#i really like dorn and his boys

[heuldoch7b]

Could you draw dorn shopping at the local home depot with his sons? Hes one of my favorite primarchs and I dunno if you've drawn him much

yup yup, heres dorn and sigismund grabbin some goods for ya dear anon 🙂

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

Why do you think the tides have slightly turned from "Elia deserves better than Rhaegar" to shipping her and Rhaegar together? Like what is the psychology behind these people because I've seen some of them like/reblog anti Rhaegar posts while also shipping Rhaegar x Elia at the same time.

hey anon! my thoughts are a bit messy, but i’ve done my best to explain them coherently :)

so, rhaegar was the best man anyone could have when elia was alive, and most people want the best for their favs. he was considered the most handsome, didn’t have a bad personality, and he was crown prince—meaning elia was almost queen, which is often seen as the greatest role a woman can have. the narrative also treats rhaegar as a beautiful, tragic, haunting figure, and elia actually had this very aesthetically pleasing man all to herself at one point! she was married to him, had children with him, and her life was so close to perfect! but rhaegar just had to go and ruin it. 😠

for many elia stans, if rhaegar hadn’t fallen in love with another woman (they want him to have been a completely different character), then everything would’ve been perfect, and elia would’ve had the best, most desirable life. however, that’s not what happened—elia met a very tragic end, and as a result, these stans feel double the bitterness. because of this bitterness, they blame rhaegar for everything (even though it’s not logical to do so), but he’s just too ‘perfect’ to let go of. so, for years these stans have made rhaegar revolve around elia, filling his tag with posts about her out of bitterness. so, i do believe that this obsession with rhaegar x elia has always been there, but i think it’s become a more favorable stance on the elia stan side of the fandom because of a mix of reasons.

plus, rhaegar is one of the few canon relationships we know elia had, since she’s not much of a character. because of this, and the fact that most people don’t like to stray too far from canon, most elia stans are forced to focus on rhaegar, which has created an echo chamber. basically, if a sentiment about elia and rhaegar’s relationship becomes popular, then the whole elia stan side of the fandom will likely regurgitate the sentiment. (also, this desire to stick close to canon is likely why the elia x arthur ship was so popular. while it’s a total crack ship, it had good aesthetics, and since elia and arthur at least knew each other, it allowed the stans to create their perfect fanfiction whilst sticking it to rhaegar. but remember, elia was actually married to rhaegar and had children with him, so while arthur is cool, rhaegar was always ‘top dog,’ meaning arthur would never be able to match up to rhaegar to most elia stans. also, the arthur x elia crack ship is likely her second most popular ship, which just shows how little elia stans have to work with, so they’re always forced to eventually return back to rhaegar for a lot of things.)

however, even if the elia x rhaegar ship gains more popularity, these stans will never stop hating rhaegar because he wasn’t ‘perfect’—and he wasn’t perfect because he didn’t love elia. plus, rhaegar loving another woman and supposedly kidnapping her is what began the war that led to elia’s tragic death. that’s bitterness times 1000. and while i don’t actually blame rhaegar for the war, i do think that this is how an elia stan sees it. i also don’t view rhaegar’s complex relationship with elia as a bad thing—it’s actually a very realistic take on an arranged marriage between two decent people. but most elia stans will never be able to get over the fact that they almost had everything, which is why many have it out for lyanna, as they consider her a thief who ruined their ‘perfection.’

tbh, that might be why so many elia stans are so obsessed with the idea that rhaegar only got with lyanna because of the prophecy—they don’t want to believe that rhaegar actually loved a different woman and not their perfect self insert elia. that’s a bit mean of me… but i don’t know what else one would call the ‘elia’ elia stans have created.

now that i’ve laid all those thoughts out, i’ll try to explain why the tides seem to be turning… i think it may have something to do with the ‘targaryens are all evil and bad’ sentiment losing popularity. i think this shift has occurred due to a mix of factors, such as years of fandom fights and fandom cycles leading to the targs being more liked now than before. it helps that canon doesn’t actually condemn the targs/favors them quite a bit, and the influx of new targ fans from HOTD has also contributed. this combination of reasons seems to have shifted the way the mainstream fandom discusses all the targaryen characters, including rhaegar. so, with this shift, it’s only natural that some elia stans/elia x rhaegar shippers—who’ve always been there—are using this opportunity to push their agenda. while these stans still hate rhaegar and see him as the bad guy, they just can’t let go of him. and as the mainstream fandom moves away from the anti targaryen sentiment, these smaller corners of the fandom, which tend to be echo chambers, are also affected, which has therefore led to a rise in rhaegar x elia shippers and the ‘shifting tide’ that you’ve also noticed.

