#not an eighteen-year-old man as he thought of himself. But he knew he was being silly

[lucysarah-c]

Fifteen, what an age to be alive. Dad!Levi

Summary: Steal your father's car! What could go wrong? Author note: Since the Marley world seemed to be around the 30s-40s, I’ll set this idea in a world that looks like the mid-50s. This is POST WAR. Warnings: Cursing 'cause Levi, obv. And slightly mention of a group taking advantage of a girl, nothing really happens and there's no graphic description at all. Word count: 3.9k Pairing: Dad! Levi x Mom! Reader

His hands gripped the big round wheel of the car as his eyes scanned the dark night with a nervous smile, quickly turning into clenched teeth. His attention shifted to the passenger seat, soft as if it was a scene from one of the horror pictures he saw at the drive-in.

A light blond girl lay unconscious, her head resting against the door, appearing lifeless. She wore a typical sleeveless red button-up shirt and very short white shorts, with white socks crumpled down to double-coloured loafers. Her hair was still in a ponytail, exposing her face completely. It was August, plain summer break, and he knew that most of his classmates wore shorts or even swimsuits at the pool or beach. But somehow, her exposure made him blush and feel ashamed, as if even staring felt wrong.

Turning to the back seat of the car, he picked up his letterman jacket and placed it on top of her, covering her as much as possible. It looked big on her, and somehow, Adrien blessed every deity mentioned; he probably was inheriting his father’s uncle’s height and not his father's, a fact becoming rather obvious every day, as he was only 15 and already almost 1.80m.

“Calm down, Adie… you got this,” he whispered to himself, “I’ve no idea what I'm going to do but I got it.”

How did he get into this situation? It was supposed to be a silly night out; one of his friends invited him to a party of the seniors who were graduating from high school that year. What was the issue if he was just a freshman? Fifteen, eighteen, it’s the same! Plus, it was some party at some old forgotten building, half destroyed during the rumbling around ten years ago, in the middle of nowhere. Nothing wrong with that.

Yes, perhaps he stole his father’s keys and car. Yes, perhaps he lied about sleeping in his room. Yes, maybe he stole a bit (a lot) of money from his parents. “I mean… deep down, it’s my father’s fault for not allowing me to come legally,” Adrien argued with his own reflection in the car's mirror.

But everything went downhill when he saw a group of guys dragging a girl who was clearly not feeling well and decided to step in. Now, here he was, the party had turned into a mess as the fight happened, he got kicked out with an unconscious girl, and who knew what they had given her. He hit his forehead against the wheel as time slipped through his fingers; he was supposed to be back home already.

“Fucking shit! Who told me to step in!” he cursed under his breath. Deep down, he knew stepping up for what he had been told was horrendously wrong, knowing he had the strength to fight those assholes back. ‘The curse of being a fucking Ackerman, man,’ he thought.

He had done the right thing, at least one right thing during the entire night, but now he had to face the consequences. Muffled cries mixed with distressed groans filled the car, “My father is going to kill me!”

His forehead kept hitting the wheel repeatedly as if that would knock some common sense into him or perhaps give him a concussion and fake that he had been kidnapped or something. Surrounded by trees in a dead-end road, it wasn’t even paved. Only the footprints of multiple cars to follow back to civilization. The distressed teen didn’t even know where he was; his older friend had guided him there and left with his girlfriend at some point of the party.

Slowly raising his head up again to admire the endless kilometres of dim nothing, contemplating his options, seizing his courage. “Come on, Adie. Be a man, be a man!”

The trees’ branches creaked in the middle of the night, the car slightly swayed under the strong summer wind. “I want my mommy,” he muttered.

Hand on the wheel and turning on the car, one step at a time, he took a deep breath and then decided to go out on the road again. Forgotten somewhere, his father’s car’s papers and driver's license. In them it read “Levi Ackerman.”

Each branch from the forest that scraped the car was a personal pain, praying to any god's existence that it didn’t scratch it. Of course, his father had filled up the tank, obviously he had. Levi was like that, always cautious. Adrien did a personal wish his father had a map stored in the glove compartment, but obviously, he didn’t. After all, Levi knew the streets of the city like the back of his hand. He drove a lot, especially since his legs weren’t what they used to be anymore. Perhaps he didn’t need any support for walking any longer, but walking long distances wasn’t in Levi’s plans anymore.

“Perhaps I can… drive to the hospital, leave her, and like run away,” he contemplated, before groaning loudly, “No, I can’t do that. God, I’m dead.”

‘I could have walked away, but no, Mr. Adrien Ackerman has to be a hero. Mr. Ackerman has to do the right thing.’

Adrien had driven twice in his life; this one was the second. The first was a few years ago when his father sat him down on his lap and let him do it for a little bit. He was happy he hadn’t encountered much traffic and only had to drive ahead because he wasn’t completely sure yet what the third pedal was for.

“I got it, do not worry,” he said, trying to sound reassuring to the unmoving girl on his right. Adrien’s grey eyes checked on her from time to time, but she seemed deeply asleep, or so he hoped. “I’ll get to the hospital in no time, and you’ll be alright,” he promised.

His smile created a couple of dimples on each side of his face, but it quickly faded as fear kicked in. “And if you’re not alright, do not worry. I’ll throw myself off a bridge, and we can be not alright together,” he kept joking as if, by some miracle, the girl would reply.

He didn’t even know her name, and somehow, that made him feel even guiltier. As civilization began to appear and the sky began to lighten up, he lost hope of not dying at the hands of his own progenitor, but he was also hopeful that at least he was getting somewhere without crashing. The sun hadn’t shown up yet, but the deep blue of the sky had a particular glow to it that made it imminent.

The streets were deserted, and rightfully so; it was the middle of the night on a Monday. Adrien tried to park the car as best as he could, finally reaching the only hospital he somehow remembered the route to. Rushing to the other door, he carefully picked her up.

When he crossed the doors of the main hospital, which was almost empty at those hours, the doctors on duty quickly took her in, some searching for identifications inside her clothes. The police officer at the front gates forbade him from leaving the place.

“Alright, please hand me your ID,” the front gate secretary asked after informing him that the girl was out of danger, but she would have to stay for monitoring. Adrien’s suspicious silence made the woman raise her eyes from the form she was filling out to look at him. “You know that carrying IDs is obligatory, right?”

“Yes, madam…” He felt his palm sweating as he feared being taken to the police station.

“How old are you?”

Her voice sounded calm but tired as she quickly understood the issue, “… eighteen.”

With a loud sigh, she took off her cat-eye red glasses and then slowly blinked back at him. “Look kid, I’ve been on night watch for three days straight. I’ve no energy to deal with this.”

Adrien’s eyes remained glued to the floor, feeling small despite his stature. “… fifteen,” he admitted reluctantly.

Her unpleasant groans echoed in the empty walls that reeked of disinfectant. He slowly turned to the gates, and the security guys began to chuckle as they drank coffee. Feeling the need to clarify, he said, “I swear it wasn’t me who hurt her.”

“Kid, people who drug girls don’t carry them to hospitals,” she replied disinterestedly, pouring the information into the typewriter, the typing echoing in the place. Finally, she picked up a post-it with a pencil and raised it to the top of the reception table. “Your parents' contact number, please.”

Her eyes quickly moved to him and then back to her writing as he hesitated to fill out the paper. “You know I’ve done nothing; can’t I just go?” Adrien insisted, trying to escape the situation.

“Kid, you’re breaking national curfew and walking around without identification. A responsible adult must come and sign for you to leave; otherwise, you’ll live here until you turn 18.”

“Could you at least wait until 9 am to call my mother’s work number?” He smiled awkwardly, trying to find a way to avoid his father’s rage. The secretary looked up at the clock; it wasn’t even 5 am and then back to him, deadly. Unpleasant complaining groans echoed as he reluctantly wrote his house’s telephone number. “Sorry.”

Sat down at one of those uncomfortable waiting room’s seats with a latte and chocolate donut he brought at the cafeteria, he waited as someone waits to be hanged. The doctors and nurses moved here and there attending to the few people that came in with emergencies. Until the secretary walked by and said, “Your father picked up the phone; he said that getting the car and coming this way.”

Adrien’s grey eyes quickly turned in fear to check out of the window, grimacing uneasily as he admired the family's car parked outside. “Great…”

The longer it took, the more Adrien knew he was in trouble. Pressing his eyes closed and clenching his jaw, as if he could already feel the kick in his ass. Despite the nerves, his head bobbed forward as he fell asleep, and the tug of falling forward snapped him back awake. At some point, he rested his head on the joined seat and fell asleep, mouth open.

The front gates snapping open woke him up, and he wished to make himself smaller so he could hide behind the back of the seats. But as he turned backwards, Levi was at the front desk talking to the secretary and security guards. His dark hair was a mess, and it seemed like he had just put on some shoes and a shirt because he still had the pyjama pants on. Outside, the cap that his father had probably been forced to take there.

As the secretary picked up the forms for him to fill, his father quickly raised his grey eyes to shoot him across the room the deadliest glance he had yet to witness. ‘Goodbye everybody, it was nice knowing you.’

Avoiding facing death, Adrien remained seated, giving his back, but he quickly heard the footsteps of his father, characterized by the slight hobble he had after the war. With his presence looming, he looked down at Adrien, who slowly raised his attention up.

Smiling innocently, “Hi, dad.”

Levi didn’t smile back; quite the opposite, he frowned even more and extended his right hand that was missing two fingers. “My fucking keys.”

The teen searched for them inside his jeans and quietly handed them over with puppy eyes. Levi snapped them, but his hand didn’t withdraw. “And my damn money.” Repeating the same action but with the bills, Levi grabbed them and began to count. “And the rest?”

Adrien mumbled some incoherent groans as he refused to make eye contact. “Tch,” Levi clicked his tongue and gripped his shirt neck, raising him from his seat, pushing him to the exit. “Get in the fucking car.”

The walk of shame only accentuated as his father's angry tone didn’t match the polite one he used to greet the secretary and guards on his way out. He cowered in the passenger seat, trying to make himself a tiny ball as Levi slammed the door shut. Loud sighs that didn’t withdraw the deep frown before he turned on the car again.

“You’re so fucking wrong if you think I’ll stand this type of behaviour; I'm telling you,” Levi spat the words as he drove back home. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

“Adrien!” Levi insisted as the kid didn’t even reply, looking to his right as he waited at a red light. “You don’t want to talk? Fine, fucking ungrateful brat. You know how fucking worried your mother was when we received a call from the shitty hospital? Eh?”

“The drive-in the other day, the supposed hang out at your friend’s house that you were never fucking there, and now this. Are you fucking proud?” the ex-captain of the scouts kept going as his eyes were glued to the road despite only one of them working anymore. “You’re grounded, you’re so fucking grounded that I’ll fucking die, and you’ll have to get a damn Ouija board to contact me to see if you can go out to buy groceries.”

The teen just silently rolled his eyes as the long list of unhappiness of his father about his behaviour couldn’t care less. “Don’t you dare to roll your eyes on me, brat. You heard me? Drop that fucking attitude.” Somehow his father always seemed to have eyes everywhere. “Happy now? You ruined your entire summer break; beg all you want later on. You’re not leaving the house.”

“As if you’d let me go out anyway,” Adrien murmured mockingly under his breath.

“What?” Levi demanded. “If you’re going to have the guts to steal MY car, MY money, and break MY orders, then grow the guts to speak the fuck up.”

“That you never let me go anywhere!” Adrien shouted back angrily.

“For what? To go to this damn party in the middle of nowhere to hang out with fucking rapists and get

shit-faced?” Levi argued back. “You think I was born yesterday? I know exactly which places I don’t want you to get involved with. You think you’ve everything figured out, but that’s not it, Adrien! You’re 14! Fourteen!”

“I’m fifteen!”

“You turned fifteen two weeks ago, for fuck’s sake!” Levi shouted, slightly turning to his right before focusing back on the road. “I’m telling you, better fix your attitude or this is not going to end well. You may be getting big and feel cocky, but you won’t play smart-ass with me. You can grow up to be as tall as the fucking Colossal Titan, and yet you would do whatever the fuck I tell you!”

“I did the right thing! I stood up for her; I’m not stupid enough to do whatever my classmates do. Why can’t you see that?!” Adrien complained as they reached the front of the house, and Levi stopped the car.

“’Cause you were stupid enough to steal my car even when you don’t know how to fucking drive!” Levi complained as he got out of the car, walking to the front door. He kept going with the lecture but lower as he didn’t want to wake up the neighbours. “You don’t like it? Choose another father in your next life; in this one, it’s me, and I’m not going to let my teenage kid not give a fuck about the decisions I take. I’ve gone through too much shit for a fucking brat to tell me what I believe is the best for them.”

They both walked in, and Levi locked the door behind them. The room was still dim for the early hours, and their dog greeted them enthusiastically. The keys dropping at the front plate echoed loudly, and the tuxedo cat of the family finally appeared to rub himself against the legs of the teen, who quietly picked him up. Y/N quickly rushed to check on her kid.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they hurt you somewhere?” She seemed clearly agitated, and Adrien remained with his eyes glued to the floor.

“No, mom,” he murmured, downcast. “I’m fine.”

“Oi, to your damn room,” Levi quickly ordered. “and clean it up; I won’t say it again.”

The kid left, cursing under his breath as he went upstairs and slammed the front door shut.

“What happened?” she asked Levi, who was preparing himself a tea to calm down, enveloping herself in a negligee.

“What happened? That kid is driving me nuts, that’s what's happening,”

Y/N sighed loudly, positioning herself behind her husband and running her hands through his arms, seeking to provide some comfort. She then switched to hugging him from behind. “He’s going through a phase… his new classmates are mostly kids who survived the rumbling, and some of them aren’t the best influence. He just wants to fit in, you know how important that is at his age.”

“Tch,” Levi kept facing the countertop, murmuring as the anger didn’t quickly wash away. But eventually, he closed his eyes and sighed loudly as the adrenaline slowed down. “The audacity of that kid, where the hell does he get it?”

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle against his back, “MH, I wonder,” she said sarcastically. “If they were still around, perhaps we could have asked some senior MPs… perhaps they could enlighten us on how you were as a teen,”

“I wasn’t like that,” Levi softly replied, almost ashamed of the point out.

“No haha you were worse,” Y/N was entertained as she kissed his shoulder blades tenderly. “Or do I have to remind you how you made me sneak out to meet you after curfew?”

“That’s different…”

Forcing him to turn around to place a kiss on his scar as she caressed his face softly, “He’s your kid,” she murmured against his lips. “He hates to be told what to do and has the strength to know he can get out of almost any situation. Asking him to be submissive is like asking him not to be an Ackerman; he got it in his genes,”

Levi just groaned, accepting the caress, her loving his face as if he was brand new and the residues of the war had never happened.

Days passed by, and while the mood in the house was slowly returning to calmness, the punishment still stood, and Adrien was reading in his bedroom, suffering the heat of summer without being able to go out with his friends. He couldn’t even play his record player because if in normal cases his father tolerated him to play his favourite bands loudly, now he was almost cursed to quietness. Levi didn’t seem to be very fond of Rock; perhaps Paradise music was too behind, and the period of adaptation was lacking. It sounded like loud noise to him.

A quiet knock at the front door was heard, mostly because the dog that was resting beside him in his bed raised hastily and rushed downstairs. The noise was almost imperceptible as his father was vacuuming the living room’s carpet while his mother prepared dinner. Adrien was about to raise himself from his bed and open the door himself, but the overwhelmingly loud noise of the vacuum stopped, so he guessed his father was on it.

Levi opened the front door without checking; he had faced so many adversities in life that he hardly doubted that anyone who rang his bell at 6 pm on a Thursday in their quiet family neighbourhood was a threat. “Yes?” he crossed his arms as he admired the young girl at the front gates. She was wearing the usual outfit of the time, white and brown loafers, crumpled low white socks, an inflated pastel yellow skirt that was tightly around her waist with a white blouse. The matching light cardigan was hanging from her shoulders, but she didn’t seem to put it on, another thing that Levi thought was some stupid new fashion trend from teens. That and his son’s imperious necessity to fold the sleeves of his t-shirts. High ponytail and blushed cheeks.

“Good evening, Mr. Ackerman,” The girl greeted him with kindness and politeness.

“Hello,” Levi replied, almost uninterested, his usual unfriendly nature not withdrawn even after years of not being on service.

“I was wondering if Adrien is at home,” she asked, and Levi wished he could roll his eyes at how almost immediately the girl blushed at the mention of his son’s name. “I’m the girl from the other night; I wanted to thank him…” seeing Levi’s slight frown at the memory of that early morning, she nervously added, “And you, of course, for what he did for me,” The young girl handed a package that was easily deduced to be a cake.

“He’s grounded,” Levi quickly replied. “And you don’t need to thank him; he did the only right thing to do. I don’t raise abusers,”

“Oh…” the disappointment in her voice was palpable, “Well, but please at least take the cake? For all the inconvenience,”

“No, kid, it’s alright-”

“Hi, sweetie! Adrien will be down in a minute!” Y/N popped behind Levi, slightly pushing him to the side and smiling softly at the girl. “Do you want to wait inside?”

Levi looked at his wife, confused and slightly offended by how quickly she overstepped him in the conversation.

“Ah, no, it’s alright; I don’t want to be a bother-”

Adrien appeared behind his parents, wondering what the whole issue was, and his mother quickly pushed him forward. “There he is!” She added while tugging Levi back inside. “Let’s give him some space,” she whispered to her husband, who was refusing to move.

“Oi,” Levi complained as he was forced back inside.

Both parents faking to be doing something in the living room to not be seen; Levi wasn’t spying, but his wife was. “She’s so cute,” she whispered, “and she’s crushing so much on him.”

Levi clicked his tongue, “He’s tall. All girls of that age crush on tall boys,” he argued back.

Y/N chuckled and turned to look at him, “talking from experience?”

“Ha ha,” Levi faked a sarcastic laugh. “He’s supposed to be grounded,”

“Shh, I can’t hear!” She hushed him back and then moved slightly as Levi joined her next to the window.

“Great,” Levi said annoyed, “she’s fucking bonnie,”

Confusion was written all over his wife's face as she grimaced dazed and raised an eyebrow, silently asking how those words could be said with such disappointment.

“Now I won’t only have to buy him all those stupid vinyl records, textbooks, and uniforms for the school team, but I’ll also have to start buying condoms; there goes my fucking salary,”

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @s0meb0dy-0nce-t0ld-me @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter eighteen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): angst, very little fluff (its there but barely!), canonical death, canonical violence, nightmare trope!, mentions of anxiety and allusion to a panic attack

series masterlist; previous part; next part

"Sirius had a brother-" you whisper, your voice betraying your sadness at the thought of the eccentric man.

"Yes. His name was Regulus Black."

"Regulus Black?" Enzo mumbles to himself, as if he was testing the name on his tongue.

"He was Slytherin's star seeker in the seventies." Blaise said in barely restrained awe. "People said that he was an enigma. Always quiet and observing."

"That is a bona fide assessment of my cousin." Andromeda's low voice sounded from the doorway, the head of her husband visible in the room behind where she stood. "He was always calculating something in that brilliant brain of his."

The smile on her face is as reminiscent as it is stricken with grief. Remus turns to her with the same look simmering in his chocolate irises.

"I don't understand." Pansy says quietly. "My father always said that he was enthusiastic about being a Death Eater. Him and his friends. That Voldemort trusted him implicitly. And you're saying he was spy the whole time?"

"That was the whole point of his undercover work." Remus mused with a grim look. "He was so trusted by Voldemort that he didn't even suspect that Regulus might be the one threatening to unravel all of his intricate work."

"If you knew of the horcruxes during the first war, why isn't it a widely known thing now?" Mattheo's deep rasp travels through you like silky butter, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Because we didn't implicitly know what Regulus was searching for. Not until Dumbledore told us of what he and Harry discovered in light of what happened when you," He looked pointedly in your direction, "reacted the way you did to the dark magic swimming in Miss Bell's veins. Every time Regulus would try, his Mark burned. None of us knew just how detrimental his searching was."

"But he succeeded, didn't he? If he found the one you say was a fake." Enzo asked your old professor, eyes alight with curiosity.

"There's more than one." Mattheo says, surprising you all, except Andromeda, who looks as if this information too wasn't new. "Several actually. There was my father's old diary, the ring, this locket-"

He pauses, head swimming with thoughts of the many possibilities.

"Nagini was always whispering about it in the years she'd turn up at Theo's home to torment me. But she always spoke in riddles. There could be more, there probably is more but I don't know what they could be. Something significant to my father, though."

"But how do they work?" Pansy asks, looking between Mattheo and the adults.

"He murdered innocent people to split his soul." Mattheo says resentfully. And though his face is expressionless, you read his shame as if it was there, clear as day.

"So that's how he survived? He severed his soul and tethered himself to the Earth?" Theo's head was slightly tilted to the side, eyes alight with curiosity.

The thought alone sends a wave of colossal dread through you all.

"We believe so, yes. But knowing just how many there are will be crucial if we are to win this war." Andromeda said quietly, before her husband entered the room with a bright smile, despite the stale tension that permeated the air of the tiny kitchen.

"Ready to go, love?" He questions his wife, voice laden with a love that hadn't faded in the years that you'd known the couple through your parents.

"Yes, dear." She mumbles, her hard exterior crumbling from her face for only a split second before the mask has slipped back into place. Ted kisses his wife on the cheek before gently moving her out of the way of the door frame where he comes to being you into a brief hug. One that you fall into without hesitation.

"Will you be alright out here on your own?" He asks you quietly and you nod your head, which is nestled on his shoulder.

"I'll be fine, Ted. Don't worry about me." Please be safe! Your mind is screaming the notion into existence.

Ted is in far more danger than you will ever be; not only was he a muggleborn, but Andromeda had a long list of estranged family members who would not bat an eyelid if Ted Tonks suddenly disappeared. In fact, they'd probably rejoice over his death, before making a martyr out of Andromeda.

He smiles at you in understanding, as if he knows what you don't voice out loud, before he turns you around so that you're both looking out of one of the kitchen windows.

"Just down that hill, about two miles away is a quaint little village. There's a café that is also a bookshop. I think you'd like it there if it ever gets too crowded here."

"Thank you." You say with a grin and he gives you a friendly squeeze before he makes his way back to his wife, who smiles softly at the two of you.

"I'll visit in a few weeks, to see if everything is still standing." Andromeda says, the ghost of a smirk lining her face as she looks between you and your usually raucous friends. Blaise and Enzo share conspiratorial looks, mischief gleaming in their eyes.

"I'll come back in a week with your first assignment. Give you all a chance to settle in." Remus says, nodding at the three newly anointed Order spies, which sobers the mischief, before he too bids farewell.

With a loud crack, they're gone.

~∞~

The following weeks were certainly odd, to say the least. It was almost like the six of you were on a neverending holiday on some days, spending your days roaming the little muggle village, but then on other days, reality would come crashing down, reminding all of you what was at stake.

It was usually Remus who delivered their assignments; it was always Remus who came once you sent your patronus to Headquarters alerting them of the boys' safe return.

About a month in, he'd arrived with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had eyed you all with barely restrained mistrust as Remus delivered the brief: find out where Charity Burbage was being held captive and do it quickly and carefully. Luckily there was a meeting scheduled for the end of that week that the boys were expected to attend.

They had left within minutes of briefing them and with a crack, Mattheo, Theo and Enzo had left for Malfoy Manor, leaving you, Blaise and Pansy to occupy yourselves in the meantime.

Hours later, after trying to stomach a lacklustre dinner amidst your shared anxieties, the three of you are huddled together in the living room, chatting quietly about the books you were reading, when the mistakable crack of apparition sounded in the silence of night, then three loud knocks branded the front door.

Blaise took it upon himself to see who it was, and upon seeing their sullen faces, let the three boys in.

Immediately you can tell that something bad has happened.

Enzo doesn't bother greeting the three of you like he normally does as he storms off upstairs to his room; Theo heads straight for the garden door, a pack of cigarettes already in his possession and Mattheo looks positively murderous.

Blaise and Pansy seem to come to an understanding and they go in opposite directions, towards where Theo and Enzo disappeared to, leaving you and Mattheo alone. He doesn't even look like he's present in the moment and your heart aches for him.

"Théo?" You ask, voice barely louder than a whisper. But it knocks him from his stupor as he takes hold of your hand in his, soft against his angry callouses. "Lets go upstairs."

He agrees gruffly, voice low and rough, eyes shining with the onslaught on unshed tears.

Slowly the two of you make your way to the bedroom you share, silence engulfing the two of you, leaving only the sound of your breathing to fill the space. When you enter the room, Mattheo practically collapses onto the bed, body spent from the sheer exhaustion of the evening.

"What happened?" You ask softly, sitting against the headboard and guiding his head into your lap. Mattheo keens into you as you run gentle hands through his unruly hair.

The tears flow shortly after you start and your heart breaks for him.

"She's dead." He says, his voice raspy, catching in his throat. "Professor Burbage is dead."

Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes fill with tears. Professor Burbage was sunshine personified. She always had a smile on her face despite what the Purebloods said about her affliction to muggle culture. She was beloved by all the muggleborns and the staff; was one of Dumbledore's favourites. And she was a valued member of The Orderof the Pheonix, as an emissary to the muggle authorities. She was a valuable member. Now she was gone.

"H-how did she die?" You whisper hesitantly, for you don't know if the closure of knowing would be worth it.

"My father-" Mattheo shuddered. "He set Nagini on her. He didn't even give her the mercy of a quick death."

Whenever his eyes blink shut, he can see the terror behind the teary eyes of the Professor as she stared between the four boys and Severus Snape while Nagini slithered towards her suspended body. He sees the way her eyes fill with dread as no one comes to her aid. Can see the moment of acceptance as her cries suddenly dull to a staggering silence.

He fears that he won't ever sleep peacefully again. The only saving grace is that you'll never have to witness something like it, if he has his way.

"Gods." You say in disbelief, and you hold onto Mattheo a little tighter at the thought. "We need to tell Remus."

"Not yet." He says and he abruptly sits up from his place.

"Why not? He asked you to find out what happened to her. He needs to know." You argue, but you can already see his stubbornness take effect.

"I said not yet." He retorts with anger painting his features. Your brows furrow in offence. He hadn't spoken to you in such a manner in months.

But you can see how his entire resolve has continued to crumble from the moment he stepped over the threshold. Sp instead of arguing back like you want to, for the sake of getting the information to Remus, you agree and wordlessly huide his head to rest in your lap once again.

"Okay. But as soon as we wake in the morning, I'm going to tell him."

Mattheo mumbles his response into the fabric of your leggings, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your fingers brushing through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.

He falls into a light sleep and you're content to fall asleep sat up with him, as long as he was peaceful.

~∞~

He's back there again.

In the seat at the right hand side of his father. When the three of them had arrived at Malfoy Manor for the meeting, Mattheo could feel an unmistakable shift in the air.

The way his father's face twisted into a sinister smirk made his insides curl in dreaded anticipation.

"My loyal followers!" He says, arms outstretched as he addressed the sea of Death Eaters who were watching their master in rapt attention. "I have a special treat for you all tonight."

The feeling of dread made Mattheo's stomach drop even further. He didn't need to look to see that Theo, Enzo and Draco felt the same sense of foreboding.

Voldemort wanders around the table, stopping behind where Lucius was sat, before he snatches the wizard's wand from the table with a deadly snicker of a laugh. Draco does not look at his father's humiliated expression.

