It's like two meters, i know its big, red-head, big muscles with a metalic arm," she made a sound of excitement, "really loud, shouts a lot and it's a little unpredictable."

You two talked a little more time until she had to return to her group. You decided to go to the bathroom and asumed it was the time to return with your crewmates. It wasn't difficult to find them, the problem was what you saw when you got there.

The girl you were talking on the bar was sitting between Killer and Kidd, and having a more than innapropiate closeness with the second one.

"Oh, Hi," she said really happy, "you were right, he is really unpredictable."

She looked really innocent but her words declared her real intentions, considering what have you told her, it was no room for a mistake. Kidd face wasn't really surprised like he was expecting someting.

"What are you doing?" you try to stay as calm as posible but every second she passes her hand thru Kidd's arm it's more difficult.

"I'm enjoying the company of these amazing men, especially this one," that woman it's reaching your limits.

"Oh really? and our previous talk?"

"Maybe if you weren't so numb, you would get more of his attetton."

That's it, she reached your limit. Kidd seemed like he was about to get up and say something to her but you couldn't wait for that, your emotions are controlling you. One step and you slapped that woman on the face, maybe with a little bit of extra strenght thanks to your armament haki.

"That's what you get for being a whore, don't ever try to get near me or my man again or i will kill you and believe me, i have a big bounty that shows my capacities."

The woman was on the floor with a red cheek and some tears starting to appear. She got up and slapped you back, the impact wasn't very strong, you spitted to her face and prepared to start a fight. Somehow you admired her strenght and determination to be a bitch and a pain in the ass, but you are going to break her face, it was decided. Before you landed the first punch something lifted you from the floor.

"End of these cat fight, go try to fuck some idiot of this club because we are going out and i don't want to ever see your face again."

Kidd threw you over his shoulder and was carrying you away from the woman. You coudln't help but laugh and say goodbye sarcastically to that woman.

All the journey back to the ship, everyone was silent, you started to be scared to be kicked out. When they do these type of things everyone was excited but now they are speecheless, even looked a little scared. Even when you got to the deck, Kidd didn't put you down. You don't have the mood to ask him about it, the adrenaline it's starting to go down, so you let yourself get carried away to his room.

Once the door was shut, you expected something but not what he did. He put you down against the wall, with his body against yours and his hands pressing your thighs. His face was close, lips brushing but not entiretly touching, a torture. He smelled a little like alcohol and his cheeks were a little red.

"You know what you did there?" you started to noticed his crotch pressing against you, "that's what i was talking about when i said that i wanted you to express emotions, i know perfectly when you are happy or sad... i wanted you to get jelous, to mark me as your man," he was quoting you and it looked that he loved it, his mouth went to your neck fast and desperate, "seeing you all violent to defend what's yours made me get instantly hard, i wanted to fuck you right there in front of that bitch's face... fuck, i loved seeing you like that, i love being your man."

Well, it's looks like you now know how to get Kidd excited.

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

I'LL ALWAYS FIND YOU - D.M

Warnings: kidnapping, blood, mentions of murder, addiction mention, mentions of sexual assault (no sexual assault against reader), criminal minds related language and unsubs.

Summary: Derek loved you more than anything so when you get kidnapped and he saves you, he doesn't know how to look after you. (Occurs between end of season 6)

Wordcount: 4.9k

You let out a sob. It was loud and it was broken and it came from deep within your chest.

The room was cold and the zip ties on your wrists were scratchy, digging into your wrists and cutting at the skin there whenever you would move. Every time you would try and fight, try to move your arms and find a way out, they just dig deeper.

Your shirt was ripped from where he had grabbed you but otherwise, you were left in your normal clothes. There was a wound on your head, an occasional sharp pain passing through your temple. The blood had a dried against your cheek and you were sure you looked like a mess. Bloody and tear stained.

You knew all about this unsub, had profiled him for the last week here in the blistering summer. You had profiled him as a masochist but there were barely enough bodies to be able to figure out anything.

He was stealing women from their cars, grabbing them from secluded areas and knocking them out with a harsh blow to the head. They would be there for about a week before they were killed and you had been there for just under a day now. He would also send daily photos of the women to the local police, almost taunting them.

You had been grabbing something from the car outside of the police station in the early hours of the mornings. None of you thought that he would grab someone from outside of a police station but here you were, the victim to his destabilisation. You wished you would have taken up Dereks offer for him to walk with you but you had been too stubborn.

Thinkin about Derek made your heart hurt. The two of you had been dating for around a year now and you knew he was it for you, the man that you were going to spend the rest of your life with. There was no doubt about that.

You had to keep thinking about the team. They were going to come find you, they were going to come and find you. You kept repeating it like a mantra, hoping that this sick bastard had made some mistake by grabbing you from a police station. He must have.

The sound of footsteps started to get closer and your heart pounded. If he was beginning to escalate with kidnapping a federal agent, who knew what he was going to do now.

Every bad thing that you had seen before on this job flashed before your eyes, dead girls living in streams, bloody knives, ropes. You tried to calm yourself down but you couldnt stop wondering about what could happen to you.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief as you heard the footsteps fading into the distance. You took a deep breath, blinking away the tears as you decided that you had to stop feeling sorry for yourself and instead find a way out of here.

Looking around, you noted that the room was concrete, no windows and just a single door on the other side of the room; maybe you were underground. Behind you was the metal grate that your arms were zip tied to and the floor was cold beneath your feet, a complete contrast to the blazing Louisiana summer that you had been investigating.

All your years of training were coming handy and you had to try and deduce your way out. But your heart was pounding and your head hurt from when he had hit you over the head a during your kidnapping. You were tired and hungry and not ready to die yet.

You closed your eyes, the feeling of fatigue starting to build up inside of you. You tried not to, but you let it take you away, just for a little bit.

Derek sat in the police office, head in his hands as he tried to figure it out. He needed to find you before something happened. You were the only person he had ever loved before, the only woman he would ever love.

Spencer looked at his friend sitting there at the table by himself, eyes trained on the board of the other dead women. He could tell that Derek was picturing you up there, body cut and beaten as it was dumped in an alleyway.

His stomach sank as he walked over, sitting down next to his friend.

“You need to sleep,” it had been 30 hours now and he hadnt slept since you went missing. Spencer knew he would be no use to you or the team if he was sleep deprived.

Derek turned to him, eyes red from crying earlier (even though he would never admit it to the team). There was worry written all over his face, knowing there was a chance he would never see her again.

He shook his head, “I cant sleep,”

“You have to,” Spencer said with a sigh.

Derek stood up, slamming his hand on the table with anger, “I cant,” he stated, bitterness rolling off of his tongue, “My girl is out there. He’s doing God knows what to her and I have to sit here and-” he let out a shaky breath, “-and she could be dead,”

Spencer stood up, “We profiled him. He wont kill her yet,”

“Yet,”

There was a silence in the room as Derek walked over to the board. The picture of you that he kept in his pocket in every mission was pinned up there on the board, your bright smile contrasting the photos of the other missing and dead women.

He took a deep breath, feeling guilty that he had taken his anger out on Spencer. He turned to him, running his hand over his face, “Yet,” he repeated, his voice softer this time.

“We will find her,” Spencer promised as he walked over, placing his hand on his friends shoulder.

He had seen how perfect the two of you were. You were friends for years and then one day, you announced to everyone that you were dating but they werent shocked. Your affection towards one another was obvious and everyone was waiting for the two of you to end up together.

He nodded, biting on his lip as he thought. His brows were furrowed, eyes glued to the picture of you on the board. He wasnt going to let anything happen to you, not now, not ever.

You were both going to make it out of this alive. He was ging to marry you, he was going to spend the rest of his life with you, have children with you if you wanted to do that, live in one of those houses in the suburbs. He would do anything that would make you happy.

The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled Derek out of his thoughts and he hadnt even noticed that a tear had slipped past his waterline until he felt it running down his cheek. He brushed it away, shaking his head as he composed himself.

He turned around, looking to see Hotch and the other standing at the entrance, “Everyone sit down please,”

They all complied, Derek unable to sit still as he waited to see what evidence Hotch had. Maybe they had a lead, maybe they had something that could help find you.

He pulled something out of his pocket and Dereks heart sank down in hs chest as he realised it was a picture. He had forgotten that this unsub would take photos of the women every day and drop them off at the local police stations.

Hotch couldnt even look at Derek as he slipped the picture onto the circular table that they were all sitting around.

The man instantly snatched the photo away before anyone else could look. None of them had ever heard the choked sob that Derek let out before as hee saw the picture of you.

You were standing there, tied up to some metal grate behind you. He couldn’t see your wrist but he assumed from the drops of blood on the floor that they were bleeding. He felt sick as he looked at the rip in your jacket, a large bruise starting to blossom on your shoulder.

It took him too long to reach your face. He brushed a thumb across the picture, brushing across your face. You had tear stains marking your cheeks and dried blood that came from a wound on your forehead. You looked like a mess and he felt physically ill at the sight - he couldn’t believe that someone was actually doing this to you, hurting you like this.

He slid the picture back down, lip quivering slightly as he did so. Emily and JJ shared a look, they had never seen the man so distraught. They had seen him when he confronted his assaulter and a few months ago had seen him lie to his aunt about his missing cousin. He had never seemed so upset before, so broken inside.

They all looked at it, taking turns to pass it around. The team were all friends and you were an integral part of it, none of them enjoyed seeing you like that.

Even in the pictures, they could still see the fierce look in your face. You werent going to go down without a fight and that was the best thing to think of.

Derek couldnt bring himself to look back down at the photo. He didnt want to look at you like that, he didnt want to imagine what the man had done to you. There was a sickening feeling in his gut as he thought about it and he couldnt bare to anymore.

But as the tears and the self-pity subsided, the anger started to build up. He didnt feel the burning sting in the back of his eyes anymore and instead, there was a building anger within his stomach.

He shook his head, shaking his head. They all saw his face change expression, the downturned and teary look on his face turning to one of anger, brows furrowed and fist clenched as it rested on the table.

“Is this what you called us in for? To show me a picture of my girl being tortured?” The whole team could hear the anger in his voice as he spat the words out.

Hotch understood what it was like to lose someone. He had lost the woman that he had loved and he would never want that to happen to anyone else. He didnt want to see that happen to anyone, especially not to someone he respected as much as Derek Morgan.

Derek's anger didn’t bother him and Hotch just continued to explain it, “No, Garcia might have a lead,” he explained.

Spencer perked up at the suggestion, “What?” He asked, sounding almost as desperate as the others.

You were friends with all of them, having gone on constant missions with them. They had never imagined anything bad to happen to you.

Hotch nodded, “She traced the journey of the man who dropped this off. He had met with some other man earlier today and this is him. Winston Binford, a thirty year old-“ he started to explain but Derek shook his head, standing up and slamming his hand onto the table.

“I don’t care, lets go find this sick son of a bitch,” he spat out.

There was this anger inside of him that he had not felt in a very long time. There was a desperation in his words and they could all see how much you meant to him and how much he needed to get you back.

He had lost so many people in his life, so many people that he had cared about. He would do anything to save his father back when he was a kid and now, he was going to do anything to save you. He would kill anyone that he needed to, he would do anything

Hotch understood his anger, he would be angry too if it was someone he loved and so he didnt reprimand him, “Calm down,” Derek took a deep breath, nodding his head, “We cant go rushing into this. We need to get a warrant and then we will go,”

“What if he kills her?” He asked, voice cracking.

Rossi stood up, looking at his friend, “He wont kill her,” he laid a hand on his shoulder as he promised him that, promised that nothing would harm her.

You were hungry and you were thirsty and you were tired. Everything hurt and ached and you didnt know how much longer you were going to be able to survive in the room, how much longer you would last.

It felt like there was this ticking time bomb in the room and you just had to hope that either your friends would come and save you or that he would kill you fast enough that it wouldn’t hurt too bad.

For your entire life, you had never had this fear of dying. You didnt want to leave your friends and family but it didnt scare you. However, right now, as you were staring death in the face, just waiting for the moment that the man came and cut the string, you were scared. You didnt want to leave Derek, not now that you two had moved in together and were in love. You didnt want to leave your family or the team who had become a second family to you.

The sound of footsteps started to get closer and in your sleep deprived state, you didnt hear that it sounded like there was more than one person.

Your eyes were trained on the doors, waiting for the moment that your captor decided to finally kill you and you were shocked to see the man who opened the door.

It was Derek Morgan, the love of your life, standing at the door, one hand still on the handle. He seemed in shock that he had finally found you.

Behind him were Emily and Rossi and the two of them looked at one another after taking in your appearance. They seemed horrified at the treatment that you had endured and you could hear Hotchs voice yelling out as he searched for the man that had done this for you.

The first thing Derek did was rush over to you. He instantly dropped to his knees in front of you, watching as you started to cry at the sight of him, chest heaving up and down in sobs. He wanted to kiss you all over, kiss away all the injuries that this man had caused but he had time to do that. Right now he needed to get you out of here.

“Let me get these ties off of you baby, okay,” his hands reached around her body, a knife that you hadnt even noticed before in his hands as he cut the zip ties away, “You’re okay,” his voice was comforting, the familiar lull of it bringing you back to reality.

As soon as they were off, you fell into his arms. He barely had any time to worry about your bloody wrists from where the zip ties had been cutting into your skin and instead focused on the fact that you were here.

He had never seen you cry a lot but today, you just collapsed into his arms, arms wrapped around his neck, hand grasping onto the back of his shirt. You sobbed into his chest, trying to grab at anything to make sure that he was real. You wanted to make sure that he wasnt just a figment of your imagination.

Dereks lip quivered, tears burning in the back of your eyes as he tried to comfort you instead of falling apart himself. One hand reached up and he brushed a hand over the top of your head, trying to calm you down.

“You’re safe baby, you’re safe,” he promised. He repeated the words over and over again, making sure that you understood that nobody was going to hurt you ever again.

As he held you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his, he let a single tear slip out. He had realised that if you would have died then he wouldn’t know how to go on with his life. He loved you more than anything else in the world and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, letting you calm down and just relish in the fact that you had one another, that you were finally safe.

Derek pulled back, looking at you. He brushed the dried blood from your cheek and then let his hand rest there. For a second, he just allowed himself to understand that you were here in his arms and that you were safe.

“Come on, let’s go get you to a medic doll, you’ll be okay,” he brushed his finger over your cheekbone and you nodded, breaths still shaky.

When he realised how cold you were, presumably from the environment that you had been held captive in, he pulled off the jacket that he had been wearing and draped it across your shoulders. You pulled it close, leaning your head down and taking a deep breath of your boyfriends scent.