[aliicent]

Maybe an unpopular opinion, but I don't get why there are so many people saying ser. Criston is Dornish. I mean, technically he is not (?) House Cole serves the house Dondarrion, which is settled at the Stormlands. Okay, so at this point in history, Dorne still resists the Targaryen conquest, so whenever ser. Criston says he fought at the Dornish Marches he actually meant he was fighting against the Dornish!  And I really don't see why would he cherish the Dornish culture as people appear to think he would/should. The only thing he says that may contribute to this idea is that the Sunspear's port deeply well, but even then what he really says is that he was a soldier at the stormlands and that he knows the sunspear's port deeply well. Ok, now regarding his appearance (on the show): Blackhaven is located at the Marches which is a border region (a quite conflicting one), so we can speculate that maybe the people in that region may resemble both the people of Dorne, and the people of Stormsland. Or we may speculate that maybe his mother was Dornish. And we can reflect upon what all of that would mean, but I really don't see why should we face ser. Criston as an attempt to represent the Dornish culture :/

[probablyintensemuses]

Dating Armando Aretas Would Include:

Grumpy x Sunshine Edition

🎧- Enchanted: Taylor Swift

pairing: Armando Aretas x black fem! reader

themes: grumpy x sunshine w/drabble

warnings: mentions of trauma & abuse, strong language, and a bit of gore.

authors note: I saw Bad Boys 4 again last night and it’s really refueled my Armando obsession, so more headcannons, drabbles, and fics on the way.

✨First Encounters✨

You and Armando meet in the worst of circumstances.

He, his father, and Marcus were on the run as wanted men, and you were the first person Mike thought to turn to after the attack at Tabatha’s.

Which he wasn’t wrong, you’d give your left kidney to Mike he’s saved you so many times.

You had let them into your small apartment, offering them clothes, food, and shelter until they could get in touch with the rest of the Ammo team and sort this shit out.

Armando had taken an interest to you then. Your house was warm and cozy, lived in. A small, plush couch, next to a coffee table littered with medical books. A kitchen stacked with teas and espressos , a dresser with vintage vinyls and a record player beside it. This was the kind of house he’d like to live in if he lead a different life.

You remember walking over to him, a picture of your parents and you when you were young in his hands.

“Those are my parents,’ you say. “I was ten then.”

Armando’s gruff exterior takes over though, and he doesn’t give you as much as a word back, let alone a thank you for feeding and housing literal fugitives.

You figured it was just him though and let it roll off you back like water.

You all got some sleep and the next day Mike asks you to drive them out to Dorn’s house on the dock. You agree and begin to load up the truck with guns, water, food, and extra clothes for the drive.

This is when Armando starts to question who you are and the legitimacy of your actions. Last person Mike trusted fucked them over, and he wasn’t having that shit again.

So he pulls his father aside and confronts him on the situation: you.

“How can we trust her?” Armando says, not far out of earshot of you.

“She’s good for it, trust me.”

“Didn’t you say that the last time and we got sold out. Don’t forget there is fucking five million dollar bounty on our heads. We can’t trust no one!” He whisper-shouted.

Mikes shoulders dropped. “I saved her life when she was younger, and I used to work with her parents. Trust me, she’s not going to pull a fast one. Because if she was, she would have done it already.”

Armando looked over at you, you’re dressed in a tank top, and that’s when he notices the cuts and burns littering your left arm. He sucks in a deep breath eyeing Mike who looks at you with sympathy too. There’s a story there, he’ll piece it together later, but for now he guesses you’re his only hope of getting out alive.

✨Post-fallout ✨

After you didn’t screw them over, and got them safety to Dorn’s, Armando found himself limping towards your apartment, blood trailing behind his feet.