"I have brought you all a little...gift of sorts."

With a flourish of Lucius' wand, and to Mattheo's utter horror, Charity Burbage appears in front of their very eyes, arms and legs bound together with a brutal looking rope and mouth magically gagged shut.

He feels sick.

He barely hears as his father mocks her, telling the Death Eaters that she was encouraging young wizards and witches to mate with Muggles, thus polluting the Wizarding World with more Halfbloods and Muggleborns all while she cannot defend herself or ask those she recognises for help.

All Mattheo can comprend is that Nagini has found her way towards her dangling prey and Charity's magically bound gag has been removed.

"Severus.." her pleading eyes fall on her old old. "Please! Help me!"

Snape's eyes have not moved from a spot on the wall behind her flailing body. They don't move from that spot as Nagini prepares to strike.

Mattheo grips the arm rests of his seat as he stares blankly ahead, the sounds of his Professor's shrieks and painful screams as her flesh is torn apart is all his can hear.

And then her screams turn into a familiar tone; instead of his Professor, it's you who is suspended above the snake. Your horrifying screams permeate every corner of his skull until its all he can hear.

You're begging him to help you, but he cannot move. His limbs are glued to his seat as his father laughs manically at your expense.

His mind won't even grant him to ability to block it out. Your screams are all he can hear until his father finally utters the killing blow.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Your body drops to a heap on the floor. And then, Nagini feasts.

Mattheo wakes with a start, only to be met by your wary face staring down at him. Gods he feels like he can't breathe.

"I know. I know." He hears your reassurance as clear as day, but he can't breathe.

You place one of his clammy feeling hands against your chest, where your heart beats calmly despite the gravity of the situation. He feels the way you exaggerate your breathing, hoping he can follow.

He does so and eventually he calms down enough to wipe the sweat from his hands and his forehead.

"You're okay. Your safe." You're still holding his hand to your chest, thumb stroking over the small scars that litter his knuckles.

"It was you." He mumbles breathlessly, tears falling from his onyx eyes. "You were in her place and I did nothing to save you. I couldn't save you."

Your heart breaks for him.

"Oh love." You whisper, pulling his body into your's and wrapping him into a tight hug. "I'm here and I'm safe. I'm not going anywhere."

"It felt so real." He says into the skin of your neck, his hot breath fanning iver your sensitive skin.

"It wasn't real, Mattheo." You reaffirm, moving so that your hands cradled both sides of his face, your eyes meeting his. "It was only a dream. I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" He hated that he sounded so weak...so vulnerable. But he could always be himself around you, could always count on you to make him feel anything but empty and numb.

"I promise you, Mattheo Riddle." you say, your lips tilting up with a slight smile that he mirrors. You press a light kiss to his chapped lips which he reciprocates in earnest.

Your souls ignite as one and it feels as if a weight has simultaneously been placed and lifted on your shoulders all at once.

Remus would be alerted in the next few hours, but for now, Mattheo let you guide him to a lying position where he layed safely in your arms.

He did not dream of your screams for the rest of the night, but it would haunt him for the rest of his life. That he was certain of.

~∞~

this one is so so so short but i've actually taken so long to get this one written up

also from this point theres just a whole lot of angst (just a little prewarning🫡)

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @benwadsworthsgf @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18

[saerins]

°୨୧ MORAL OF THE STORY

+ sae x f!reader | wc 2k | content: both of them are just kinda selfish in their own ways, angst, mentions of alcohol

notes: haha hi guys …. i’m totally not in love with sae . totallyyyyyy … ( kidding i need help sos ) (∘⁼̴⃙̀˘︷˘⁼̴⃙́∘)

summary: you and sae have been in love with each other since high school. during your special day, he throws you a curveball.

everything’s in full swing.

dinner is ongoing, the meat station being particularly popular, as you expected. all your old friends from different schools are mingling along so well, just like you imagined they would. everyone’s excited for the big day tomorrow, and so are you.

as you watch everything unfolding from the balcony, you can’t help but smile. one step closer to tomorrow, one step closer to forever.

unlike everyone else, you abstain from drinking yourself silly. they can afford to be hungover tomorrow, but not you. won’t be good to see the bride throw up all over her wedding dress.

“you look pretty like this.”

turning around at the man who has your full attention, you smirk. “just like this, itoshi sae?”

there’s a pink flush on his cheeks and you have a hard time gathering whether it’s from your words or the liquor. sae’s only a little tipsy—not enough to consider him drunk. but he chuckles though, and it has your heart beating faster; he still has the same hold over you like he did way back then.

nothing much has changed since you first knew him. he’d always been special to you, and you, to him.

“all the time,” he corrects himself, both elbows leaning on the railing, looking at the sea view before the two of you.

giggling, you mirror his position, bare arm brushing the sleeves of his expensive suit. “i’m sure you know i feel the same,” you tease him back.

sae laughs a little harder, and it’s refreshing to see his usual stoic expression turn soft. “of course i know,” he says before turning to look you in the eyes, those teal tones forever magic when they stare at you. “i’ve known since you started having that crush on me back in high school.”

you groan, covering your face. “see, i knew you’d bring that up!” you complain, embarrassed. it’s kind of humiliating whenever he brings that up—it’s his worst blackmail material. “shush—i don’t want anyone to know. no mentioning it in any toasts or anything, okay?” your cheeks are heating up by now, and you have to pout.

the man beside you only continues laughing, both of you enjoying just existing in the moment, and even though he doesn’t say anything, you know he won’t say shit about that. because he always listens to you.

everyone else is still inside, preoccupied by the games hosted by the emcee.

“hey, y/n?” sae speaks up as your laughter drowns out.

you turn to him, narrowing your gaze and smiling, wondering what to expect from him—as you always are, because sae’s good at surprising you and you love that. “yes, mr itoshi sae?”

there’s a small pause as he swallows the lump in his throat, his eyes still gazing at you, from your hair to your nose to your chin and back at your eyes. “i’m in love with you.”

at that moment, time stands still and there’s a ringing drowning your ears, a silence swallowing you whole. it has you doubting whether it’s really him in front of you, saying the words you’d always wanted to hear from him.

“what—”

“i love you, y/n.”

and by all means, it should’ve been a happy occasion. you’ve dreamt of this moment happening over and over and over again. back then, you envisioned something different.

you and sae, twenty-three, finding out where your life paths are going, converging together and deciding to fuck what everyone thinks and go for it anyway. you and sae, twenty-four and making it past the one-year mark and defying everyone else’s expectations (including your own). twenty-five and thinking why neither of you thought to try sooner. twenty-six and knowing you’re set for the rest of your life.

that’s how it was supposed to be.

but at eighteen, sae had left without a word after your confession, a selfish choice. at nineteen, your friendship was reduced to one-sided texts while sae was off trying to piece his future. at twenty, you’d given up and let sae turn his full attention to soccer, while you’d hold no grudges and finish your studies. by twenty-two, you’d met someone who always put you first, someone who always knew what to do to make you feel better. someone who’s good for you.

“what are you doing, sae?” you ask him, nostrils flared from all the emotions threatening to spill out of you. it was easy to convince yourself that you no longer felt anything for him when he wasn’t here to tempt you, wasn’t here to taunt you for giving up. but since he’s been back for the past year, it proves to be difficult to suppress all the old feelings you’d tucked away.

sae takes his time to answer, because he doesn’t know either. he doesn’t fucking know why he’s only telling you this now, when he’s felt this way since you were both sixteen. when you’re both ten years older and living very different lives. when you’re about to marry someone else that isn’t him and it’s driving him crazy.

“i don’t know,” he answers honestly, suddenly realising the gravity of what he did and looking away ashamed. “i just… i love you. ever since we were younger, i- i’ve always felt the same.”

he did, and he still loves you. he was stupid when he was younger. he left and made stupid decisions like not even trying to talk to you because he didn’t know what the fuck he should do and now no excuse would be good enough to convince you to choose him. there’s no reason for you to. you’re about to marry someone who’s so obviously in love with you. someone who shows you off everywhere, someone who treats you the way sae wish he did since all those years ago.

what is he even doing? he doesn’t even know.

whenever he thought about how you’d react if he ever told you those words, he didn’t think you’d be like this; silent, tears flowing out your eyes, the cold creeping up your cheeks and bare arms and making you shiver.

“i wish…” you pause, looking him in the eyes. “i wish you’d said that before it was too late.”

he’d seen that coming. of course there wouldn’t be anything different to this story, not even with his confession. except, maybe, the nostalgia of getting a chance to say everything he never did, to the girl who always deserved it the most.

despite every single part of him that is screaming at him that whatever he’s thinking about is wrong, that people shouldn’t do this to the bride the night before the wedding, that little volume of alcohol inside him provides all the rush he needs. a swift sweep of the surrounding scenery is all he needs to know nobody’s watching, and before either of you really know it, sae’s lips are on yours and you’re so conflicted it’s criminal.

of course, you’re the one who pulls away—but there’s never disdain in your eyes when you look at him. a mercy he shouldn’t be able to afford but he does, only because you’re a saint compared to him.

it’s selfish; he’d always loved you, always wanted you, always never knew what to do with himself but now he’s dragged you down this rabbit hole and the aftermath isn’t particularly sweet. you’re sweet, though, the taste of cake that lingered on your tongue.

“i’m sorry,” he settles for, and the perplexed expression behind your eyes just serve to make him hate himself for this. he should.

you clear your throat, sniffling down your emotions before straightening yourself up and offering him a smile—one laced with ten years of melancholy and a lifetime of sae’s regrets.

“i’m sorry too,” you tell him, and part of you doesn’t know what you’re apologising for. is it because he realised his feelings too late and doesn’t stand a chance right now? is it because you’re consoling him for his loss? or is it because you’re thinking that if he had done this even just a few weeks earlier, maybe you would’ve changed your mind? that’s something to be sorry to your fiancé at the time for, right?

there’s a dull ache in your heart that’ll be hard to extinguish. it’s a sorry state to be in especially when tomorrow should be one of the biggest days of your life, but you’ll manage, just like you always have. the little girl inside of you is happy, even if just a little, even if this situation is a little questionable. but the boy she’s loved her whole life finally has the guts to say that he feels the same way.

all too little too late; now he’s just the lingering feelings of what should’ve been that you need to say goodbye to no matter how much your selfishness never wants to let go.

taking a step back, you purse your lips into a thin smile and reach your hand out. sae shakes it, the sad deformation of your friendship turning into plain formalities. “thank you,” you say, trying your best not to let any more of the pain show, “for everything.”

for being the first person you ever really considered a friend. for being the first person who always protected you from the storms. for being the guy who became most of your firsts. for loving you too, this whole time. there’s a lot you want to thank itoshi sae for—but where you’re about to go, the phase of life that you’re going to enter, it’ll know no peace if you allow sae in it.

this might be one of the last few times you ever speak to the love of your life.

sae chuckles weakly, the strength in his grip fading. “i should be the one telling you that.” you were an integral part of his youth after all. you’re the only one for him, and that’s all that has to be said. only person outside of family he truly cares for. only person he’d ever give his heart to. only person that can demand anything of him and he’ll follow through. only person that can possibly ruin him.

only person that he wonders what it’d feel like if he ever heard you say it back.

but he knows he’ll never get it.

“maybe… in another life,” and a small smile is all you can offer before you have to pull away, the tenderness with which sae holds you rivaling that of your fiancée’s.

in another life, he’ll definitely find you. he’ll find you and keep you and make sure he isn’t as stupid as he was back then.

but as he lets your fingers slip through his hand, as he watches you retreat to your future husband—he knows that this life is what matters now, and this life is where he’ll never be happy. and as the groom slowly looks away from you, to sae, and nods like he now knows yet does nothing about it, sae hates him even more.

he’s perfect for you. with you. both of you seem like you’re cut from the same cloth. everything sae could probably never measure up to.

so he gets ready. gets ready to go back and have an early night. gets ready to watch you vow yourself away to another man right in front of his face. gets ready to sideline himself and say goodbye to the one person he ever loved.

on your wedding day, that’s when the two of you see the last of each other; the remnants of your friendship being kept in the form of a photo in your form—groom on one side, sae on the other. even years after the fact, even when your phone’s been changed twice, thrice, how many ever times—it’s still there, stagnant in your album, never discarded.

on another side of the world, the same happens with sae. it’s there, as though it’s engraved in the album, favourited and kept hidden. petty as it is, the version of the picture in sae’s phone has your husband cropped out.

through all these years, sae keeps staring at it whenever he thinks of you, wondering what could’ve been.

[palioom]

Hellooo!! Just really wanted to say I absolutely love your fics they’re so good am always waiting for you to drop the next one 😩👌🏼

But just a suggestion!! I don’t know what it is but there’s something INCREDIBLY hot about a guy who really wants you to sit on his face 🥵 like he’s FERAL to give it to her and will go down for hours if he can and he will!! 😩👌🏼I don’t really have a specific situation in mind but I just need him to have a NEED to give the reader oral idk FKDKDKS

You can do whatever you want with this! Or don’t! Am grateful for anything 🥹

first of all I'm SO sorry with how long this took to upload! i LOVED the idea the second i saw it and I hope I could do your idea justice after such a long wait, I just didn't have the time for longer stuff with kinktober happening but thank you so much for giving me this idea!!

remedy against pain

summary: after being "gravely" injured, Oberyn knows exactly what would help him heal, and you are more than eager to give it to him.

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but many, many nicknames); fluff & smut; oral (m & f receiving); multiple orgasms; overstimulation; squirting; face sitting; 69; one small slap on the ass

part of "the viper and the sun"

• masterlist •

When she was notified of Oberyn’s injury that sunny afternoon, she was worried at first. All sorts of grisly thoughts came into her head - thoughts of broken bones and bloody wounds. Another deep scar to worship later, once it had healed.

All she had been told was that he had been brought back to their shared bedchambers with an injured back and knee, sustained as he was practicing with their eldest daughter, Obara.

It was difficult to believed that a girl of eighteen years of age could injure her own father in such a grave manner that he had to stop and leave the training pits altogether.

But as the nurse who accompanied her talked more about his supposed suffering, she had to try and keep her oncoming laugh hidden. Coughing to stifle her laughter, the best rendition of worry etched onto her features when she heard of what truly ailed him.

A small, moderately deep cut on the knee and a large bruise on his back from when he fell after Obara had swiped him off his feet.

That old man.

Ever a penchant for the dramatics, the immediate notice of his quite severe injury an exaggeration like only he could procure. In grave danger to meet death, at least that was what he wished for her to believe.

Oberyn loved to exaggerate his ailments whenever she was around, keen to have his wonderful wife dote on and care for him like only she could. With her gentle hands and words, her tongue spinning the sweetest words to help him heal while he lamented about how much he had hurt himself.

She knew every time that things weren’t as bad as he made them out to be, at least not when she saw him. Before that, she would worry her head off, the most grim images in her head until she found out the truth. But she played along nonetheless, and sometimes she would even find it in herself to tease him.

“The Prince is in a lot of pain, my Princess.” The nurse informed her as they arrived at the huge double doors leading to their private chambers, seeming extremely worried. Oh, what a mean man Oberyn was sometimes, making everyone concerned for him all because he enjoyed the attention it gave him from his wife. “You ought to tread carefully.”

She chucked quietly, giving the woman in front of her a soothing smile.

“Thank you, I will make sure to treat my dear husband with utmost care.”

The nurse bowed her head before scurrying off again, leaving her to go inside their chambers.

Carefully she opened the huge doors, flanked by guards on the outside, stepping into the silence of the room. They had drawn some of the curtains so not too much light was flooding inside, dipping everything into hues of red and orange.

She could see him lying on the bed, a wet rag covering his eyes, propped up on some pillows behind him into a position halfway between sitting and lying down. Not looking too miserable, if she had to give an estimated guess from where she stood.

“Oh, my Viper.” She cooed as she came closer, watching how his entire demeanour shifted beneath her words. Suddenly he did look quite miserable, creases forming on his forehead and the corners of his mouth turning downward just slightly. Like their girls pretending to be sick so they would coddle them. She wasn’t quite sure if they learned from Oberyn or Oberyn from them. “My sweet, sweet Viper. Are you well?”

Sitting down on the side of the bed, right next to him, she took his warm, broad hand into hers, feeling the rough calluses on it. With the other, she reached up to remove the wet rag from his eyes.

“My lovely wife.” Oberyn groaned, looking back at her, blinking a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness that flooded his eyes. “My pain seems to ease in your presence, my Sun.”

She chuckled quietly, her thumb brushing over his knuckles while her other hand brushed back his dark, slightly damp hair, then trailed down his face to cup his cheek. Always with a slightly concerned look on her face, but he could see the small twinkle in her eyes.

Oberyn knew it would be hard to fool his clever wife, but he could still try.

“I am glad it does, my love.” She said, smiling at him as he put on the sickest expression he could. Of course he was in some pain, but Gods, how he exaggerated. “Does it hurt much, my fierce Viper?”

The phantom of a smile graced his features for just a moment, vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared.

Nevertheless, she caught it.

“Quite so, my Sun.” He answered, his piercing eyes holding her gaze, and for just the briefest moment, she believed the pain he was in. He made her believe, knowing her heart was too soft for him to truly doubt him. “The pain is nearly unbearable, if it wasn’t for you by my side, I would certainly perish.”

She leaned closer to him, placing a soft kiss onto his lips, light as a feather as he was obviously quite weak. Warm and a little chapped against hers, the bristles of his beard tickling her skin.

His lips chased hers as she drew back, having to stop himself from chasing after them further.

He was in pain, his back certainly did hurt, but not to the degree Oberyn made it out to be. 

“What would make you feel better, my sweet husband?” She cooed, sitting back up again. Still stroking his cheek and her pout bordering on mock concern.

His dark eyes truly began to sparkle at her question, his fingers flexing against hers. 

Oh, there were many different ideas he had about what would truly help him.

But there was one idea in particular that would ensure a speedy recovery.

“The taste of your sweet cunt, my love.” Oberyn said after a beat of silence, a small smirk on his lips. “Nothing would heal me more efficiently than that. Nothing.”

She remained quiet for a moment, her pout giving way to a smile.

“Oh, my love. You are too injured for that.” She tried to imagine him wanting to keep up the facade of being terribly hurt, but also wanting to roll onto his stomach and delve his tongue deep inside of her. As much as she liked the idea, she was more interested in seeing how Oberyn would like to go about this. “I wouldn’t want you to risk your back by helping you onto your stomach.”

His fingers tightened more around hers, a fiery desire settling inside of his eyes. Desire and lust and a need, pushing away all the traces of him being too hurt.

“And you certainly cannot kneel with your gravely injured knee.”

Clever thing.

He needed her cunt against his mouth, had been craving the embrace of her thighs around his head ever since he had woken in the morning. While she had laid beside him in bed, sunken in a peaceful slumber, her magnificent features traced by the rising sun.

But he had decided to wait until tonight, for she had slept so peacefully that he hadn’t wanted to disturb her. And the wait would have made things so much sweeter in his mind.

Imagining her taste so much that he swore he did eventually taste it.

Maybe that had been why Obara had knocked him over so effectively in the end.

“Straddle my face, my love.” He said, already moving to pull a few pillows from beneath his head and throwing them to the side, making it easier for her to position herself. “Please, my Sun. Don’t deny your husband the pleasure of suffocating between your wonderful thighs while drinking from you. Not while he is gravely injured.”

Gravely injured.

Her smile widened at his words, pulling his hand against her lips once more and kissing each of his knuckles. Slowly, deliberately. Never looking away from his eyes.

Oh, how dramatic he was. How could she deny him?

“Is that truly what would make you better, my Viper?” She asked, feeling the familiar heat pool in her stomach, the tingling on her skin and in her spine, wanting him but not wanting to cause him further injury. They both could get quite passionate, after all. “Are you certain?”

Oberyn chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. If his back wasn’t hurting as much as it was, he simply would have lifted her on top of him, unable to wait any longer to have her.

“There is no better medicine than the cunt of a woman.” He replied, removing yet another pillow and reclining. Noticing how she almost gave into rolling her eyes at him. “Nothing better than the cunt of my sweet wife who is keeping me waiting, hurting.”

She removed her shoes before climbing onto the bed with a giggle, lifting her skirts as she straddled his chest and moved closer to where he needed her. Watching how his eyes sparkled with mischief, darting between her face and the apex of her thighs.

Oberyn found her movingly too slowly, his rough hands grabbing at her thighs and ass, pushing her along faster as a pained groan left him. Looking up at her, he found her looking back down at him with a raised brow, but he simply grinned, her knees finally on either side of his head, but she was still sitting on his chest.

“Oberyn.” She warned, not wanting him to be in more pain because of how eager he was. Her husband would break his neck if it meant he could fuck her somehow. 

He simply chose to ignore her, coaxing her with his hands on her ass, his thick fingers digging into the silk of her dress.

“Come here, my Sun.” His voice was dark and smooth, desperate almost. So close to what he wanted, if only she moved. “Let me have you, I need your sweet cunt on my tongue, your sweet juices.”

She giggled, letting him guide her over his face, lifting her skirts again as she hovered over him. He looked ravenous and she could feel his hot breath against her folds, his nails forming faint crescent marks on her skin.

Oberyn didn’t even wait, simply pulling her down onto him, groaning at the surprised noise that left her; half moan half gasp. Expertly licking a stripe through her folds, his tongue found her clit and toyed with it. Flicking against it before he sucked it into his mouth with another groan, her hips bucking into him as she grabbed the headboard for purchase.

“Oh, Oberyn.” She moaned, grinding into him, one of her hands tangling into his hair and tugging on it. The vibrations of his noises travelled up her spine, shivers breaking out over her skin. Eyes closed and her head thrown back. “Gods, yes!”

While he started out slow at first, he quickly picked up speed, eating her like a man starved as his tongue sweeped lower, fucking into her quivering hole, his nose bumping against her clit over and over. 

Like he had been denied this for centuries.

“You taste fucking delectable.” He groaned against her, one of his hands leaving her hips and moving up to grope at her breast. Ignoring how his back hurt, just needing her and her sweet noises as she pressed herself down harder onto his face. Just how he wanted it. “Exactly what I needed, my Sun.”

His fingers pinched her hardened nipple, making her whine and stutter in her movements for a second, her own tugging on his dark hair harder. 

This truly was his heaven, his wife’s weight on top of him, her body freely grinding against his tongue while he took whatever he could get, lapping at her as if his life depended on it. As if her juices were the only remedy against his pain, a concoction no one else could prepare but her.

Suffocating between her warm thighs, her wonderful sounds muffled by them but still loud enough for him to hear.

He would have to make a habit out of this whenever he was sick.

But he needed her release above all, feeling how she pulsed around his tongue, how her movements became more erratic, leading him to double his efforts. He came back to focus on her clit, slowly becoming aware of how hard he was beneath the covers, just from devouring her like this.

“Please, my Viper.” She moaned, the words hitching on her breath as she looked back down at him, so close to reaching her peak. He looked gorgeous in the red and orange lights. “Oh, how grateful I am it wasn’t your talented tongue which was injured.”

He smirked, lightly grazing his teeth over her clit before sucking it between his lips once more, swiftly feeling her reach her peak right after.

Trembling on top of him as she fell into herself slightly, she still moved her hips against his face as his tongue eagerly lapped up her release. His name tumbled from her lips like a prayer, over and over as his fingers dug into her ass, keeping her close to him even as the pleasure started to border on pain.

And she knew, as he didn’t stop and simply kept going, that he hadn’t had enough of his remedy yet. Still needed more to sate himself, to heal. Circling her clit, fucking into her sensitive hole, all while he began to writhe underneath her.

Oberyn loved the shift in her sounds, more on the side of painful pleasure which he knew she loved, her senses heightened and burning a path of desire inside of her as he kept going. Taking what he needed from her, trying to keep his hips still as a sharp pain shot up his back each time they rutted up into nothing, against the thin covers which provided little relief.

She took a glance over her shoulder, her hips stopping just for a moment as she saw his cock straining against the covers. Thick and hard, all from him burying his face inside her cunt, aching to be touched.

Wondering if he would end up begging for her touch, knowing he derived just as much pleasure from eating her cunt like he would with his cock inside of it. That’s what made him so wonderful, being able to give and receive pleasure just from that alone.

Choosing to ignore it and see if he actually would end up begging her, she bit her lip and turned back around, his tongue swiftly working her up again, pain and pleasure bleeding together into one. A steady buzz that had her nerves aflame and her mind swimming, torn between shying away from and pressing herself down harder onto his eager and warm tongue.

He hurled her into her next orgasm, her juices trickling down his chin and neck while he hummed into her. His own sounds bordered on pain, making her concerned amidst the haze surrounding her like a thick fog, but she knew fully well that he knew his limits.

Hopefully.

Oberyn needed her desperately, the pain in his back almost forgotten in the nagging presence of his aching cock, the friction against the thin sheets doing nothing for him. Wanting to lap at her sweet, swollen cunt but also needing her on him somehow, engulfing him.

Her hands, her mouth, her tits - he would take anything as long as it meant he could keep his face buried between her warm thighs.

Reluctantly he pushed her away from his mouth just briefly, latching onto the soft, scarred inside of her thigh. Her tiger’s stripes as he called them affectionately, from carrying his children and the weight gain that came along with that.

“My Sun.” He groaned, tanned fingers digging into her skin and his eyes closing briefly as he dug his teeth into her thigh, humming. Feeling like he was getting drunk just from her, or going crazy. Maybe even both. “Gods, I need you.”

A giggle left her through the haze in her mind, catching her breath in the brief moment of respite. She loved when he got so drunk on her that he couldn’t let his lips rest even for just a second.

“You have me, Oberyn.” She whispered, flames still licking at her insides, her blood boiling hot. Acting as though she didn’t know about the painful erection hiding beneath the covers. “I would think you have me, your tongue was deep in my cunt just moments ago.”

Oberyn groaned again, more kisses and licks and bites bestowing the inside of her thighs in a frenzy. His wife could be such a mean woman sometimes, teasing him, making him wait.

Maybe this was his punishment for acting sicker than he was.

“My cock demands your attention, my Sun.” He rasped, his eyes piercing and full of lust. His hips rutted upwards as if to emphasize his point, a deep grunt following the movement. One of pain, and it made her wonder whether she should be doing this with him in the first place. “My sweet, please. I need to find relief in you.”

Hearing him plead her to pleasure him only fanned the flames inside of her, a whine escaping her lips as her own hips bucked up. She didn’t want to keep him waiting, but just how desperate could Oberyn become?

“But you need my cunt, my Prince.” She said, brushing his hair back without a care in the world. Like she wasn’t burning up from the inside and like he wasn’t aching for her. “How will you heal if you engulf your cock inside of it? What other remedy do we have that is better than my cunt?”

Oberyn licked his lips, regretting that he had taught her to be so naughty.

“My Sun, don’t tease your bruised and sick husband like this.” He admonished, attempting to move her, but the sharp pain in his back swiftly reminded him that he shouldn’t. And he really did not want to miss her wet heat just yet, needing more of her. “I will take anything you can give me, as long as you do. Please, my darling.”

She giggled and Oberyn immediately knew that she was playing with him. Making a twisted little game out of his injury.

He would have to punish her once he was healed enough.

“Does your cock need me so desperately, my Viper?” She asked, laughing breathlessly. “I don’t wish to break my sweet husband in half, you are so gravely injured already.”

The sound that rumbled in his chest was akin to a growl, his patience for her games wearing thin as his dick throbbed with need in between his legs. Aching and desperate for her touch.