It was comforting, something that reminded you of the apartment that the two of you had just moved into together, that reminded you of everything that you had waiting for you at home.

For the first time, you opened your mouth, “I wanna go home,” your voice was croaky and hoarse, probably because of the lack of food and water you’d had.

He nodded, his heart hurting for you as he realised the conditions that you had been in and the effects that it had in you, “Ill take you home baby, we just have to get you checked up,” he explained.

You nodded in response and he helped you up, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, he wasnt going to let go of you now, not ever. His touch comforted you, allowing you to stay grounded and not worry about your captor.

You walked out of the building, eyes squinting at the morning light. You couldn’t believe that you had been there for a day and a half now but it was behind you now.

The two of you stopped at the front of the ambulance and he turned so that he was looking at you. He placed two fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so that he was looking at you. When your eyes met, he could see the fear in your eyes and he wanted to get rid of all of that and make it all go away.

“Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?” His voice cracked as he asked the hardest questions, “You can tell me baby,”

You shook your head and he nodded, believing you. He sat you down on the edge of the ambulance before calling a medic over to come look at you. He held you hand throughout the whole thing, making sure that you felt safe and looked after.

A few hours later, Hotch had the man in custody and he was never going to see the light of day again. You thought that would help you rest as you sat on the plane, trying to close your eyes and fall asleep but it didnt help. Instead, every time you closed your eyes, you were back there, screaming for anyone to help you. In your entire life, you had never felt so weak, so useless.

Everyone was asleep, the low hum of the plane engine being the only noise in the room - well apart from Rossi’s sporadic snoring. You could mute the noise out, the click of Spencer's pen as he tried to jot down some notes from today to give to Hotch to make his job easier and you didn't even hear the steady beating of Derek's feet as he walked back from the bathroom.

You had zoned compiler out and they understood that. All of them had their own share of near death experiences, of moments that someone could have pulled the trigger at them.

None of them had been held captive before, just you and Spencer. He had gone through worse, being killed and resuscitated which lead to an addiction that he barely managed to escape from.

You wondered if you would struggle as much as Spencer did after his kidnapping. There was a guilt in your chest as you compared them. He actually died and you were just held hostage, nothing really bad happened to you. So why did you feel so awful? So ashamed?

Derek sat in the seat across from you and you barely registered him being there. You were off in your own world, feeling ashamed as you sank into the feeling of self-pity at what had happened.

You flinched at the light touch on your knee and Derek pulled his hand back, an almos guilty look on his face. He didnt know how to care for you now, how to make sure you are okay when nothing else is.

There was a guilt bearing down on your chest as you looked at the hurt flash across his face. You didnt want to pull away but after what had happened earlier, you didnt know how to articulate what you meant.

It was silent after that, neither of you knowing what to say to make the other feel better.

When the plane landed, everyone started to grab their stuff, walking off the plane. You just stood there, staring at your bag, thinking about going home as a slightly different person.

JJ looked at Derek, giving him a look that asked if you were okay. He shook his head, walking over to her, “Give us a minute?” She nodded, giving him a reassuring smile before she walked out of the plane to go tell the rest of the team that they would have to wait.

He took a deep breath as he walked over to you, tapping you gently on the shoulder,r trying not to scare you too much. He didnt fail to notice the way that you jumped slightly at the feeling of his touch but still turned around, looking up at him.

“You wanna talk doll?” He asked, voice soft.

You took a shaky breath, looking away from him for a second. He knew your tells, and that was one of them - you were nervous.

He took your hand and you looked up at him. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles, “Are you okay?” He knew it was a stupid question but it needed to be asked. He knew that you weren’t okay but he needed to know the extent to your pain and how he could help you.

Nobody had asked you the question yet, clearly not wanting to see your reaction - and knowing that it was normally a stupid question to ask someone who had gone through trauma. Your lip quivered, eyes meeting his and when they did, he saw the tears that were building up in your waterline.

“No,” you muttered, one of the only things that you had said to him since you got back.

Derek took that as a good sign and he nodded, taking a step closer and this time, you didnt back away in fear, you let him get closer. He nodded, “You wanna talk about it?” He repeated his question from earlier.

You pursed your lips together, clearly thinking the question over. You shook your head, “Not yet,” he nodded in response, understanding why you wouldnt want to. Your next question shocked him though, “Just hold me?”

There was a beat of silence as Derek thought. It was strange that you had been avoiding his touch and now you were asking for it but he didnt care, just knowing that if this was what was best for you than he would do it. He would do anything that you asked.

He held his arms out, letting you take the first step. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, hands tightening against the back of shirt as you grounded yourself. You buried your head in his chest, taking a deep breath as you inhaled the familiar scent of your boyfriend.

You had missed him more than anything when you were gone. You didnt know how you would live without him and after the events of the last week, he felt the exact same.

He was shocked for a second at the tightness of your hug and the way you held onto him but he just smiled, knowing that this was more like the old you. He instantly wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on top of yours,

One hand was splayed on your back, pressing you tightly against him and the other was on the back of your head, holding you close. He could stay here forever, hold you until you need to knew that he would never let go again.

It was muffled against his shirt but he could make out your words, “I love you,” you hadnt said those words since you were kidnapped, too scared that something else bad would happen.

He smiled to himself, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “God, I love you so much,” he muttered into the top of your head.

You pulled away slightly, moving your hands so that they rested on his chest. You leaned against him as you looked up into his eyes. Your eyes flickered down to his lips and you leant up, pressing your lips against his.

He closed his eyes instantly, melting into your touch. He hadnt been able to kiss you since the events and as his hand came up to cradle your face, holding you like a porcelain doll that might break, he knew that this is where he belonged - in your arms.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you again,” he pulled back, whispering the words against your lips.

Your eyes fluttered open and you nodded, “Okay,” you whispered. You believed him, you knew he would look after you forever, “Can we go home?”

He nodded, taking your hand in his as he pulled back from the hug, still standing close enough to you, “Let’s go,”

What you didnt know was that the next week before the two of you were meant to go back into work, he had driven you to Rossis house. You stood outside of the door in the nice dress that Derek had bought for you a while back and looked at him confused, “What are we doing here?” You questioned.

In the few days that you had been back, he had seen you coming back to your old self. He had seen more smiles on your face and even though you both had basically spent the week in your shared house, lying in bed and just relishing in one another’s company or sitting in the garden admiring the world, you seemed happier already.

The team wanted to do something good for you and make you feel better after everything that had happened. He didnt want you to be scared to come back to work so he thought this would be nice for you.

“Just seeing our friends,” he promised, ringing the doorbell.

Penelope opened the door and smiled at you as you stood there. She instantly pulled you into a hug and you reciprocated it, feeling as she hugged you tightly.

She let go of you, her hand still on your shoulder, “Come in, come in,” she ushered you in and you looked at Derek, a wide smile on his face.

His hand rested on the small of your back as you walked into the house, seeing all of your friends and team members standing at the table, all looking at you and Derek.

You looked at him and he smiled at you, “You didn't have to do this guys,” you said.

“Come here kid,” Rossi said and you walked over. He gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, knowing that you might not want to be touched after what had happened, “You deserve something good to happen okay,”

You nodded, looking out at all of your friends. Your eyes watered slightly as you realised that they had done this all for you, not only had they saved you from that monster but they had also made sure that you were okay afterwards.

“You guys are the best,” you said, looking out at them.

They all smiled, glad to see you okay. There was a silence in the room and you just took a moment to enjoy the fact that you were safe and you were with your friends - it was one of the things that you kept having to remind yourself of.

You knew that the feelings of worry may never fully go away, that you would never forget the fact that you were held captive for 40 hours to a man that would watch and murder women. But maybe, if you just enjoyed the company of your friends and relished in the moment then you could push it to the back of your mind.

There would be one day that you wouldn’t worry about walking to your car alone, that you wouldnt wake up in the middle of the night worried that you were back there and thi was all a dream. You just had to work up to it and with your friends, you knew that it would happen.

Rossi smiled, “Now come on, Ive made your favourite. Spaghetti and meatballs,” he explained as he ushered the group over to the table.

You laughed, realising how much effort your friends had put into making you feel better.

“They better be vegetarian,” Penelope said and Rossi scrunched his nose up in disgust.

He sat her down, “I have a separate batch for you,” he reassured.

He plated everyone up with the food, pouring wine for everyone. You looked out at the table, looking at your friends as they sat there, just enjoying each other’s company.

“This is better than fighting serial killers,” Emily joked.

You laughed and it was one of the first times that they had seen it since you had been kidnapped. Emily smiled, a proud look on her face as she realised she had made you laugh.

Derek smiled too, happy that you were coming back to your old self. He grabbed your hand, pulling it up to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles, never taking his eyes away from yours.

You took a deep breath as you realsied that this was where you belonged, amongst your found family. They were always going to save you if something bad happened and you knew that now.

You reached for your glass, with the hand that wasn’t holding Dereks, and held it up, “Cheers,” you said.

They all looked at you, a smile on their faces as they all clinked their glasses between them

[absurdthirst]

Edible Flowers {Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mentions of brothels and sex work, use of the word 'whore', general bad attitude, threats of violence, voyeurism, mentions of masturbation, SEX POLLEN, uncontrollable lust, rough sex, unprotected sex, dub-con due to sex pollen.

Comments: After losing his coins and unable to join the others in your party at the brothel, Pero decides to bathe with you in the local river. Both of you unaware that the flowers that line the banks of the river will make your blood sing with lust.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @storiesofthefandomlovers!!!!! I don't know where I would be without your friendship, Charlie. I love our conversations and our crazy thots. I hope you have the BEST day! 🎁🎊💝 I think it a tradition at this point that your birthday fic be sex pollen 😂

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You ignore the grumbled curses from the foul smelling man next to you. Angrily searching bags and shoving them off to the side. Rolling your eyes at his odious manner, his stench and his overall unpleasant demeanor. It wasn’t your fault that you two were the only ones left at camp. He had no coins to spend, having squandered them on the last village by getting drunk and misplacing them. You were still here with the horses because you had no interest in visiting the brothel.

“You should just go.” You huff, smirking in amusement at the thought. “Perhaps they will tumble you just because of your charming demeanor.” 

“Quit talking before I decide to test how sharp my blade is.” Pero Tovar hisses angrily, his dark eyes narrowed in frustration and unhappiness at being left behind. No one, not even that bastard William, would lend him the coin to get his dick wet. After nearly two weeks of hard riding and no privacy to pleasure himself, he wants a release that is in a tight, warm cunt. Not the palm of his axe calloused hand. 

“I’d remove your balls before you ever touched my tongue.” You snort, reminding him of your own quick use of a blade. The last man who had tested you had his body stripped and left for the buzzards when he had thought to try to force his will on you. You like to think the other men you rode with walked a little more carefully around you after that. 

He grunts, unwilling or unable to come back with another retort and starts to dig through his bags once again. Searching in vain for the pouch of coins that would apparently get him away from you. 

Your own search of your bags is much more organized, searching for the precious sliver of soap you still had and a clean set of clothes. The river is just past the little copse of trees and you have plans for a long soak and a good scrub in the cool, clean waters. It’s been a dusty, dirty road and you want to feel clean again. Or at least, not as filthy. 

Finding the soap, you take it out and sigh softly, inhaling the scene of the flowers that had been pressed into it. It’s your last little cake that you had made, representing the last piece of yourself that you had left behind when you had started on this journey. Leaving home and traveling with this brash, rough, uncouth bunch of mercenaries. 

They had decided that having a woman among them was a good thing. You were better for distractions, getting tavern owners to allow you to bunk under their roofs, sometimes using your ‘feminine wiles’ to get jobs when necessary. Tovar had been the only one to keep his distance and his surly attitude around you. 

“Fuck.” The curse is accompanied by the saddle bag being thrown across the camp clearing, making you bite back a grin at the Spaniard’s ire. Pissed that he should have to stay back and not partake in the drinking and whoring. 

“There it is.” You snatch your clean bandage out of the bag and tie it closed. “Perhaps you can mend your armor.” You offer, standing with your change of clothes and your soap. Your money pouch is with you, not trusting him to keep his fingers out of your coins to go off and have his pleasure. “I would not even suggest a bath. I know you have no use for such a thing.” You smirk, enjoying the darkness of his scowl and the muttered curses under his breath as he glares at you. 

“Where are you going?” He demands, motioning towards the camp. “We need to start a fire.” 

“I am going to bathe, you can start the fire.” You tell him, watching him shake his head. “No. You stay and help.” He spits. “I am not sitting by and doing all the chores.” 

You snort, rolling your eyes. “I have made the fire every night for nearly two weeks.” You remind him. “I am not the camp whore. You want a fire? Start it.” 

“Puta.” You glare at him when he calls you a bitch, but you don’t say anything, knowing it won’t do any good. Pero is not a man who claims to have manners. You’ve seen him fight with the locals over perceived insults or slights. Manners is not something that would ever cross his mind when it comes to his own actions. 

Instead of spending time arguing with him, you simply walk out of the clearing with your things and make your way through the trees down to the edge of the river. 

Pero growls again, glaring at your back as you walk away from him. Unsure why the fuck he lets you talk to him like that. Irritated that he had been left back, that his money was gone and he was unable to go find release in a hot cunt for a few coins. 

Letting out a sigh, he rolls his head back, rubbing his shoulder and catching a whiff of himself. The acrid, sweaty scent of unwashed man makes him grimace and he hates to admit that you are right. He could do with a bath himself and cleaning his leathers. Sighing when he realizes that despite his best efforts, he would be doing what you wanted him to do. 

It takes him a few moments before he smirks. You are down at the river. Naked. Washing. He grunts and despite himself, his cock twitches at the thought of seeing your body and stroking himself from the safety of the trees. Or perhaps he will outrage you by just diving into the water himself. He huffs a chuckle, imagining your glare and curses as you try to keep your eyes off him. You grumble and curse when any of the men pull their dick out to take a piss, you would hate it if he stripped down to the bare skin of his ass. 

He lingers another moment, weighing his choices and blows out a huffed breath. Ambling slowly over to the bag he had thrown across the clearing towards the horses when he had been cursing his luck. Groaning slightly as he bends down to pick it up, he can’t help but think that a bath and a solid night of sleep might be better than a rowdy night in a brothel, drinking and whoring. 

The waters are slow in this bend of the river, making it a good place to swim and wash. Maybe even catch some fresh fish if there is any. The village is nearly a quarter of a league away, the men preferring to keep their horses and belongings well away from the towns until they are ready to leave. Too many places would seek to steal from the mercenaries, as foolish as that might be.