Mike had sent him, and for some reason, at that moment, your place felt like exactly what he needed.

With the last of his energy, he banged on your door. Shortly, you answered and immediately went into panic mode.

The moment you let him inside, Armando crashes to the floor, passing out.

You screech and get every first aide equipment you have on hand and begin to bandage him up and stop the bleeding.

It took two bloody, sweaty hours, but you eventually got him all closed up.

Armando woke the next morning in a bed he didn’t recognize. This sent him into a frenzy. He went to shoot up out of the bed, but the soreness of his injuries knocked him back down.

“Fuck,” he moaned, grabbing at his torso.

From the living room, you turn down your headphones at the sound of movement. Armando must be awake.

Two days of rest, not bad.

You move towards the microwave and reheat the breakfast you had made him, pour some orange juice, and bring a whole heck of a lot of water and pain-pills.

Tray in hand, you kick open the door and slip inside your bedroom.

“Good morning.” You smile, setting the tray on the bed by his side. “How do you feel?”

“What the fuck did you put in this.” Armando asks, eyeing the food.

“Eggs, bacon, and toast.” You snicker.

Armando lifts a piece of toast, taking a bite. “If I die from this, I’ll kill you.”

“Noted, Sarg.” You salute.

You watch Armando eat his food with a smile on your face.

Eventually he looks up at you scowling. “Why are you staring at me.”

You shrug. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You say truthfully.

“Well,’ Armando takes a swig of water, downing the pills. “Go be happy somewhere else.”

Your shoulders drop and you let out a sigh, you knew Armando was tough, but geez, you practically saved his life. Would it kill him to be a little nice?

But still you smile when you say, “okay, well if you need me, I’ll be out in the living room studying. Feel free to roam around, I don’t mind.”

It was a couple hours before Armando had come out of your room, limping over to the kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

“I’m making dinner right now,’ you say, pausing your television show. “It’s a roast with veggies.”

“I want a beer.” He grumbles.

“Well I don’t have beer, but I do have wine.” You say, pointing to you collection of reds and whites.

“ I don’t want wine.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

Armando comes over to you, cornering you into the tiny space between your sink and the counter. “Get me a beer.”

“Let’s start over,’ you stick out your hand for a shake. “I think we’re at a misunderstanding of our situation.”

Armando frowns at your response, grumbling Spanish curses under his breath and walking away, slamming your door like a toddler.

The roast was done, and eventually you got Armando to come and have dinner with you…kind of.

He sat on the couch and watched the news, for updates on the status for his search, and you sat at the table, contemplating what to do with him next.

✨Enemies, Friends, Roomates✨

Mike had told you harboring Armando would only be for a short while until he could figure something out with the D.A’s office….that was three months ago.

Eventually you got your bed back, Armando taking the couch, but not your sanity.

Living with Armando wasn’t easy. He was brash, stand-offish, stubborn, and mean.

You did everything to try and form some kind of bond with him, even buying him gym equipment offline, but it just never clicked for him.

Not until one night when you’re studying late for an exam and happen to fall asleep at the kitchen table, books all around you.

That’s when you fall into a nightmare. The man who ruined your life the star of the show, again.

It always starts the same. You and your parents living happily at the park. Your parents watch you as you swing higher and higher, giggles filling the air. Then a man appears at the edge of the park, beckoning your parents over. You scream and shout for them but they never turn back, they keep going to the man. And when he has your parents in his grip, he brandishes a knife, slicing them open.

You let out a blood curling scream, slamming awake and falling to the group. Sweat sticks your curls to your face as you cry and gasp for breath.

Armando’s up in a second, swarming you.

“Estás bien?’ He pats you down, checking you out. “What’s happened to you?”

You can’t do anything but cry. The man who’s ruined your life, he’ll never leave you…he made sure of that in many ways. His latching to you is so deep that you can’t even escape him when you sleep.

You finally are able to get some words out, tell Armando, “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,’ he helps you stand. “Maybe you should get some sleep in your bed.”

You’re shocked by his response, but you’re even more shocked by the way he helps you to your room.

“What are you doing?” You asks, confused.

“You just flew out your chair from a nightmare, what do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you.”

“Yeah, I get that…but you never help me.”