“My sweet, please.” He whined, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked up at her. Begging her with his eyes, so full of lust and hurt and desperation that she melted underneath them. “Turn around and let me feel the divinity of your mouth and tongue, my Sun. Help me heal, my Princess.”

She smirked, swiftly moving off of his face before turning around and straddling it again, feeling his strong hands grip her thighs as she leaned down. 

Biting her lip as she slowly peeled back the thin, orange fabric of the covers, she let her fingers wander over his hot, tanned skin dipped in orange hues. Feeling his muscles twitch beneath it, teasingly slow as he groaned into her middle, tongue already back on her.

“Don’t tease your husband, my dear.” He whined, digging his fingers into her skin harder in an attempt to make her move faster. “The punishment for this crime is severe.”

It did nothing to stop her teasing, only moaning when his teeth nipped at her folds, her fingers finally uncovering him. Erect and red and angry, the head weeping for her and throbbing as she ran a finger along the length of it with a featherlight touch.

Tracing the thick veins, his hips squirming and his moans muffled by her, she couldn’t help the small laugh that left her. Only keeping him waiting a little longer, she finally granted him his wish, kissing the head of his cock and tasting the saltiness of the pre-cum.

“Oh, Gods.” She heard him groan behind her before his tongue dove into her, eliciting a high pitched moan from her when the pleasurable pain returned. “You gorgeous thing, my Sun.”

Just as eager as he was at the beginning, lapping at her like a man starved, home from long travels through the desert. His hands keeping her squirming hips in place.

She slowly let spit dribble down his cock, wrapping her fingers around it before she pressed her lips against the head over and over, her tongue teasing the sensitive skin with tiny licks before finally flattening against it.

When she finally wrapped her lips around him, he bucked up into her mouth, a whine sounding from between her thighs. Immediate relief spread through him but he needed more, both on his tongue as well as his cock, her head bobbing up and down. Her thighs began to tremble, the slick sounds of her cunt as well as her mouth on him pushing her closer to the edge as she took him deeper.

Her hand wandered to his balls, heavy and warm as she fondled them, just how Oberyn liked it. Taking him deeper still, hitting the back of her throat and feeling another groan against her middle, travelling up her spine.

So damn close, forgetting to move for a moment as she concentrated on the fiery sensation that threatened to set her body ablaze again, closing her eyes and whimpering around him.  The tightness of her throat only spurred him on, her weight on top of him as he finally hurled her over the edge, her sounds coming out as delicious vibrations around his cock.

Yet not stopping, giving her ass a soft smack to spur her back into moving, kneading the soft flesh.

She moved in earnest now, letting him slip down her throat and stilling for a few moments before simply teasing the dark head, kissing and licking at it with vulgar wet sounds.

How she wished to look at him right now, see his dark, piercing eyes glazed over with lust and need and watch him watch her devour his thick cock. Her cunt pulsed at the thought, his talented tongue keeping her nerves aflame, the pain it elicited only helping in hurling her closer to yet another orgasm.

“One more, my sweet.” He groaned, so close himself as her mouth worked over his sensitive cock. “One more for me, let me heal myself through you.”

A sharp whine left her, hips bucking against his face.

“One more for you.” She breathed out, her fingers wrapping around the shaft again and suckling at the head. Delirious and repeating what he had said. “One more, Oberyn- Please-”

She was unsure if she needed him more than he needed her right now, still in awe of how long he could stave off on his peak despite how sensitive and worked up he was.

When the telltale twitching of his cock set in, her tongue continuously flicking over the slit, she felt him focus on her clit, closing his lips around it and sucking hard. Just needing to swallow down more of her.

“Oberyn-” She moaned, dragging out his name as she spilled all over his face, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, trembling on top of him.

It triggered his own peak, groaning into her while he finally felt that sweet release wash over him, dulled by the sharp pain shooting up his spine. Still, nothing could ruin this, no pain would ruin the feeling of his wife’s cum all over his face while his own cock twitched and pulsed furiously.

Some of the white ropes laid across her cheek before she wrapped her lips around him once more with a groan and swallowed the rest eagerly. The salty taste spreading over her tongue, fully Oberyn.

Her mind swimming at the sensation and her body boneless.

They remained like this for several moments, his tongue tenderly licking at her once the waves had stopped, noticing the subtle twitch from just how often he had brought her to a peak. Her cheek rested on his muscular, thick thigh, still tracing the veins on his softening cock before clumsily rolling off of him and onto her back.

A breathless laugh left her, taking a moment to close her eyes and take in the warm feeling that simmered in her body, her hand finding his, their fingers intertwining.

A soothing gesture, grounding her in reality as she felt like floating in water.

Oberyn sat up slightly, wincing quietly as he took in her face, some of his cum still on her cheek, red and orange dancing across her skin from the curtains and he couldn’t help but smile. More than satisfied with what just happened.

Never would he tire from seeing his wife covered with his cum, the only sight better than this being when it trickled out of her swollen cunt.

“Thank you, my Sun.” He said, his thumb brushing over her fingers soothingly. Almost forgetting about his injuries as he laid here with her. “The copious amounts of medicine you provided me with are already showing their effect.”

She laughed at that, and the sound only helped to mend his bruised body, watching her open her eyes and sit up. Stopping to take in his wet face, the now tired but satisfied eyes along with the smallest curl of his lips.

The sight was something she would never tire of, her core still throbbing. So handsome, with the lines on his face which began to form, the first few silver streaks in his hair and beard.

“I am glad I was of help, my Viper.” She giggled, raising her unoccupied hand to swipe his cum off of her face before sucking it off her finger. “I generously received a little bit of my own medicine. Though, my aches only began after ingesting it.”

Oberyn laughed, loud and hearty as he pointed for her to lay down next to him. Needing to feel her body, though he wished he could bury his face in between her thighs for just a little longer, slower this time and not rushing things.

She shuffled around, bending down to kiss him languidly and tasting herself on his tongue. Then finally laying next to him just how he wanted, pulling the covers over them.

“I think in your case, my sweet,” he began, wrapping his arm around her and ignoring the pain that came with it. Kissing her forehead and just keeping her close. “It is simply that you are ageing.”

A playfully shocked gasp left her, hitting his chest with a quick swat and laughing at the exaggerated grunt he let out. Pretending as though he had been struck by something much worse than his beloved wife’s hand.

“How dare you treat your husband, your Prince, like such when he is in terrible, terrible agony?” Oberyn asked with a laugh, wishing he could crush her against him. “Do you not wish for me to be well, my love?”

She nuzzled against his neck with a giggle, peppering his jaw with kisses as she inhaled his scent. Still smelling like the training pits, earthy and sweaty.

“I wish for my husband to stop the dramatics.” This sweet banter had always been her favourite, laughing and jesting with him like no other. “Become the feared Red Viper everyone knows instead of letting your daughter of eighteen years of age knock you off your feet.”

The grip on her hip tightened and she giggled more when she realized that he could certainly not do as he pleased with her just now. Secretly she loved the dramatics, always worried about him but unable to stop her loud mouth and her teasing.

“Oh, sweet wife…” Oberyn sighed, looking at her. What a funny thing she was, too swift with her dangerous tongue. “Once your mortally wounded husband is healed, there will be a punishment in order.”

He paused for a moment, squeezing her hip harder, delighting in the warm flesh in the palm of his hand.

“A punishment and an apology. Perhaps both could be the same.”

She became excited at the plethora of things he could do, though she was quite certain about what he meant, her clit throbbing in anticipation.

“First you should heal, my love.” She said, entirely genuine, pushing her dirty thoughts aside as her hand brushed over his stomach. Warm and soft, tender and the most perfect place to rest her head on usually. “Please rest, let the medicine I gave you work its wonders.”

He kissed her forehead again, allowing his lips to linger there as he closed his eyes and breathed her in. The scent of oranges filling him, his body melting in her presence.

Surely, there was no sweeter remedy than his wife and her delicious cunt, the sweet relief he found in between her thighs.

[spookykoolkat]

eddie m. – you're just so sweet

MDNI!!!! 18+ only! read at ur own risk!

chapter 1: that damn bikini

part two here | main masterlist

dad's friend!eddie munson x daughter!plussize reader

na: first eddie munsons x reader smut, and i'm excited! more parts to this series of course, but pls let me know ur thoughts! suggestions for the next part or upcoming parts, i love feedback!!

warnings: age gap (18 years), reader is 25, eddie is 43, mentions of self image issues, foreplay (fingering), dirty talk, talks of oral sex (f receiving), talks of penetration (p in v), and more!

Wrong. It's just wrong, and you knew why. Eddie had been around for the longest time. Every family party, every dinner, every birthday. He watched you be sent off to college by your parents, he watched you turn eighteen, he watched you learn how to drive, and he watched you turn into a woman. The thing you hated was the fact that he never looked at you the way you wanted him to, and you tried since you turned 18.

It was so annoying. He saw you grow into a woman yet still paid no mind to the little girl in the house, focusing on his friendship with your parents, more specifically your father. Now, you're back from living in California for a week just in time for your mother's birthday. She was turning 47, your dad standing at 50, and Eddie standing at 43. And here you were, at the store at a whopping 25 years old, buying booze for the parents and the parents friends. You handed the cashier a crisp 100 dollar bill and took the brown paper bag after being handed your change and receipt.

Get your shit together.

It's been a long day, and it's going to be an even longer night, especially with Eddie being inevitably being there. It's been almost 5 years since Eddie last saw you, and now it's become clear you've grown into yourself. You were bigger—everywhere. Bigger breasts, bigger thighs, bigger stomach, bigger arms, bigger ass—anything that could've grown, grew times five. You embraced your weight, your lifestyle, your body, and you knew that no matter what you looked like, you felt like you. But the closer you approached your parents very large house, the closer you felt you were walking into a bear trap willingly. There was a part of you that appreciated the fact that your father's friend wasn't a creep. He wasn't counting down the days you turned 18, like you thought. You thought maybe you'd turn 18 and that he'd try dropping hints, or acknowledging you in the way you wanted. But nothing.

It was maddening. The last time you saw him was on Christmas break from college, and he gifted you a bracelet with your UNI colors. Innocent, small gift to show he cared about you, but also almost setting a boundary.

But now pulling into your family's neighborhood, you spot the house you grew up in and the four cars parked out in front. One black truck belonging to Eddie himself, the other three belonging to your mom and dad. You wondered if he was still the punk rock, shirtless auto-mechanic, guitar playing Eddie. Maybe he'd grown out of the black nail polish and long shag he had, maybe he'd become a business man rather than an occasional entertainer by night and a body shop owner by day. You knew Eddie had been a metalhead since his high school days, you overheard conversations about his bandmates who were also his high school friends, about his endless partying and drinking era, you heard everything. It made you wonder if you had been in high school when he was, would he have looked your way?

"It's fine, it's just a week. You can do this," you breathed, parking on the curb and grabbing your purse and the bag of booze, stepping out into the humid hot air of Texas.

The entire walk to the front door was like walking on pins and needles, it was agonizing because the entire time you were imagining just what Eddie would say seeing you. It wasn't that you had never met another man, you weren't a virgin and hadn't been for a long time. It was the fact that every man you fucked, you were bored. It was abrupt, painful and not good pain, dry, no effort, no foreplay, no love. You hated it, but still indulged for something to scratch the itch you had.

You knocked on the door and three seconds later, it opens to your mothers face.

"Oh, baby doll you're here!" She squeals, her short frame hugging you tight as you hug her back

"Happy birthday mama, I love you," You say and kiss her head. That's when you look up and see him. He was exactly the same. Sporting a wife beater with a very worn black flannel and black cargo pants, his hair curly and long still in his shapely shag, his eyes wide and puppy like as he stares you down as if he'd never seen you before. To be fair, he never saw you like this. Eddie Munson never looked at you as anything more than his friends daughter, his buddy's kid.

"Hey kid," He said, sporting a small smile as he soaks you up. Eddie was even a little confused, wondering why he himself was taking in your person more than usual. He was a single man in his early forties, still refusing to get with a woman if she doesn't at least know a single metal song. He had standards, they were low, but standards by any means.

Your mother lets go and grabs the bag of booze, releasing you to greet Eddie. You go to embrace him, your face hitting his silver chains sitting on his sternum.

"Hey Munson," You said, a small smile in your voice and he wraps his arms around you tight, lifting you off your feet like you were a kid and spun you.

"That really you kid? Didn't even recognize you with the new bling on your face," he joked, setting you to stand on your feet with his help of stabilizing you.

He poked the new metal through your face on both eyebrows and your septum. He flicks them with an intrigued gaze, and you swat his hand.

"Yeah, guess I'm just like someone I know," and you take your finger to flick at his single brow piercing he got over the years. You always admired his accessories, as you called them. His tattoos, his piercing, his scars, his rings. You remembered when you spent days looking out your window at the man who was your neighbor, mowing your and his lawn, plucking weeds, and even occasional gardening. You saw the way he sweat and how it made his tattoos glossy, wanting to trace over all of them with just your fingers.

"Mm, I'm flattered sweetheart. Taking after your old man huh?" He said as he finally took a small glance at your body. You noticed of course, but he thought he was slick as ice.

"Something like that. Just coming into my own." You smile, backing up a little as you remembered your bags.

"Yeah, that I can tell," he mumbles under his breath.

"Huh?" You asked, hearing a small grumble from him that he didn't expect you to hear.

"Oh, uh, you have your bags right? I'll get em for you. You just sit and look pretty," He grins, gliding past you fast enough for you to get a whiff of the smell of weed and cologne and smoke. You almost felt like a cartoon character smelling a pie from a window sill, how were you going to do this?

He wasn't sure the emotions he was feeling as of now were appropriate or not. As he opened the trunk of your small car, he pulled the pink suitcase out as well as a black backpack you had. Packing light, he noticed. How long were you staying? And how did you turn into a woman over night?

He was ashamed to admit to himself he thought about feeling every curve of your body when he had his arms around you. Fighting the urge, he resulted to the lift and spin. Eddie never looked at anyone at all. Let alone a woman almost twenty years younger than him. He was cursing at himself every step back into the house after shutting the trunk, telling himself to cool it, relax.

"I can take them up to my room, thank you." You said looking up at him, reaching for the handle of the suitcase.

"Nah, no can do, who would I be if I let you do this yourself?" He shunned, nudging your hand away with his elbow, his hand gripping the strap of the backpack.

Eddie decided to drag your suitcase up the stairs while humming to some song that didn't ring a bell for you, and you followed. You weren't as nervous anymore, not feeling any need to be. You knew nothing would happen between you two, and you were, not happy about it, but okay about it.

"Where to, madam?" He asked, stopping in the hall of where four doors are.

"Straight down, first door to the right." You announced, scooting past him to lead into the room. When you made your way past him, he felt the graze of your hips hitting his, and the whiff of a sweet smelling fragrance, something close to something citrusy. You were tempting him and you didn't even know.

He wasn't stupid. He noticed you didn't look how you did before. He noticed the weight gain but with the weight, came height, and with height came growth everywhere. It was true what they said about turning 25, the second growth spurt turned you into the person you'll be for a while. And he noticed yours. But Eddie—he didn't see it the way your mother did, or even your old friends.

"We should go to the gym together, maybe start our diets at the same time."

"You're not sad are you? You're getting big, baby."

"You ever asked your doctor about how to lose weight?"

"What happened, mami? You used to be so skinny!"

He finally saw you. You were a fucking woman. You acted like it too, he heard it in your voice, saw it in your face. He saw it in your clothes, in your curves, the thickness you had everywhere. He almost salivated at it until you started trying to snap him out of his daze.

"You can put them right there, I said," You repeated, and Eddie gave a small breathy chuckle as he nodded and walked into the pink room filled with stuffed animals, posters, knick knacks and figurines.

"Nice room, missy." He said, setting down your backpack on the vanity chair pushed into the large desk.

"Didn't know you were such a fan of pink, ya know. You screamed more," He stopped and paused to think, pointer finger tapping his chin.

"I'll say light blue. More oceanic, lochness monster type thing." He said, making his way to the door. He noticed the reality of being a grown man in her childhood bedroom, and decided this was enough boundary pushing. You didn't know how sexy his aesthetic would be clashing against your girly pink room, seeing him so out of place was almost enjoyable.

"Well, let me know if you need anything, I'll be helping your parents set up everything for this ragerrrr," He says, sticking his tongue out and putting his fingers up to form the rockstar pose, bored.

"Right. I'll help too I just-" You started but he shook his head dramatically.

"Uh uh, I'm the guest, I'll help. You just get dressed so your mom doesn't flip on you for being late to her birthday party," he pointed at you and shot a small finger gun, making you laugh softly.

"Yeah, okay. See you," you said and he nodded,

"Back at you."

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

The pool was already being used by your guests, your mothers friends, their spouses and two to three kids playing in the grass. You watched from the window on the second floor facing the large backyard with people much older than you, drinking, socializing, and your father on the barbecue pit with Eddie Munson himself beside him. His sleeves were rolled up with a rag hanging out of his back pocket just like a chain in his other.

You were done getting ready at this time, three in the afternoon, and really all you did was put on a red two piece, a knitted black halter dress over, and some black platform sandals. Your hair was kept in a high bun with a clip and your face only had a touch of blush and lip gloss. You figured a full face would be a bit ridiculous since you plan on getting in the water and laying by the pool. You grabbed a towel from your closet and started to head out to the backyard.

"You're here!!" One of your mothers friends shouted the minute you slid open the backdoor, a smiling woman heading your way to pinch your cheeks and ask you all about college.

While you were distracted, Eddie followed as his eyes led him to you. Your father was talking his ear off and the minute his eyes reached you, it all sounded like he was underwater. No music, no chit chat, no birds. He heard nothing but gargles and muted voices as he watched you greet the older women. For Eddie, it felt like everything was in slow motion.

Even slower when you finally broke free from the women and made your way to an empty side of the pool.

"Ed, turn the fucking burger," Your father nudged Eddie, forcing him to whip his head around to the burning meat on the grill to flip and let the other side cook. He couldn't be doing this, he couldn't be watching you the way he was but the minute your father leaves to get another beer, his eyes went searching for you again. And when he found you, he felt his heart sink.

You stood there at the edge of the pool, in a tied up two piece bikini that was fire red, your arms up as your hands dance in your hair to pull the clip from within. The groan he let out was almost something he couldn't tell actually happened or not, but it was a low guttural groan. A hungry groan. He almost looked around to see if anyone saw what he saw, but realized everyone here is pushing 50. Of course they wouldn't be looking. But he was, and he was angry.

How dare you walk out in something of that nature? Skimpy, small, two pieces of cloth practically hiding nothing. Eddie could not pull his eyes off of you, and he didn't want to. It truly felt like he didn't know you, he didn't know this woman. He only knew you as the kid who rode on her bike in the early 2000s.

But that wasn't you anymore. You had a degree, you had a job, you drank and did drugs, you've had sex—a lot. You weren't a kid anymore, and he saw it now. He took particular interest in the way the bikini top did you so much justice, the way the fabric was pressed into your skin made him itch to rub himself in the way you had. He was enamored with you, with every step you took, your skin jiggled and moved. He liked seeing you like this more than he'd like to admit, he was enjoying this little show you didn't even know you were putting on. Without realizing, Eddie started ferociously eating the bag of chips that sat next to him, watching your every move as you test the waters with your toes, adjusting your bathing suit so you wouldn't flash anyone. His eyes were drowned in lust and want, and he was thinking about everything but your body in his hands so his little Eddie wouldn't tell on himself.

"Alright, they're done. Put em in the pan and take them inside," Your father ordered just as you had turned to walk towards the stairs of the pool. Eddie found himself distracted, by his own daughter, and moved the bag of chips to face his friend.

"Right, er, let me get them set," Eddie spoke, placing all the meat in the pan and taking them to be put inside so your mother can dress them and set up the food table.

You on the other hand, watched as he took them inside. Your feet dipping into the pool as he finally entered the house, you decided to fully submerge yourself just for a bit so you could get the heat off of you for a second, you'd do anything to get out of this heat. It wasn't like Cali, the air was dry and hot but this, Texas heat ruined you. The humidity, the heat, and the quality of air just did not mix well. The minute you came up, he was right back out again, drinking his beer and talking with your father. Your hands go to clear your face and rub your hands to slick back your hair, deciding to swim about a little as people start to clear the pool area to go and eat or drink more.

You enjoyed the emptiness of the pool and the sound of music blasting in the background, you ended up getting a little too relaxed and started to float mindlessly, letting your body lift with no hesitation.

Eddie decided to go home to change out of his clothes, the ones before him smelling like barbecue and rust. As he walks past the pool to go home, his eyes rake over your loose body now. Your eyes were closed and your arms were spread out, floating and relaxing, and he loved it.

When he got home, he put on a simple black tee with his faded leather jacket, black straight let jeans and his regular boots he wore without a fail. It was fast, quick, he wanted to return as fast as possible after cleaning up a bit and see you again. The fact that no conversation has really been ignited between the two of you was kind of bothering him, so once he came back he looked to find you out of the pool, lounging on one of the long white chairs lined against the right side of the pool. How odd did he feel sitting in the chair next to you layered in clothes, while you were two tugs away at being naked and bare. He did it anyways.

"You gonna stare or say something?" You asked, your hands blocking the sun from your eyes as you opened them to turn to his face.

"You remembered to use sunscreen?" He asked awkwardly. You raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah. Did you remember it's one hundred degrees in Texas and you're wearing all black. And a leather jacket?" You asked in a snarky tone, closing your eyes and letting your arm fall to your side.

"Mmm, I don't dress for the weather sweetness," The pet names were just pouring from his mouth at this point. He didn't want just to call you sweetheart and doll. He wanted to call you these things while you called out for him, against him.

"I see that."

"Don't think I've ever seen this set before," he said lowly, looking around almost to see if anyone heard him.

You did though. It made you curious. How couldn't it? He noticed your bathing suit, or lack thereof, and noticed your body. He'd been watching you.

"S' new, got it when I grew out of my other one. Didn't cover what I needed to hide so," You trailed off, eyes closed yet still feeling his wide eyes on you, and your body that carried rolls and cellulite, stretch marks and prominent tummy. You almost got a little self conscious being under his gaze, but still you trusted that he had no desire to you for any reason. He was just your fathers friend checking up on his friend's daughter, innocent, simple.

"Can't imagine what the other one looked like if it didn't cover anything up," the tone in his voice sounded different. More, protective? Possessive? Maybe you were deluding yourself of what you were hearing, maybe he just wanted to be an asshole and tell you to cover up more.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, blocking the sun from your eyes again to glance at Eddie. He's sitting facing you, his elbows on his knees with a drink in his hand.

"Nothing doll, I'll let you get back to your... whatever it is you're doing," He stood up and motioned with his hand, then left like nothing. Except it wasn't nothing. Except he had your full body engrained in his mind, replaying the mental screenshot he took, drinking you in as he walked towards the back of the yard, watching everyone including you. You went back to tanning, laying in the sun to earn a small change in your skin tone, something you don't do often because you never have the chance.

Eddie on the other hand did everything in his power to avoid his gaze from landing on you. He found himself growing a little obsessed with the way your body moved in that sad excuse of a bikini, how your breasts threatened to push themselves out of your top, how the curve of your ass kept the bikini bottom in place with every movement. He made a mental note of the way your stomach looked, how a bit of your lower tummy showed past the designated area of the small bottom, how pretty his hands would look squeezing and touching it while his head was sitting between your thighs. He thought you were gorgeous, there was no way a girl like you existed right under his nose. But Eddie never failed to keep his eyes on you, studying you, admiring you, wanting you.

As the party went on, it seemed like it got even more heated. By 7PM, the friends with kids were gone, and the friends who had nothing else to do were still drinking and dancing. You saw your mom in the crowd with your father, dancing as they pleased. You pretty much stayed by the pool all day, making it harder for Eddie to focus on the women trying to get him to talk. But you avoided Eddie's gaze even though you knew it stayed on you the entire day. It kind of bugged you honestly, you truly wondered why he'd be staring at you for so long if there was no attraction there.

"Yeah, uh, work's fine," He mumbled to the woman who looked about like she was in her late 30s, someone age appropriate. She wasn't ugly of course, he actually found her pretty cute, but he knew you were right there. The light of the sun going down dimming and shining golden on you made you look like you were godsend. Lying out with a knee raised and an arm thrown over your face, you felt tired and almost drained by the sun, but he kept watch.

"So-"

"Listen, you're really cute and I think if things were different, I'd be waaaaay more into this. It's not you, it's me?" He said, kind of shimmying away from this lady and on his way to get another beer.

While he dug in the coolers for a cold bottle, he sees a hand reach down and grab a Corona, one that he traced back to your body. His eyes raked over your body up close as he was trying to meet your eyes, and as he looked up at you from his crouched position, he let out a small, shy chuckle.

"Hey," He said as he pulled out a Bud Light, opening it swiftly with his shirt as he rose to his normal stature.

"Hiya," You stated. You were standing in your halter dress again, platforms hanging off two of your fingers with a beer in the other hand. It was a bit cooler at night, less humid, and your feet touched the bare grass as you stood.

"You're not a pool person huh? I know you have a pool at your place, don't use it much do you?" You asked, a little bit of a buzz coursing through your body after your third beer.

Eddie takes the beer from you, setting his down and opening yours before handing it back to you. He picks his up again and takes a swig while looking at you through the bottle.

"You watchin' me, aren't you?" He smiled, the rings on his fingers squeezing the neck of the bottle. All you could really think about was the way that hand would look squeezing all over your body, feeling the metal against you, how large his hands were compared to yours. You couldn't tell if it was the Texas heat making you hot or the thought of him fucking into you with his ringed hand squeezing your throat.

"Probably not as much as you were today, but, ya know. Just a little," The confidence raked through you more than usual and he noticed. But Eddie loved it. The coolers were a little more in a solitary area, many of the people still here are in the opposite direction, drunk and dancing. The two of you stood across from each other, cooler length apart. Eddie took his time gazing at you up close before he answered.

"Sorry for that, I, uh, I didn't think you'd notice." Eddie said shamefully, tapping his ring against the bottle as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I actually didn't think you'd notice." You said, emphasizing a certain syllable.

He scrunched his eyebrows at you, tilting his head like a puppy,

"Notice what exactly?" He asked and you took a swig of your beer before answering.

"Me. You know, the fact that I'm not a kid anymore. But I think you did notice. You think I look ridiculous huh?" You laugh, shaking your head until he softly grabs your face, turning you to him. He wasn't laughing. Eddie 'the freak' Munson wasn't laughing at a self degrading joke, something he practically trademarked.

"Why would I think you look ridiculous?" He asked, searching your face for the answers if you decided to not reply.

"In this little bathing suit, when I'm like, two sizes too big to probably wear stuff like this," You said honestly, knowing it took you a bit to wear things like a two piece. You look down at yourself, seeing the top of your breasts and protruding stomach, all of the sudden feeling a little insecure to be around Eddie.

"At least that's what everyone says, but I don't really pay much attention to them. I like myself." You finished and looked up at him to be searching you like he was looking for something.

"You don't look ridiculous, princess," He took a breath and moved his hand to touch the crease of your waist briefly.

"You look, yeah I mean, you look real pretty like this. Grew into your own person. Nothin' more sexy than that," He earned a laugh from you, your hand touching him ever so slightly that he could feel a small jolt of electricity.

"So you think I'm sexy?" You remarked with a smile, eyeing him as he eyed you.