It’s isolated here, no sign that anyone from the village ventures this way. Lucky for you, because the flowers blooming on the bank are sweet smelling and look edible, although you haven’t seen that variety before. There had been some rabbits eating them before you had scared them off. If you had your bow, you might have been having rabbit for dinner. 

Now, you slowly peel off the clothes that are caked in dirt, sweat and blood. Groaning slightly when you start feeling light begins to give your muscles relief. Your breast band digs into your skin and you eagerly begin to unknot it so you can unwind it from your chest. 

When it’s completely unwound, you groan again, reaching up and massaging your sore tits. Nipples aching as you slowly palm them. The feeling is incredible and it makes you close your eyes, missing the slight movement in the treeline to your left. 

Pero’s eyes widen when he sees your tits. You’ve never even taken a piss in front of the men, preferring to go off behind a rock or some trees when the group has stopped. Now he’s unsure if the dark thatch of hair that covers your cunt is what is drawing his eyes or your hands roaming over your breasts like you are pleasuring yourself. The way you are groaning has his cock hardening like he is watching a show that some of the whores would use to make men pay more coin in the brothels. His mouth waters and he reaches for the laces of his breeches, eager to pull his cock out and stroke it until he spills on the ground. 

Until he sees you turn around and carefully make your way into the water. Your ass swaying invitingly as you wade into the water and he watches you dunk your head under the water. It looks too refreshing to pass up and he wants to join you. He does need to wash. 

The water is perfect, cool and clean, making your nipples harden even more and you lean back to float on the water for a moment. Relaxing and sighing at the way you already feel better, feel cleaner just by dunking yourself in the river. Once you scrub your clothes and body with the soap, you will feel positively luxurious. The only thing that could possibly feel even better would be to sink into a feather mattress to sleep. 

The water surrounding you muffles the sounds from on shore. Your eyes closed keeping you from seeing the other mercenary strip down to his skin and start to wade into the water. His eyes on you as he manages to cover his already hard cock with water to his chest before you notice the movement beside you. 

When your eyes open, they are wide, wrenched open from the slight shift of the water around you. Finding the dark eyes of the Spaniard fixed on you, making you shoot up, your feet slipping for a moment before finding your footing on the rocks and burying your body up to your neck in the water. 

“What the hell are you doing!?” You shout, thankful that his own body is halfway underwater. You don’t know if you wanted to see how well endowed the man is. It wouldn’t help things and you are already trying to tear your gaze away from the muscle and scars that adorn his chest. Evidence from previous battles that show how he has survived. Your hands cover your breasts under the water and you quickly move away from him. 

“Bathing.” Pero hisses back, rolling his eyes at you and smirking. Your mouth had dropped open like a fish and he enjoys the shock. Even if he had wanted to cum before he entered the water, he likes that you are surprised by his presence. “What are you doing?”

The fact that he plucks your soap off the nearby rock and starts to lather up his hands with it should make you take it back, but you find yourself just staring. Watching as he doesn’t move towards you, just sets the soap down and does exactly what he said he was doing. Bathing. His hands sliding over his skin and soaping himself up generously. Scrubbing the soap into his shorn off beard and into his hair. He had apparently hacked it off before coming into the water. 

“I didn’t mean bathe with me.” You hiss, still submerged in the water. “How long have you been watching me?” 

Pero smirks and arches his eyebrow at you. “You mean did I see where you like touching your tits?” He asks. “I did. You should unbind them more.”

Cursing under your breath, you huff and shoot him a killing glare. “Keep your eyes off my tits.” You mutter, but that only makes the Spaniard chuckle as he continues to scrub his body clean. 

“Every woman has tits, yours aren’t special.” He lies knowing that he had been hard as a rock as he looked at them. Thought about sucking on them. You don’t know that, and his hard cock is under the water, out of sight. 

Snorting angrily at his insult, you snatch the soap off the rock where he had returned it so you can bathe. Your relaxation is ruined by his presence and the last thing you want is to give him any more of an eyeful. He can stay here and you will leave. 

Washing quickly, you scrub your clothes, painfully aware of his presence as he splashes and curses behind you. Trying to ignore him while you wring your clothes out and lay them on the stones to dry. Hating that you would have to expose yourself again to get out of the river and dress. 

“I’m not looking.” Pero taunts, fully aware that he is watching you struggle to make a decision. The glimpses of your breasts and ass as you work have kept him hard and his hand squeezes his cock under the water. 

Not looking back at him, you roll your eyes and stand up, walking out of the water to your pile of clean clothes. Rushing to put on your shirt, you don’t bother with a breast band, happy that the longer, larger shirt covers your ass as you wiggle into your breeches. “You may want to wash again.” You snort, turning to look at him still in the water. “I can still smell you.” 

His eyes narrow and his mouth spits out another curse, but when you disappear into the trees to go back to the horses, Pero lifts his arm and sniffs. Wondering if you can smell him still, although all he can smell is the pretty soap you had. He grumbles to himself and starts to wash his own clothes. 

****

By the time Pero returns, clothes damp and squeaky clean, you’ve started the fire and have cleaned out your bag that you use to gather berries. “The flowers next to the river are edible.” You tell him. “I’m going to get some. If you want to eat, come with me.” Already annoyed he hadn’t started a fire before bothering you, the last thing you are going to do is feed him. 

You don’t want to see what he will say, just turning and stomping back to the water’s edge. In hindsight, perhaps you should have given him the coin to go with the other men. If only to keep him from annoying you. Finding his presence far more distracting than normal, when William is around to keep him occupied. 

You ignore his grumbled curses as he follows you. Your stomach starts to growl and you know that there are plenty of the tender flowers to eat now and then save for later if you can gather enough. You’ve learned that despite the number of men in your party, foraging for food was often more successful for hunting. A few of the men were incapable of hunting silently without scaring off all the small game. 

The small, pink flowers are pretty. The red pollen in the middle is eye-catching and you find yourself wondering why there are so many of them blooming at once despite watching numerous creatures feast on the tender buds. Reaching out, you pluck one flower from the stem and pop it into your mouth. Groaning quietly at the almost honey-like taste of it. Immediately picking another one to eat. 

There are hundreds of them. Quickly starting to pick them in earnest. One for the bag, one for you to eat. Groaning everytime you let the flavor of the flower burst on your tongue. The taller Spaniard moves to the bush next to you and does the same, his own mouth shoved full of the edible flowers. Eating them as fast as he can. They are almost addictive. 

It’s gradual. The way your body warms up and starts to tingle. Your skin is suddenly more sensitive than it normally is by the breeze coming off the water. Making gooseflesh rise and you shiver slightly. 

Tovar grunts beside you, shifting and clearing his throat. Making you think that he had just swallowed wrong since he eats like an animal. Continuing to pick and eat the flowers until you feel like your stomach is going to burst from the local vegetation. 

It’s only then that you realize how warm you are. Pulling your shirt away from your neck and humming quietly. Needing to almost take off your shirt as your nipples harden underneath the fabric. “Ohhhh.” You bite your lip and turn away from the bushes as you realize that you are feeling a certain kind of way. 

You’re turned on. Stumbling back towards camp, you can feel the arousal starting pool between your thighs and you feel your cunt bottom out at the grunts of the man following you. “What the fuck is going on?” You choke out, dropping the bag onto the ground as you wrap your hands around your stomach. 

Tovar nearly stumbles to his knees behind you, his cock harder than it has ever been in his life and he swears he need to pull his cock out and fuck his fist. “I- it burns.” He rasps, squeezing his eyes closed and ignores the soft whimpering sounds that are coming from you. Trying to suck in enough air to calm his racing blood. 

“I don’t-” You moan again, making the mercenary to your left growl as you rush over to your saddle bags. “It- what is happening?” All you know is that you need to touch yourself. The need to find release building up like an infection under your skin. Your clit throbbing with every pounding beat of your heart. “I don’t fucking know.” Pero spits, dropping to his knees and his palm presses against his cock with a moan. “I need to cum.” He growls. 

The raspy, rough sound of his voice sends a shiver down your spine and you feel your entire body light up at the thought of a thick, hard cock inside your aching cunt. Your broken whimper nearly a gasp. So close to giving in and begging Pero Tovar to touch you. 

“Give me your coins.” Your eyes fly open at his demand, finding him dragging himself to his feet and lurching towards you like a drunkard. Eyes pitch black with need and lust as he comes closer. 

“What?” You shake your head. “No. You are- you aren’t fucking a whore with my coins.” You hiss, making the man moan when you curse. 

You don’t understand how desperate he is. Fumbling with his belt he tosses it away and reaches for the laces of his breeches. “I am begging you, hermosa.” He groans. “I need- fuck, I need to bury myself in a cunt.” 

It’s your turn to moan, watching in surprise as the grumpy, harsh, uncouth man in front of you starts to unlace his breeches to pull his cock out. “This is- this is madness.” You whine, your own fingers starting to unlace your own pants. The thought of him fucking you is now buried in your head and it’s all you can think of. Him fucking you until the pain and need fade. 

“Give me-” Pero chokes out another moan when his fingers wrap around his cock to pull it free. Unable to stop from stroking it aggressively, even though his palm is dry. “Please.” He begs, knowing that the need is overriding his good sense. 

You never thought you would ever hear Pero Tovar beg for anything. Not even death when he was staring it down. Now he is begging for release and your own body reacts visceral to that plea. Your own breeches unlaced when you look up to see his cock in his hand as he pumps it furiously. Eyes closed and mouth opened on a moan as he tries to slack his lust. Your cunt gushes, bottoming out at the sight and you are pushing your breeches down in a rush as you try to kick off your boots at the same time. “Fuck me.” You demand, voice breaking as you stand on bedroll. 

He’s dreaming. He’s in the middle of a fantasy because he swears he hears you beg him to fuck you. Knowing that would never happen, he opens his eyes and chokes out a sound when he sees you pulling your shirt over your head and standing naked in front of him. “Her-”

“Fuck me.” You beg again, dropping down to the blankets and spreading your legs. “I need it. I feel like I’m going to burn alive if you don’t fuck me.” Your arousal is coating your thighs and dripping down onto the rough blankets. Fingers already between your thighs to start rubbing your clit. Giving into your own body’s desires. 

“Mother of God.” Pero curses, rushing forward and dropping to his knees between your thighs. Hand still wrapped around his cock and pumping it as he notches himself at your cunt. There’s no time to be gentle. Merely snapping his hips forward and burying his cock into with hot walls of your cunt with the loudest groan he’s ever made. 

Air is pushed from your lung, giving you no time to think, to scream, as his thick length breaks you apart as he pushes inside you. Splitting you in two is an almost painful pleasure that has your nails digging into his arms and your body bucking under his. Needing more, you sob in relief when he feels the same way and starts to move immediately. 

Your cunt is hot, tight around his cock. Making him grit his teeth together and bunch the blankets in his fists so he doesn’t leave bruises under your skin as he holds onto you. His hips slam forward, a rough little growl tearing out of his throat every time he reburies his length inside you. 

Moaning, your nails start to rake down his back. At first it’s over the shirt he is still wearing as he fucks into you. His pants at his knees, still dressed while you are completely naked underneath him. Then your hands slide under his shirt, needing to feel his hot skin as you moan again. His cock hits deep, every thrust filling you perfectly. 

Hissing, Pero grunts out a curse. “Shit.” He bites his lip and his next thrust is even rougher, pushing you up the blanket slightly. Your legs squeeze around his hips and you lift your body up to let him pound you back into the ground. 

It’s overwhelming and still not enough. Every time his cock scrapes against your walls, it makes your body light up in pleasure, the pain and heat subsiding for a brief moment. Making you crave more every time the sensation comes back. 

Your nails dig into his back but he doesn’t even pay attention. Too focused on the hot clutch of your cunt and how every time he rocks into you, those walls squeeze him like a vice. Groaning out curses in every language he knows, Pero feels like his entire body is being heated from the inside. “I- I’m gonna cum.” He chokes out, knowing that he won’t last more than a few thrusts. 

You are right there with him, your body bowing and arching with every stroke of his cock deep within you. Pushing you closer to the edge and your eyes squeeze shut. “P-Pero-ooooo” Your back arches up, cunt locking down on his cock as your scream of pleasure rings out in the trees, making the horses startle and stamp. 

Once you tighten around him, Pero is gone. Groaning out your name as he rocks forward one more time, staying just as deep as he can possibly get, relief and pleasure mixing together as he paints your walls with his seed. 

You pant, trying to catch your breath even though the pain is still there, just beneath the surface. Able to relax for just a moment as your eyes close. Listening to Pero grunt as he works himself through his own pleasure and collapses on top of you. 

“I-” he groans as he twitches. “Let me get my breath and I will fuck you again.” He promises, knowing that if he is still hard, you must also be feeling the effects of whatever has possessed the two of you. 

“You better, Tovar.” You moan, squeezing him again as you bear down on him. Grinning when he curses again. “Mierda.” 

“What the fuck is causing this?” He asks breathlessly. 

“I don’t know.” You admit. “Maybe it’s- maybe it’s the flowers.” 

He snorts, doubting that but he doesn’t argue with you. Knowing that whatever it is, it will have to work itself out of your system. At least this is more pleasurable than bad stew. 

“More Pero.” You beg softly, starting to move under him again as the heat begins to build again in your core. His cock is still hard and you need that feeling again. 

“Greedy.” He chuckles, looking down at you with dark eyes and for the first time he leans in to press his lips to yours, kissing you as he slowly starts to rock into you again. 

Gasping in surprise, you cling to him, kissing him back as you stare up at him as you kiss. Wondering why his lips are so much softer than they had looked and his kiss is much gentler than you had expected. Not that you had expected him to kiss you at all. 

Now that the first, brightest pain has passed, he can afford to be tender. To take a moment to make sure that there is more than just raw power in his thrusts. “I’ll give you more.” He promises. “I’ll give you everything you need, hermosa.” 

****

The fire burns low, feet shuffling in the grass as men crowd around the sleeping pair on the ground. None of them believe that the Spaniard is wrapped around you, both of you obviously naked under the blankets. Your clothes are scattered on the ground around you. 

“Do you think he fucked her?” The whispered question reaches William as he smirks down at his friend. Resisting the urge to poke him with his boot and wake the man from the obviously deep sleep. 

“What do you think?” William turns his head and looks back at the other men. 