Armando sighs, holding his hands at his hips. “You gonna tell me what it was about, or should I leave.”

You sigh. “When I was younger, my parents worked for the Miami Police Department. They were detectives and before I was born they ended up helping catch this serial killer. His name was Gunter Bennett but the media called him “The Gutter” because that’s how he killed. Years later, somehow he escaped prison. That’s when he came for my parents. He killed them in the middle of the night.’ You take an uneasy breath, finding birth relief and shock when Armando’s hand slips into yours. “And I was sure he was going to kill me too, but he didn’t…he did worse. He kidnapped me and kept me at some shithole for three years. Three.”

You rile up your sleeves and show all your burns and cuts. Armando remembers them from the first day he met you.

“It’s how I got these. That sadistic bastard,’ you cry. “He tortured me.”

Armando feels something in him snap hearing your story and seeing the ways it’s effected you, even now. He knows what it’s like to be harmed and loose the people closest to you.

So he shocks even himself with what does next, scooping you up like a wounded bird and nuzzling under the blankets with you.

You whimper and sniffle in his arms and he just hushes you, stroking your curls.

“It’s going to be alright, niña bonita, he’s gone now.”

Slowly, the exhaustion of work, school, and your tears overcome you and you both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

✨My Lover✨

Armando was jealous.

You two had just spent the day out shopping, laughing and talking. Hell, you two live together! And yet you’re grinding on another man at the bar?!

The glass in Armando’s hand shakes and chips as he squeezes it further.

“Relax, muscle milk. You’ll break the glass.” Marcus says.

Armando scowls at him.

“I’m just saying, if you love her, tell her.” Marcus shrugs, walking away.

Armando scoffs. Love? Yeah right.

Did he feel close to you, yes.

Want to spend every breathing moment with you, yes.

Touch himself in the shower thinking about you, yes .

Oh fuck…he did love you.

Fuck! He loved you and you’re grinding another man!

Armando pushed out of his chair, it clattering to the ground in his wake.

He stalked over to you, grabbing your wrist and putting room between you and the man you danced on.

“ ‘Mando, what are you doing?” You stumble, clearly drunk.

“Let’s go.” He grabs you, chest heaving.

“Hey, wait!” You swat at him as he drags you through the bar and out the exit. “Why would you do that?” You whine.

“Because you’re drunk.” He rolls his eyes, slinging his leather jacket over your naked shoulders.

“I’m not!’ You whine, stumbling, luckily Armando catches you with ease. “I am.”

“You are. Let’s go.” He says, slinging you and carrying you bridal shower.

“Ah,’ you say, wrapping your arms around Armando’s neck and snuggling into him. “My knight in shining armor always takes such good care of me.’ You lean over, smacking his butt with a giggle.

“Shut up.” Armando says, resisting the urge to crack a smile.

Home, Armando tucks you into bed. He’s just about to walk away when you snatch his wrist, pulling him on top of you.

“Let’s play a game,” you whisper.

Armando rolls his eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth for truth. I tell you a truth and you do the same. “I’ll start.” You giggle.

“Tonight went exactly how I planned.”

Armando pulls back. “What do you mean by that?”

You shake your head and pout. “Uh uh. You’re turn.”

Armando sighs. “I don’t actually find you that annoying…anymore.”

“Ah, I knew it!” You laugh.

“Knew what?”

“Game over.’ You slump and snore, pretending to sleep.

“Stop it, you knew what?” Armando lifts you.

You bop his nose. “I knew that you loved me.”

Armando’s eyes get big. “What?”

“Me and kelly paid that guy to dance with me. We knew you’d get mad and that was all the proof I needed.”

“You’re a dick.” He starts to walk away, but you grab him by his belt loop.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You pull him back. “But you don’t have to be shy.” You hiccup.

Armando grumbles, nuzzling his face into your stomach. “And why’s that?”

You lift his head, angling it to face you. “Because I love you too.” You lean forward, placing a firm kiss onto his plump lips.

Armando reciprocates, opening his mouth turning the kiss fierce and hot. He climbs on top of you, mumbling against your lips. “And I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

You giggle. “Feels good to be bad for a change.”