"You don't even wanna know, sweetheart." He said honestly. You really didn't, you really didn't want to know how much he wanted to fuck you in your pool so he could watch your tits bounce out of that top.

"Why not?" You asked, sipping again.

"Cus I'm an old man, my opinion doesn't matter. It's those younger men your age that matter." He said, trying to save himself from a situation he can't come back from.

"I guess so. You know, college guys are so... odd. Maybe just guys in general. Didn't realize how many chubby chasers there were until after the fact. But, I don't know, I haven't been focused on that really," you mentioned as you leaned against the brick wall to steady yourself. You took another drink out of your bottle, and he watched you.

"Why not, these guys not doing it for you or what?" He joked, pulling out a joint from his leather pocket and you smiled.

"They're just.. mmph, this is embarrassing but they're just not, skilled? I mean, can I be honest? Like you're a guy, older, and you know, I guess," You rambled, unsure how to phrase the question as he sparks up.

"Mm I love honesty, hit me," He pulled a long drag from the joint, inhaling and passing to you. Yes, he was getting high with a 25 year old, and he knew how it sounded. But this time was different, because he saw you as a woman and not just his friend's daughter.

"Well, okay. Well. Um. Fuck okay. The only way I'm able to cum or like, orgasm or whatever, is when I'm making myself do it. The guys I've fucked were kind of like— it didn't take longer than 15 minutes. Sometimes not even 10. I guess I'm tired of being like, their token fat girl to sleep with. Feels like I'll never know what enjoyable sex is like," You sort of mumbled the last part, taking the J and hitting it twice, passing it back to Eddie, only Eddie doesn't take it. He's kind of stuck actually.

Here you were, telling him you'd never been pleasured in the way you deserved because these new 'men' couldn't care less about you? That every sexual encounter you had was a mere loss, probably making you feel dirty and gross after.

"Eddie?" You asked and he shook out his thoughts, taking the joint and sitting on the cooler next to you as you stood on the other side of the cooler.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it awkward or-" You started but he hummed.

"No, not at all. Just that—I mean really? They never made you cum?" His tone shifted, it was like he was becoming feral at the thought.

"I, no. Been living my life like this, yes I know. But. It's fine, kinda accepted I'll be the only one making myself cum." You noted, looking around to see if there was anyone and there wasn't. They were all towards the back of the yard, which was sort of hidden from this angle. You took back the joint from his hand, and once you put it between your lips, Eddie got up and basically pinned you against himself and the brick wall.

"I think, that maybe, just maybe all these guys you're fucking aren't what you need, doll." He breathed, his breath a mixture of weed and beer. He was too far gone to control himself, to not press against you, to not feel you. He needed you in that moment, and he needed to prove to you that you are not the token fat girl. That you are not a fetish, you are not a lifestyle choice. He needed to show you what it was like to feel pleasured, and to feel needed at the same time.

"You're right." You took a hit from the joint, blowing the smoke in his face looking to search his expression. He almost seemed angry, or bothered. It wasn't abnormal for him but, you couldn't tell if it was at you. This was your moment though, a moment of opportunity to really show him that you'd been chasing after him since you were 18. You pull the joint from your lips and place them between his.

"I think I need a man. Preferably someone in their forties, who smokes weed and listens to metal bands, maybe someone who even lived right next door to me." You mocked, suddenly getting a burst of confidence as his eyes go dark and he takes a drag from the joint, blowing it in another direction.

"How long have you needed this man, hm?" He asked keenly after putting the joint out on the wall behind you. His nose dipped down to the crease of where your neck and jaw meet, smelling you ever so slightly. His hands are placed on either side of you, his chest basically pressing against yours as you realize you're trapped in his grasp right now, with nothing but two pieces of fabric covering you up.

"A long time." You admitted and his lips go down, pressing into your collarbone as you sighed. Was this real? Was he really kissing the skin you dreamed of him kissing? Did he truly want you? You wished maybe it'd gone different, maybe you wouldn't have wanted him inside you at your mothers birthday party, but who are you to decide when things happen?

"Such a sweet girl. I've been, fighting myself this whole night. Been trying to avoid being near you before anyone noticed I was eye fucking you. You are the fucking definition of temptation. You fucking reek of sex. You're just," he paused and kissed more over the skin of your chest, stopping at the crook of your neck.

"You're so fucking beautiful too, so sexy, so fucking sexy. I wanna feel you baby, let me feel you, let me fill you." He whispered, his hands going from either side of you to your wide hips, squeezing softly as he caresses the skin behind your knitted dress.

"I'll be whatever you need me to be, princess, you ask and you will receive." He kept his hands steady on your waist, regardless of how much he wanted to feel all of you in his hands right fucking now against this wall. At this point, he moved his hands to rub the sides of your body, tracing every curve with his hands.

"I need, fuck Eddie I need you. I always have. Please," you nearly begged, the weed in your system making it easier to drown out your surroundings while his hand snaked down to the front of your bikini.

"Yeah? You'd let me take you right here against this wall? Keep you quiet with these little bottoms you got on," He growls, dipping down into your bikini to rub your mound as he goes lower and lower. Your mouth fixed into an 'O', moaning and humming as his fingers danced around your cunt.

"Didn't know my baby was so soft, or how much you craved me. Let me make you feel good princess, let me ruin you and show you just how good it can be." You couldn't speak, all you could do was whine and nod.

"Aw baby, that was cute. With words sweetheart, need to hear ya with words," He taunts, his finger teasing over your wet slit. His nose is pressed up against your neck, his tongue sliding over the skin below your ear as he uses his other hand to grab your ass.

"Please, Eds, I need you. Show me, show me everything please," you begged, your back sliding down the brick a bit before he stops you, holding you in place with his other hand.

"You want it right here, pretty girl? Right where anyone could see? Want me to finger fuck you in your own backyard?" He growled almost, sending a wave of pleasure through you when he finally rubs two digits all over your wet pussy.

"Yes, god yes I don't give a fuck, I need you inside me," You cried, your arms going up around his neck to steady yourself once you feel his fingers spread your lips and rub around your labia and your clit. You knew he knew what he was doing, he'd done this before and knew the way to drive women crazy. What you didn't know was that you were equally driving each other crazy. Your subconscious whines and pleads, the way you were almost grinding against his hand, you tugging and pulling his body closer as you feel the small butterfly feeling in your tummy. Everything you were doing was perfect, you were absolute perfection to him. He didn't know he craved you this bad until you were moaning his name, asking—no, begging him for more.

"Mm, my baby needs me stretching this hole out huh? Let's see how you take my fingers, baby, then we'll see if you'll let me fit inside this pretty pussy," He said moving his head from your neck to see his fingers working your clit in your bottoms. He moved his head again to look at you and the expression on your face, and he knew it was a mistake because he could've blown his load right there. Eddie hadn't even started finger fucking you yet you were already soaked, face red and hot, hair disheveled and your mouth agape. You honestly put him in a trance, he'd do absolutely anything for you.

Eddie teased a bit more until your eyes started to turn glossy, your breaths were getting heavier and the minute you inhaled again, he sunk his two digits into your hole and watched with an open mouthed smile as you threw your head back against the brick and squirmed.

"Ahhh, there she is. Look at you," He said proudly, beginning to slowly move his fingers in and out of you, giving you time to adjust. Eddie knows you're not a virgin, but it sure fucking feels like it.

"Such a big girl, doing so good for me taking my fingers like this. You look so pretty like this yaknow'? Can't believe nobody's made you cum the way you deserve, and that it's gonna be me showing you how enjoyable sex can truly be," He was so genuine, you could tell.

"Eddie, fuck, please please fuck me, I need your dick," You begged softly and he bit his lip, groaning with you.

You felt his hardened cock straining against his pants as he pulled himself closer to you, adding an edge to your pleasure because you got nervous. Your daddy's friend is standing pressed against you in hardly nothing with his fingers stretching you out, your wetness dripping down Eddie's hand the faster and deeper he goes.

"Yeah? You need my dick, baby? Gonna be a good girl for me and make a mess all over my dick?" He asked, moving his other hand to grope your chest. He got a little fed up with the knitted dress you wore and pulled it to the side to free your breast, snatching the bikini top to the side to let your tit fall out gracefully. He was fucking in love. The way your body jerked against his hand made your body move with it, jiggling and moving in a way he only imagined it would look when he fucks into you from below.

"Please, Eddie, I wan' it, you're gonna make me, ugh fuck, can I please cum?" You begged, your eyes meeting his. He was just watching you, listening to your moans being muffled by the music that seems to never stop playing. Until he dipped his head down and started to suck on the skin of your tit, fixing his lips and tongue to wrap around your hardened nipple. He tugged, bit, sucked all on your tit until he formed purple bruises on it. He didn't have the words to describe the feeling he had right now, he felt like he died and went to heaven watching you squirm and hearing your voice beg for him. Eddie had never felt this urge and eagerness to slip inside someone as bad as he wanted to right now, to sit you down on his lap and fuck into you like that, or to press you against this wall and take you from behind. He never had the desire to truly fuck someone the way he wanted to, never knew what buttons to push for someone to want him the way he wanted others. But you, you wanted him in a way that was sinful to anyone who heard or witnessed it.

You needed him to ruin you, to fill you up with his cum, to make you his.

"Fuck, my pretty girl wants to give me her cum? That it? You can do whatever you want baby, cum all on my fuckin' fingers right fucking now," He snarled as he took his mouth from your tit, to your ear, almost grinding his own hard on against the crevice of your hip. You felt him take his thumb and rub on your clit, leaving your holes empty until you started clenching on air.

"Eddie! Are you still here?" You both heard a voice from up top, your father on the balcony looking over to scan the yard. You looked up and saw him basically right on top of you, and you looked to Eddie with wide eyes as his fingers still worked on your clit.

"Don't let daddy hear you baby, cum on my fingers for me, be a good girl for me. Show me how much you want me to fuck you into my bed," He picked the pace up and held you tight as he noticed you were starting to come undone.

"Eddiee, fuck Eddie I'm-" You were kind of loud, so he pressed his lips against yours when he slid his fingers back in, feel you tighten around him as you gripped his waist, kissing him back but moaning into his mouth once you felt yourself let go.

But he didn't stop kissing you. He kept his lips on yours, almost locked in a trance as he pulled his fingers out of you. That's when he pulled away, but only to take his fingers in his mouth and lick up any of your juices that leaked onto him. You just watched, breathless, barely holding yourself up as he released his fingers with a pop. He fixed your bikini and dress for you, moving to fix your bottoms as well so that you weren't exposed for anyone else.

Eddie felt like he was in love the minute he tasted you on his tongue. He knew he couldn't just stop there, he couldn't just finger you and that's it. He needed all of you, and he needed you in every way he could have you. You held onto his waist and his hands snaked onto your waist, looking down at your flushed chubby face, looking for something.

"I, thank you. That was, um, really good," You shyed away from him saying that. Complimenting him on his ability to make you cum felt embarrassing, but he turned your head by your chin to face him, and he placed soft kisses by your lips and in your cheeks.

You couldn't believe Eddie Munson, just made you cum on his fingers. You didn't believe yourself really, it almost felt like you blacked out and when you woke up he was there. But you were awake, present and very much aware of his mouth and fingers and his cock straining to be released.

"Ya know, I think the next time I taste you I want it to be with you riding my face," He smiled, moving your hair back behind your ear.

"You were just so fucking sweet," he kissed your cheek and pulled away from you, causing a blush to rise on your cheeks and chest again.

"Wha-" You questioned but your father yelled out again.

"Eddie?" Eddie looked up and had an angry look on his face, kissing you one last time before releasing you and leaving. But he turns towards you, wanting to say something, anything. He just wanted to see you again, from afar this time. You look so exhausted, your back still against the brick wall, your legs pressed together, your hands in your hair. You looked fucking amazing and if it wasn't for your dad, he'd be face deep in your cunt right against that wall.

"I'll see you, sweetheart."

[fictionalreads]

Can you please do an Armando x reader angst 🙏 I don’t know abt what lol I JUST WANT HEAPS OF ANGST SO I CAN BALL MY EYES OUT AND I WANT THIS MAN TO BE GROVELLING LEFT RIGHT SND CENTRE 😭 lol sorry abt that love ur work bae💗💗 Make sure to get heaps of rest and stay hydrated 🧘‍♀️💆‍♀️🫶

A/N: Soooo... reader didn't wanna talk to me. Or more accurately I think, Armando wanted all the attention. I'm sure I'll eventually be struck with inspiration for an Armando x reader angst and I'll definitely tag you in it, but for now I hope you enjoy this Armando angst.Title is from Lonely by Benny Blanco and Justin Bieber.

No One's Listening And That's Just Lonely

Fandom: Bad Boys

Prompt: Armando reflects on times in his life that he's felt alone.

Warnings⚠️: Our boy is lowkey depressed in this one. Might be a line that could be seen as morbid.

PHOTO IS FROM @yeahnohoneybye I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW TO GIVE THEM CREDIT WITHOUT TYPING IT OUT LIKE THIS

Armando Aretas was used to being alone. After being ripped from his mother’s arms at just six years old, he learned to embrace the feeling. He was forced into preparing for his mother’s grand plan which included gun training, fight training and emotional resistance. There was no room for a six year old’s sadness over being alone. The people his mother had training him definitely weren’t the type to go and cuddle with, they were more likely to punish him for being so weak that he expressed his fear. Not that his mother was any better when he was with her.

“Otras personas te decepcionarán, mijo. Confía en ti mismo,” she’d say when he was young and upset that he couldn’t play with the other children in the prison. He was small, but it was a prominent memory from his short time with her, the first lesson she taught him.

He should’ve listened to her, maybe then he’d have heard her subtle warnings about herself.

When he was eighteen, a freshly minted adult that was on top of the world, he had thought her old saying paranoid. He had loved going out and meeting people, befriending them. It came naturally to him, but his mother had her people keeping him on a tight leash. The few times he went out, he kept his cover pretty well, never telling anyone anything real about himself but just enough they wouldn’t be suspicious. 

Until he met a girl that is. She had been different from the quick fucks he’d had before, holding actual conversation with him and keeping him on his toes. He’d loved her spontaneity, it being a breath of fresh air from the rigid routines he was used to. He had slowly dropped breadcrumbs of what his lifestyle was really like b behind closed doors, testing the waters to see if she was about the life or if she’s run for the hills. Every small test he set in place for her she passed with flying colors. He was so sure she could handle it that he told her everything. At first it seemed like he was right about her, she stayed by his side. Then one day she disappeared, no word from her at all. He went to her place and saw she had packed some things, it looked like she had been in a hurry. He initially worried that she went to the police so he played low for a few weeks, but when nothing happened, he just felt hollow.

The one he was supposed to rule the world with was gone, she had left him. He spent weeks questioning every interaction. Where did he go wrong? What signs had he misread? Did he really misread them or were they obvious and he just refused to see what he didn’t want to? Had she ever really loved him? Why wasn’t who he was enough for her to stay? Why was he destined to walk this life alone?

Thinking back on it, his mother hadn’t been pleased his attention had been split and probably had her killed.

Prison hadn’t felt as alone as he was expecting. He knew other people would be around but he’d been surrounded by people all his life and still felt alone. His cell was in murder row, the nickname for the solitary unit he was in. He wasn’t exactly friends with the others in cells in his solitary unit, but they were better than nothing. He spent time with them sometimes when they got the chance to go to the yard, sometimes preferring to workout and enjoy his hour in the sun alone. 

It probably helped that his father would visit him at least twice a month, more if he could swing the travel time. It had been interesting getting to know the man he had thought was an enemy. He hadn’t attempted the corny get to know you spiel, preferring to stick to business which was fine by Armando. Armando had learned a few of the mans quirks just through the small amount of conversation they had. But his father usually showed up to ask him for information, an effort to cut down his extremely long sentence, so it lacked the warmth that would chase the cold feeling of loneliness away.

A loneliness that hit worst at night when he would stare at the gross ceiling of his cell and wonder what could have happened if he had known his father from the start.

This alone was different. He was lying down in the boat his father had put him on to flee Miami, blood slowly dripping out of his side. The motor on the boat had long ago canned out on him, he didn’t have the strength or the tools to try and fix it. He was currently floating in open water, no land in sight. He wondered if he would bleed out, or starve to death first. Maybe he’d dehydrate, he had no access to fresh drinking water. 

He figured the loneliness felt different because for the first time, he didn’t have a tether to something else that brought him out of his self pitying. His mother was dead. He didn’t have anyone he loved waiting for him to come home. His father had sent him away knowing he’d probably never see him again, albeit he also probably assumed Armando would survive. But what was the point? Everything he had been taught growing up was a lie and everything he did ensured he couldn’t come back from those actions with a clean slate. For the first time in his life, he hoped the police would catch him. 

He didn’t want to die feeling the worst feeling in the world, feeling like there was nothing for him. He’d rather keep living and find hope for a life he could build that he should have had from the start.

Translation:

Other people will disappoint you, my son (darling). Rely on yourself.

Taglist (I'm gonna tag for all Armando pieces unless you ask me not to):

@yeahnohoneybye @bootlegroach @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

[hisaribi]

reverse robins au where the ages are reversed but not the order of adoption

Dick

He was sorta meant to be the first, there's no escaping that. Eight years old kid who came to Gotham with whole family both blood and performance-related to stay here all alone.

Drakes were sort of benefactors of Haly's circus (not exactly connected to the Court of Owls, just really adoring Graysons in all their generations, which stretched for century already), Tim (the same age difference as between canon Tim and Damian, so he's 15) thought it was sort of awkward and the whole circus thing seemed somewhat childish to him, till he met the bundle of energy and constant movement Dick, who told him with conviction that he's gonna do this cool quadruple somersault just for Tim and it's actually the first time he does it on stage (which is a lie and his elder cousin who was about the same age as Tim later told Dick that lying isn't good, and dick just shrugs, because he does that in every town they stay in, and says that that's something to make a person excited for the show and not be bored the whole time, and Tim looked seconds away from pulling his phone and browsing it).

Then Graysons fell, the only reason Drakes didn't adopt him was because the Court sort of made Dick disappear, logged in under the wrong name into the system, so it would be easier to snitch him for making a Talon, and it wasn't like Drakes would search for him in juvenile detention center first. They even sort of assumed he moved with Haly's, but when they learned that he didn't, well, they were searching for him. But maybe more in a sense that he was a status possession, the last acrobat from a formidable family, such precious thing can't go to waste

Cue Dick running around the city trying to find Zucco and stumbling upon Batman, who, as Bruce Wayne, knew that Drakes were searching for him. He sort of wanted to just tell them where Dick was, but the kid was insistant on killing the person who murderd his whole family, and the kid was running around in yellow oversized hoodie that had been in possession of too many children before him, green shorts and sneakers, with way too much ease jumping from roof to roof, and something like black mask painted over his face. The kid wasn't going to stop, he was going to get himself killed before Drakes get to him, if anything, he would run away again, from them. And still get himself killed.

So he helped Dick get to Zucco, and Dick decided he needed to be taken to the prison and not murdered, even though before he told Batman that he would kill this man and go to jail for his crimes, or actually now he would deserve the place at juvenile.

The worst thing was that he wanted now to bring justice to other criminals, to catch them, ans well, this was how he became the ward of Bruce Wayne, because having him close both as civilian and vigilante was better than having to explain to whoever decided to adopt him why the kid was bruised and escaping home at night. At the age he was meant for just learning the math.

He actually was home-schooled. just like most children in the circus, only coming to some school to pass tests and exams and checks, and because of that he was a weird mix of bored in class while having troubles to concentrate, so he sort of skipped a few grades, because otherwise he would be too bored (Bruce wasn't really great at being aware that he needed school more for socialization and not knowledge and nobody willed to tell Bruce no as he would just pay for the better equipment for his kid, but oh well).

Barbara

is here too, she's eighteen and starts the whole batgirl thing, and I don't feel like reversing her age for any of that. She's so annoyed at Dick and at Batman for allowing a child to come to fight crime, like she had a decency to wait till she was legally adult, thank you very much, what do you mean you brought a literal child to the field. She does learn that it was hard to stop Dick from running around, but well, she grew fond of him, in a very elder sister exasperated way. She has her own canon thing that barely gets connected to whatever dynamic duo is doing so good for her.

So Dick was Robin, running around, being the hope and all that, till that Two-Face thing, where Dick felt sort of responsible for the death of the judge and also beaten to half-death by goons. He was actually about ten at that time so for two years prior he managed to walk everything off.

And while alone and worried Bruce was running around and came to know

Jason

He's fourteen, but too malnutritioned to look this way, usually kids on crime alley already come to the life of crime by that time even join gangs, and Jason went around to steal Batmobile's tires. He ended up not being adopted but taken into Ma Gunn's School for Boys, to not get logged into social services (and B still tries to learn who the hell put Dick under different name to the juvenile, wonders how many kids get lost in the system and outside of them in goddamn Gotham), ends up uncovering criminal plots in there and later adopted by Bruce (Dick fought hard to stay as a ward and not be adopted and yet he became annoyed at B choosing to adopt Jayson even though it was a different thing altogether).

Also Jason has to witness Dick and Bruce constantly arguing, because Bruce benched Dick after what happened with Two-Face, and then was so not nice to give Robin mantle to Jason and he was confused especially because he believed it was something Bruce created, because nobody uses words in this family yet. Dick still teaches Jason about acrobatics and moving over the city, because he doesn't want the kid to fall. And Jason teaches Dick about mechanics and all that. He cared about younger kids on streets after all.

Also both of them think that being with each other is babysitting another one, and Bruce just allows it and plays into that because well they do babysit each other. Babs still technically babysits both of them and has her own life without these meddling kids.

Around this time wild

Stephanie

appears in her whole sixteen years old glory to deal with her dad's bullshit. Why not Tim I see you asking, well, Tim only appeared because B needed Robin after Jason's death, and as right now their family is somewhat fine he doesn't feel like he needs to intervene, even though he still stalks Dick because he learned his identity. He is worried though, and thinks maybe as soon as he's old enough he will intervene, but right now our focus is Steph.

She basically has her canon-type of run, just also is stuck with babysitting Dick, and Jason acts like I'm too old for you to babysit me we're almost the same age. Dick usually had braincells when they meet, he's also the one to make sure Steph was getting trained by Babs, even though she did run as Robin.

Also you probably guessed by now who's my favorite character is.

Anyway, Dick's there, still getting elder sister syndrome while being the youngest because he's overcompetent and has been working and having experience since before he learned how to walk, and everyone do begrudgingly accept he's experienced and can teach and even lead them.

Then two things happen at once, and wasn't that a very chaotic year. Jason dies to Jocker, Steph dies and starts the gang-war, which leads t sorta no man's land and a lockdown, and the appearance of

Cassandra

She's a year younger than Jason, so she's fifteen, just like he was, when he appeared. If you lost your count, it's fine, Dick just turned eleven and isn't happy about the bullshit that's happening.

She's more adopted by Dick who's elder sister magnet, but they aren't greatest together. She takes on Batgirl mantle while Barbara is absent, not ready for her own thing yet.

Also about this time

Tim

eighteen stays in Gotham to well make sure Batman and Robin don't die, as Gotham will need them the most, when the lockdown is lifted. Also Babs is in senate now, and she was so done after the lockdown news and officer Gordon just deciding not to leave and all Bats being inside and Jason just dying and Steph being dead and she's very vicious.

Tim also did take some trainings, because well, he wasn't suicidal and would take on the role he could as a protector in case he's needed, so ye. Wild Red Robin emerges. It's openly a nod to Dick while he's like aware why he used these colors and how he turned his mind to make everyone who wore it a family, despite the fact he was so angry at Bruce for handling it to anyone without even asking. Also Dick's unhealthy coping mechanisms go brr.

So yes, they deal with the raging bullshit that the gang war and also the whole lockdown is lifted and noone to pacify actually because bats dealt with this. Dick does or doesn't beat Joker to death and only didn't kill him because Batman saved him as Dick was way too young end devastated to become the killer. Tim stays as Red Robin, both his parents are still alive at that point. Babs and Cass share Batgirl when Babs comes back and decides that politics sucks and she didn't have it in her to deal with all that rat races even though she knew she should've been able to.

Almost a year is relatively calm, they learn how to work as a team, Dick starts his rebellious phase and runs away forms teen titans, still stays in Gotham most of the time, but well, he craves his place outside of it.

Hello

Damian

You might ask me, but hisa, you didn't say a thing about Bruce's age, how can he have a son who's in his late twenties? Amd my answer is

idk

Flashpoint, alternative universe, time travel, take your pick, but suddenly Bruce has a son who's adult and competent and an assassin and actually helped his mother to upstage and replace Ra's as a leader of the League and didn't allow him to take his body and all that.

He's also unaware of Jason being in Talia's hands at the moment, because he sort of killed Ra's, threw the league on Talia and rode to the sunset, well, to Gotham. He wanted to see what kind of a man his father was, was he worthy, was his conquest going, did Damian want to take this legacy.

He also looked at Cass and Dick and asked Bruce why he didn't really want him, he had two kids running along with him that were trained to be assassins (he didn't explain who they were, and while B knew of Cass, he didn't know who was the second)

Dick bit and scratched him as soon as he saw him (to get his DNA for the test, thank you very much), and they had a rought start, both because Bruce was going through what do you mean I have an adult son that's almost my age, what do you mean you're an assassin, we have a no kill rule here and you will follow it, please don't agree with Poison Ivy, I know both of you are eco-terrorists, but please. Why the hell do we have a Batcow now. Goliath... what.

And then Bruce dies (gets lost in a time stream), barely a year after Damian comes to Gotham. If you noted the lack of Red Hood, fear not, that's when he appears. To take Batman's mantle and his means of justice (smth like that thing he threw while impersonating Nightwing).

Cass took on the cowl because she had the same things Bruce believed in and Tim sort of sided with her (Babs most likely became an Oracle about that time, and Steph run off to do her own thing with Birds of Prey, but they'd also support her, Tim also went with more Robin colored thing, and actually you know what, he's probably out searching for Bruce, because that's funny). Red Hood Batman is all alone but well he's still the biggest he's also eighteen and do you have any idea how annoying eighteen years old who believe they're right and correct are, because I was this sort of eighteen years old.

Damian takes on the cowl because that's his Legacy, and Dick drags himself with him because BATMAN DOESN'T KILL DON'T YOU DARE YOU VAMPIRE BATMAN though I'm sure Dick appreciated the lack of the cape and the existence of a high collar. So yes, thirteen years old still Robin who doesn't want to ever become Batman having to run around trying to put a collar on three Batmans while trying to make sure the city doesn't fall through cracks and let the boy rest.

Also at that goddamn time

Duke

takes off, also as hero, because the city did feel the lack of batman, and instead we're robins somthing like batmans came to be, and he wasn't like really trying to fight for the cowl, but more like keep in check Batmans who used the image for bad-doings like Robin did at the moment, despite the fact that he was an adult and some other did so as well and they were this close to be put back on a lockdown again, but after they sort of decided to share with Robin babysitting them, Duke took his own Signal mantle

So ye, something like that, a plot-bunny jumping off to the wilderness, because it's actually too big and I'm mostly interested in Dick's part of the story and ye, have a nice day.

smth like ages and orders

Dick (29) - Jason (22) - Tim (19) - Steph (20) - Cass (23) - Damian (13) - Duke (17)

Dick (13) - Cass (17) - Jason (18) - Steph (19) - Tim (20) - Duke (22) - Damian (29)

Dick (8) - Cass (12) - Jason (13) - Steph (14) - Tim (15) - Duke (18) - Damian (24)

[aglaias-blog]

"Kindred Spirits" Chapt. 2

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Author's note: The definition of marriage in this series is not my own, I’m just describing what the faith of the Seven would define as marriage. My blog is a safe space for people of all different sexual orientations! <3 Also, the poem at the end is "The Song of the Seven", it is not my work

TW: afab!reader, soulmate AU, talk about religion/piety, arranged marriage

Summary: Being a highborn lady, a love match is out of the question for you, much less a match with your soulmate. You're not even told about the intricacies of what meeting your soulmate entails. When you are tricked into a betrothal to Aemond Targaryen by your parents, you don't know how to handle things. The Prince's cold demeanor is off-putting, but he is also the only one who is willing to help you, the only one you can depend on. Just how is all this going to play out?