“I think if you wake her, I will cut your tongues out.” Pero doesn’t even open his eyes as he growls his threat to the other men. Tugging you closer when you shift in your sleep until you relax against him. Your breathing evening out and slowing down again as you settle back into your dreamless sleep. Worn out from the multiple rounds you and Pero had the night before while the pollen from those flowers worked out of your bodies. 

William grins, motioning for the others to quietly back away. “We’ll let them sleep a little longer.” He hums quietly. “Let's go down to the river and wash up.” 

Pero grunts, knowing that he should warn them, but he’s not going to. The bastards left him here and he had to find out the hard way to stay away from the flowers. They could learn their own lessons. Smirking to himself as he presses his face into the back of your neck and inhales the scent of you. Maybe losing his coins wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe he would warn William.

“Amigo…..”  

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

A Lion's Vow

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader

Warnings: canon character death

Words: 7251

Summary: This game the both of you played was your only real entertainment in the mess that was the Red Keep. Knowing it’s true nature, your father attempted to keep you close to his side. Reminding you not to trust anyone easily, especially those that belonged to the House of the Lion.

“What are you up to today, Lady Stark?”

You whip around, long dark hair swishing from the movement and instantly plaster a cheesy smile once you see it’s Jaime Lannister himself. “Whatever are you talking about Ser Jaime?” This game the both of you played was your only real entertainment in the mess that was the Red Keep. Knowing it’s true nature, your father attempted to keep you close to his side. Reminding you not to trust anyone easily, especially those that belonged to the House of the Lion.

He would not approve if he knew of the interaction between you and the Kingslayer.

Humoring you, Jaime cocks an eyebrow suspiciously. “Looks like you’re up to something.”

Posing a hand to your chest, you gasp and feign hurt. “Me? I am the good Lord Eddard Stark’s daughter. There is no mischievous. bone in my body, Ser.”

Jaime’s lips curl fiendishly. “Oh we both know how false that is. Your father would be disappointed if he discovered you tried to lie to someone in the Kingsguard.”

Ned did instill a strong sense of truth and justice in all of his children. Often he would drone on to how powerful the truth was and to live an honest life.

This was harmless lying though. Jaime knew it to be all part of your fun.

With a roll of your eyes, you cluck your tongue. “What we should really be talking about is why you aren’t doing your job. Shouldn’t you be guarding the king and his imperious family?”

Unconsciously you walk next to him, resuming your gentle stroll with Jaime. His armor makes clattering noises as he moves. White coat billowing in the breeze that lazily rolled through King’s Landing; an overall lovely day made better by the Lannister knight by your side.

“There are six others protecting them. Doubt they’ll miss me for an hour or two.” Jaime’s voice grew distant when his duties were brought up, l;Ike he didn’t want to think about it. Not when he was with you.

“Aren’t you the best swordsmen in all of the Seven Kingdoms?” Teasingly, you boost his ego just a little bit and earn a broad smile from his handsome face.

“Won’t argue that.” He comments with a roll of his shoulders causing you to laugh at his outlandish display. “Even someone as amazing as me needs a break though.”

That’s how you really got to know him. Not that much after first arriving did you stumble upon Jaime during one of his breaks. He’d been relaxing on the grass, back pressed against the trunk of a tree, with his sword laying upon his lap. You and Arya had escaped your septa and were running around the keep gleefully. There were many hidden doors and stairs that you and your youngest sister enjoyed exploring.

You felt after that interaction, Jaime purposefully planted himself there since it was near the tower of the Hand of the King.

If anyone was with you, he would merely offer you a nod and a small smile. When alone, he spoke to you. Small conversations here and there until you both started to linger together for longer periods of time. While most times he carried himself like an arrogant bastard, you got to know the other side of this infamous man. He loved to tease and be playful.

You enjoyed your sister’s company but it was a breath of fresh air to have finally made a local connection in the Red Keep and not feel so isolated. How wild life was to make that connection in Jaime Lannister. Brother to the queen and the slayer of the Mad King. He was a legend walking on two legs.

Your fatrher’s worries were never too far from your mind though. After a few days as Hand of the King, Ned warned you of the green eyed lions and how they could not be trusted. Jaime may have liberated the Seven Kingdoms, but now he is condemned for the act of killing Aerys.

Shaking off the echo of Ned’s words, you gaze up at the tall trees that lined both sides of the cobbled walkway. Small white flowers flutter in the breeze like specks of snow. Home sickness prods at you not for the first time.

“My sister Arya is learning how to use a sword. By some Braavosi.” You lightly tell him, waiting for his reaction. Uncommon was it for a woman to learn how to fight, you knew your father wasn’t happen that Arya was interested but found her an excellent instructor nonetheless. Even your septa and Sansa regarded Arya with disdain after that.

Jaime wasn’t phased by this information. He continues to smile and hums. “She is a feral child. It’s not surprising. Just one look at her and you can see the Stark direwolf. You didn’t want to join her?”

Instantly you remember Robb, Jon and Theon teaching you the basics of how to use a sword once it was decided that Ned would be leaving to the Crownlands. They were understandably worried about your safety and took it upon themselves to sneak you out of your chambers late in the night to show you. You protested in the beginning. Robb begged you though so you caved in.

“Because not all men will act like chivalrous knights.” Robb had told you. This wasn’t just for you, it was so you’d be able to better protect Sansa and Arya.

“No. . . No, I’m not one for violence.” Images of bloody direwolves flash in your mind. A lump develops in your throat as you try to banish them. Your own wolf, Storm, had escaped with Nymeria. Lady was their sacrifice. Feeling like it was your duty, you bore witness to your father executing poor Lady under the whim of that damned Joffrey. It had truly pained him to do so. You would never forgive Joffrey or Cersei for forcing this brutal act upon your father. “I never want to wield a blade.”

Jaime stops, addressing you with a soft and understanding expression. “Hopefully you’ll never have to, Lady Stark.”

"What a surprise, Ser Jaime and the Lady Stark." came the chilling voice of the queen, Cersei Lannister.

Dread made you put a distance between yourself and Jaime. "Your Grace." You detested Cersei. Still, you were the daughter of a warden of the Seven Kingdoms. You still maintained court etiquette and gave her a low curtsy.

Her bright green, cat-like eyes regard you with reservation. Regal chin tilted up, her attention moves to her brother who also gives her a perfectly acted bow. "Pray tell what the two of you were doing alone?" Behind her are two ladies-in-waiting hiding behind their hands as they whisper conspiratorially. No doubt there would be a bit of gossip to be produced from this interaction. Flanked behind them are three guards. All wore the insignia of the Lannisters.

That's the last thing you or your family needed was speculation involving the Starks.

"I bumped into the Lady Stark all by her lonesome. Figured I should escort her back to her father's keep. I'm sure Ned will be missing her." Jaime comes up with the lie just as easily as he would breathe.

"Is that so." Cersei's voice was flat in reply. She didn't buy any of what her twin told her but would not reprimand him in public. You hope you didn't get Jaime into too much trouble but second guessed yourself as to why he would get in trouble. There was no rule or vow that forbade him from speaking to you. In the eyes of others, he was doing the chivalrous thing that everyone expects from a knight.

Expelling your own trepidation, you force a pleasant smile to the golden queen. Sweet syrup laced your tone. "It is, Your Grace. Apologies if I unexpectedly detained Ser Jaime."

Eyes flick from you to her brother before she clasps her ringed hands in front of her. "Of course. Well, Ser, finish escorting the Lord Stark's daughter and get back to your main priority, protecting the king."

Jaime's smile is full of charm as he nods. "Yes, Your Grace."

Once Cersei and her squadron went around the corner, you and Jaime started a fit of giggling.

"She is not happy." Jaime chuckles with a shake of his head. "My sister has always been a temperamental thing. She hasn't changed one bit since childhood."

"I can't imagine Cersei as a child." You comment dryly as you and Jaime change your course to the Tower of the Hand. To you, Cersei may as well have sprung from her mother a full grown woman. Childhood was reserved for innocence which you doubt Cersei ever was.

Jaime smiles. "Even she was small and defenseless once upon a time. But she was always regal and knew her value. That has never changed."

The way his tone was so tender when he spoke fondly of Cersei made something ugly in you take wing. It hissed and spat venom making your insides twist and contort with bitterness.

Of course he loved his sister. It was natural to love your sibling, but to love one that was so foul like Cersei. . . This was unthinkable to you.

He was quick to catch your sudden silence and the subtle furrow of your brow. His smile falls. The tension between your two families started when Jaime was found sitting on the Iron Throne after killing Aerys. Your father found him there once his forces had finally stormed King's Landing. From there, Ned knew the Lannisters should never be trusted.

"I'm truly sorry for what she did to your sister's direwolf." He whispers and you can detect the genuine regret. "A mother's love is blind and irrational at times. Still. . . the wolf shouldn't have been killed. I can't tell her the truth, that she's spoiled Joffrey rotten. Not like she would listen to me anyway."

You toe a rather large pebble that was in your path off to the side. Anything so you wouldn't have to look at Jaime. The backs of your eyes burn, a warning that if he spoke anymore about Lady, tears would fall. "I'm just happy Nymeria and Storm were able to get away. Even if I can't have her by my side anymore, at least she's still alive."

**

Danger permeated the atmosphere in the Red Keep. This unnerved Jaime even more than the skittish attitude of (y/n). Since the death of King Robert Baratheon, the Starks had begun to act differently. This included the eldest daughter (y/n). Jaime barely saw her anymore and when he did, she was personally escorted by a few of her father’s bannermen. A solemn expression drawn on her face as she hadn’t even noticed Jaime off on the sidelines.

The death of his close friend took it’s toll on Ned Stark and caused much friction between the Hand of the King and the capitol. And according to Cersei, he’d started poking around things he shouldn’t be. The implication being that he might find them out soon. This in particular caused Jaime worry. Did Ned divulge his findings to (y/n)? She seemed to be his confidant in King's Landing and he revered his eldest daughter. That could explain why she'd been avoiding him for weeks on end.

On top of it all, Tyrion was recently captured by Catelyn Tully on the accusation that he had some part in the attempted murder on not just Bran, but herself as well. Great strife was the result causing quite the headache for Lord Tywin and Lord Ned. The new King Joffrey was definitely using this to his advantage as he drank in the chaos and animosity of the two great houses.

Each day, Jaime's concern rooted deeper into him for (y/n). A premonition perhaps had been a dream he'd have of a direwolf being beheaded.

Then came the arrest.

Those who swore their loyalty to Joffrey and House Lannister hunted down bannermen of the northern lord. Cersei, acting quickly within the hour, had already obtained Sansa Stark as a hostage. The auburn haired young lady was locked up in her rooms where she had been accosted.

"You can't let Joffrey do this." Jaime hissed to his sister who was leisurely drinking an elegant glass of blood red wine. "You need to release Ned and Sansa. . . Wait, where are (y/n) and Arya?"

She arched a golden brow. Why was he so concerned about them? Slowly Cersei sets down her glass. "Men have been sent out to retrieve them. They will be locked with the other sister."

He felt something tighten in his chest at the thought of (y/n) in chains like her father. Had they not suffered enough?

"Sit, Jaime." Patting the chair next to her, Cersei couldn't fathom why her twin was acting so riled up. He paced back and forth like he was the caged animal. Did he not realize that they were relatively free now? Their son was finally king and she, the queen mother. All the Seven Kingdoms were in the control of the Lannisters now.

Jaime couldn't though. Couldn't sit down and wait to hear of the other two sisters.

When was the last time he experienced true panic? If this was it, well, he didn't miss it. The fate of (y/n) made him feel panic. Gods, he had grown so attached to her in a short amount of time.

"Jaime."

Impatiently he looked at his sister. His beautiful, cruel sister. His first and only lover.

"I have to go."

She called after him as he fled. From windows he caught glimpses of soldiers and knights alike dashing all over the place. The search for the last two Stark sisters seemed to prove to be a difficult one.

He began his own frantic pursuit of them. Hoping that he could find both of them in time. Then what? Helping them to escaping would be in direct betrayal of not just the throne but Cersei as well. He would be an oath breaker. A crime like this would be cause for his execution.

Death did little to scare him.

Convicted with his decision, Jaime perhaps for the first time prayed to anyone who would listen to him that he would find (y/n) before anyone else did.

**

You didn't see where Arya had dashed off to. While you were worried for your sister, it was the least of your concerns at the moment. You were running for you life. Complete confusion drove your flight instincts.

Yesterday, Ned had told you and your sisters that he planned to ship all three of you back to Winterfell. Sansa had been bereft, not wanting to leave her betrothed. This sudden news was alarming to you. Fear had begun to control your father since Robert's death. You saw it in the way he gazed at you and your sisters.

Wanting to take such a burden off his shoulders, you'd gone to Ned in his private quarters to find out what was going on. He was more inclined to tell you the truth than the younger ones.

He didn't tell you though. Ned was determined to keep whatever worries to himself.

Maybe if he had told you, you wouldn't be running around the Red Keep like a frantic idiot. Where was there for you to hide? You were in enemy territory. There was nowhere safe for you. The bannermen who normally guard you had been slaughtered right before your eyes. Their blood still stained your face and gown. Such had been the bloodshed that caused you to freeze and watch the whole thing. Until Lannister guards started advancing toward you.

Blindly running for your life, you try to conjure up all of the hidden doorways you and Arya had discovered. One was in the bedchambers of the Hand. But that area was most likely surrounded. You couldn't risk it. That's where you had seen Arya being accosted alongside her Braavosi mentor.

Unconciously your feet were running toward the godswood of the Keep. You didn't realize it until you saw the all too detectable face on the trunk of a large oak tree. It may not have been a weirwood, but you knew from that solemn face that you were in the godswood.

Between thick, white tree trunks, you sought refuge in something familiar. You hid under foliage and attempt to calm your mind enough to think of a plan. The godswood looks out onto Blackwater River. A river that stretched through the near entirety of Westeros as well as leading to Blackwater Bay.

Debating which way was more optimal, the fast crunching of leaves and grass alert your ears to someone else entering the godswood.

You further hid into the shrubs, heart racing.

The intruder stops just a few feet away from your hiding spot. Leather clad feet idle, a blonde head swiveling this way and that. There was no armor but you'd recognize Jaime even when he was in civilian clothes. His sword swayed on his hip.

"(y/n)?"

Nearly sobbing out your relief, you topple over and out of the brush; startling Jaime. He slides onto his knees and gathers you in his arms. Spotting the blood on your face and clothes, you see a coldness overcome his face.

"I-It's not mine." You quickly tell him and that severe expression dissipates into worry. "What's going on?! I don't understand!"