[sunrisesfromthewest]

First Encounter Part 3

|Notes:Y’all boy getting a little jealous and my man Reggie did his thing💓💓,Things get a little more steamy in part 4😏😏 |Warnings:None |

Here's all the parts I have so far: 1 2 3 4 5 6

______________________

Wanting to clear your mind from the previous interaction with Armando, you walk over to Dorn who is scrolling through files on his computer hoping to find something for the situation. Pushing his head playful you asked if he had any luck yet, while stealing a folder to look through. "No, I found a few emails and a file but nothing that could lead us to who is doing this,” he says sighing.  

Giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, you say, "Don't stress yourself to much over this, I'm sure something will pop up eventually.” Turning in his chair he looks up at you, with a boyish grin.

Screwing your eyebrows together you say “What?", setting the file you were going threw down. "Y/N, I can’t stop thinking about how fast you dropped to the ground earlier," pausing to laugh he continues, "that's the fastest I seen you move besides running from bugs." Watching him laugh about the incident from earlier, you smack your lips and push at his head again.  

"You know good and well you would’ve drop like I did too; I’ll be damned if I let a bullet take me out." Seeing him really start to tear up, while laughing, you watch as he holds his stomach doubling over.”Aye, not too much asshole!” you say chuckling a bit at his reaction. Sitting up he grabs your arm trying to regain his previous composure but failing when you give him a deadpan look. 

Continue to watch your friend have his little laughing session, you smile to yourself at his goofiness. As your about to scold him some more, you're abruptly interrupted by Armando who cuts into you and Dorns space. Forcing you two to break apart, to make room for him as he rudely asks Dorn to pull up a photo for him.  

Seeing his jaw flex, he sends you an intense glance, but looks back at the screen as Dorn zooms in on the photo. Glaring at him you say "Well, that was fucking rude, you could’ve asked nicely." Dorn hums in agreement. 

“Lo que sea que digas princesa,(Whatever you say princess)” Armando says brown eyes staying locked on the screen. Pausing you scan over his form trying to figure out why he had an attitude all the sudden. Letting out a gasp, you begin to laugh, realizing that he was jealous of Dorn.  

Glancing behind Armando muscled form to look at Dorn you see him shoot you a look with a smug smile confirming what you're thinking. Shaking your head you move closer, pressing your chest against Armandos toned arms, and whisper, "Don’t worry he’s with Kelly, ". Watching as he turns his face in your direction, pretty brown eyes glancing down at your breast. 

 He firmly whispers back, "I know, he needs to keep it that way." Biting your lip you smile, at his small show of dominance, his gaze returns back to the screen. 

Unconsciously, you stay close to his warm figure, as he leans forward, eyes evaluating the photo before he says “I seen this guy before...... can you do a facial scan." Hearing this Mike, Marcus, and Kelly make their way towards you guys watching each screen as loads of information begins to pop up. 

 "His name is James McGrath, looks like he was a former DEA Agent until he was tortured by the Cartel...... Captain Conrad mentions him a few times on some of his notes.” Pausing Dorn looks up, waiting to see what his superiors might have to say.  

"This has to be him he's the only with connections to the Cartel, it could be why he has been able to pull all these stunts......” pausing in realization Marcus ask if he could pull up the surveillance at his home, looking at your father with surprise you asked why.  

But before he could answer Mike cuts in and say, "Because were the only one that has proof that the Captain is innocent and he needs leverage." glancing at his son Mike pulls out his phone calling his wife. Widening your eyes in shock you quickly run to the couch to grab your phone, immediately dialing your sister.  

Bouncing slightly as you hear the phone ring for the third time, you yell to tell your father that she’s not picking up. Watching your father call Reggie with urgency, you look up to see Armando watching with concern. Hanging up you let out a frustrated sigh returning back to where everyone was viewing the monitors intensely. 

Shaking from nerves you feel Armando brush his hands against yours, staring up at him you see worry in his eyes. Wrapping your hand around his he gives it a light squeeze, trying to calm you down.

Just as Dorn alerts everyone that theirs movement outside the home you hear Reggie pick up. As your father explains the situation quickly, Reggie springs into action, moving your mom, nephew, and pregnant sister to the pantry. 

 Watching him reach up to retrieve the gun that's stored in their as well, you watch in amazement as your brother-in-law kick ass.”Damn,I didn’t know he could do that.” your dad mutters shocked.