"Kindred Spirits" Masterlist

Marriage was always of the highest significance to Prince Aemond. A most sacred bond between man and woman, woven between the altars of the Mother and the Father, in the gracious gaze of the Seven. The importance of the faith, and obedience to the Gods was instilled in him by his Septons and Septas, as well as his mother. Throughout his young tumultuous life he turned to the Gods whenever he was faced with difficulty, having no one else to talk to except his mother. And it was her who taught him how to pray, how to confide his worries to the Gods, how to entrust his deepest darkest desires and sins to them.

The first time she came to him with talk of marriage, he was sixteen years old. „A good age to give matrimony some thought“, she had said then, following orders from his father to get the boy on the proper path. Aegon and Helaena had been married for a few years by then, their children were already walking around the gardens with their nursemaid. High time that the second-born son fulfilled his duty. Seeing as Aegon had kept the Targaryen blood pure through his marriage to Helaena, Aemond had the privilege of choosing his bride from the selection of young ladies his mother presented to him. It was indeed tradition in the Targaryen House to marry one’s kin, but Aemond had hoped that he didn’t have to go that path, as the faith didn’t look kindly upon it.

His mother had suggested marriage to one of the daughters of the many gentlemen at court. He knew that she meant well, he had an unshakable trust in her, sure of her support. Nevertheless, he had come up with some polite excuse then, not wanting to name the true reason why he refused them. There was no use in whispering in the Red Keep, no, in all of King’s Landing – the rumours were spread in hushed voices, yet they might as well have screamed the insults and gossip about his appearance in his face. Aemond knew about the prejudice, felt the gazes of the young ladies on his face as they tried to hide their giggles behind their hands.

By the time he was eighteen, he was standing tall, always keeping a stoic expression on his face, or that smug half-smile that made people think that he was haughty and cold. But under the surface was a raging current of emotions, feelings of being wronged that he could never express – except to the Gods, or in a moment of indiscretion in a heated dispute with his brother. This tension he could never shake, it manifested in his body, always standing perfectly straight and still. The little boy that had his eye taken was still inside him, not only being physically wounded but also in his innermost core. He had never felt safe again after that scarring event. The walls of the Red Keep may have been tall and massively built, but they were insignificant if the threat was already inside them. He had built walls around himself then, walls meant to protect him from the poisonous arrows that could come from every direction, walls even higher than the ones already around him. He only allowed his fierceness to show, only strength - never weakness.

Aemond remembered clear as day the first time he had gone without his eyepatch. After waking up earlier than usual, he had been desperate to get to the dragon pen, excited to show his older brother a trick that had taken him months to learn. Back then, when he still looked up to Aegon, despite the bullying, despite the constant hurt. In this thrill of anticipation he had forgotten to put on his eyepatch; hells, he had almost forgotten to put on his trousers, so the eyepatch was a negligible mistake.

Running through the corridors, he had nearly reached the outside when he almost bumped into a young girl from the kitchens. He could still hear her shrieking scream ringing in his ears, as if it happened moments ago. At the time, the young boy didn’t immediately understand her horrified expression that wiped his wide joyful smile from his face right then. He had looked around for the threat, but he couldn’t perceive anything that could have caused such a strong reaction. It was only then that realization had struck him with icy terror - hurriedly he had pressed his hand to his left eye, frantically feeling for his eyepatch. The feeling of humiliation, of rejection had been too much - he couldn’t help the tears that sprung to his eye and immediately spilled over, they had never stopped flowing, even when he was back in the safety of his chambers.

Thinking back, Aemond knew that this was the moment he subconciously decided to never let somebody see him without his damned eyepatch again.

So, he came to the conclusion that he would never agree to marrying somebody from court, he’d rather be burned to death by Vhagar. His mother had cast a wider net then, selecting a few young ladies from Houses further away, from regions that weren’t bordering on the Crownlands. Usually, his mother wouldn’t have accepted his general refusal of the ladies she picked, but she was aware of his reasons. He didn’t have to tell her, she had noticed that for weeks after the incident he had slept with his eyepatch on, never taking it off. She had known then that something had happened to make him so protective of his eyepatch, so insecure about his scarred eye. She also knew about the gossip and of the court’s general opinion of her second son’s appearance.

And one day, while talking to Lord Barryn on one of his many trips to King’s Landing, she couldn’t help thinking that one of his daughters would make a good match for her second son. Lord Barryn’s family resided far away enough that his children would have been taught the basics on the House Targaryen and its history, but would know no details of the inner workings of court, wouldn’t have heard any rumours. A marriage would also mean securing an alliance between the two Houses that already shared a good friendship. The commercial relations between them would be strengthened, too.

Lord Barryn was delighted, of course, that the House Targaryen would consider one of his daughters as a prospective bride.

Immediately, he started off with his most extroverted daughter, but he noticed quickly that her qualities weren’t what the Queen was looking for, she also didn’t care for other talents like embroidery or singing. Instead, she was asking about piety and innocence, almost offending the Lord, as he insisted that all his daughters were living sheltered lives and were brought up with reverence for the Gods.

The Queen was much focused on character: she wanted the silently strong type, a maiden that had no need to boast her qualities, stable, calm – tame…docile.

Lord Barryn may have withheld the intensity of his daughter’s stubborness as he offered the daughter whom he thought matched the Queen’s description the most, however he thought that this was better than having no chance at an alliance with the House Targaryen at all. No matter, when they would find out about his daughter’s true character, the couple would already be betrothed.

To the Queen’s relief, Lord Barryn had volunteered to send some portraits of his daughter, as soon as he returned to his residence. She hadn’t dared to require some visual aid in making her decision, as she thought that it would be contradictory to her focus on character, faith, and devotion.

Meanwhile, the pressure on Prince Aemond had become unbearable to him. His father insisted on a marriage, by now he would have agreed to his son marrying a peasant, if only he got married! The Targaryen House could not allow itself to take any liberties with the line of succession, it had to be secured!

But Aemond was just once again reminded of his role in the royal family: the backup, the spare, just in case anything happened to his brother - so close to the throne and yet so far away. His brother who was wholly unequipped to be King. His brother - always in his cups, seeking pleasure in some whore’s arms, studying nothing, learning nothing, being capable of nothing! His useless brother - whom he loved despite everything, in his own twisted way.

Prince Aemond was aware of his duty, however. As much as he hated his position, and wished fervently that his brother and him had been born in a different order, he knew that his only chance at the throne was marriage. A successful marriage - for what was a King without an heir.

He knew immediately what his mother wanted when she sent for him first thing in the morning. King Viserys must have been insufferable with his demands that she find their son an agreeable wife. Aemond already felt hounded by his father, he didn’t want to envision what it would mean to live in close proximity with that man.

A new sense of urgency was laced in the Queen’s voice when she showed Aemond the portraits of his prospective brides. She tried to be as neutral and matter-of-factly as possible in her description of their character and family background, but it was obvious to him that she wished for him to pick a specific one. Lady Barryn. It should be easy enough. The way his mother described her to him, he thought that she would be sufficiently acceptable. Pious, sheltered, calm - pleasant.

Prince Aemond knew that his father would make good on his threat to marry him to a bride of his own choosing, if the Prince didn’t come to a decision quickly. So, he heeded the King’s warning, and when he made his pick, the delight in his mother’s eyes told him that he made the right choice. He had thought then that having done his duty, he would go back to his habits of studying, training, sitting in council with his father and brother, and riding and taking care of Vhagar. He’d thought that the next time he would bother thinking about marriage would be when his betrothed was presented to him.

But once he was in bed at night, when he couldn’t push away the thoughts anymore that he banned to the back of his mind during the day, he wondered what she would be like. For even if he thought of this as his duty, marriage was still something sacred in the eyes of the Seven, and thus should be considered sacred in the eyes of man.

During the many hours he had spent in the libraries as a boy he had also read stories, fairytales rather, about love, about soulmates, kindred spirits, but even then he instinctively knew that this was not what awaited him. When he had asked his Septon about it, his honest boyish curiousity was brutally doused with reality. He was told that this might exist for the lowborn folk, but that he shouldn’t bother himself with it. Aegon had simply broken out into a fit of explosive laughter, then, teasing him about his girlish flight of fancy. Aemond had just felt fury that he had given his brother yet another thing to bully him about.

In the following months the Queen exchanged many missives with the Lord and Lady Barryn in preparation for the couple’s betrothal. The young lady’s dowry needed to be dealt with, all sorts of contracts needed to be prepared and signed, and most importantly, a date needed to be picked to present the young couple to each other.

Meanwhile, Prince Aemond’s curiosity plagued his mind for weeks after he took his pick, and finally he gave into it. He knew about his mother’s correspondence with the parents of his intended. And as embarrassed as he was to ask his mother to do this, he couldn’t bear not knowing. So, he requested the Queen to ask the young lady’s parents about more details. What she occupied herself with during the day, her habits, her relationship to her siblings… He tried to play it off as a most warrantable inquiry, stating his request especially indifferently, but his mother saw right through him and couldn’t help the knowing smile that snuck its way onto her mouth.

It brought the Queen happiness to see her son reading the letters more eagerly than she was, although he sought to keep his carefully built facade of inaccessibility, saying that he was just preparing himself, as he prepared for everything else in his life.

-

Prince Aemond had awoken unusually early the day the young Lady Barryn was thought to arrive. Tossing and turning in bed, he hadn’t been able to sleep properly – it felt like no time had passed when the first rays of sunshine crept through the curtains.

What was a bad start into the day became worse when he was called to council. He couldn’t stand the sympathetic smiles from the council, when his thoughts had drifted off - due to fatigue! Not because of what they had thought. But explaining himself would have made everything worse, they wouldn’t have believed him anyway.

He knew that Lady Barryn’s arrival unsettled him, lying to himself was of no use. He also was aware that he wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything today, apparently his mind that he usually was very much in control of, was set on letting his thoughts run in circles. So, he contented himself with withdrawing himself to the library, seeking out the one window niche that he had thought to be his favourite when he was a little boy because his brother had never been able to find him there.

He picked out The Seven-Pointed Star from the shelf, the well-thumbed book weighed heavy in his hands. The Seven had often offered him solace and comfort, especially on days when he couldn’t bear his brother’s merciless bullying anymore. Now, Aegon had mostly stopped the maltreatment of his younger brother, he wouldn’t risk seriously angering the younger Prince, Aemond stood much taller now than he did then.

The problems he had then seemed so small compared to the ones he was facing now, Prince Aemond thought. Somewhere in time, his most serious worries gradually went from frustration and sadness about his brother’s teasing to, well, whatever this was. Anticipation, curiosity, anxiety, dread? This marriage would greatly influence the course of his life. He worried that he hadn’t put much thought into his choice of bride. His father had told him to expedite matters, and, the dutiful son he was, he did what he was told. His mother had shown which young lady she wanted him to pick, and he did as he was told. He was already given the privilege of choosing his own bride, yet he had always done as he was told! There was no use in blaming himself though, it was too late now anyways.

The young Prince wondered what she would be like, truly. Was she really as pious as his mother had said? Would she resemble the young lady in the portraits? Would she find him as repulsive as the rest of the Lords’ daughters at court? He quickly felt for his eypatch on his face at the thought. He didn’t want to scare her off at the first chance that he got, if this was to go well. But - what if his worry was misplaced? Perhaps they would get along perfectly fine - knowing how things in life had turned out for him this far though, he seriously doubted it. He didn’t allow himself to think that a happy outcome was possible. Getting his hopes up was the last thing he could afford right now.

Calming down was of the essence, he couldn’t present himself all dishevelled and on edge. He remembered a little song his mother had sung to him to comfort him whenever he had been upset about something – mostly Aegon’s bullying.

The Father's face is stern and strong,

he sits and judges right from wrong.

He weighs our lives, the short and long,

and loves the little children.

Slowly, he began skimming over the familiar pages of The Seven-Pointed Star, continuing to quietly hum the melody to himself.

The Mother gives the gift of life,

and watches over every wife.

Her gentle smile ends all strife,

and she loves her little children.

Immersed in the book of faith, he was rudely ripped out of his thoughts when he heard the heavy doors to the library open, and a servant calling his name. As if stung, he shot up, the book falling from his lap and landing on the floor with a loud thud.

The Warrior stands before the foe,

protecting us where e'er we go.

With sword and shield and spear and bow,

he guards the little children.

He had an inkling as to what this was going to be about. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his thoughts and courage, before taking long strides to where the servant was standing in the door.

The Maiden dances through the sky,

she lives in every lover's sigh.

Her smiles teach the birds to fly,

and gives dreams to little children.

She had arrived.

Chapter Three

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Thirty-Eight

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, online bullying, panic attacks, stalking, mental health issues, conspiracy theories.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: I'm struggling with my health, so motivation and writers block is hitting me, but, trying to keep up a little, enjoy!

To read from the beginning, check out the Masterlist Here!

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @jilliemiw86 @ilovesamkiszka @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses @laurpartyprogram @sunsshinesunny @malerieee @talialovesmiw @shilohrosechicken @thatchickwiththecamera @tamtam-elizabeth

Tag List is Open, please let me know if you would like to be added to it or in general.

What the hell was happening?!?

Chris was staring at his phone and trying not to freak out. Breath, just breath. What was he going to tall Ricky and Talia? This, this was, this was… what the hell was this? Let's be real, he didn’t know what to tell Ricky and Talia because he had no idea what the fuck this was himself! It wasn’t just beyond confusing. It was insane! Forget about not using that word because of the sensitive issue about the fact both Talia and himself had been committed, he had been trying to be careful about saying, thinking it.. But push come to shove, right now, this felt utterly insane. A man he had been getting to know for years, that he had had intense philosophical conversations with, conversations that changed how he saw the soulmate bonds completely at times, just seemed to completely, what.. What the fuck?

Nothing made sense about what had just happened. Micah wouldn’t have turned on him, because that was what it felt like, Micah turning on him almost, somehow, just, a little bit. Or was that all in his head, was he over thinking this? Was, was he just imagining things here? Was he paranoid in that phone call because of the changes with his tattoo and reading too much in what had just happened? Maybe Micah was having a bad day. Still, what was wrong, what was happening? Why couldn’t he call that number anymore, this was all just so very, deranged.

“Hey Chris, have you heard back from that scientist guy yet? Because I was just think-”

Rick walking into the kitchen he stopped in his tracks taking one look at him, maybe it was the look on his face, or the fact he had been in the middle of making his lunch and had stopped cold, and it was all out on the counter forgotten. Something very unlike Chris. Leaving food out and risking it spoiling when he had to deal with enough finding decent vegan food in the past, and literally taught himself to cook to make his own, Chris didn’t just randomly leave food out. Ricky knew that, everyone that knew Chris well enough knew that.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Shit shit shit.. But honestly, Rick already had second thoughts about the scientists with his insistence on the testing elements, that much was obvious, and was getting the worst feeling now.. What was he supposed to say to him? Chris looking over at him after a moment, he swallowed, he didn’t know what to say, what could he say, that the hope he had for some answers had just gone down the drain.

Yes, they could wait and see if these tattoos could work themselves out on their own, but what if they didn’t? Would they be living with these effects for the rest of their lives? How would that work, at any moment it could affect them. Any moment, after what Ricky said he’d felt just from Chris kissing Talia, imagine Talia being in the middle of a tattoo and feeling him kissing Ricky out of the blue. That could have massive ramifications for her, and her client. 

“I, ah, heard from Micah, my scientist fr- guy.”

He wasn’t sure, were they friends right now, it made him feel sick to question it, when Chris trusted someone enough to call them his friend, it took a lot these days after everything. So to question it now, that hurt, and he hated himself just a little bit for it.

“Oh yeah? I'm guessing, from the look on your face, the news wasn’t great.”

Chris frowned, his brow furrowed slightly as he stared at Ricky for a moment, trying to figure out what to say, how to explain that conversation when he didn’t even know he could explain it to himself. So he decided to just say that, he didn’t know.

“I don’t know what it was. He got, cagey.”

“Cagey? What do you mean?”

Chris sighed, back to how to explain, start from the top he guessed.

“Well, I didn’t want to tell him about Talia, or you, because I didn’t want to risk anyone getting pulled into anything, so I spun a story about random soulmate stupid theories, and started sprouting off different random theories. All different ones, bits and pieces from other theories Rick, throwing this one into the mix. I didn’t even mention tattoos causing strange sensations, just changing, after, well, a soulmate died. Instantly this guy I’ve been talking to for years, that I’ve sent Christmas cards to, even birthday cards to his kids, starts getting fucking weird and cagey.” As he explained it, Chris went from being worried to actually being annoyed. Because, what the hell, what was going on?!

“Considering I was sufficiently freaked out by the time he was asking me if it was my tattoo that was changing, there was absolutely no way I was telling him, I hesitated. I might as well have screamed yes at the top of my lungs, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Now I feel completely fucked because then it got even creepier when he goes.”

Chris imitates a low raspy faux villian voice, they both know how good he is at changing his voice, it sounded nothing like Micah, but that was not the point of why he was using it. He just wanted to be anything but himself right then.

“Chris, whatever you do, don’t call this number again, I’ll be in touch. and then just hangs the hell up. What Ricky, what? Next thing I know, you're walking in. I trusted this man, what, what am I supposed to do, what if, shit, what if there is some conspiracy-”

“Hey, I’m the conspiracy-nut here, leave that job to me.”

Chris couldn’t help rolling his eyes at that with a scoff.

“This isn’t the time to joke Rick, I’m scared, my tattoo is changing, and someone I thought I could trust to ultimately listen and help me figure out what is happening to me eventually just-”

“Hey, hey,”

Swallowing, feeling Ricky’s hand on his arm.

“You know, whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere.”

Ricky squeezed his fingers around Chris’ arm. There was no way he was going to walk away from Chris dealing with this, not now, not ever, not even if Talia wanted to go home. She might be his original soulmate, but Chris was his best friend, and he’d already been through hell and back. Besides, while he couldn’t guarantee it, not by a long shot, he didn’t think Talia was the kind of person that would just talk away. Not if Chris really needed her. Yes, it was just a tattoo to most people, but theirs was affecting them on an entirely different level, he was sure if anyone could appreciate that, Talia could after what they’d already gone through. What she’d already been through. Considering Talia for that matter, 

“Would you like me to call Talia, we can disc-”

Before he even finished what he was saying, just thinking that they could talk about what they wanted to do from here, Chris’ phone suddenly alerted them to a message, causing the taller man to startle out of nowhere. They were really going to have to do something about Chris stress level. He had always been a perfectionist, but he was not dealing with any of this very well, and Ricky was starting to get worried about him going over the edge from all of this.

“For the love of-”

Waiting while Chris checked the message, a groan coming from the man.

“Well, that’s just the icing on the cake, look at this.”

Chris practically shoved his phone over to Ricky for him to take.

“It’s a message, from Micah, it's an unknown number, but that’s how he signs off all his texts.”

“Okay.”

Well, that, was curious. Considering the only part of the message that made any sense whatsoever was the end where Micah had signed it off according to Chris, it was interesting to say the least. The rest was some kind of jargon, the entire thing was written in some kind of code, letters, numbers, and for the life of him, there was something familiar about it. 

“Do you have a notepad and pen anywhere?”

Rick wanted to write this message long hand so he could work it out other than on the tiny little screen of the phone. Obviously, it had to be something that Micah thought that Chris might be able to figure out, or at least, hoped he would be able to find a way to be able to. If he wanted him to at all. Chris could be right, it could be a conspiracy, this could just be a wild goose chase that they were about to be sent on. There might be every chance that Ricky was about to jump down the rabbit hole pointlessly, or, alternatively, Chris had a friend that was trying to actually help him, and was honestly trying to warn him away. Ricky, while had been very pessimistic lately for Chris’ sake, was willing to hope on the latter.

At the very least, he wanted to know what this damn message meant.

Even if it was just a rabbit hole.

With Chris handing over a pen and notebook, Ricky sat down at the kitchen table while the singer went back to work on finishing making lunch, only this time he set to making something for both of them. Ricky sat there, muttering to himself over the numbers, and letters, working through the different combinations, and possibilities, and while he could be going online to look up different cyphers for codes, he didn’t want to risk it. This wasn’t some random puzzle, this was Chris’ life, this was their life, and if he couldn’t figure it out, then what was the point of the code at all?

Having finished their lunch, and multiple cups of coffee, Ricky was looking at Chris suddenly, blinking…

“Could it be that simple?”

Murmuring to himself, and ripped yet another piece of paper from the notebook and scrunched it up and tossed it to the bin.

He missed.

Again.

The utterance however seemed to have gotten Chris’ attention, looking up from his phone that he had been looking over. Ricky hadn’t been paying attention to what the other had been doing, just engrossed in the message.

“What is it?”

“Just a minute.”

Ricky was already scribbling away furiously on the fresh page of the notepad, a whole new set of the figures as he glanced back to the code that he’d written out cleanly still beside him on the table. So far it was working, so far, the new page, it was making sense. So far, it really was that simple, and he was kicking himself for having not considered it before. Of course, Micah being a scientist, he’d gone for that side for, idiot. Sighing, he shouldn’t have been focusing on the science, he should have been thinking like Chris, like himself, like a musician.

“He has sent instructions, basically, buy a burner phone, call this number, and only call it at a certain time of day.” Ricky flipped the paper around so that Chris could read what the message had said,

“And a warning, not to talk to anyone else about your tattoo changing.”

Looking down at the scrawled message on the paper. So Micah was trying to help him, that, terrified him even more, that someone out there could be out to get him. Maybe not just him, but what if they came for Talia and Rick too for being connected to him now? 

“Shit.”

Reading over the message that Micah sent for him, so he guessed he was going to have to go buy a burner phone. 

“Looks like I’ve got a trip to the store ahead of me.”

Glancing at his watch,

“And about an hour before the first chance to call, I’m going to go now.”

He was not going to waste time. Chris wanted to find out what the hell was going on here, why Micah had suddenly started freaking out on him, otherwise he was going to be a mess all night and he knew it.

“I don’t think I can handle another day of spy games.”

Standing up from the table, he didn’t trust just sending someone else to grab a phone for him when it came to this. Chris swallowed as he glanced at Rick when he immediately followed suit, standing right alongside him.

“I’m coming with you. Don’t look at me like that, Talia is safe at Vinny’s, and if anyone is at risk from whatever the hell could be going on, on the other end of that phone call, it's mostly you, Chris. So I’m not letting you out of my sight until we know what's happening.”

Chris sighed,

“Alright, but I’m driving, Road Kill.”

Smirking as Ricky rolled his eyes, he was never letting that go.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[eros-ghoulette]

I promise

Albert discovers things about himself - things society won't approve of.

Characters: Albert, Thomas Barrow

Word count: 1797

If there was one thing Albert was certain of, it was that for most of his life, he had felt different. While his pals had started to talk about girls and even about sex, Albert had never been able to see the appeal in either of them. Girls were nice, he always enjoyed talking to them, but he wasn’t able to see any more than friends of the other gender. And the other thing? Honestly speaking, the young man couldn’t think of anything that sounded less appealing than that. He knew himself how prude it was to not even change his clothes in front of his friend, while everyone else did it, but even the thought of such a kind of exposure made him feel uncomfortable.

But then turned fifteen and suddenly boys wanted girls, not caring if it could ruin reputations, and Albert felt more and more out of place. His mum took him to the pub now and then, and on one of those evenings, he found his thoughts spiralling. There was a new bloke working there. He must have been around ten years older than him, and every time Albert looked at him, his mouth got dry, and when he heard him talk his stomach felt weird.

In church, he was taught it was wrong to love a man like normal blokes loved women. The sermon of devouring the female body and soul was well known to every boy from a certain age. God created the man to love the woman, and the woman to serve the man. At least that’s what the pastor preached. When Albert had been a young boy, he had asked his mother why men could be servants then; because when men were servants, they often served men. She had laughed at his childish innocence, but he had never forgotten the look in her eyes. And years later, he finally understood that she’d asked herself nearly the same question. He understood that as a woman, the perspective on life was different, had to be different.

Then he turned eighteen and started to work in Downton Abbey. It was a good job and his colleagues were nice to him. But then the old postman got replaced by a newer one, and there it was again. The tingle in his stomach, the way his hands started to sweat, and his mouth got dry. Every conversation they had, no matter how short, he thought about for hours after. And Grant - a nice name in Albert’s opinion - was only a year older, which resulted in a friendship unlike any other friendship he had ever had. He could watch Grant's lopsided grin for hours, when they had the luck to both get their half day at the same time. His grey eyes sparkled blue in the sun, and if you looked closely you could see faint freckles on Grant's nose. And Albert knew it was wrong to feel like this. He knew he shouldn’t look upon a man as he was the first flower after a harsh winter or the faint light in darkness.

The guilt he felt was harsh, eating him from the inside, clawing at his heart and destroying every inch of hope that existed. But then again, while he knew it was wrong, he had no clue what was wrong about it. Albert saw no problem in men liking men or - if that also existed - women liking women. His mum always said love was a good thing. So why should this particular love be a bad thing?

One Saturday morning, Albert watched Mr Barrow putting down the newspaper with a barely noticeable sigh. Miss Baxter looked over and gave a weak, sad smile at the butler, who nodded at her. Later, Albert looked at the page Mr Barrow had been reading, and he felt himself going sick. The police had arrested a Lord - he never heard of him before - for engaging in obscene and perverted practices with another male. And Albert saw once again how wrong it was to be like him; just because society believed that. But then he remembered Mr Barrow's reaction, and he began to think he now knew what everyone meant by him being different. 

-----------

It was a September evening when Grant asked him if he ever kissed someone. They were walking through the woods, both dressed too light for the cool weather, but neither of them cared.

“I… No,” he admitted then, feeling his cheeks heating up. He knew it was odd to be nearly nineteen and still so inexperienced.

Grant looked over at him, the faintest smile glazing his lips.

“Me neither,” he said then. And there was something in his voice that Albert couldn’t wrap his head around.

Albert turned to watch him now. Not even in his dreams, he would have guessed that. Grant was handsome, really handsome, and he had been certain his friend had his fair share of experience. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Al,” the other chuckled, and they continued their walk. 

And for the first time in his life, he had the urge to share his feelings with someone. Not the ones he had for Grant, but the ones he never trusted himself enough to think about.

“Grant?” He asked then, realizing himself how untypical his voice sounded. 

“Yeah?”

Albert looked at his feet while walking, kicking the rotten leaves. 

“... I don't know if I ever want to,” he said then, swallowing down the lump that had built in his throat. 

Grant gave him a confused look: “What?”

“Kissing, I mean,” he elaborated, already regretting he said something in the first place. 