"Your father has been arrested on charges of treason." He hastily explains while helping you get to your feet. "We need to get you out of here."

You shake your head. "My sisters-"

"Cersei already has Sansa detained. There's no news of Arya. We don't have a lot of time to get you out of the city." Jaime tells you, pleading in his voice. Still you kept shaking your head, insisting that you had to help your sisters.

Maybe it was the trauma from what you had witnessed that made you so adamant. Jaime was right, you were aware of that and how you should heed his words. Abandoning them to Cersei and Joffrey though?

Reading your mind, Jaime holds your hands. Striking green eyes crinkle and tell you of his own unease. Vocally he would not beg you to leave with him. You read it on his face. Even if you wanted to, it was not feasible to save your sisters.

You let Jaime lead you out of the godswood. He had you cover your head and yourself with his white cloak that he had torn off his armor before going to look for you. You tuck away your thick sections of dark hair under the white cloth.

The Old Gate, despite it being quite the walk from Aegon's High Hill, was the best way out. "There are secret tunnels all through the capitol."

"I know." You say and his brow raises. "Arya and I did some snooping around the Keep and found a few of them. It's difficult to navigate the tunnels themselves though."

"Ah, so that's what you were really up to." Jaime grins your way.

You return his grin with a beaming one that could be considered prideful.

Jaime said he knew a few of the tunnels but not all. One, if he could follow it correctly, led out to an opening in Flea Bottom.

Traversing the labyrinth of tunnels, Jaime kept you close to his side. The two of you spoke softly. The sound of your echoing voices still bounce around you. He tells you what exactly was happening. Ned being accosted by Lannister bannermen. The charge was treason for attempting to usurp King Joffrey and take his birthright away from him. Obviously it was a load of hog shit.

An itch in the back of your brain kept going back to that last conversation you had with him. You’d caught him flipping through page upon page in a rather large book. Grave lines shadow his features. It hadn’t been the first time you had spotted him in such a state. What had he been reading?

*

Like wildfire though the news of Ned’s arrest had already spread through half of King’s Landing. By the time you and Jaime had resurfaced in a dirty alley, there were scores of City Watch soldiers patrolling the streets.

Both of you kept your heads down on the off chance anyone might recognize you. Venturing onto the streets, Jaime makes sure to have a secure grip on your arm so neither of you are separated.

The amount of soldiers congregating toward the direction of the Old Gate didn’t bode well to either of you.

“What do we do if we can’t get through the Old Gate?” You whisper. You felt sick to your stomach with anxiety.

Jaime keeps his eyes ahead. “One way or another, I’m getting you out of the city and taking you to your mother and brother. I may have to use some unsavory methods though.”

“But-“

He pulls you aside and stares at you. “Do you trust me, (y/n) Stark?”

You let your apprehension seep onto your face. Why was he doing this? He had nothing to gain but everything to lose.

Then in the middle of broad daylight, he gets down on one knew and bows his head low. “I, Ser Jaime Lannister, make this oath to you, (y/n) Stark, that I will get you back to your family safely. I will honor this oath and defend you with my life.”

Getting selfconcious with the attention you might draw, you urge him to get back up. “Okay okay!!” You hiss. “Get up! I trust you!”

His crooked grin lightens the severity of the situation. When he gets back up, Jaime holds out a hand to you. Gingerly you lace your fingers with his; relishing in the roughness of his callused hands. You did trust him, well, you wanted to trust him. No matter what your father claimed about the Lannisters, you at least wanted to trust this one.

Thinking back to Ned's warning, you feel a lump in your throat as Jaime leads you through the dirty streets of Flea Bottom. "They're going to kill him, aren't they."

Jaime's hand tightens on your's. "A trial will be held for him. There is a proposition to be made for him most likely."

Joffrey was in power now. A trial under Joffrey's jurisdiction could hold no justice for your father. You felt it. Whatever Jaime may have been told could go right out the window when the trial actually happens.

You look back to the red structure of the Keep. Jaime could give you no other words of comfort. Maybe he was thinking the same thing you were. He's acknowledged the depravity of Joffrey many times before. He had to know that much like with Lady, he would order the death of Ned Stark for even posing a threat to his reign.

The Old Gate was indeed riddled with heavy patrol. No one was permitted to leave the city unless they had written consent from the crown. Many having been turned away skulked back to wherever their living quarters were.

Jaime analyzed the situation while keeping you under his arm.

"Ser Jaime?" A gold cloak squints his eyes when he spots you and Jaime lurking around the gatehouse. You feel Jaime's body tense and he subtly pulls your hood over your face a little more. "What a surprise to see you out here." The man eyes you suspiciously but looks back to Jaime. He was timid in front of the Kingslayer which served a good purpose.

Squaring his shoulders, Jaime puts on an air of self-importance. "Yes, considering the arrest of the Lord Stark, I have been sent out by the king himself to check the security of the gates. They're worried that a Stark loyalist may try to escape." He explained his clothes as attempting to blend in and not cause more of a stir in the city.

"Y-Yes. Of course."

They pass by a few others as Jaime sits you down inside of the gatehouse. A warm fire crackled in a hearth. The men who had been occupying the inside were promptly forced out by Jaime and the gold cloak that was attending him.

Jaime leans down to whisper in your ear. "Stay here until I come back. Don't speak to anyone and keep your hood drawn down. I'll be back in a few minutes." he promised.

You nod and anxiously watch him leave. The entirety of your time by yourself in the guards' room, the pounding of your blood filled your ears and your hands shake. Jaime said that he might have to use some unsavory methods in order to smuggle the both of you out. Somehow you knew that meant killing anyone who opposed him.

Suspicions were confirmed when you hear a few close by screams, Jaime came back in to retrieve you after fifteen minutes. He was holding his sword in one hand and motioning for you with the other. Blood glints off his blade.

The old rusty gate was lifted up a few inches from the ground. A dead sentry sat propped up against the wall. You promptly avert your gaze when you caught sight of bright red across his throat.

Crawling underneath the opening, both you and Jaime book it into the open fields outside of the city. Both of you kept low to the ground until the city walls were but speck behind you.

From his pack that Jaime brought with him, he pulls out an expertly drawn map. "Alright, it will take us several days to reach Riverrun. Here's the thing though, the north will not be taking too kindly to the arrest of their warden. I'm guessing once the news reaches them, your brother will call upon his bannermen to march to King's Landing. Your mother is possibly still in the Eyrie with Tyrion. The track to the Eyrie is too far and dangerous. Your grandsire should be able to house you until either your brother or mother come."

There was so much to take in that you were quiet for a while.

Frowning while examining the map, your eyes trail from where Jaime had pointed to your position. You eye the territory of the Riverlands, remembering that Tywin Lannister had planted a small army near your grandsire's home. "What about your father?"

His lips purse. "I'll deal with that if it comes to it." Jaime rolls the map back up and puts it away. "We'll use the rest of the evening and night to travel to the God's Eye and recoup there. I hope you're ready for the trek."

You bend over to tighten the laces of your boots in affirmation.

**

By the time they reached the shores of the great lake, (y/n) collapsed on the ground. She'd laid out the white cloak Jaime had given her and passed out soon after.

Late at night, God's Eye lake appeared to be filled with black ink. Across the water Jaime barely made out the outline of the Isle of Faces that was right in the middle of the lake.

Jaime took his place right next to the sleeping (y/n) and drew the edge of the cloak over her body. Her lips were parted as she slept.

He'd forsaken his own family for her.

If forced to do it again, he would. Jaime was her sworn sword now. His loyalty lay with her.

By himself though, he allowed his mind to think of Cersei. For most of his life, he had clung to her. She was the very reason he was in the Kings guard so he wouldn't have to marry anyone.

From childhood he revered his older sister who he often compared to the Maiden. After getting to really know (y/n) though, that image was morphed into the true reality of Cersei's character. Much like with their own brother Tyrion, Cersei had been tactfully cruel to the Stark sisters. She followed the whims of Joffrey blindly, as only a mother could. Jaime did feel sorry for (y/n)'s two younger sisters. There had been no time to even think of rescuing them too. He'd been too focused on (y/n). She was his priority.

Deciding to keep watch for the night, Jaime kept his ears trained to his surroundings and his eyes fixed on the stillness of the lake.

The sun crept up into the sky not too long after. With the rise of the sun, (y/n) stirred and opened her gray eyes. They flutter so prettily that Jaime is forced to avert his gaze. He'd once heard Robert mention how (y/n) was like a prettier version of Lyanna. She had the structure of lovely Catelyn Tully's face with alluring pale gray-blue eyes and the darkest lashes he'd ever seen.

Dried blood was still on her face from when she witnessed her father's bannermen being slain. He worried if she had nightmares about it while she slept but she didn't mention any when she sat up and rubbed sleepily at her face.

Nodding toward the lake, Jaime suggests she wash up. Before leaving, he'd gathered a few extra clothes with him. They were men's clothes but that was probably better for (y/n) while they were traveling.

A bashful blush livens her pale cheeks as she nods. Jaime, to give her some privacy, turns his back to the lake and keeps an eye out toward the trees.

He's hyper aware though of the rustling of her clothes as she removes them. His own ears reddened with warmth when he heard movement in the water. Not for the first time, he wondered what she looked like naked. What did the slopes and contours of her body feel like? Was the rest of her body soft like her hands?

(y/n) didn't spend too much time in the water. Just enough to scrub her face and wash the rest of her body from the grime and sweat that had accumulated during her flight from the capitol.

She nervously cleared her throat once she was fully dressed. Jaime turned around. (y/n) in his clothes didn't something carnal to Jaime. His large tunic did little to hide her figure as he could still make out the shapeliness of her breasts. Trousers had been cinched tightly at her waist and accentuated her wide hips.

Her long, black hair was still wet as she was in the process of tying it up into a ponytail.

She didn't need gowns and jewels to look exquisite.

"Cat got your tongue, Ser Jaime?" (y/n) grinned when she saw his outward gawking.

"I've never seen a woman wear my clothes with such finesse before." He smirked.

Laughing, (y/n) picks up the white cloak that was still sprawled out on the grass and wraps it once more around her shoulders. "If I could, I would wear men's clothes more often than dresses. You can imagine how uncomfortable it is being laced into a bodice for hours on end."

He startles both of them when Jaime tucks away a stray, soggy lock behind (y/n)'s ear. It had been bouncing around her face, begging for attention. Jaime apologizes in a halfhearted manner. At least it was an excuse to touch her. "Lets get going. We have a long way till our next stop."

Looking once again at the map, it was decided to take the longer way along the river in order to avoid populated areas.

During their walk, they shared a piece of bread between one another and spoke more about their childhoods. Maybe it was a way to soothe the aching wound of (y/n)'s heart after having to force her to leave her family defenseless in King's Landing.

There was great love in the Stark household, evident from the tenderness of her voice. Something that hadn't been present in Casterly Rock since the death of his own lady mother Joanna.

He liked imagining (y/n) as a spunky little girl playing with the boys and struggling to thread her needle for embroidery, braiding Sansa's rich auburn hair and reading under the grand weirwood tree in her family's personal godswood.

She painted a beautiful picture.

Jaime didn't really have such stories. His childhood had been filled with his endless need to be the best swordsmen out there. He trained from dusk till dawn and kept his mind focused on his goals. For him, there was no time for childish whimsy.

They stop to rest for a bit. (y/n) took off her boots to rub at her sore feet and Jaime knelt by the river to fill up their canteen that had been bone dry for hours. There wasn't much food he had packed since there was urgency to get out. Plenty of bread was still available in his pack but not much else.

Bare foot, (y/n) went about searching for wild berries and mushrooms. Jaime couldn't resist watching her through her wanderings. Ned had taught her and her siblings many things about wild berries back in Winterfell. She used this knowledge to gather an armload. While it wasn't meat it still filled their bellies along with chugging mouthfuls of water.

After that little respite, they were up and at it again until the sun dipped back down behind the mountains, replaced by a sliver of the moon and a multitude of stars. Starry skies always reminded (y/n) of her mother’s gown, she told Jaime as they walked. The Lady Catelyn possessed a gown of the deepest blue. Woven intricately onto the fabric were small crystals. They dazzled in thee light and as she moved about.

Joanna passed so long ago that Jaime could barely recall her. Something that he was able to share with (y/n) was his mother’s laugh.

She was a snorter.

For all her grace and beauty, when Joanna Lannister laughed, she really laughed. So much so that it resulted in her snorting during such throes.

Odd how that was the sole thing Jaime could think about when trying to remember her.

He must have sounded sad to (y/n) for sure grabbed his hand with warmth. Strong radiance flowed from her to Jaime. His insides flutter. Around her, he felt like such a young and naive boy. He was a man grown. She was the only woman to make him feel like this; not even Cersei made his heart thump vulnerably. With his sister, it was all about lust and satisfaction. There was no coyness to her seduction. Cersei always was straight forward.

If Jaime didn’t know any better, he would say he was falling in love with the Stark girl. That couldn’t be it though, right?”

**

For the following nights, Jaime insisted that he stay up to keep watch. A ridiculous thing considering that even the great Jaime Lannister needed sleep. No human could go so long without slumber.

He compromises. When the two of you take a break from your walking, he would take that opportunity to nap.

“You still know how to use this?” Jaime holds out his sword to you making you widen your eyes.

You stare at the hilt. The same sword he used to kill many people. Fingers twitch forward and brush up against it. “Yes.”

He nods when you finally take hold and put it off to the side of you on the grass. Situating himself onto hiss makeshift blanket and pillow, Jaime closes his eyes and is asleep in minutes.

This was an opportunity for you to outwardly admire him. He really was quite handsome. A perfect aquiline nose paired with cheek bones to die for. His upper lip was a perfect bow arch and absolutely kissable. You wonder what he dreams about.

While he rests, you go over the map. There’s bits of Jaime’s handwriting on the parchment too. Sloppy letters smashed together. You grin reminiscing that that was the way Robb wrote as well. Was that a habit of all men? No, your father wrote properly enough.

Naturally, Jaime would start to wake after an hour’s worth of sleep then back to the road it was.

All together, it took near a week to reach the Red Fork of the Trident. The river where Rhaegar Targaryen was slain by Robert Baratheon. The Red Fork lead all the way to Riverrun.

You were almost there. Considering why you were traveling in the first place, you would admit there was fun had while with Jaime. Away from the city, Jaime was freer. Boyish sides of him that he wasn’t able to display while in the Kingsguard. His smile, oh. . . This new smile of his was breathtaking. A bright beam that almost blinds you.

Certainly he was still arrogant, but a little less now.

“What will you do once you deliver me safely to my grandfather?” You ask him as you refill the canteen for one last time.

“Well, that’s if your family even allows me to leave.” Jaime chuckles. “Can’t imagine I’ll be welcomed back in King’s Landing or Casterly Rock. Don’t suppose you will employ a knight such as myself?”

The muscles on your face automatically make you smile at his confession of wanting to stay with you. You tamper it down and cough into your hand. “I can try to work something out.”

A light moment like this was bound to be ruined soon after.

Men on horseback and on foot surround you and Jaime. Swords aimed at the both of you.

Jaime holds up his hands to show that he was harmless and you immediately shout “I’m (y/n) Stark! Daughter of Catelyn Tully. Granddaughter of Hoster Tully!” Their red and blue livery reveal their allegiance.

Slowly, they lower their weapons; those on the ground get closer to see you better.

Then they register the man beside you. Their weapons went back up until Jaime forfeit his sword and allowed them to tie him up. One of the men helps you onto a horse while you beg lenience for Jaime the entire time. Proclaiming that he was actually helping you and bore no ill will.

All fell on deaf ears as they drag Jaime all the way back to the Riverrun fortress.

Spotting you from Hoster Tully’s chamber balcony, your mother met you at the front gate. She was indeed a sight for sore eyes.

As you’re assisted to the ground by helpful hands, Catelyn is already pushing aside men to get to you. She throws her arms around you and pulls your body tightly to her chest.

“Thank the gods!” Her fingers tangling them in your thick hair and buried her face in your neck. “(Y/n)-“

You encircle your arms around her. In her arms was the smell of home.

“Lady Catelyn,” came one of the soldiers. “Jaime Lannister was found with her.”

She sharply inhales and in one swift move she has you behind her as she steps forward for the rest of the men to present her Jaime.

They force him onto his knees in front of her.

“Mother please, Jaime helped me escape the Keep.”

Her eyes turn to you sharply. “(Y/n), the Lannisters are the reason for all that has befallen our family.”

Not Jaime though. He had done everything to help you. You grab Catelyn’s arm. “Without him I would have been like Sansa.”

“I swore myself to your daughter, Lady Tully. I am her sworn sword.” Jaime passionately declares. “Made an oath to protect her from this day to my last.”

“I recall you made that same oath to Aerys.” Scrutinized Catelyn.

His eyes are hard and unrelenting. Jaime doesn’t cower or back down. “It’s different with (y/n). She is worthy of protecting. I want to dedicate my life to her.”

Gods.

His words made you soar.

Narrowing her gaze, your mother folds her arms in front of her chest. “Well, Ser Jaime, it sounds like you have certain. . . Affections for her.”

Jaime turns to you with a hint of a smile. “I would say so.”

“(Y/n), go inside.” She snaps at you and with a wave of her hand, her father’s men take ahold of Jaime and bring him to the prisons of Riverrun.

Desperately you watch as Jaime meekly follows them. He doesn’t put up a fight, not once.

“He’s trying to make you a fool, (y/n).” Catelyn accosts you once inside the secure walls of the castle. “Please. . . Please tell me you don’t share these feelings he’s pretending to have?”

You were still stunned at what Jaime had admitted.

“(Y/n)?”

He swore his sword to you twice now in the presence of others. Catelyn made a point about Aerys, but what else was Jaime supposed to have done in that moment? Aerys was about to blow up King’s Landing with enough wildfire to wipe it off of the map.

Turning your spine to steel, you straighten your back and address your mother. “He’s not pretending. And if you must know, yes I do.”

You hate the pain that flashes across her face. “No. . .”

Before she could pull away from you, you grab her hands firmly and keep her there.

“I would not be here had it not been for Jaime.” You tell her sternly. “I am holding your hands now because of him. He kept his word to me that he would safely return me to you and even wanted to stay my sworn sword after the fact he had accomplished his goal.”

Squeezing her hand tighter, you add “He had everything to lose and nothing to gain.”

She was conflicted but you were adamant that she have Jaime released.

“Give him a chance.”

You were fierce, reminding Catelyn of Ned. Unwilling to back down to what you believed to be the right thing.

“I honestly can’t believe I was let out so soon.” Jaime muses.

Not without conditions of course as you glance at the Tully guards that watch him like a hawk. He wasn’t allowed his sword back. Not yet.

“Did you mean what you said? Before they took you away.”

He pauses to watch a low flying birds swoop down to the running water of the river. It pulls out a small silver fish and carries it away.

“I’ve thought about it a lot.” He admits. “What I feel for you. It’s confusing but it makes me feel alive. I’m not going to pretend that I’m even worthy of you. (Y/n), I’m not a good person. No one in the Kingsguard is except maybe Barristan Selmy. I’ve done some things that would horrify you. I didn’t like who I was in King’s Landing. But I like who I am when I’m with you.”

Your first instinct is to kiss him. You’re sure that the guards wouldn’t be too happy about it. Might even report it to Catelyn who was already uneasy with letting Jaime walk free. She’d given him the option to even leave the Riverlands but he refused.

“Bet you wanted to kiss me just then.” His grin is stretched from ear to ear.

You laugh and shove his arm lightly.

Like the first day following your exodus from King’s Landing, Jaime tucks a stray strand of hair that had escaped it’s confines. “I really meant what I said. My life is your’s, my lady. If war is to come, I will gladly protect you from my own house. This I vow.”

[ofmermaidstories]

So on Good Friday I had drafted up a little post just—I dunno. It started off with me talking about my lunch (broiche toast with peanut butter, some slices of overpriced smoked cheddar and a pottle of cherry tomatoes that i’d halved and dressed with wholegrain mustard, salt and pepper and sesame oil), because i enjoyed it, and then because i had been thinking about it, i had mentioned how Australian grocery prices have climbed well above the global average.

I mentioned some of my favourite people to follow, on tiktok! Food accounts—the woman who does the Dollar Store budget videos, where she plans out meals around limited money, or accessibility. The young mum who’s videos are just her making lunch/dinner for her four little kids. The Palestinian man who used to review resturants and dishes before the war on Gaza—and who, before Tiktok took down the videos, had started posting himself making dishes from aid rations. In the end I just saved the post to my drafts because—there was no real point to the post, not really, beyond how unfair it is that food is swiftly becoming a luxury and how it shouldn’t be, for any of us, anywhere. Not us here in Australia with our 54% on average price increases, nor for American families that have to shop at Dollar Tree with their last $30 for the next two weeks.

And definitely not for the citizens of Gaza.

Israel is manufacturing a famine within Gaza’s borders. And just today, they murdered via airstrike a carload of World Central Kitchen aid workers. Seven in total, six foreign nationals and one Palestinian local. No aid organisation can operate within Gaza’s boarders without reporting their travel plans to the Israeli Invading Force. Their car was branded with the organisations logo. Israel has some of the best surveillance technology in the world—it is often the testing ground for the hot new stuff that then gets sold to the rest of our governments. Israeli knew who was in that car. And they targeted them anyway. And now because of their actions, the WCK is now “pausing (their) operations”. And who can blame them? Knowing that if you stay, you’re just putting more lives at risk—but it means how many less meals, now, less food for the Palestinians still there? All of our countries are cowards. The Australian government won’t even name Israel in its condemnation today, of the attack. The Australian government has let our only two real supermarket chains—Coles and Woolworths—create a duopoly where they can charge the public however much they want. We can’t help ourselves and we refuse to help other people—so what good are we, as a country? The boomers and the ignorant on facebook are too busy frothing at the mouth over the imaginary millionaire immigrants who come to Australia in boats and buy houses by the dozens, per family. So many of our problems—here in Australia, globally—would be solved if the majority of us realised the real enemy isn’t a people bomb-locked on their own land, or the refugees that make it here, or even each other but instead our own fucking governments, and the bastard corporations that are gripping them by the balls. I’m grateful for every meal I get to sit down to. But I would enjoy it a lot more if it were easier for all of us to eat—or if it were a CEO or politician or two on the plate itself.

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part Two on AO3

Contents

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

Normally, John settles into his human life like an old, worn blanket: cozy, familiar, the very smell of it relaxing. This year, his bear is slow to recede, grumbling in the back of his mind for whole days, eager and anxious by turns.

content warnings: alcohol consumption

The locals think he winters down south, tease him about Brits not being built right. He lets them, allows himself to remain a tourist in their lives, essentially. Just one more impermanent face in a sea of seasonal relationships. It's better that way. Less questions. Makes it harder, though, when he returns to town already on the lookout for someone. Normally, John settles into his human life like an old, worn blanket: cozy, familiar, the very smell of it relaxing. This year, his bear is slow to recede, grumbling in the back of his mind for whole days, eager and anxious by turns. He hasn't caught hide nor hair of the little rabbit about town, and he's distracted every moment. It's never easy preparing for the high traffic tourist season, but it makes his life particularly difficult when he can't properly taste this year's batch of bourbon for the cloying scent of rabbit which now lives in his maw. Simon says it's good which is good enough for John. He usually waits until May to open the pub so as not to tank on profits during the slower months, but the possibility she may wander in one day looking for a nice drink drives him to desperate measures. He mans the bar himself to save money. If Simon thinks it's strange, he doesn't comment; not that Simon ever comments on much, the brooding bastard.

Weeks go by without seeing her. John gets grumbly, only placated by her unrelenting scent in the air. She's here, somewhere. Hasn't skipped town yet. His bear rages every time the sun goes down without John having set off in search of her. He resists at first, not wanting to scare her further somehow, but bears are not known for their patience, and the very real fact that there's no way she could know he was the oversized grizzly that terrorized her eventually draws him out of hiding.

The bar is closed on Mondays. John usually spends them high in the mountains, reaffirming his turf, but when Monday dawns slow and golden, John knows instantly what he'd rather be doing with his day off. He starts slow, savors it. Spends his morning at a hole-in-the-wall diner which caters to locals more than tourists. Her scent is strong here, but not fresh. A dinner patron, maybe. Clever little rabbit, avoiding the pricier spots downtown. John sits at the counter where her scent is strongest and sips his tea, resisting the urge to ask the waiter if they served a sweet little lamb the night before. The last thing he needs is this local going around telling everyone their resident Brit is a creep. But his bear is discontent with the slow hunt so he moves on shortly after finishing his plate.

Next is the local gym. He doesn't have a membership so he doesn't enter but neither does he need to. The scent of artificial strawberries is stronger here and he surmises she's already showered and left. He finds no trace of her near any of the lodges, which makes sense if she's made a bed of her car, but makes his job harder. No matter, he's got all day.

NFS is less strict during the off season, but John doubts she will have gotten away with parking in the same place for weeks so he hops in his car and takes a long drive by all the roadside stops east of Lake McDonald. He finds her Jeep somewhere out by Fish Creek but she's nowhere in sight. That's alright. There's a short trail leading back to the campground nearby, mostly thawed out and muddy. John wanders along, lets instinct take control. She's here, scent subtle amongst the mud and heady smell of actual small game, like sniffing out an overflowing beehive amidst scraggly squirrel and pungent pine. Hard to come by, worth the effort.

He finds her scrambling along a small ridge, chest puffing with the effort of the short climb. Good girl, better suited for a slow hunt. Mate, his bear decides, and he has to bite his cheek to stop from chuffing at her.

"'Morning," He calls from the top of the rickety stairs NFS has kindly provided for soft creatures like her. He'd meant to announce his position so as not to scare her, but her head whips up at the sound of his approach like a deer that's caught his scent anyway. Smart rabbit.

"Uh, 'morning." She's short of breath, self conscious about it. John knows what he looks like in the spring, all lean muscles. He hates it, is embarrassed by it under normal circumstances but especially when it sets round little sows like her on edge. Human women who look like her aren't accustomed to men who look like him being nice, he's learned.

"Early start of it?"

She frowns up at the clear sky. "Not really?"

"Meant for the season, sorry. You local?" He's descended to her level now, the smell of honey and her exertion nearly lethal. His tongue grows heavy.

She raises a brow at him, doesn't answer the question. "Are you?"

He laughs, knows she's referring to his accent. "Seasonally. John, by the way."

She eyes his hand warily but accepts it. She introduces herself and John rolls it around on his tongue, testing. She must like the way it sounds with his accent because she blushes prettily at that. "What do you mean by seasonally local?"

"Winter down south," he lies, hoping maybe it endears him to her nomad way of life.

Instead, her grin borders on cruel. "Can't hack the cold?"

"Ah, so you are a local."

She laughs and John is instantly addicted. "Not quite, but I'm no stranger to a hard winter."

His bear can't help but appraise her broad figure again, appreciating how full she's kept herself despite that. Good mate, good girl. Fatted rabbit. It's hard to speak past the saliva pooling on his tongue. "Where you from, then, honey?"

If she finds the pet name odd, she doesn't comment. Probably not in her best interest, as his bear preens at that. "New York, originally," she tells him easily. "But like. Very far upstate. Up in the mountains. But I've been living in Dallas for… a while."

She's rambling. It's cute. "Missed the hard winters, did you?"

"Something like that. What brings a Brit up this way?"

"Money. Got a distillery, and a bar back in Columbia Falls. Tourists go crazy for that shite."

She laughs again. John tucks it away between the flavors of his favorite cigars and his mother's name. "Are you admitting your product is tourist trap trash, then?"

"Admitting it? That's what I named the company." His grin is all teeth, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"Well, can't say I visited a place unless I fall into a trap at least once, can I? I'll have to check it out."

He can't deny the mental image has its appeals. "Look forward to it." He hopes his smile is more inviting this time. He's already planning what he'll serve her.

"Nice to meet you, John," she grins and then carries on her way. John can be patient when needed, but his bear is displeased by that.

***

He's even less pleased when a week passes without a visit. John falls to pieces a bit when he steps onto his roof one night and notices a distinct lack of honey on the breeze. When his bear demands a walk through the forest, he doesn't fight it, letting instinct drag him half across the park in search of the Jeep he'd marked. He doesn't find her. He opens the pub late the next day, too tired to make it in on time. Simon eyes him critically, but again doesn't comment.

The next day finds him nursing his hurt pride, consoling the upset beast which resides in his chest with a frankly absurdly large lunch in the kitchen when the bell announces a visitor. It is, however, redundant. John is already ferrying his food to the shop front, working a massive bite between his strong jaws to abate the hunger the breeze has carried in: honey and strawberries. She smiles at him shyly when she spots him, sidles on up to the bar and chooses a seat a safe distance from him, as if she's afraid he's going to pull her over the bar and eat her too. Smart rabbit.