“What do you mean?” Grant questioned back, his face as confused as Albert's feelings. 

“I- Never mind, it was dumb to say that,” Albert mumbled. He felt it deep in his chest, the sting, telling him how stupid he had been. Grant wouldn't understand him. And what if he found out Albert was a bloody queer, just because he couldn't keep his mouth shut and talked too much once he started?

That night, Albert couldn't take it anymore, the guilt he felt for being like him had built up over years. And some tears he had shed on it, but never like this. Never like he couldn't breathe anymore. He was drowning in his own mind, drowning in his body and drowning in his soul. His legs had long ago given up under the weight he carried, and he sat on the ground, weeping like a lost infant. And all he could feel was pain. If there were a God he wouldn't have made Albert the way he was, so right now, in the cold night air, Albert prayed to nothing and no one. He begged to be normal, sobbed to be different, and whimpered in realization that nothing would change. 

“Albert-?”

And when Albert looked up, he saw Mr Barrow, watching him with worried eyes. He got up, tried everything not to sway, but his legs were weak, and he leaned against the wall. Albert couldn't know there was a time, some years ago, when Thomas had been to one in his place. 

“Mr Barrow-” His voice was rough, edged with tears. 

“What's the matter? What's wrong?” The butler asked, sounding composed. He held a pack of cigarettes, but put it away, standing in front of Albert. 

“I- I can't-” 

And Mr Barrow nodded and gave him a smile, rare and full of compassion. 

“Let's get you inside, eh? You must be freezing.” He grabbed him by the shoulder and Albert followed, not knowing what else to do. 

He sat down in the Butler's pantry, in front of Mr Barrows desk, but instead of sitting opposite him, he sat down next to him. And for some reason, Albert found comfort in that. 

“Do you want to tell me what the matter is?” Mr Barrow asked again and all he wanted to say was yes because he wanted someone to know, maybe even get help. But what if his interpretation of the butler's reaction to the article was false?

“You don't have to tell me,” Mr Barrow added then, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs. “But believe me, Albert. I won't think any less of you.”

And Albert suddenly had the feeling the older knew what this was about. So he started to talk, ragged and stumbling over his own words. But he wasn't crying anymore, sniffling occasionally, and Mr Barrow listened to every word he said. After that, the butler stayed quiet for several moments. His eyes were unfocused, and he let out a sigh.

“I relate to you in one regard,” he started, and his gaze searched for Alberts. “But even if I don’t understand your repulsion for different matters, it’s not abnormal.”

Albert watched Mr Barrow play with something in his pocket absent-mindedly.

“Being different doesn’t make us disgusting or abnormal. We are not lost souls, and our lives value just as much as everyone else. We were born this way - Albert. So we have to accept the burden that was forced upon us - and try to live with it.”

And all Albert wanted to do was to crawl in his bed, just to never get up again. But he had the feeling Mr Barrow wasn’t finished, yet. So he kept his mouth shut, and after a few seconds the butler took a deep breath, sounding tired in a way Albert never heard or saw before. 

“Believe me when I tell you there is no way to change it. There is not a single possibility to change yourself. You’ll find… stuff… you’ll definitely gonna find it, and you’ll know what I’m talking about if you see it, but…” Thomas gave him a smile, apologizing in some way. “No matter what you do, don’t believe in it. Don’t believe any of it, because it’s not true. You can’t repair something that isn’t broken. It’s… difficult, but you’re a strong lad, you’ll be happy.” 

Albert swore he saw tears in the butlers eyes, but then again, Mr Barrow knew what he was talking about - at least that’s what it looked like.  

“And promise me to talk to someone if you - feel down.” The older man exhaled loudly. “Don’t keep it to yourself, you aren’t alone in this. I know, it sometimes feels like the whole world has turned against you. But there'll always be someone to make you feel otherwise.”

The look in the butler's eyes showed that there was something more behind his words, but Albert wasn’t someone to pry.

“I promise,” he simply said, not knowing what else to respond, and it must have been the right thing, because it earned him a nearly fatherly smile and a hand squeezing his shoulder. 

[draziris]

Debt

• Aemond Targaryen x female!Lucerys Velaryon •

[The only certainty Aemond Targaryen had, after losing his eye and claiming Vhagar, was that the exchange wasn't fair. Perhaps it was even his mother's nerves calming down or him still being the center of attention after the ambush he was caught in. But years after his nephews left for Dragon Stone with his sister, Aemond was certain that his anger wouldn't fade or be extinguished. Not until he made her pay for the suffering she had caused him. And now, he counted the days until the moment arrived, when he would take from her what was most precious to her.]

[Disclaimer: Mature content, violence, slightly dark!Aemond]

• Hello! This is my first fanfic post on Tumblr and in English. I usually post stories on Wattpad in Portuguese — with the same name — and decided to expand to a new language. I hope you enjoy it. I plan to post more stories here. This fanfic is about an alternative version of Lucemond — with Lucerys being a woman; the characters have different ages from the original work — we don't want any crimes here — Lucille is eighteen years old and Aemond is twenty-two. •

It was an obsession. Aemond knew it, yet he couldn't stop the thoughts that grew with each passing day. The hatred. The resentment. His face was marked forever, destined to be covered by an eyepatch that would conceal his shame until his last days. He trained for years, became one of the finest swordsmen in Westeros, tamed the largest dragon in the world, and yet, he would never be a whole man without his eye.

He thought that when she left, his problems would leave with her. His resentments would vanish, and his pain would heal. But that wasn't what happened. His hatred and bitterness grew, and with them, the desire for revenge. Deep down, he couldn't accept how his father never defended him, how he, like most of his family, sided with those bastards.

Every time he saw himself in the mirror, and gazed into the sapphire stone in his eye, he remembered that night. He remembered the pain. He remembered her. The cursed bastard who caused this.

The object of his hatred. Lucille Velaryon.

-

Lucille could barely recall King's Landing. Perhaps because she had left at a very young age, or perhaps because the events leading up to her move to Dragonstone were… tumultuous. Yet here she was again, not for the desired reason, and certainly not with a warm reception. Her mother and Daemon seemed disappointed when no one greeted them, and they asked Jace to accompany his sister to the quarters where she would stay.

As they walked through the corridors, Lucille vaguely remembered the stairs, some statues, and with those details, memories of her childhood flooded back. She remembered the times when Jacaerys and Aegon included her in their games, especially when it came to playing pranks on Aemond.

Aemond. She swallowed hard. If there was one wish she could make at that moment, it would be to not cross paths with her uncle.

Surely he hadn't forgotten the events of seven years ago, and who was responsible for it. The responsible one.

"See," Jace exclaimed, pointing to a dragon statue. "It's still the same. You can see the crack from when we bumped into it and knocked it to the ground. Otto almost killed us that day, remember?"

"Yes," Lucille weakly smiled.

Jace's expression changed as he noticed his sister's demeanor. "Don't worry about today, Lucy. Everything will be sorted out. You are the true heir to Driftmark."

Lucy let out an ironic laugh, looking at her brother as they walked. "You don't even believe that yourself."

"Stop it," Jace complained.

"We are…" Lucy said to her brother exasperatedly, pausing for a moment to lower her voice. "bastards, Jace."

Jacaerys looked at her with a disappointed look and then shrugged, continuing to walk. Lucille quickened her pace to keep up with him.

"Bastards or not, Lord Corlys chose you to be the successor of Driftmark," Jace said confidently. "You should be grateful and embrace your destiny."

Lucy averted her gaze, saying nothing more. When they reached the end of the corridor, Jacaerys nodded for them to go to the door leading to the training ground. Her brother always enjoyed fights. Lucille tried for a few years, but gave up when she realized she had more skill with the bow and arrow than with the sword.

They approached the stairs leading outside and descended the steps. Jace seemed very excited to watch the fights up close. However, the elder brother headed toward the nearby gate and pointed to the huge hole in the wall. He turned to Lucille with a convincing expression, and she rolled her eyes.

"See, I told you it would still be here," Jace said proudly. "It was the day I thought I could wield Sir Criston's Morningstar."

"You almost lost your head that day," Lucy laughed.

Jacaerys nodded, joining her to look at the weapons laid out on a table. Lucille glanced sideways, noticing some Court members looking at them and whispering. She quickly looked ahead, feeling dejected.

"What's your problem?" Jace asked, holding a sword.

"They're staring at us," she said, moving closer to her brother. "They wouldn't question my right to Driftmark's inheritance if I looked more like Laenor… And less like Sir Harwin Strong."

"Let them talk," Jace said, looking his sister in the eyes. In the next moment, they heard the clash of something strong enough to echo across the training ground. Jacaerys called his sister to come closer, and they both went to the small crowd that had formed.

Lucille peeked behind her brother at the fight unfolding. The first thing that caught her attention was the tall platinum-haired youth wielding a sword and shield. It wasn't difficult to identify a Targaryen when you saw one. However, she didn't expect to be surprised to find out it wasn't Aegon, but Aemond.

Her uncle and her brother often teased him for being clumsy and relatively shorter than Aegon. She didn't imagine he had changed so much over the years. She felt discomfort as she observed the eyepatch on his face, covering enough so that his eye couldn't be seen, and leaving the scar, which extended from above his eyebrow to his cheek, exposed.

His movements seemed perfectly calculated as he dodged Sir Criston Cole's attacks. A gasp escaped Velaryon's lips when Criston hit Aemond's shield harder, forcing him to release the object. Now he only had his sword to defend himself. Criston advanced once more, and again, until Aemond finally found a chance to dodge and gain an advantage, aiming the sword directly at the man's throat.

Applause spread across the field as Sir Criston congratulated him. "This way, you'll be ready to win the tournament."

"I don't give a shit about tournaments," he said, lowering his sword. And then, as if he had known they were there all along, he turned to Lucy and Jace. "Nephews. Came to train?"

Before Jace could say anything, the gates were opened, and the commotion that had gathered to watch the fight now shifted their attention to the arrival of the carriage. However, Lucy couldn't avert her gaze so quickly, not when Aemond was staring at her with such intensity that she swore he would plunge that sword into her throat at any moment.

Neither of them blinked. Neither of them looked away.

Jacaerys pulled his sister's hand, finally snapping her out of her trance and making her follow him. Vaemond Velaryon had arrived.

-

In the next day, Rhaenyra and Daemon were already waiting for them in the Throne Room when they arrived. Jace had taken her to her room first, so she could settle in, and then they went to the place where the Council would take place. The entire Court was positioned along the hall, and it didn't take long for her to catch sight of three platinum-haired heads up ahead. If Aemond was the one with the eyepatch, then Aegon and Helaena were the others.

She gave a small smile to her aunt when their gazes met, and then her smile faded as she noticed the looks from Aegon and Aemond. She joined her brother and her parents, along with her cousins. Daemon laid his hand on her shoulder, a subtle form of support. Daemon Targaryen might not be her biological father, but he cared for her and Jace as if he were.

"Although it is the fervent hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his injuries, we gather here with the daunting task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark." Otto said, seated on the throne. "As Hand, I speak with the voice of the King on this and all other matters. The Crown will now hear petitions."

A small buzz spread through the hall, and Lucy withdrew a bit, leaning on her mother.

"Sir Vaemond of House Velaryon."

The man walked to the center of the hall, standing facing the throne. He gave a disdainful look to Rhaenyra and her children before speaking. He then glanced at Alicent and Otto Hightower.

"My Queen. My Lord Hand." He cleared his throat. "The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. Since House Targaryen ruled the skies, House Velaryon ruled the seas. When Doom fell upon Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our ancestors came to this new land, knowing that if they failed, it would mean the end of their lineages and their names."

Lucille raised her gaze to the man, who still had his gaze forward.

"I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys's closest relative, his own blood. The true and irreproachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins."

"As it does with my children, descendants of Laenor Velaryon." Rhaenyra interjected quickly, drawing the Court's attention. Lucille watched Sir Vaemond turn to them, with a look that could set fire if he could. "If you cared so much about your house's blood, Sir Vaemond, you wouldn't be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition."

"You will have the chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Sir Vaemond the courtesy of allowing him to be heard." Alicent intervened.

"What do you know about Velaryon blood, princess?" Vaemond narrowed his eyes at Rhaenyra. "I could cut my veins and show you, and you still wouldn't recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours."

He looked at Lucille with irritation before turning back to the front.

"My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of my house's survival and my lineage above all else. I humbly stand before you as the successor to my brother... the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."

"Thank you, Sir Vaemond." Otto said, then looked to Rhaenyra. "Princess Rhaenyra, now you may speak for your daughter, Lucille Velaryon."

Rhaenyra stroked her daughter's back, where her hand rested, one last time and then walked to where Sir Vaemond stood.

"If I wish to grace this farce with any response, I will begin by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, on this very same..."

Her speech was interrupted by the sound of the royal gates, making the entire Court, including Rhaenyra, turn to see who had arrived. Lucille gasped when she saw her grandfather balancing on a cane, with a mask on his face. She didn't remember him being so debilitated. She looked at Daemon, and he nodded at her. He knew something.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." One of the guards announced.

All eyes watched the king descend the stairs leading to the Royal Court and slowly walk toward the throne. He paused for a moment, looking at his daughter, and then continued walking. He said something to Otto that Lucy couldn't understand, and then began to ascend the stairs to his throne. As he started to climb the stairs with difficulty, his crown fell.

Everyone watched as Prince Daemon approached and picked up the object, helping his brother up the steps and then placing the crown back on his king's head. He then returned to his family.

"I must... admit... my confusion." Viserys breathed heavily. "I fail to understand why petitions are being heard on an established succession. The only one present... who can offer a sharper insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is Princess Rhaenys."

Rhaenys Targaryen smiled at her cousin, taking a step forward. "Indeed, Your Grace."

Rhaenys walked to the center of the hall.

"It has always been my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Sir Laenor to his true daughter... Lucille Velaryon. His mind never wavered. Nor did my support for him." She said, then looked at Rhaenyra before continuing. "In fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her son Jace to Lord Corlys's granddaughter, Baela. A proposal with which I wholeheartedly agree."

Viserys nodded.

"Well... the matter is settled. Again. Through this meeting, I reaffirm Princess Lucille of House Velaryon as the heir to Driftmark, the Throne of Driftwood, and the next Lady of the Tides."

"You break the law... and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet, you dare to tell me... who deserves to inherit the Velaryon name." He spits, anger in his voice. "No. I will not allow it."

"Allow?" The king repeats. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

"She is not a true Velaryon, and certainly not a niece of mine." He shouts, pointing at Lucille, who shrinks. "Not to mention the absurdity of naming a woman as the new Lord of Driftmark."

"Lucille is my legitimate granddaughter." Viserys syllables. "And you... are but the second son of Driftmark."

"You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine." He says angrily. "My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations. And damn the gods... I will not see the end of it because of this..."

He then gave Lucille a sarcastic look. The Velaryon averted her gaze, staring at the floor. She then heard Daemon whisper behind her: "Say it."

"Your sons... are bastards! And she... is... a whore." He snarls.

Lucille feels her heart pounding as she gasps along with the crowd. Shame takes over her gaze, especially when she meets the green eyes. Aegon holds back a laugh, while Aemond watches them with a restrained smile. Mockery. Ridicule.

She feels a hand touch her shoulder as Daemon passes behind her, disappearing into the crowd.

Viserys rises with difficulty and pulls a dagger from his waist. "I... will tear out your tongue for this."

Vaemond didn't have time to respond or defend himself. In a second, his body was on the floor, part of his head separated, rolling across the marble. Lucille stifles a scream, hiding her face on her brother's shoulder. Jace doesn't move. Everyone emits a scream in the hall, and the guards draw their swords.

"Disarm him!" Otto Hightower shouts.

"There's no need." Daemon defends, sheathing his sword and stepping aside.

The king gasps, falling onto his throne.

"Call the maesters!" Alicent orders, running to her husband.

A body on the floor. A king on the brink of death. The circus for those who wished for the kingdom's fall was set. The princess lifts her gaze once again to where the green were. Helaena still covers her ears with her hands, and Aegon watches the scene. But Aemond is no longer there.

"Let's go, Lucy." Jace says in her ear, holding her shoulders and guiding her out of the hall along with the others.

-

Lucille didn't want to face her family. Not after the words spoken against her and her brother by Vaemond Velaryon. She knew what the courtiers whispered about her. She had known since she was seven. Since the night Aemond conquered Vhagar and hurled insults at her and her brother. They'll die in the fire like their father, he said. What Aemond perhaps didn't remember was that, like him, Lucille and Jacaerys were of the fire. The blood of Velaryon might not flow through their veins, but Targaryen blood certainly did.

She reminded him of that on the same night when she took one of his eyes.

However, they were no longer children. Accusations about her legitimacy now weighed much more, especially as a woman. Her existence was doubly an affront to the Crown. She knew that. Only the blind were incapable of seeing it.

She was finishing getting ready when Jace knocked on her door, announcing that they should go to the private dining room.

"Help me with this necklace," she asked when he entered the room. "Our father gave it to me. It was Aunt Laena's."

A delicate necklace with a seahorse pendant. Her father had given her the necklace on the day her sister had passed away. According to him, a part of Laena Velaryon would exist in her as long as she wore it.

"Don't mind the words spoken by Vaemond today," Jace said, trying to calm his sister. "No one took him very seriously."

Lucille sighed. "You know that's not true."

"Lucy..."

"They are not blind, Jace," she said, turning to her brother. "For Vaemond to have the courage to question the succession of Driftmark, he would have to have more support than just his pride. It's only a matter of time before there is retaliation for his death."

"Daemon would never allow it."

"I don't wish to rule over a sea of blood," she said, sighing. "I just wish I had been born legitimate... And a man. If our father had named Joffrey as his successor, perhaps there wouldn't be so many questions."

"Our mother will be the next to sit on the Iron Throne," Jace reminded her. "Being a woman or a man is no longer a question. Our father chose you as his successor, and Lord Corlys agreed with his choice. There's nothing more to question."

Jacaerys smiled and held her hand. "I will always be by your side, little sister."

Lucille smiled back at him and nodded. The siblings walked out of the room, heading to where the family dinner would be served.

When they arrived in the private dining room, they found everyone except the king. Aegon and Aemond were talking in one corner, while Alicent, Otto, Helaena, Rhaena, and Baela were seated at the table, and Rhaenyra and Daemon were conversing in another corner of the room. Servants came, placing dishes on the table. When their presence was noticed, Rhaena and Baela stood up, joining their cousins.

"How are you?" Rhaena asked, holding Lucille's hand.

"I'm fine," she said softly. "Did anyone try to kill each other?"

"Our father seems to be keeping himself in check since earlier," Baela said, opening a small smile. "Our uncle didn't act right by uttering those words to you and Jace. My father would never allow the honor of our family to be slandered like that."

"They will comment on the incident for some time, but they will soon forget," Rhaena said. "It's important to show some strength from time to time."

Lucille nodded, though she didn't agree with violence. Over Rhaena's shoulder, she could perceive the Targaryen brothers' gazes on them. She didn't look directly at them, but she felt they were watching her.

"The king is coming," a guard announced.

Everyone headed to the table, taking their seats. On one side, Otto and Alicent sat next to Rhaenyra and Daemon, separated by the space where the king's chair would be. Facing them were Helaena, Aegon, Jacaerys, and Baela. At one end, Rhaena and Lucille, and at the other, Aemond.

A terrible place, she thought when her uncle sat facing her. She couldn't help but meet his gaze as he sat down. The only eye he had left burning steadily on her figure.

She averted, looking to her mother. In the next moment, the presence of Viserys was announced, and he entered, seated in his chair, carried by four guards. The banquet began, and the king gave a speech. Lucille watched him with pity. Pity because even on the brink, Viserys still believed that his family could be saved.

"How good it is... to see all of you tonight... together," the king said with difficulty.

"A prayer before we begin?" Alicent suggested, and the king agreed. "May the Mother smile upon this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for too long...

As Alicent recited her prayer with closed eyes, the table accompanied her. Aegon drank some of his wine, oblivious to the customs. Lucille kept her hands together on the table, but her eyes roamed over everyone there, until they settled on Aemond, who kept his eye closed, in a quiet posture. A strange sensation ran through her body. Lucille couldn't explain if it was fear or admiration.

"And for Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods grant him rest," Alicent said finally, and Lucille could hear a small sigh of laughter from her stepfather.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandson, Jace, will marry his cousin, Baela, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young prince... and his bride," Viserys raised his glass, followed by the others.

"Hear, hear," Daemon cheered. "This isn't the only marriage we'll have ahead of us."

Curious glances turned to the Targaryen prince. He moved his gaze to Rhaenyra and then to Lucille.

"Lucille has received a marriage proposal from the North. Lord Cregan Stark proposed her hand in marriage, to unite both houses in a lasting union," Rhaenyra commented. "We chose to accept the proposal. Lucille agreed."

"Now, the North," Viserys said with a smile on his face. "I heard they have huge wolves as their companions. And that the cold is so intense they wear fur coats all the time."

Lucille nodded with a smile. "They also have great warriors. Lord Cregan Stark is a formidable warrior, I've heard."

"It must reek of dog," Aegon murmured against his cup, low enough for only his siblings to hear.

"A toast to my granddaughter, Lucille, may her rule in Driftmark be prosperous, and her marriage to Lord Cregan Stark be beneficial to both houses," Viserys raised his cup again.

Everyone toasted, except for Aegon... And Aemond. Her eyes meet his again, and she can feel the tension in her body. He holds his cup on the table, his jaw tensed. She doesn't know what he's thinking or feeling, but she knows it's not something good.

When he looks away, she does the same.

"You'll do just fine," Rhaena celebrates quietly beside her, and Lucille forces a smile.

"It warms my heart and saddens me at the same time to see these faces around the table. The most beloved faces to me in the whole world... but so distant from each other... in recent years," Viserys begins to say, rising from his seat. He takes off his mask, revealing a face taken over by his illness. An eye missing. Lucille holds her breath for a moment. "My own face... is no longer beautiful... if it ever was. But tonight... I wish for you to see me... as I am. Not just a king... but your father. Your brother. Your husband... and your grandfather. One who may not be able to... walk among you much longer."

He pauses, and Lucille meets her brother's gaze and then the table. Viserys continues:

"Let's not hold any more ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot remain strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown... then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly."

The king says and then sits back down, putting on his mask again. After a minute of silence, Lucille watches her mother rise with her cup.

"I wish to raise my glass to Your Grace, the Queen," she says, looking at Alicent. "I love my father. But I must admit that no one has been... more faithfully by his side than his good wife."

Alicent looks at her attentively, trying to understand her words.

"She cared for him with... unwavering devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude... and my apologies," she says finally, sitting back down.

"Your graciousness moves me deeply, princess," Alicent says. "We are both mothers... and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow. I raise my glass to you... and to your house. You will be a beautiful queen."

A moment of affection takes over the table, and the two seem to understand each other after a long time. The momentary softness is abruptly interrupted minutes later when Jacaerys stands up abruptly, banging his fist on the table.

"Jace," Lucille says, surprised.

She watches Aemond suddenly stand up, while Aegon returns to his seat. Tension crosses the two princes. Jace then turns to his sister and gives her a sympathetic smile before raising his cup.

"To Prince Aegon and... Prince Aemond," Jace nods towards Aemond. "We haven't seen each other in years, but I have good memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we can still be friends and allies. To your health and that of your family, dear uncles."

He gives Aegon a little punch on the shoulder, who looks bored on his chair. "To you as well."

"Beware the beast beneath the boards," Helaena murmurs.

"Very well done, my boy," Viserys tells his grandson.

Suddenly, Helaena stands up.

"I'd like to toast to Baela and Lucy. They will be getting married soon," she says. "It's not that bad. Most of the time, he just ignores you... except sometimes when he's drunk."

Daemon lets out a muffled laugh. Lucille directs a strained smile at her aunt. Poor Helaena.

"Let's hear some music," Viserys announces.

The musicians start playing, making the atmosphere more relaxed. Jace whispers something in Baela's ear and then gets up, walking over to Helaena's chair and extending his hand to her. The princess accepts without hesitation, being led to the center of the dining room. The two dance joyfully.

Although happy for Jace's marriage to Baela, Lucille can't help but think how nice it would be if her brother had married Helaena. Her aunt would be much happier. She watches them dance for a while and doesn't notice her uncle's presence by her side.

"Care to dance?" Aegon asks in her ear, extending his hand.

She accepts out of politeness, being led to where Jacaerys and Helaena were. Lucille notices her brother's hateful look in their direction. Aegon seems to be having fun.

"You've grown, niece," he taunts in her ear, holding her waist.

"We all have, uncle," Lucille replies.

"No. I mean, in another way," he smiles. "In the way only a woman can."

She shifts uncomfortably in his grasp as he guides her during the dance.

"Lord Stark, huh?" he says. "I heard the northerners are wild. Especially in bed."

"I don't pay attention to rumors."

"You should," he smiles, leaning closer to her ear. "I can teach you a few things before you get married."

A loud noise echoes through the room, cutting off the music. Lucille turns to the table, watching Aemond leaning menacingly over it. When the gazes turn to him, he stands up, holding his cup. His gaze is fixed on the dancing couples. She also notices that her grandfather was no longer there.

"Final tribute," he says. "To the health of my nephews: Jace... Lucille... and Joffrey. Each of them beautiful, wise... hm... strong."

"Aemond," Alicent scolds him.

"Come... let's raise our cups to these three..." He pauses, smiling ironically at Lucille. "Strong boys."

"I dare you to say that again," Jace threatens, breaking free from Helaena.

"Why? It was just a compliment," Aemond smiles scornfully. "Don't you consider yourself strong?"

Before Lucille could react to stop her brother, Jacaerys lunged at Aemond, hitting him with a punch.

"Jace!" Lucille and Rhaenyra shouted at the same time.

Just as Lucille was about to run to her brother, Aegon grabbed her wrist, but she quickly pulled away, stepping on his foot. The prince grunted in pain. Chaos ensued.

"Why would you say such a thing in front of these people?" Alicent scolded her son, approaching him.

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, mother," Aemond said in a sarcastic tone, then turned to Jace and Lucille. "Hmm, although it seems my nephews aren't as proud of theirs."

Lucille struggled to keep Jace in the same place.

"Tell me, dear niece, is being strong such a vile adjective?" Aemond mocked.

"Don't speak to my sister!" Jace yelled.

"Why?" Aemond growled, turning to Jace. "Your sister has an outstanding debt."

"I have no debt," Lucille replied.

"Shall I refresh your memory?"

Jace lunged again and Daemon was the one who stood in front of him this time. With just a gesture, the Dragon Prince pushed his stepson aside, calling for silence. Rhaenyra hurried to send them to their chambers.

The last thing Lucille saw before leaving the dining room with her brother and cousins was Aemond's burning gaze upon them.

It would be a long stay, she thought.

-

Lucille couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed, consumed by anxiety. Flashes of the previous day played in her mind. Vaemond Velaryon's retaliation, her grandfather's speech, Aegon's jests, and Aemond's words. Not just his words, but also his looks. She hadn't expected her uncle to have gotten over losing an eye so easily, but she hadn't imagined he would resent her so much either.

They were children, after all, and Lucille was protecting her brother. He himself had said that night: it was a fair trade. An eye for a dragon.

But years later, she realized that nothing had changed.

Sometimes she remembered the past. How the four—Jace, Aegon, Aemond, and she—were close before juvenile squabbles began. Before doubts about her legitimacy arose. But that time was gone.