He waits until he's worked through his bite before speaking, white knuckling his hold on humanity. "Nearly gave up on you," he says by way of greeting. His voice is gruff and deep; for a second he's worried he's slipped into his other form.

"Your own fault. Thought you'd given me the slip, giving me the wrong name," she teases. He's about to protest when she waves a coaster at him. Last Resort Bourbon Bar. Of course.

He smirks. "Turned out the other name was bad for business."

"And calling yourself a last resort option is better?"

"It's a pun! Cause we're-."

"So close to the border, yeah. Would make more sense if you offered lodging, though, eh?"

"You saying you wanna spend the night?"

She blinks owlishly, drops the coaster, stammers, "That's not - uh -."

John smiles indulgently, winking. "Right, I'll buy you a drink first," he offers as he washes his hands and pours her a glass. He picks a lighter line, sniffing out the sweet notes. "We recommend on ice for your first taste, that good?"

"Y-yeah." She's blushing up to her ears. He nearly growls in contentment.

"Lunch?" he asks as he supplies her drink.

She takes a sip like it's a lifeline. He gives her the moment to recover without comment, waits for her nod of approval before smiling back. "Sure. What've you got going on over there?" She asks, nodding to his heaping pile of meats, cheeses, and fruits. She's probably asking for a charcuterie board of her own but he chooses to believe she wants his. He desperately wants to share it with her, see her picking the food from his own plate, but he'd rather get her something more filling.

"Nothing good. You like fish?"

She does an adorable little wiggle: a motion with her head as if weighing her options, but carried on through her whole body. "What kind of fish?"

"Trout. Squash puree. Goes good with that lighter blend," he points to her glass.

She squints at him, feigned affront. "You starting me off with the easy stuff?"

"You don't seem like much of a bourbon girl," he shrugs.

She smiles, nods in defeat. "Not much of a drinker, to be honest."

"I can fix that."

She scoffs, surprised. "Well you'll have to do better than this," she teases, shaking her glass at him and he laughs happily.

"Told you it was shite."

"Let's hope your fish is more appetizing, eh?"

John can't help but grin happily, shoving a handful of grapes into his maw as he wanders back into the kitchen, savoring the way they pop under his teeth, coating his jowls in their juices. Simon is in the kitchen because of course he is. He leans back against a counter, arms crossed, gaze just as silent and skeptical as always. John gets to work starting the food.

"Thought you were supposed to be at the distillery today?"

"Why are you offering food if you didn't think I was back here?" When John ignores him, he continues blandly, "Bit early for the dinner menu."

"Repeat customer potential."

"Oh? She local?"

"Seasonal," John lies. Honestly she could hop in her mobile little burrow and disappear from his life tomorrow. The thought makes his chest hurt so he ignores it.

Simon hums noncommittally and moves to peek out the window to the bar. "She's cute."

John can't help the low growl that builds in his chest. Thankfully, it's too bass for human ears. "Yes."

"Want I should take over back here so you can get back out there, cap?"

Simon only ever calls him that sarcastically. Means he's teasing John's obvious crush. Well, jokes on him, John has no shame when it comes to the sweet little treat sitting pretty at his bar. "Sure do, thanks. Give a shout if you need help."

Hard to tell when Simon frowns behind that mask, but John takes sick pleasure in the way his shoulders fall the slightest bit. It's short lived though; Simon is never on his back foot for long. "Same to you, cap."

John bares his teeth at the man, passes it off as a nasty grimace when he remembers that's not a normal human reaction. Simon's laugh follows John out into the bar but any lingering annoyance he may have felt dies in his chest when he finds his sweet, soft girl picking at the plate he's left behind. She blushes up to her hairline at being caught, but it settles something deep within him to see her sharing in his feast, trusting him enough not to snarl and snap over what should be his, but what his bear is very rapidly designating theirs.

Good mate.

John's lived through plenty of rut seasons by now. He's been enamored many times, but this is different. Mainly because he isn't in a rut, sure, but also because his bear isn't usually so focussed on one singular potential mate. A parade of half the fat, fertile women in the state could wander by outside his bay window right now and John doesn't think he'd so much as lift his nose in beastly assessment. Why would he? He's got the juiciest rabbit he could ever dream of right here, eating off his plate like a good, docile little creature.

She's still flustered about being caught eating his food, poor thing. He doesn't really know what to say about that, brain still grinding gears, trying to climb up out of basic animal instinct. Instead, he smiles warmly and slides the plate closer as he comes to stand in front of her, leans into her space a bit as he shoves a pretentiously thin sliced piece of ham into his mouth. Honestly, if you're going to eat a pig, you'd best be prepared for a mouth full. Humans drove him crazy sometimes. The rabbit is blushing less by now, but doesn't make a move to steal another bite until he tells her to try the provolone. He's immensely satisfied when she does.

"You know, you said this was shit but it's pretty good."

"Better with company."

She blushes again. "Sorry about that. I skipped breakfast. Didn't realize how hungry I was until I was staring down a pile of berries."

John shakes his head. "I don't mind, honey."

She's wary again, though getting more curious. A deer with a salt lick, clever thing. "You said this place was seasonal? Aren't you open a bit early?"

He spreads some jam on a bit of bread and pushes it at her, preens when she nibbles at it. "Stumbled my way back a little ahead of schedule this year, figured I may as well be social."

"Hmm. Not much else to do, is there?"

"Still a bit early for most places, yeah, but the trails are usually pretty empty this time of year which can be nice. If you're into hiking, that is."

"I used to go all the time, back home. Haven't had much opportunity lately. Trying to get back into it, but I may have set my sights a bit high," she laughs, "Probably should've stuck with the bunny hills back east for now."

"Nonsense. I think you're in the perfect spot," he winks.

Her smile is warm, but maybe a little thinner than it had been. "It's been pretty good to me so far. You're a snowbird, you said? Where do you go in the winter?"

"Phoenix." It's the same lie he tells everyone. He's only ever been there once. He lives in constant fear of stumbling upon a chatty native one day blowing up his spot.

"Never been. Is it nice?"

He shrugs. "Well it doesn't drop to Mars temperatures so it has that going for it."

She just laughs, rolls her eyes at him. "You're a baby. I'd rather Mars temps than Mercury, personally. I hated living in Dallas. Not built right for those summers."

"Now who's the snowbird?" He teases.

"Never denied being a nomad."

He panics, thinking about how she could up and leave the state at any moment. "What brings you out this way, then? Just good trails?"

Suddenly, all the syrupy warmth he'd slowly been coaxing out of her freezes up. She's locked tight, a deer with his scent again. "Yeah. Never been, so, thought I'd give it a shot."

John frowns at her, is about to comment on the obvious lie when Simon rings the order bell about twenty times just to be an arse. John sighs, excuses himself. Simon doesn't grin as a rule, but he does manage to look quite smug anyway when John enters the kitchen. "Order up," he grumbles, and John inspects the dish critically.

It looks better than how he would've made it, honestly. "Thanks, Si."

The large man hums, nods at a bottle of white wine he'd placed on the counter by the door. "Recommended pairing." Then, in a quieter tone, "'Least for little babies who don't drink bourbon."

John isn't familiar with the label, but Simon has an acute sense for these things so he accepts it anyway. "Owe ya one."

Simon grunts. "We'll talk about it at my quarterly review, yeah?"

"Sure. You actually gonna sit for one of those?" Simon has always maintained quite firmly that if John ever had a problem with his performance, he could tell him right then and there instead of compiling a list for months. John, of course, had never needed to.

"Course not. Get back to y'bird, Price, 'fore she starts to think we're getting cozy back here."

"You just wanna get back to eavesdropping."

"Do love watching you crash and burn, yeah."

John splutters. "Am not."

"She was clamming up like an oyster with vaginismus 'fore I pulled you outta there."

"How long has this been ready?"

Simon shrugs. "Couple'a minutes. Didn't want to interrupt, given she'd basically told you to ask her on a date."

John blinks. "Huh?"

"Christ you're an idiot. She asked what there is to do around here socially, and you told her to take a hike."

"I didn't," John protests, but of course, he did in fact do that. Shit, since when was Simon better at socializing than him?

"You did. Now get out there, pretend the wine was your idea, and invite her to that fancy coffee place like a normal person, cap."

"You gonna be in here listening the whole time?"

"Depends. You plan on bungling it bad enough you need exfil again?"

John frowns. "Best stay on, yeah. She's got me reduced to animal noises out there."

Simon laughs, low and terrifying as always. He shoos John out the door but John can hear him lingering, washing dishes. It should be annoying, but Simon was right, he'd mucked it up. He'd put up with a whole peanut gallery if they could at least help him secure another meet up.

The rabbit seems less on edge when John returns, thankfully, though it looks like she hasn't picked at his plate anymore. At least her glass is empty.

"Smells good," she comments as he places the dish in front of her.

"Got the hoity toity ingredient source spiel if you wanna hear it, or a wine recommendation if you don't. Promise you'll like it better than the bourbon," he adds when she raises her brows at the bottle.

"Well it's about time you bring me something worth coming back for," she jokes, motioning for him to open the bottle.

John feigns hurt. "I thought you liked my plate of scraps?"

"Mm. It was better with company." She waits until he grins at her to continue with a blush, "That wine the same way?"

"Let's find out, eh?" John asks as he slides her glass to her and retrieves his own. Softly, he thinks he hears Simon say something about a good lad in the kitchen.

She stays for a few hours after that, gets good and flushed. He worries about her returning to her car, but of course he's not supposed to know she's living out of it so he can't comment. He asks if she needs a ride anywhere and is relieved when she says she'll hang out and sober up. He can't stay rooted in front of her the way he'd like because he does eventually get some real customers, but he lets her commandeer the remote to put some hockey match on. Playoffs, apparently. He asks her which team she's supporting and she tells him the one that is currently down three goals. "Well, they made it further than my team, at least," she laughs when he makes a sympathetic face at her. Eventually, she asks for her bill and pouts when John only shakes his head at her.

"Us early starters gotta watch out for each other, no?"

"I ate directly off your plate like an animal, at least charge me for a drink so I can tip you."

"Let me get you a coffee sometime and we'll call it even."

She gapes like a fish for a moment, recovers when the woman a few seats down gives her a look as if to say girl, get your shit together. "So there is sociable stuff to do around here, eh?"

"Had to go bounce some ideas off my chef cause I was so tongue tied earlier, but I got some things in mind now," he admits with a warm smile, and the woman down the bar makes a face like she just saw Richard Gere snap a jewelry box on Julia Roberts' hand for the first time.

The rabbit's blush is tamer this time, a light dusting as opposed to the deep stain he's seen creep up to her ears. "I'd like that."

He gives her the biggest smile he can muster, can't help it. He fishes out a sharpie from the tin by the register and writes his name and number on a fresh coaster. The rabbit smiles as she zips it into her breast pocket for safe keeping. He doesn't hide the way his eyes linger, and she doesn't seem to mind. "Have a good night, John," she says as she slides off the stool.

"Get back safe, honey." She waves sweetly and gives a friendly parting smile to the lovesick woman who can't stop watching their little display.

Simon has the grace to wait until the bell has announced her exit to emerge from the kitchen.

"Don't fucking even, Simon," John begs, but it's the woman at the bar who starts in first.

"Well, I'd best be invited to the wedding. That was more action than I've seen in ten years," she gripes, elbowing the sleepy man next to her.

"What?" The man huffs, just as Simon starts cackling.

Next>>

[unohanabbygirl]

Hiding in plain sight

Warning: non con

Part 2

Full fic on Ao3 ☺️

- - -

A/B/O AU Lucemond where Aemond goes into rut at storms end after Luke presents in lord Borros hall and chases him down. Arrax doesn’t die but his wing is badly injured and Luke is too weak from heat to run.

Aemond lands Vhagar and hunts him down by his scent, eventually finding and nonconing him. The silver haired man has gone fully mad from rut by this point, treating Luke as if he’s a rag doll. Senses mute to everything but the smell of newly flowered omega.

Luke closes his eyes as his uncle relentlessly thrusts into him. Suddenly, he feels a deep pulling sensation in his chest. Just then he realizes Arrax is close enough to watch what was happening, reaching out to Luke through their bond to comfort him.

His beloved childhood companion knows he’s being hurt and doing what little he can to help.

It devastates him further.

Once it’s over, Aemond who is still not in his right mind leaves Luke without a second glance.

Luke breaks down. Not only is he an omega making him ineligible to be lord of driftmark, but his maidenhead has been stolen, leaving a very slim chance for a political marriage to be negotiated. No one wants a soiled omega.

To make matters worse Aemond is a prime alpha, a rare breed which are few and far in between. His seed will take, no matter how much moon tea Luke drinks.

He’s now broken and will likely swell with a bastard. He refuses to face the shame and humiliation that will come not only to him but his family. His mother can’t win if her reputation is stained once more.

A barely breathing Arrax shakily flys back to Dragonstone without his rider, leaving the entire realm confused once they receive word.

The blacks and greens alike are convinced Aemond killed the young prince.

Aemond goes half mad as he isn’t able to recall anything past Luke entering Lord Borros hall.

“A son for a son” Daemon whispered as he held his grieving wife who had fallen to her knees once news of their son’s disappearance and possible murder reached them.

Nine months later Luke is living his life as a simple fisherman in a small village away from the madness of war, tucked away in a loving community where who sits on the iron throne doesn’t matter.

Luke gives birth to a healthy baby boy with the help of local midwives. A babe with mahogany hair and chocolate eyes just like his mother, but with the face of his father. Osferth, Luke breathes as he rocks his bundle of joy. Who knew something so beautiful could come from a joining so cruel.

After five wonderful years rumors begin to spread of the lost prince living as a fisherman in a small village with a brown haired child. The whispers are baseless and unreliable, but a grieving Corlys must see for himself, he won’t be able to go on knowing there’s a chance.

Two years later as Luke sets up his small stand to sell the morning’s latest catch while Osferth runs around with the other village pups, a cloaked man greets Luke as he’s cleaning his stock. The brunette looks up from his chair to see his grandsire standing above him, frozen in place with tears in his eyes.

“Oh how you’ve grown.” Clorys whispers as his vision blurs with tears.

Hours later over a hot cup of tea, Luke tells Corlys the entire story from his presentation to how excruciating giving birth had been. Nearly bursting into tears when he recounts Osferth’s conception. His grandsires initial reaction is to gut the one eyed Targaryen, but Luke stops him. He has a good life here, away from the lies and fighting. His son will grow up happy and able to live life as he pleases without the cold emptiness of duty and sacrifice.

Corlys hesitantly agrees, but only on one condition. Luke and Osferth will move to Pentos where Corlys has a small property they can live in, spacious and beautiful but still cozy. He will pay for everything they need and visit as much as possible, he’s already lost so much time with Luke, he refuses to miss out on his great grandsons childhood.

Lastly, he will legitimize Osferth as a true Velaryon.

Luke is a little nervous but agrees on his own condition, Corlys must keep everything he knows a secret.

ten years later everything is just as peaceful as it had been before. Luke created a small garden that he spent his free time in while Osferth who had bloomed into a kind omega just as his mother, had taken to the culinary arts. Making him and Luke delicious, creative meals with many of the ingredients Luke grew.

It’s their own little slice of heaven, that is until one day two knights claiming to be sent by the princess rhaenys break into the property and force both omegas to come with them.

Apparently his grandmother heard whispers of Corlys housing an omega along with a bastard child he privately legitimized and came to her own conclusion.

“You are to be presented at court to queen Rhaenyra as per princess Rhaenys request.” The man says, looking Luke up and down like a common whore, not recognizing him as their prince.

“Mother, what’s going on?” His son asks with wide teary eyes.

Luke kisses his sweet boys forehead three times as he lets out a soothing croon. He’s always had a feeling this wouldn’t last, but stupidly hoped it would.

Time to face the music

[cellarspider]

27/30 The Measure of a Movie

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to this movie that’s trapped me in a five minute scene for three whole days, Prometheus.

Content warning for death of a man who didn’t look convincingly alive in the first place, death of some extras.

So, David has just followed his orders from Weyland, and hit a hungover Engineer with a demand for eternal life.

Naturally, this doesn’t go well! Particularly as, stated previously, Shaw is also concurrently screaming at the Engineer in a language they don’t understand, and Weyland ordered a security NPC to hit her. 

Frankly, this is one of the most relatable facial expressions the movie’s shown me thus far. This big bastard expected to be waking up two thousand years ago, on a mission to kill humans for their moral failings. And then they wake up and the little suckers are everywhere.

As said before the PIE ate me, the original intent was for Weyland to declare himself a god for creating David, a perfected version of humanity. And there is a very brief moment here between the Engineer and David. 

A tiny little glimmer of hope for this weird, fucked-up little android, that he might be accepted for what he is. Saved from the Last Judgment for being a good little guy who only killed someone the Engineers wouldn't have liked anyway. The chance to start anew.

Nope!

The Engineer’s expression may indicate they're slightly sorry for what they do to David, but that doesn't stop them. He’s the robot Son of Man, because the movie’s religious themes have been so over the place, and being fully human and fully divine is not a selling point to his current audience. The “human” part seems to be the sticking point. In fact, this may be part of why the Engineers decided to destroy humanity in the first place–if they didn't get ahead of their wayward children, then humans might attempt to imitate their creators, imparting their bad ideas on to whole new forms of life in the process.

Of course, we don't know what the Engineers planned in the first place. We don’t actually know if humans were the intentional result of what the Engineers were doing. Anything Homo sapiens-y could have potentially been a mistake. Maybe they were trying to recreate themselves! Maybe they really liked Australopithecus!

Regardless, their behavior has not convinced the Engineer to change course. In fact, the Engineer seems to be noping out extremely hard, starting by ripping David’s head off and beating Weyland to death with it.

David wanted to see Weyland die, but seeing it so up-close was probably not as planned. I was struggling not to laugh in the theater, because. Really, how are you supposed to take this?

The last security guy also dies after trying to shoot the Engineer, so they sure added to the movie. Doctor Frankenstein also dies due to aggressive yeeting, which I will admit is a little harsh, state and local law in the US tend to list desecration of human remains as a relatively low-level felony. See, this is why you should’ve had the Prometheus classed as a diplomatic mission, then she could’ve gotten immunity.

In amongst the chaos, there is one little quiet-ish moment of the dying Weyland, muttering to David’s severed head: 

“There’s nothing.”

“I know. Have a good journey, Mr. Weyland.”

You know, marketing and discussion around this movie said that it touched on big themes, like “where do we come from” and “what happens when we die”. This, as far as I can tell, is the only thing the movie has to say on the latter. Well done, we’ve got that one sorted. Or rather, the movie did, I distinctly remember having not a single clue what Weyland was saying. When David said “I know”, I didn’t.

Totally unrelated, here’s a quote from Damon Lindelof, who took over writing on the movie:

Blade Runner might not have done well [financially] when it first came out, but people are still talking about it because it was infused with all these big ideas. [Scott] was also talking about very big themes in Prometheus. It was being driven by people who wanted the answers to huge questions. But I thought that we could do that without ever getting too pretentious. Nobody wants to see a movie where people are floating in space talking about the meaning of life [...]

Yes. Truly, nobody wants to see that. Wise words from one of the writers of Star Trek: Into Darkness (2013). Truly, there has never been a science fiction fan who’s wanted that.

[Video description: A clip from Star Trek: The Next Generation s02e09, The Measure of a Man (1989). Picard is defending Data’s right against an order to submit to disassembly so that more Soong-model androids can be mass-produced. The scientist wishing to do so asserts that Data is not sentient, and Picard challenges the scientist to prove that Picard is sentient, and asks the court to carefully consider the precedent they might set if they determine Data has no rights, and then thousands of him are created.]

This is what could be. Right here. Four and a half minutes of courtroom drama in a dull room, debating the definition of sentience and the meaning of creating new forms of life, earnestly defending the rights of a man in body paint and funny-colored contacts. It brought a tear to my eye.

I don’t feel like saying anything more about Prometheus right now, but we’re almost done with the thing.

Shaw books it, and the Engineer, apparently, does not care to follow her. There’s more important things to be doing, like getting the terracide back underway, and making another Alien reference.

I don’t hate this. It’s a little Iron Man in how the exoskeleton folds around them, but it’s still nice to see this used as an actual, weird-ass flight suit and restraints. And it was something neat to keep my attention. At this point I was just shrugging about the looming threat to humanity, thinking “y’know what, this has been a pretty reasonable response, all things considered.”

So, with that level of investment in the safety of the characters, obviously I was on the edge of my seat waiting to find out how they’d stop the ship.

I wasn’t, actually, I was wondering how the fuck Shaw, a few hours post-caesarian, managed to run so goddamn fast. She ends up on top of the ship’s hangar as it’s opening. This mostly affords us set-up for a moment that did make me wince:

I’m pretty sure surgical staples aren’t built with dramatic leaps across crevasses in mind.

Anyway, Janek decides to sacrifice himself and the Prometheus, which Vickers is not a fan of, given that she’s standing right there. She’s given forty seconds to get suited up so she can eject and survive with her Chekhov’s gu–I mean, her life boat quarters.

The other two crew members decide to sacrifice themselves too, because power of friendship or something, I dunno. Their only character traits were “call out stuff on monitors” and “occasionally make bets with each other”.

Is it bad that I felt a bit sad that they manage to stop the ship? That’s probably bad.

I’m saving the dumb thing that comes after. That's for next time.

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

Citations for alt-text rambles:

https://www.deviantart.com/pretty--kittie/art/Prometheus-Engineer-407337525

https://www.imdb.com/name/nm1613839/ 

https://flickr.com/photos/jbassett9/6567513029 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smile#Other_animals 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australopithecus_africanus 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gender_in_Bugis_society 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J3FsASNavdU&list=PL100AFFA291934352 be aware Gandahar is 80s French SF, and therefore you will definitely see female-presenting nipples. Also, Penn and Teller have voice roles in the dub for some reason.

https://youtu.be/muXiufO9dXg 

https://youtu.be/c_iK61aROWw 

https://youtu.be/dVnrWFbaFck 

https://youtu.be/snTaSJk0n_Y 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dr._Strangelove#Sets_and_filming

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_Thunder#Document_leaks

[seiya-starsniper]

For the flower prompts...

Calla Lily (it's my favourite flower) - Something at first sight.

I leave it to you to do any Sandman pairing you have an itch to write. 💜😊

Ooooooo this one is so appropriate for me as one of my fave fics I’ve written (not for this fandom) is called Calla Lillies 💖💖 I also added a little personalized twist on this, just for you 😘

Flower Prompt Game!

(Also, for anyone still wondering, I am in fact still accepting prompts! Gonna be a bit slow and answer one or two a day, but I’m so glad this has been such a hit!)

—---

When Morpheus Endless (and isn’t that the name of the century?) enters the coffee shop in a whirlwind of taut anxiety and indignant rage, Simon Snow does not even say hello, he merely takes up residence at the espresso machine to start preparing the most absurdly complex drink known to man.  

“Your man is here,” Penelope deadpans, and Simon rolls his eyes. Morpheus is not his man. He’s very nice to look at, yes, and he may or may not bear a striking resemblance to Simon’s hopelessly secret crush arch nemesis, but they’re too alike in temperament to be anything more than friends. But he can see where the confusion comes from. 

When he finishes making Morpheus’s regular order, he calls for his break and walks over, drink in hand, to the corner Morpheus and his terribly bad mood have taken up residence. 

“Bad day?” Simon asks, placing the absurdly sweet concoction down on the table where Morpheus has sprawled all his notebooks and laptop. He’s not looking at any of it though, more preoccupied with whatever social media scandal is happening on his phone.

“Cory left me,” Morpheus growls, tapping angrily at the screen. “For Alex Burgess. Who, as you recall, is currently still in a relationship with Paul Mcguire, the unfaithful bastard.” 

Simon has no idea who these people are besides Cory, who has come into the shop with Morpheus once. He doesn’t pay attention to the campus gossip. More specifically, the rich people campus gossip. Because Simon is here at the university on scholarship, working part time at the local coffee shop for a little extra spending money, and Morpheus is part of the very small, elite group of legacy family admissions. 

No one, not even Penelope, Simon’s best friend since childhood, understands why he and Morpheus get along so well. Simon knows it’s partially because he’s the only one willing to make Morpheus’s stupidly complicated order, and partially because they’re both grumpy bisexuals who fall in love too easily with the wrong people. 

“You were too good for him anyways,” Simon replies, plopping down into the chair next to Morpheus.

“Damn right I am,” Morpheus answers, picking up his coffee that is actually more syrup, sugar and milk than anything resembling coffee. And that was after Simon added four shots of espresso. He groans happily as he takes his first sip. “He was awful in bed anyways.”

Simon snorts. “Maybe you should try not dating rich assholes,” he offers.

“No? I should only pine for them hopelessly from across the rugby pitch?” Morpheus answers pointedly. 

“Wow, you’re lucky I’m on shift or I’d tip that sad excuse for coffee into your lap,” Simon bites back, feeling the familiar heat of anger rise up in him. Because of course Morpheus knew about Simon’s complicated feelings towards Baz. But he didn’t have to be an asshole about it just because he got dumped.

Morpheus sniffles. “These jeans are Gucci,” is all he says back, before taking another sip of his coffee and letting the subject drop. 

———————

Simon’s break is over before he knows it, and not a moment too soon. He and Penelope are swamped by the late-afternoon rush. Simon doesn’t know how so many people could be craving coffee this late in the day, but to each their own. Morpheus had ordered a second cup of his ungodly drink right before the rush hit, and it’s when he’s finishing up that drink and getting ready to leave that half the rugby team decides to walk into the cafe and ruin Simon’s day. 

“Snow,” Baz Pitch sneers at him when he gets to the counter to order. Simon rolls his eyes.

“Let me guess, black tea for the blackness in your soul?” he retorts, smirking when Baz’s face goes tight with annoyance.

“Ooooh, this guy’s got you down to a T,” a brunette answers, coming up from behind Baz and draping an arm over his shoulders.

“Shut up Hob,” Baz replies, rolling his eyes and shrugging his friend off before turning back to Simon. “And yes, black tea, but do try not to over-steep it this time Snow.”

“I’ll have a caramel latte,” the man called Hob adds, “with extra caramel syrup since Bazzy’s paying.”

“Hob I swear if you call me Bazzy one more time—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll sue me for defamation somehow, hey, can I get a couple of cake pops too?” Hob answers all in one breath. Simon gets the impression the man is something like a golden retriever in human form. 

“Sure, anything for a friend of Bazzy's,” Simon chuckles before he turns to work on their order. He can practically feel Baz seething from behind him as he prepares their order. 

As he’s getting ready to prepare Hob’s latte, Simon catches Morpheus out of the corner of his eye approaching the counter, and he instinctively starts preparing a drink for him as well. Seriously, how the hell could Morpheus stomach one of these, let alone three in a single sitting?

“The line is behind me, Endless,” Simon hears Baz say. 

“Ah, that’s where you’re mistaken, Basil,” Morpheus replies smoothly. “There is no line when you’re the favorite.”

“Who the hell says you’re the favorite?” Baz snaps 

“I do,” Simon cuts in, bringing over the order, and making sure to hand Morpheus’s drink over first. He can just tell Baz is irrationally mad about the whole thing. “Unlike some other customers, Morpheus is a sweetheart.”

“Thank you, dear heart,” Morpheus practically coos at him before turning back to Baz and Hob and smirking. “The cake pops are quite good, by the way.”

“Good to know!” Hob answers cheerily. “Did you want one, by the way? Didn’t realize how large they were,” he adds holding one out. 

Morpheus looks taken aback, but accepts the cake pop with a meek thank you and then with their order complete, the rugby team starts making their way towards the exit. Morpheus stares after them as they leave, cake pop still in hand. 

“I think I’m in love,” Morpheus says once the cafe has totally emptied out.

“You’re what now?” Simon exclaims, then groans. “Please tell me this isn’t about the cake pop.”

“He has nice eyes,” Morpheus argues. “And if he tolerates Basil’s awful attitude, I’m practically a ray of sunshine in comparison.”

“You're not wrong,” Penelope cuts in, leaning her elbows down on the counter next to Simon. “And if Morpheus can get Hob, maybe he can help you get Baz, Si.”

“That is a terrible plan,” Simon says. “And anyways, Baz hates me.”

“It’s an excellent plan,” Morpheus replies. “And also, you’re an idiot. Basil was ready to stab me with my own fountain pen for touching you so casually.”

“He was not!” Simon squeaks.

“No, he definitely was, I’m with Morpheus here,” Penelope says. “Maybe you two should pretend to date and see how long it takes for Baz to crack.”

“Absolutely not,” Simon says at the same time Morpheus answers “That’s an excellent idea.”

Simon groans. 

“I don’t have a choice in the matter do I?” he asks.

“Not at all,” Morpheus replies, biting into the cake pop.