She sighed, turning over one last time before getting up. She wouldn't be able to sleep. She walked around the room, looking for something to distract herself. There was nothing. Maybe she could find a book in the library, one that would occupy her until sleep came.

She grabbed a coat, covering her body that had only a nightgown, and opened her room door slowly. The corridor was dark, lit by a few candle points. She slinked along the walls, heading to the library and quickly leaving it. She carried two books in one arm.

As she held the doorknob of her room, she felt a sudden approach and a cold object against her throat, making her freeze.

"Jace—" She choked, thinking of calling her brother's name, who was in the room next door.

"Your brother isn't here now." Aemond. "I am. Come in."

She swallowed hard. Her uncle wouldn't kill her, would he? Her mother would burn him and the whole castle if he did.

She obeyed, entering the room without turning once. She heard him close and lock the door. She suppressed a cry in her throat. When she gathered courage and turned around, Aemond was still with his back turned, covered by a dark blue cape.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, gathering the courage that remained.

"Lord Cregan Stark, hm?" He asked irritably, turning.

Lucille gasped at the sight before her. Aemond was without his eye patch. The sapphire blue shone intensely against the strands of moonlight streaming through his window, glinting. His face looked much more threatening, partially obscured by the hood, and his gaze never seemed so intense as it did now. She observed the scar that crossed his eye. A scar she caused.

"You won't marry him," he said.

"How?" She asked, confused.

"I'm not a man to say the same thing twice." He said, advancing a step. She backed away. He smiled, seeing how it affected her. "Do you fear me, niece?"

"N-No."

Lie.

"Why are you here?" She asked, glancing quickly at the dagger he carried.

"I came to settle accounts." He replied. "You owe me."

"I don't owe you anything." She said in a moment of courage.

A mistake.

In the next moment, her body was pressed against the wall of her room, Aemond's grip on her throat, his face close to hers. "Don't you?"

Lucille was paralyzed.

"Look at my face," he said impatiently.

The princess gasped heavily. Her eyes wandered from the lilac iris to the sapphire stone he sported. His breath was against her face, his breathing heavy with anger. She never imagined him so close in this way. He was taller than her, which made her keep her neck raised under his hand. He applied a slight pressure against her flesh, making her feel a strange sensation of warmth. God, what was happening? If anyone saw them like this...

"What do you see?" He asked, impatiently.

"Aemond..." She gasped when he slid his thumb along her neck, testing the territory. Blue eyes against lilac.

When did he become so attractive?

She wanted to push the thought out of her head, but it was difficult when, for the first time, she was so close to a man who wasn't her brother. So close to a man who was once her old friend and who had grown so fast. A man who had been haunting her thoughts since the moment she took his eye. A man who looked at her like no one ever had and who pursued her relentlessly. She considered herself crazy for a moment.

"You've been mine since you took my eye," he whispered threateningly against her lips. "Not some Northern Lord's."

Lucille gasped as she felt him getting closer, accommodating his knee between her legs. She sucked in air, feeling like she would faint right there. "A-Aemond, I'm engaged..."

"Then say it, say you belong to Lord Cregan Stark..." He whispered in her ear, moving her leg. She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Aemond's other hand held her waist possessively, pulling her slightly to him, forcing her body to have friction against his leg. His lips found her neck. God, she thought, he was making everything difficult. "Say you want Lord Stark."

"Aemond..." She whispered in a pleading tone. She wanted him to stop, but at the same time, she didn't want him to.

He descended his kisses to the valley of her breasts, only covered by the thin nightgown. He pulled her coat down with some impatience. She shivered with the sudden cold. His hands returned to her waist, pulling her in a jerk. She wore nothing to cover her intimacy, which made contact with his leg hallucinating. She had never felt anything like it.

"Say it." He teased, kissing her over her nightgown.

She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath, leaning her back against the wall. Nothing would have prepared her for what was to come.

Aemond knelt down and lifted her nightgown, raising one of her legs over his shoulder. She gasped as she felt his lips kissing there.

"Aemond!" She squeaked.

He squeezed her raised thigh and her hip in a silent way to ask her to be quiet. She obeyed, not wanting to be caught like this. How would she explain the fact that Aemond Targaryen was in her room so late at night? Her thoughts were silenced by his lips on her intimacy, moving against her folds, finding a sensitive spot.

Lucille jolted, making him release a puff of air against her, probably laughing at her innocence. In the next moment, she felt his tongue working. He explored every corner of her, every fold, every taste. The princess couldn't help but seek support on the Targaryen's head, covered by her silk nightgown. She moaned softly, feeling the sensations he caused her.

At one point, he hit what seemed to be her sensitive spot. She moaned a bit louder, making him tighten his grip on her hands and move faster. She gasped. "A-Aemond, I..."

She murmured desperate, disconnected words, feeling pleasure increasing more and more. He wouldn't stop. She didn't want him to stop. But she didn't know where it would lead. She closed her eyes tightly, gripping the silver strands beneath her fingers, and when the climax hit her, violently, she slumped forward, being held by him.

He stood up, licking his lips. His face was intoxicated, lips wet. She had done this. She gasped, still limp, being held by him against the wall.

"Do you know what Lord Stark would do now?" He whispered in her ear. "He would throw you on that bed… Rip off your clothes… And fuck you like a whore."

"Aemond…" She gasped.

He moved his left hand to the middle of her legs, sneaking two fingers into her intimate part and thrusting them inside her. The princess clutched his garment covering his arm, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. "Say it. Say you desire Cregan Stark."

His fingers bent, forming a hook, and began to move inside her, in a back and forth motion in the spongy area. He increased his speed. With his other hand, he grabbed her nape, pulling the princess into a kiss.

She moaned under his touch, and just when she thought that sensation would come again, he stopped. The feeling as intensely as it began, ceased.

"Aemond." Lucille grumbled.

She leaned her face closer to his, and he recoiled. He was having fun, she realized. He was enjoying playing with the sensations he caused her, with the temptation he caused her, and with the limit she could reach.

She knew she had reached a point of no return.

"Say you're mine." He ordered. "Not Cregan Stark's. Not any other man's. Say you're mine, and I'll make you my wife."

She parted her lips, reality hitting her chest once again. Her family would never allow this. Rhaenyra and Daemon were content with her engagement to Lord Stark, and she doubted Alicent Hightower would agree to a possible union between her son and Rhaenyra's daughter.

"No man will be able to satisfy you the way I will," he said, sliding his hand to the side of her chest, sneaking his thumb under her breast. "We are dragons. We are meant to burn."

Burn. Well, that's what she felt. As Aemond touched her body in a way she never imagined, she felt her body catch fire. A heat she never imagined feeling radiated from within her, and she didn't know if she could control it for much longer.

"I thought I was just a bastard to you," she whispered, testing the boundaries of provocation.

"You are," he replied, tucking a strand of hair from her face. "But you're mine."

"I was never yours, Aemond."

His thumb slid to the nipple covered by the nightgown, and she gasped softly. "You've been mine since the moment you took out my eye." He moved his other hand to her neck, lifting her chin with his thumb. "Since the moment you occupied my thoughts every day after your departure and since the moment you set foot in King's Landing. After that night, I realized that Vhagar wasn't the only thing I wanted to claim."

"What was it?" She asked, looking directly into his eye. She already knew the answer.

"You."

Lucille breathed slowly, her chest rising and falling. Aemond drew closer, pressing his body against hers until his chin rested on the top of her head. His fingers caressed her back, trailing down to her covered buttocks, and he placed his hands there, pressing her body against his. Lucille gasped when she felt something rigid between his legs. He moved one of his hands to her thigh, lifting her leg to encircle his hip, and then brushed his body against hers, slowly.

"Aemond…" She breathed softly against his neck, feeling the sensations it caused her.

"Do you feel that? It's what you do to me, Lucy," he murmured, nibbling at the top of her ear. "My Lucy…"

He increased the movements, making her moan a little louder, feeling the pressure of his pants against her sensitive spot. She rested her arms on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his body as he incessantly called her name.

"Gods be good…" She pleaded. "Please, Aemond…"

She denied with her head, her eyes closed.

"Say."

He grabbed her face, caressing her cheek, moving his thumb to her lips.

"Say it."

"Yours…" She whispered, opening her eyes. "Make me yours, Aemond."

The prince didn't need to hear it twice. He grabbed the princess by her thighs and lifted her, carrying her to the bed. When he threw her onto the sheets, he got between her legs and pulled out the dagger that was in his belt. Lucille gasped, not having time to understand what was happening. He used the steel to tear the nightgown in half, revealing her body to him.

She shivered as the night breeze caressed her naked body, being watched by Aemond's gaze. The one-eyed prince slid his hand over her belly, moving up to reach the middle of her breasts. He teased her, taking his time to finally touch where she desired. Then he squeezed one of her breasts and brought his mouth to the other, giving it the attention it deserved.

"Mm… Ah!" She moaned, feeling his tongue tease her hardened nipple. She could feel something hard between Aemond's legs as he leaned over her. "Aemond… It's not fair. I'm the only one naked."

"In a hurry, are we?" He teased, trailing his kisses down to her belly as he slid off the bed.

She watched as he stood up, removing the cloak covering his body, revealing the white linen shirt and leather pants. He undid the knots of his shirt and tore it off his body, throwing it to the floor. Then he removed his boots with some impatience, giving attention to his belt next. Lucille nibbled her lip, knowing what would come next.

She observed his chest, not so strong, but defined. The result of years of training. She saw him unfasten his belt and open his pants, pulling them down to finally be free. Lucille's breath caught in her throat as she glanced down at the prince's legs, widening her eyes in the process. She didn't know how other men were, but definitely, Aemond should be considered… Well-endowed.

"Like what you see?" He taunted, returning to the bed.

She averted her gaze, feeling her cheeks burn. No, she thought, it's not the behavior of a dragon. She turned her eyes back to him, meeting the lilac gaze burning with desire, while his jewel seemed to glimmer more than ever.

"Yes." She swallowed her words. "And you, do you like what you see, uncle?"

His response came when Aemond grabbed her hip, pulling her towards him. He lifted her legs, kissing her ankle. "I should warn you of the reason I made you so… satisfied, earlier." He teased, stroking her legs, descending to her thighs. "I don't intend to be gentle."

Lucille gasped, staring at him.

"I've imagined this moment for many years…" He teased. "At times, I imagined my hand around your neck, squeezing the air out of your lungs just to see you beg."

She said nothing.

"Other times, I pictured you kneeling, begging for my forgiveness…"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, uncle…"

Aemond chuckled. He then spread his legs, pulling Lucille closer, brushing against their intimacies. The princess gasped, clutching the sheets beside her, propping herself up on her forearms. "Don't feel sorry, niece. I'm not done yet."

He held the base of his member, rubbing it against her intimacy. Lucille gasped, feeling the heat of the contact. Gods. There was no turning back, she realized. "Aemond…"

"This will hurt… A little." He mocked, kneeling. One of his hands held the back of her knee, spreading her further. "But don't worry, sweet Lucy… It doesn't compare to the pain of losing an eye."

Lucille gasped, and the next moment, she felt the pressure of Aemond's member pushing into her entrance. She stifled a scream, feeling a burning sensation. "Calm down, it'll pass soon." He whispered. His other hand reached her clit, making continuous movements. "You'll feel very good."

"Aemond… It hurts…" She gasped. Suddenly, this didn't seem like such a good idea anymore.

He then stopped, only stimulating her. He kissed her breasts, indulging in them once again. Lucille breathed heavily, feeling good again. "My sweet, sweet Lucy…"

He stimulated her until she felt again the wave of pleasure that had hit her before, and then advanced, taking her completely. Lucille Velaryon was his. Only his.

"Do you want to know what I also imagined? What I dreamed?" He asked in her ear, grabbing her hips and moving slowly, feeling her tighten around him.

"What?" She said.

"You moaning my name…" He whispered. "Scratching my back… Saying you were mine… While I fucked you mercilessly."

She gasped, feeling him move faster.

"I imagined this so many times… I fucked you in my bed… On the dining table… On that damn Iron Throne… And even on my dragon's back." One of Aemond's hands slid up to her breast, pinching her nipple. "I made you scream with pleasure so that all of Westeros could know that you were mine."

"Aemond…" She gasped, pulling the prince's neck into a kiss. He reciprocated, groaning in the process and kissing her aggressively. Their tongues danced in their mouths, and nothing seemed to matter more than that moment of pleasure.

Aemond's movements became intense, aggressive. The princess gasped between kisses, struggling not to moan so loudly that her brother would wake up or someone would knock on her door. He held her hips tightly as he took her, and Lucille was sure she would wake up with bruises, but that didn't matter now.

Nothing mattered now.

Their lips parted, and he rested his forehead against hers, maintaining eye contact. Their mouths remained slightly open, breathing heavily, uttering obscenities. "Mine, mine…" Aemond growled. He took one of his hands to her neck, applying some pressure while still thrusting into her. "There's no turning back, Lucille."

"I-I know…" She whimpered, feeling pleasure rise through her belly. God, she accepted everything.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He snarled, burying his face in her neck. His grip intensified, and he continued until he heard her scream his name, trembling her body and her legs around him. He didn't think twice before holding her waist firmly and releasing inside her. He felt Lucille's insides contract in spasms, pulling him. "You take me so well."

"Aemond…" She murmured, closing her eyes from exhaustion, oblivious to anything else.

Aemond smiled, proud. He watched her sweaty body, illuminated by the moonlight, with her chest rising and falling from the recent effort. He observed the dark curls scattered over the sheet, the red cheeks, and the lashes sprinkled with tears of pleasure. A true mess. A mess he caused. And Aemond Targaryen loved chaos.

A sadistic satisfaction crossed his mind when he imagined his relatives' expressions when they found out what had happened. When they had to accept the fact that Lucille Velaryon was his. When they had to see her become his lady and the mother of his child.

His. His. His.

"Aemond…" She whispered, calling him.

"I'm here." He murmured, lying beside her. His finger caressed her lips. "I'll always be."

An eye for a dragon. A virtue for another. Lucille Velaryon was his, forever.

[madhatterbri]

Discipline | C.C.

Summary: “Nick told me you tried to scold him today. For what? That boy does nothing wrong. You’re the one who needs discipline”

Author's Note: just out here writing @99hook fantasy. ❤️ it's spicy but you know what's happening and so does Nick. 🤣

@1dluver13xx @theswitchbladessweetheart

Sorry if I forgot a Christian girl.

You walked into Christian's hotel room nervously. Any time the man needed you this late at night made your thoughts wander. Maybe it was to plan another attack on Adam, Darby, and Sting. Nothing particularly exciting happened on AEW that night. The last thing you expected was a smug eighteen-year-old crying on his shoulder.

"Want to explain why you embarrassed my son in front of the entire locker room?" He asked sharply. No sign of amusement on his face. You scoffed. My son. Yet when he needs something from you its our son.

"Nick was talking back to me. He-"

"He did nothing wrong. The locker room is a lion's den. One sign of weakness and the others will pounce," he reprimanded you in front of the teenager. Your cheeks blushed from embarrassment. He scolded you before but never in front of Nick. Lucha would stand up for you on occasion. This kid would watch you burn and drink the water to save you.

"He was talking back to me, Christian. He-"

"He is my image and a product of me. He is my prodigy. He does not need the locker room to turn against him anymore than they already have," Christian spoke harshly yet sighed. He lifted his hand up to give himself a breather. "If anything you need to be disciplined and I think it's time we do it tonight,"

Nick's eyes lit up as he smirked at you. He never liked you being with Christian. You stole his second father's attention from him and it made him nuts. Christian rubbed his son's back caring Nick to sniffle once more.

"It's going to be okay, son," Christian spoke and hugged Nick. Your stomach turned as fresh tears fell down Nick's face. He whispered something to Christian. "No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong my perfect little prodigy. Your name, say sorry to Nick,"

Your nostrils flared in annoyance and your face turned red. Tears pooled from frustration. This punk was going to be the reason you all failed. He was getting his way again. You smiled bitterly. Nick looked at you waiting for his apology.

"I am sorry, Nick. I don't want the locker room to turn against you," you muttered through gritted teeth. He smiled triumphantly one last time before wishing his father a good night. He stuck his chest out as he walked past you and out the door. "Good night, Christian,"

"I do not remember dismissing you," Christian warned and grabbed your arm. You spun around to him pressing you against the wall. His lips collided with yours. His body pressed into you to keep you against him.

The patriarch had a way of making you want more. His hands slid up your legs and wrapped them around his waist. You could feel his desire against you. He stepped away from you to catch his breath.

"He's been such a trouble lately, Christian," you whispered while trying to soak in enough oxygen before he went in for round two.

"I know it's that mother of his really did a number on him but your behavior in the locker room was unacceptable. Get on your knees and crawl to me. Since you like running your mouth I think I found another use for it,"

Christian sat on the bed. Your heart pounded so loud you could hear it clear as day. Cheeks flushed at his request. He never used sex as a punishment before. The unknown made you nervous yet excited.

That night Nick Wayne knew he would never book a room next to Christian again. He had a pillow over his ears to try to block out the noise yet the two of you were so loud. Even Luchasaurus couldn't block out the sound with his growling and snoring. The prodigy heard everything.

Every moan and whine that came from you. All the gags that he started to wonder if you were doing intentionally. The way he demanded you to look in his eyes while you sucked him off. The banging of the headboard against the wall. He was only able to get an hour sleep before the alarm went off to remind him to get ready to go to the airport.

You stepped out of the room wearing yesterday's clothes and a smile. The boy that started this would come out of his room any second. You heard the alarm clock in Christian's room. Sure enough the little brat walked out looking exhausted.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry, Nicky. I hope we didn't keep you up," you fake apologized and smiled. He glared at you and walked past you.

[lis4ux]

@jjxkiaraxpopexcleoxjohnbxsarah thank you for the art, friend ❤️

Chapter 53. He's Happy

The walk across the road feels like he's trudging through quick sand. It's a bit confusing, because he also feels like he's having an out of body experience. Kie tried to get him grounded before they did this. Wanted him to be as down to earth and in control of he could be, but eventually he shook it off, resigning himself to this just being how he was gonna feel.

Kie holds his hand as they walk up to two steps to the front door. It's a burgundy red, painted no doubt by the current owner. She has a door bell and a knocker. He's not sure what to do until Kie gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, letting him know she's here. That she always will be.

That pushes him enough to want to rip the band aide off and he presses the doorbell, and a chime muffled through the door is heard.

"You got this," Kie tells him, and he shakes his head affirmatively.

The door opens a lot faster than he was expecting, making him flinch when it swings free, the person inside clearly not concerned with strangers knocking on her door.

Clair stands in light blue scrubs, ASICS for tennis shoes, and so he gets the immediate impression that she works in the medical field. Her blonde hair is singularly braided with a pink headband holding back fly aways. It looks like she's done something to it, like she got high lights or something; like Sarah Cameron does sometimes.

He has a hard time looking at her face, but when she greets them, completely unaware of who is at her door, he can't help but look up.

"Yes, can I help you?" she asks, holding a dish towel and seeming to be wiping her hands from some mess she made. She smiles, like it isn't a bother to her that someone is knocking, like she would be happy to help that she offered.

He's a little shell shocked if he's being honest. He knew his mom was a young mother, but she looks hardly old enough to have an eighteen year old. Even younger than Anne, he guesses, maybe mid thirties. Her eyes are like mirrors to his own. He always thought he got them from Luke. Didn't realize that it was really his mom that he inherited them from.

Kie clears her throat, but he doesn't say anything. His grip on her hand tightens though, and she gets the message that speaking isn't something he can do right now.

She gives a pressured smile, trying to appear non threatening. It's clear that Clair doesn't recognize the man in front of her, and it crosses her mind that maybe this isn't Clair at all. Maybe this was someone else that just lived here with her, or perhaps a relative?

That would explain the uncanny likeness. Her own parents and even Luke have admitted how much JJ looks like his mother, and seeing her in front of them Kie can't disagree. But it's more than looks alone.

It's her constant need to move that catches Kie the most. Like she can't sit still either, leaning on one leg and then the other. Crossing her arms and then putting them on her hips, like she can't find a suitable resting place for any part of her body for longer than a few seconds.

JJ, on the other hand, is uncharacteristically still, taking in the person he called mom with a transfixed expression.

"We're looking for Clair Dalton," Kie offers up.

Clair cocks her head to the side, interpreting Kie's slow admission as trusting, and happily acknowledges that, "I'm Clair, how can I help you?"

This time, Kie doesn't need to say anything.

"You wanted to talk to me?" JJ voices

Read on AO3

[pleasantlyinsincere]

May Pang, Sunday Mirror December 14, 1980

MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH LENNON - I didn't steal her man - by Tony Frost

John Lennon's secret love has talked for the first time about her "beautiful and tender" affair with the tragic superstar.

Chinese beauty May Pang has fought back the tears and said: "I still can't believe he is dead. Now he is gone, I feel a part of me has died too." Lennon turned to May after breaking up with his Japanese wife Yoko Ono in 1973. They spent eighteen 'Idyllic' months together - living in Los Angeles for six months, then setting up a love-nest on New York's fashionable East Side, before Lennon eventually went back to Yoko.

Only a few close friends knew of Lennon's romance with May, who was once secretary to him and Yoko. The affair was deliberately concealed from fans.

May, 30 but looking ten years younger, overcame her grief at last week's assassination of the ex-Beatle to give me an exclusive interview at her Manhattan apartment. "They were such magical times", she said. "Thank God, no one can take away my precious memories. I count myself as a very lucky woman to have shared some of John's most tender moments, his private thoughts and, most of all, his love. John brought me more happiness than I could hope to find in a lifetime with another man."

May originally worked for apple, the Beatles recording company. She became very close to Yoko and helped her in women's lib campaigns. "I don't want to say anything that might be hurtful to Yoko", she said. "She was always very kind to me. I didn't steal her man - they had broken up before John and I became lovers. I know she is deeply upset, and my heart goes out to her. But I have shed as many tears as Yoko."

Last Monday night, when Mark Chapman pumped five bullets into Lennon outside his New York home, May was at a friend's flat half a mile away. "We had the radio on," said May. "The disc jockey suddenly interrupted saying 'John Lennon has been shot'. At first I thought it was some kind of a sick joke. The initial news flash said that John was wounded. A few minutes later it was announced that he was at the hospital being operated on. I began shuddering and held my breath. I prayed that it wasn't true, but the third bulletin revealed the awful truth - John was dead. I screamed hysterically for several minutes. I stayed in bed for two days, sobbing and just thinking of John. I couldn't eat or sleep - my body was so numb from shock."

TOO UPSET

"The only thing I managed to do was pull a call through to Yoko. One of her aides answered the phone, saying she was too upset to talk to me. I can understand her feelings. Perhaps she cannot forgive me for loving John as much as her, and I feel I have no right to intrude into her sorrow. I left a message that I would gladly to anything to help her or their little boy Sean."

May's flat is a shrine to Lennon. Two pictures that she took of John - one showing him shirtless on a beach in California, the other relaxing with ex-Beatles drummer Ringo Starr - take pride of place. A note that Ringo slipped through the door of their New York home is pinned on the wall. "Dear John and May, Popped round to see you. Will call again." May has all of Lennon'd records but her most treasured possession is a doodle he produced.

"He was talking about finding peace and tranquility in his twilight years," she said. "He sketched for several minutes and handed me a drawing of himself as a little old man. 'That's how I'll look, when I'm 64,' he told me."

Lennon obsessed with assassination during the early Beatlemania years, later curbed his fear of death. "His great desire was to grow old gracefully," said May. "Some people fear old age, but John actually looked forward to it."

May, who was nicknamed 'Mother superior' by Lennon because she loved to organise things at his recording sessions, now works for Rod Stewart's record company. She cuddled two pet cats as she told of the gentle side of Lennon.

"When he read about callous acts of violence throughout the world, he would take it all so personally. 'Guns are for cowboys in the movies,' he said. John wanted desperately to be accepted at the level of the ordinary man. He always shunned bodyguards, to avoid attention being drawn to him."

WITTY VERSES

In a magazine interview shortly before his death Lennon said he had sometimes beat up his women. "He was never like that with me," said May. "He was a kind, caring and gentle companion. We would often stay up until dawn discussing music and the world's problems. Sometimes as we lay in bed he would recite poetry - nothing heavy just little witty, amusing verses - or sing to me. He was a real romantic and I don't believe he was capable of hurting a fly."

Lennon's fling with May ended after he bumped into Yoko backstage at an Elton John concert in New York.

She suggested he should improve his health by cutting down on alcohol, losing weight and stopping smoking. An appointment was made for him to visit a hypnotist who treated heavy smokers. Friends say that after his first session in the hypnotist's chair Lennon walked "almost spell-bound" back to Yoko's flat. From then the two were inseperable.

"When John went back to Yoko I knew it was finished between us forever, because he was a loyal and honorable person", said May. He was faithful during our time together and since he returned to Yoko there was never any question of him looking at another woman."

The last time May spoke to Lennon was three years ago ata party at Regine's nightclub in New York. "He was very careful in his choice of words because Yoko never left his side," said May. "I believe he could sense that I had never stopped loving him. I will love him forever. There will always be a corner of my heart reserved for John Lennon.

Lennon's affair was observed by Chris Charlesworth, then American editor of Melody Maker.

Chris, 33, said in London: "He was obviously infatuated with May. Yoko thought it would be a short-lived fling while John sowed his wild oats. I don't think he could ever get Yoko out of his mind. He used to ring her every few days just to hear her voice."

Chris said: "Dying so young was something that never entered John's head. 'When I'm 64, Yoko and I will be a doddery old couple living in a tiny cottage in Ireland,' he said. "Yoko envisaged them growing all their own vegetable and milking a couple of goats every day."

Lennon gave the reason why the fab four could never perform together again.

He told Chris: "If we got our act together it wouldn't be as good as the old days. We're rusty old men." The world will now never know if he meant it.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Eighteen.

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 5,039

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“It’s him, I swear it!” 

Laughter abounded, especially those who knew Jade of old.  

“Baby, it isn’t him. This is you and the Dalai Lama all over again. Or that time you thought a random homeless guy was Zach Galifianakis.”  

Lewis nearly fell from the bench at the outside table they were seated at, enjoying some after dinner drinks. “Oh my god, you never knowing who anybody is, it’s legendary at this point!" 

“But I do know who that is over there!” she stated emphatically. “It’s Lance Reddick!  

Everyone was set for her to see that once again, she was making a blunder, until Jade caught the eye of the man and waved. He beamed, standing up immediately. “Hello, darling!”  

“Fucking told you, every last one of you!” she chirped, getting up and walking to greet the man she’d co-starred with in a film the year before, giving him a big hug. “Hiya! Aww, it’s so nice to see you again! Everyone said it wasn’t you, because of what I’m like with recognising people.” 

Lance tipped his head back, laughing softly. “Indeed, I am well-schooled in your comedic blunders!” He introduced himself to everyone with handshakes, Jess having to virtually heave her jaw up off the floor, being such a huge fan, delighted when he posed for a picture with her. He went back to his table shortly after, Jade and her group staying for a few hours before returning to the house.  

More drinks were poured, the staff gone for the night so dangerously, Jade and Jen putting themselves in charge of the cocktail mixing.  

“Fuck me,” Adrien began in exclamation after taking a sip. It was so strong, it could have knocked Keith Richards out cold. 

“You bet your sexy arse, I will, Bug,” Jade cut in with, grinning devilishly before licking her top lip.  

“Behave,” he warned, but still winked in a way that said loud and clear she was getting laid well later. “Seriously, that’s like drinking peach flavoured gasoline.” Still, he downed it in one, refusing a refill and sticking to beer. While the drinks were created, Jess deciding to put a whole array of fresh fruits and syrups into the blender with vodka and rum, Mona stayed away from everyone, Lewis included.  

Adrien had filled him in on her ridiculous statements made to Jade, and to say he was mortified by her behaviour was putting it mildly. He wished more than anything now that he’d made the trip solo, rather than bringing along the woman who was showing a completely different side to herself, one he did not enjoy witnessing. Maybe fifteen years younger than him was too big an age gap.  

He had to hand it to the women, though. They tried to make her feel welcome, calling her over, offering her drinks. She took one with a small nod of thanks, not daring to look Jade in the eye. She sauntered off again, the girls moving to take seats out on the plush patio couch, Adrien lingering by the doors, Lewis informing him he was tired and heading to bed. He remained there, just about within earshot of the three women sitting observing Mona, bolstered by alcohol. 

“I swear, I cannot with this girl,” Jade began, shaking her head as she watched Mona totter around to the other side of the pool. “She’s like all the worst parts of a typical LA girl all mashed together, fuelled by forty percent rum, sixty percent being a pretentious bitch whose far too invested in acting like a dick to me. I should tit punch her, really,” she continued, Jen spraying a mouthful of peachy rum infusion. 

Turning to where Adrien stood, she tried to bite back her laughter a little, but trying not to explode was a tough battle. Drunk Jade was, and always would be, the most hilarious version of herself without a doubt. “Homeslice, are you hearing this?”  

“Look at her, it’s like watching a barracuda on stilts! She’s made of wedge heels and hostility.” Jade then added, her husband snorting a laugh. 

“Baby love, stop it,” he laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re above this.” 

“I will not, I’m a little bit lit and my filter has slipped.” The hiccup that followed her words was right on cue, her lips tightening and wobbling as she tried not to laugh. “No, I will, though. You’re right, I am above this. I’m just drunk and irritated. They never mix well.” 

His face was very knowing in the wake of those words. “Ohhh yes, this I can vouch for. I’ll never forget the first time I witnessed that, you and Katie crashing back into the dressing room after the third LA show, when you’d gotten off stage and had that interview straight after?” Immediately, there was wincing at the memory. God, he’d been an asshole to them both.  

“I remember sitting there with Charlotte, watching you two do tequila shots, getting more drunken, more agitated and louder by the minute,” he continued, coming to sit with them, “so I asked her what the hell should I do to counteract that. She told me, and I quote, ‘I sit on Katie’s face until she shuts up, but you might wanna switch that around and just let her ride yours until she isn’t angry any longer.’ It worked, too.” 

“Yeah, and then you made me come so hard, I fell forward and smacked my head right off the pissing table in the rear lounge!” Her words had Jess and Jen wheezing at the memory of being told of her collision the following morning.  

He lit a cigarette, beginning to grin. “I can’t be held responsible for any collateral damages incurred because of my tongue.” 

Jen’s laugh boomed, even more so at Jess snorting loudly into her glass. They were one of those couples who didn’t have to try too hard to be funny; they just were.  Funny, lovely, and still as sexually crazy about one another as they had been upon meeting almost three years before. This was evidenced well when Jade woke up the following morning to the warming sensation of his mouth upon her breasts, peppering kisses, sucking her nipples, hand stroking her thighs until they parted for him. 

“So, you’ve woken up full of horn, have you?” 

“Mm.” He often did, to be fair. Even when he was still heavy with sleep, as she knew he was, only communicating in a series of hums. While his mouth sucked at her nipple lazily, his hand moved to stroke between her folds with focus, finding her still a little damp from when he was inside her hours before. His fingertips rubbed, coaxing little moans as he pushed them into the warmth of her cunt, hooking and raking, stroking languidly as his tongue fluttered over the pebble peak of her nipple.  

His arm reached beneath her shoulders, pulling her to him, mouth meeting hers in soft, languid kisses, her little moans making his cock twitch as his fingers burrowed deep. She wrapped herself around him, body melding with hers as he stoked the furnace of her arousal, fingers leaving her melting syrupy, panting against his tongue.  

Little shocks skittered over her as he brought his thumb to her clit, rubbing tight, slick little circles, mouth dipping to her neck as she whined softly, her walls fluttering as he continued to massage the spots that pulled those pretty noises from her throat.  

“Fuck, you’ve got be dying for your cock,” she murmured, feeling him turn onto his back and take her with him. 

“Get on it, then.” His fingers slipped from her, Jade reaching between them and guiding him to where she streamed for him, sliding down with a sigh. “No, stay right here.” he added when she moved to sit up, arms wrapping around her, keeping her pressed tight against his chest. Gentle rolls of his hips had him filling and emptying her, mouth pressing against the plush of her lips as their tongues nudged, moaning into those kisses full of lazy longing.  

Split wide around his cock and pressed so tight against him, the way he moved had his pubic bone grinding right against her clit, lighting sparks that prickled deep, hot flourishes darting through her as she held his face in her hands and kissed him with escalating passion.  

“Ahh, fuck! Right there, god, that feels amazing!” she cried, his cock hitting her deep, hands roaming up and down her back, the sound of him cutting through her dewy cunt lewdly filling the space. Looking down at him, she beamed a smile, resting her forehead to his. “Your eyes look so goddamned pretty when you’re turned on.” Another kiss, another revelation. “Seriously, how can a man so fucking beautiful exist? How? God, you make me crazy with how gorgeous you are.”  

Even after two and a half years, he still felt ever inch as madly coveted by the beauty he was lucky enough to be married to, smiling, nuzzling her, his hands sliding down to grasp each round of her bum, driving up into her hard.  

“Yeah, my beautiful baby,” he groaned, mouth hot at the side of her neck, “you moan pretty for me. Fuck, I love you so much.”  

She sparked and clenched, being built up, Adrien watching intently as her mouth fell open, her eyes closing as the coil wound tighter and tighter, knowing it wouldn’t take long until… 

“Fuck! Ahh, fuck!” she cried, heat licking her spine and rushing through her being, every nerve alight as she came undone for him, her snug heat clenching greedily as her waves lapped his shore, rolling in and out again, her body tingling euphorically. 

He slowed a little, enjoying her cunt in spasm around him, proud of himself that he’d held back and not let her pull him under with her, fucking her slowly as she caught her breath before the pace gave way to something much more barbarous. His cock felt heavy and delicious within her, sparking wildfire through her tender insides, sparks of pleasure reconnecting again as he dragged her walls deliciously, shifting a little lower to suck each budded nipple, her body juddering pleasantly against his. 

His fingers clenched at her thighs, fingernails leaving pink crescents behind, growling with absolute abandon in her ear as he chased a herd of goose pimples across her neck and chest with his lips, consumed by her entirely.  

His cock thundered into her voraciously, their skin beginning to bead with sweat as the heat of their tryst coupled with the rising tropical heat warmed their bodies, Adrien watching the bliss etched upon her face as he fucked her with pure, driven determination. 

“Mmmm, yeah. Come for me,” she purred, and when he did, god. It hit him like a storm. 

His cock, glossy with her wetness, twitched before erupting, cum shot deeply into her as expletives spilled from his mouth, gritted groans following as her tightness clenched and she saw stars once again too, his thick erection eliciting another blinding crest as she arched her back and wailed in ecstasy. 

“Wow,” he mouthed, looking a little sex drunk, holding her close, hands stroking her sweaty flesh as she lay against him juddering hard, “I feel like I just got hit by lightning.” 

“Same.” she panted, clung onto him, knocked sideways by the force of her orgasm. It was the kind of sex so blindingly intense, not just from the physical pleasure, but the intimacy of the moment, that it dictated they barely left one another’s side in the aftermath. The showered together, went and ate breakfast, and then spent the rest of the morning wrapped around one another in the pool.  

“You gotta thing, don’t you, about deliberately wearing things that show a little hint of your nipples,” he spoke, eyes transfixed by the slight reveal of pink through the white crochet bikini she had on. “Mmm, sexy wife, happy life.” he chuckled, gently biting onto one, making her giggle.  

“I do, but only because I know it gets you all amped up, my darling,” she spoke sweetly, his mouth covering her breasts in kisses.  

“And on vacation that’s fine, but I’m still not over you and that chainmail top. Damn you.” He’d never forget it either, her choice of outfit for the US premiere of Predators, which happened to be the first time they appeared officially as a married couple on the red carpet. Adrien had struggled to keep his hands off her, dressed in a pair of black stripper heels, skintight black leather jeans and a near backless top comprised entirely of pale gold chainmail. She knew exactly how to work provocative to her advantage, whether it was to him or the rest of the world.  

Her giggles continued as his mouth rained kisses all over her, undoing the halter and back of her bikini top and throwing it to the edge of the pool. “Am I about to get dropped on the best cock in the world, hmm?” 

“Oh yeah.” With nobody else up yet, why not take advantage of that, Adrien backing her against the pool edge as their kisses gained heat. That was, until... 

“Hey Skip!” Jen called, Jess at her side placing her little fingers into her mouth and letting out a piercing wolf whistle. “No sex in the pool unless I get to join in!”  

Adrien turned to her, mouth widening into a grin. “Well then what are you waiting for?”  

Of course, she pulled off the cover up she had over her swimsuit and dived right in, swimming beneath the water. “Oh fuck, she’s got my shorts!” he exclaimed, almost deafening a giggling Jade from the loudness of his yell. “Jen, quit it!”  

“What did she do?” Jess called from the opposite side, Mona and Lewis appearing. 

“Bit me on the ass!” Well, if you’re going to openly invite trouble, Jen surfacing with a grin, holding his shorts aloft. 

“Success!” she yelled, hurling them across the patio area, turning back to beam at him. “And now whatcha gonna do, huh, homeslice?”  

He looked embarrassed for all of five seconds, resting Jade up on the edge of the pool before turning and grinning. “You? You’re in fucking trouble now, Crowley.” Under the water he went, grabbing the straps of her swimsuit, Jen screaming, pleading with her bestie for help.  

“Uh-uh, you started this, Jennifer.”  

Oh, how bad her own medicine tasted, Jen screaming and thrashing as she was robbed of her swimwear, Adrien making his escape beneath the water to the shallow end, using the ill-gotten swimsuit to cover his crotch as he climbed out and located his shorts, ducking behind a leafy potted plant to pull them back on. Emerging to hysterical laughter, he dangled the bright blue swimsuit off his index finger.  

“Checkmate.” He grinned, Jen raising her middle finger.  

With pink cheeks, she covered her face with her hands while treading water. “Fucking hate you so hard right now, man!”  

“Now, now, don’t be mean,” he teased, Jen covering her boobs with her arm and making a grab for the suit, Adrien tossing it behind him with a wink. “Go get it.”  

“Oh, you’re dead.”  

He shook his head, cracking up at his wife’s laugh booming ever louder. “Nope, but you keep up the threats and I’ll move quicker than you and throw it even further.”  

With no other choice presented, she scrambled out of the pool, screaming on the way when he slapped her on the ass hard. “Quit it!” she cried, sending everyone further into their hysteria. 

“That’s for biting me. Learn your lesson.”  

All found their shenanigans entertaining, Jen hiding behind the furniture to dress while Adrien returned to sit behind his wife, hugging her tightly as they relaxed at the pool edge, all apart from one. One who seemingly couldn’t get over her fixation.  

“I swear, you two are the greatest hilarity,” Jess laughed, pointing between Jen and Adrien a little later as they sat eating breakfast at the table. “It’s like a never-ending buddy comedy!” 

“He ain’t my buddy right now!” Jen spluttered, growling playfully as Adrien wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her head. 

“You gotta know that I’ll always get you back,” he spoke, Jen pulling a hilariously tight-lipped face, crinkling her nose. “It isn’t like I haven’t seen you naked already anyway. You’re not exactly precious about it.” 

“I am with people I don’t know well!” she exclaimed, extending her hand across the table. “Lewis and Mona didn’t need to see my bare butt.” Everyone laughed, the taste of her own medicine still not sitting well, all but one person finding that funny. She sat shaking her head, eyebrows raised, a disparaging look cast across the table. 

“What’s that face for, Mona?” Adrien asked, not able to stop himself. He knew he probably wouldn’t like what she had to say, but he wanted to see if she had the nerve to make the same insinuations about him as she had been to his wife. Mostly, he wanted to shut them down, too.  

“Because I can’t believe you have so many people fooled,” she spoke with a shrug, leaning back in her seat.  

“Babe, stop,” Lewis warned. 

“No, no. I mean is nobody going to hold you accountable here? Look at earlier this morning, for fucks sake! You and Jen all over each other right in front of your wife!” she exclaimed, Jen’s eyes darting up to meet hers.  

“You need to shut the fuck up, right now,” she warned. 

“No, let her continue,” Adrien spoke, raising his eyebrows as he viewed Mona with mild contempt. “I want to hear what she thinks she knows, since she has a habit of doing this. Why don’t you just come out and say it. What, you think I’m screwing Jen, really?” 

She scoffed, shaking her head. “It’s all kinds of obvious that you are.” 

What was this girl on? God above. They’d only just managed to shake themselves of one person with way too much to say about their relationship, and now they were presented with another?  

“You really have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Jen spoke, pointing at her. “That guy there? One of my closest fucking friends, and if you think I’d ever be so low as to fuck my best friend’s husband, then you’ve got another thing coming, you hear me?” 

“Oh, close friends. That old line, huh?” she further goaded, Lewis covering his face with his hand. 

How Jen held herself back from flying across the table and punching her in the mouth, she wasn’t quite sure. Probably something in the back of her mind knowing that she had to be on her guard to stop Jade doing the exact same thing, which she sensed might be the reaction she was looking for. It didn’t prevent her from letting Mona have it verbally, though. 

“You know what, girly? When somebody saves your life, when they literally grab a hold of you and yank you back from dying, then you can fucking judge, and not a goddamned moment before, you feel me? That’s what he did for me, not that it’s any of your damned business, but that’s why we’re so close.  

“He’s my friend and I love him beyond measure, and on that afternoon when he found me, what very little was left of my heroin eroded soul got saved by him. If my best fucking friend is cool with the fact that after then, we became close as hell, then tell me, what the fuck has it got to do with you, huh? Tell me that.”  

Through her anger, her eyes went glassy, Adrien grasping her hand, Jade swiftly moving to sit herself on her lap and hug her tightly, fixing Mona with a glare. “My patience with you is wearing really fucking thin, Mona. I’d get up and walk away from this table if I were you. Nobody talks to her like that.” 

“Or what?” she snorted, looking to her boyfriend for support that was not forthcoming. God, he was so embarrassed by her. 

Jess waded in then, very uncharacteristically prickled. “Or you find out just how much we have one another’s back. I might be tiny, but shit, you better believe I’m fucking mighty. Do not make me get up from my seat.”  

They might have been two members of their group short, but when the girls stood together against an adversary, they stood firm. Jade especially, her patience whittled down to nothing. 

“You’ve had your fucking knickers in a bunch since you arrived, and it all seems to stem from what you think is happening in my marriage. Let me say this clearly; the rumours of my husband cheating are a pile of crap, perpetuated by a young woman who is now finally receiving psychiatric help. Her claims? None of them can be backed up, she did not bring receipts other than fake text messages that anybody can create and badly done Photoshop creations.  

“It’s obvious that you want to believe it, or rather, you want me to be more affected than I am by it. Either way, couldn’t give a shit, but whatever the fuck it is within you that’s spurring you into attempting to make me feel like I have something to worry about, you need to address it. All of this that you’re doing, it says much more about you than it ever could me, or Adrien. Now, do us all a favour and shut the fuck up if you can’t say anything civil.” 

Oh, yes. Jade Brody had reached the end of her tether. Those who knew her best were wondering when her patience would finally give out. As for Mona, she sat there wordlessly, still wishing for Lewis to say something, the man himself shaking his head. 

“You’ve been unreasonable and shit stirring since we arrived, and that isn’t you. Fix it or go home, Mona. I’m not putting up with you behaving this way.” She was up and out of her seat in a flash, racing upstairs, Lewis running a hand down his face as he groaned softly. “I’m so sorry, guys. If it counts for anything at all, I honestly think it’s because she’s insecure and looking to bring people she can fully see aren’t down to her level.”  

Jade moved back to her seat, reaching across the table to grasp his hand. “I said exactly the same to Adrien the first night. It’s so obvious that’s where she’s coming from. I’ve tried to be firm but gentle with her because of it, because I can see she doesn’t have a scrap of self-esteem.” 

“I don’t know why, either!” he cried, lifting his hands aloft, reaching for his juice and taking a gulp. “I tell her all the time how amazing I think she is, and how beautiful. I honestly think she’s gotten herself all pressed about you three and that’s what it’s boiling down to. She’s jealous because you’re all famous and incredibly well-respected, and as well as my friends I’m still like, your number one fucking fanboy, too.”  

“Makes sense, I guess,” Jen spoke, taking a sip of her coffee.  

“All I know is that I’m done with silly little girls having an opinion on my marriage when they don’t know the first thing about it. At least the first one had an excuse, she was legit batshit crazy. No offence, Lewis,” Jade spoke, the man himself shaking his head. 

“None taken, babe. It’s fucking funny when you cut out how annoying it’s gotta be for you, because you and my boy, fucking happiest marriage I know of, my mom and dad aside.”  

It was that simple truth that stopped either of them from becoming more annoyed than they had been over the intrusion into their private life, the fact that the people casting aspersion – or those who believed the rumours – couldn't have been further from the truth. They were crazily in love with one another, and that was all there was to it.  

“I’m so sorry, man,” he offered, reaching across the table and grasping his friend on the shoulder, shaking his head. “You get rid of one crazy headcase and I fucking unwittingly bring you another.”  

“Ain’t your fault,” Adrien told him, sighing. “But I don’t want your girlfriend in this house if that’s how she’s gonna behave. You know you’re welcome, but she isn’t. Not after that.” 

He nodded, standing up. “I’m gonna go talk to her, see if I can get to the bottom of it.” He left, Jess the first to speak, her eyes wide as she pointed between her friends. 

“What the hell is it with you two and attracting crazy girls? I am fucking shook, I swear. Wow.”  

“I want to get away from the house for a while,” Jade spoke, turning to Adrien. “How about that hike?” 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Jess and Jen also expressed interest, the four of them thinking it likely better they give Lewis some privacy as he went about trying to figure out what on earth was wrong with his girlfriend, all departing together. They didn’t return until gone five that afternoon, all of them feeling a lot more relaxed for the four and a half hours of hiking various trails upon the island. 

“Hey man, how you doing?” Adrien asked after showering and changing, kissing his wife before she went outside with her girls, the guys sitting down in the lounge area.  

“Better now I’m single,” Lewis grunted, his friend wincing. No matter how much he disliked the attitude of his friend’s former girlfriend, them breaking up was not what he wanted it to come to. An apology and adjustment in attitude would have been perfectly sufficient. As he was to learn, though, Lewis had very good reason for calling time on their relationship. “So, I went and talked to her, and I learned something that fucking changed everything, man. You ain’t gonna like it, bro.” 

Adrien frowned, wondering what the hell he was about to hear. ��I’m listening.” 

“It took a while of arguing back and forth, all of her behaviour not making sense at all, until she finally came out with the truth. She had a journalist approach her for information on you and Jade, said they’d pay her ten grand for any inside information she could get, any real-life observances that might incriminate you because of this whole cheating thing.  

“That’s why she’s been stirring shit up, all in the name of getting a rise and information for this article. I told her that she needs to be very careful going forward and to think twice about saying anything to said journalist, because if she came out with anything untrue, you guys would sue her for defamation. What concerns me is that she knows the truth about Jen and you being the one who found her. The chick might be well into her recovery, but she doesn’t want the whole world knowing the finer details of such a hard time for her, man.” 

His jaw clenched, a faint grumble sounding his throat as he pressed his hands against his face, fingers steepled as he emerged, mouth still covered. His frown dented from one side of his forehead to the other. “Can’t sue her for anything that actually happened, and it did, me being the one who found Jen. It’ll be another angle they can work, too, that I’m some kind of scumbag who's playing away from his wife with her best friend. Can’t really do much about that either as it’s just gossip, nothing that’s defamatory. Fuck. Jade’s gonna go insane, man.” 

“Dude, I’m so sorry,” Lewis began, Adrien shaking his head. 

“Wasn’t your fault. Just as long as she’s out of this house, because I don’t trust my wife not to knock her teeth out. Jen neither. Right now, I probably wouldn’t stop either of them.”  

“She’s gone, don’t worry. I told her to get the hell out, find a hotel and lose my number.” 

That was probably the best thing he could do. “You okay? I know you weren’t with her for a long time, but still, she was your girl and now you’ve found this out, can’t have been easy.”  

Lewis smiled thinly. “I’d rather have found out now after six months than way further down the line, you know? Fucking hustlers, man. She can go fuck herself.” 

Adrien stood, blowing out a long breath that puffed his cheeks. “Right, I gotta go tell her. Expect a bomb to go off shortly.”  

And boy, how it did as soon as Jade had been informed. Her meltdown wasn’t pretty, and Adrien didn’t blame her for her anger, Jen neither when he called her over, of course the news very much involving her, too. While Jen went inside to do tequila shots, receiving a very firm shoulder rub from Jess, Jade’s fury quickly dissipated into tears, standing at the edge of the pool in her husband’s arms. 

“Why can’t people just fucking leave us alone? It’s fucking sick, vying for us to be unhappy!” she cried, resting her face against his chest. 

“That’s exactly what it is, baby love. Some people, they’re only happy if others are miserable. I know I say this a lot, but it’ll blow over, then they’ll turn their attention to somebody else who probably doesn’t deserve it either. We know the truth though. Happier times are coming, you’ll see. Aside from all of this shit, you make me the happiest man alive. Love you, Moo.” 

Looking up at him, she smiled through her tears, his thumbs stroking them away. “Love you too, Bug.”  

And no matter how many people tried to meddle with that, she always would. She just had to hope that this was the end of it, the stress grating on her, on him, too. At least there was a silver lining, though, the nuisance that was Mona now gone, meaning the remaining eleven days of their vacation would be spent actually enjoying their time together. And boy, how they did.  

[supercap2319]

Different anon, pretty please with sugar on top do a part 2 for the Archie reader Fred spanking blerb.

Fred Andrews parked the car as he got out without saying a word as Y/N and Archie followed him, thinking of a way out of this. He went upstairs towards his bedroom as they followed him before he turned and looked at them.

"Strip."

"Dad, wait. Can't you just ground me? I mean I'll never do anything like this ever–"

"Strip, Archibald. You too, Y/N. I'd rather not have to do it for you." Fred warned.

Archie blushed hard at being called his name instead of his nickname. Y/N tried not to let dirty thoughts plague his mind at the thought of Mr. Andrews forcibly taking his clothes off. He blushed as both boys stripped their clothes off until they were completely naked and embarrassed in front of a neutral looking Fred Andrews.

'Good. Now, since you're my son, Archie, you'll be first, followed by Y/N." He sat down on the edge of Archie's bed and patted his knees. "Come bend over them, Arch." The young red head blushed and refused to look up as he walked towards his dad and laid across his knees like when he was a kid. This was humiliating. Getting spanked like a six year old in front of his best friend/boyfriend. This wasn't supposed to be happening. All Archie wanted to do was protect his town from criminals. Was that so bad that he deserved a punishment like this one?

"Now, I want you to count out how many spanks I give you okay? You're both going to get eighteen of them."

"Eighteen? But dad, you've never given more than six." Archie gasped, fear in his voice.

"Hush, Archie. Take your punishment like a man. It's time you boys realize your actions have consequences." Fred told him.

Archie nodded as he tried to prepare himself, but when the firm palm of his dad's hand gave his ass a sharp smack, he gasped loudly. 'Oh, fuck!" He cursed. That hurt. It was then he remembered he was supposed to be counting. "One, dad."

"Good boy." Fred delivered another smack as Archie yelped. "Two, dad." His ass would surely be feeling these effects tomorrow. Another smack of the hand of Fred Andrews. "Three, dad." Y/N watched this happening before his very eyes and he still couldn't believe it. Watching kind and sort of laid back Mr. Andrews spank his son over his knees. The way Mr. Andrews held Archie in place and made his ass as red as his hair was kind of hot. Seeing the older man in charge and in control made Y/N's dick twitch. He didn't want to be spanked on his bottom, but he couldn't deny wanting to know what Mr. Andrews' touch felt like on his skin.

By number fourteen, Archie was crying and struggling to catch his breath. His ass was on fire and he still had three more to go. Fred knew it too as he leaned down and whispered to his son's ear. "Just four more, Arch. Taking your punishment so well." Archie nods as Fred continues the last four smacks to his bare ass as Archie breaks down and cries in his dad's arms like a baby. He's blubbering and sweating just slightly. "I'm sorry, dad. I'm so so sorry!" Archie cried and hugged his dad as Fred's gaze softened slightly. I know bud. I know you are. And now you'll know better from now on, won't you?"

Archie nods. "Yes, sir."

Fred pushed his son on his knees so he wouldn't sit on his sore and burning ass as he looked at Y/N. "Next?"

"Mr. Andrews please, I don't think that this is fair."

"It is fair, Y/N. You and Archie broke the rules and now you must be punished for not listening. Please don't make me get up and come get you." Deciding no other way out, YN walks towards him and lays over his knees like Archie had as Fred traced a finger over Y/N's bare ass, causing the young man to shiver. "Remember. Count out loud okay?"

"Yes, sir." Y/N said.

Fred begins again as Archie watches him get spanked and with each hit to his ass, he feels himself getting harder and harder until it hurts. And what's even worse, Mr. Andrews is hard too. His cock is rubbing against Y/N's as he's practically choking on his words in pure ecstasy and pain. His ass is on fire and he's on number ten as Fred spanks him once again.

"Eleven, daddy!" Y/N coughs out. He then realized what he said as he stammered out an excuse. "Sir. I mean sir."

Fred totally did not get hard from hearing that, but he pretended not to care. "Good. Almost done."

Four smacks later and Y/N was just as red and hard as Archie as Fred smiled at them. Good job, boys. I think you've learned your lesson." They both nodded their heads. And good boys deserve to be rewarded don't you?" Fred Andrews reached down and began to stroke Y/N's cock as Archie watched in surprise. The way his dad tugged and expertly twisted his hand on Y/N's cock, made the ginger stallion if his dad was more than just straight.

Y/N gasped and bit his lips as he tried not to fall over on his ass as Mr. Andrews continued to give him a handjob. "Such a good boy, Y/N. A good boy for Daddy. Want me to suck your hard cock? Maybe you want to suck me?" The young man closed his eyes and came on Fred's hand, his dirty talk pushing him over the edge. Y/N was patting and blushing as Fred smiled at him. "Wow, nice cumshot, Y/N. You're certainly good at that. Why don't you help Archie out with his problem too?"

Archie blushed and watched as Y/N nods and crawled towards him, getting between his legs before he opened his mouth and took Archie inside it. The ginger male groans and moans as Fred watches his son getting his dick sucked, palming himself through his pants and imagining it's F.P. and him doing this just like in high school back in the way. The way Y/N bobs his head up and down on Archie's length, or how his son runs his fingers through his hair and pulls as he fucks his mouth before he cums inside.

Fred grins. "Good boys. Now, go shower and we'll watch a movie and order some pizza."