Everyone lets out a few comments in agreement. Watching Reggie causally body 15 attackers, had your blood rushing in adrenaline. After confirming that the house was safe, he quickly moved the family out the house but not before saluting at the camera. 

“Yeah, baby that’s how we do it in the Burnett family! "You say hugging Armando with relief and excitement after what you just witness.

Standing in shock Armando moves to embrace you as well, but looks up to see everyone watching you two like a hawk. Clearing his throat, he watches you look up at him confused, nodding his head to the side you see everyone staring. 

Breaking away from him you avoid their gazes sheepishly saying sorry. 

Before anyone could comment Mike asked Dorn to pull up his security footage after not having any success, in reaching his wife.

As everyone eyes return back to the screens with concern, you feel Armando wrapping his hand around yours again, lightly running his thumb against it. 

 Mike let's out a sigh as his wife finally picks up, but it’s too late because not even a second later you hear screams and scuffling. Frantically, your eyes search the monitors, watching as men infiltrate Mikes home. 

Glancing away from the screen you look at Mike, who has an uneasy expression washing over his face. Just as he was about to speak, a deep menacing voice cuts in, 

“tss.tss.tss.... I think you have something that belongs to me Mike......” 

[hereforthehitsbaby]

I'm Not Interested | Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

Synopsis: Being a handmaiden meant you lived to serve, to make sure you were keeping the young queen safe. But when a certain golden fellow makes his way in from the South, he cannot help but to become infatuated with your aura. So many stories you have heard about the Prince of Dorne, how uninterested it made you. But would he be able to woo you?

Warnings: Language, Angst, M/F Sexual Situations, The Hatred the Reader Has For Oberyn is A S T R O N O M I C A L, Reader has the last name of Flowers since they are a bastard from The Reach,

Rating: M

Word Count: 7.3K

What is it with those who we cannot have that make life most difficult? Was it the fact that every time you lay your eyes upon them, you knew you cannot be with them? Or was it the fact that you have convinced yourself you should not care for this person, should not be with them, because they will not feel the same way? The constant back and forth can be very tiresome; What was the point of harboring such emotions if they could not be acted upon? Why must life be so damn complicated? Why must two different social classes not interact even though they can bring the greatest of pleasures and happiness? The gods from above were out to get us all, to make sure we cannot act upon such feelings in order to restore balance, power, and integrity within the seven kingdoms. But what would they think about those who did not harbor such feelings for the irresistible? The greatest challenge they would ever have to face, started with you.

Urges were something you had never given into, no matter how bad you needed to. You never really saw the necessity in pining after them if all they could bring would be heartache, fear and anger. It had to do with your upbringing, you attributed it to. Fearing the worst of all situations forced you to become cautious in your day to day - why live in multiple strides when you could comfortably follow one linear path? There would be no disruptions, you could predict everyday and know it would/could play out the same way. After all, was what fun about surprises? Knowing what to expect everyday had a better feel; You go to work, do your tasks and go home - simple enough at the end of the day. No big occurrences that could knock you off track, no distractions that could cause you to be beheaded - everything worked out perfectly in hindsight. What more out of life could you possible have asked for? Why did he need to be brought into the picture? Why was the world out to get you?

Growing up was not simple for you; Then again, neither was life. Westeros was suppose to be the land of opportunity, the country of new allegiances and fresh life - it was not suppose to be the end all, be all. Surely you didn't pick up on the evil and the carnage until you were much older, but growing up in Honeyholt was your solace - your home away from home. Though you had only spent a short amount of time there, it was nothing like you ever new before. Lush greenery and sweetened air flowed through your nostrils every time you woke up; Softened gaze of the sun rippling over your body like it was a kiss from the gods themselves. The Reach was one of the least problematic provinces of Westeros but, somehow there would always be evil that followed. Maybe it was just you after all, maybe the evil followed because you provoked it? Your first lick of the bad was when one of the river boys decided to kill your lovely hummingbirds by pelting them with rocks; Weirdo was a phrase they tossed at you like stale bread. But it was the rocks being pelted back at their heads that helped solidify the family you would have, love and cherish forever.

Margaery Tyrell was your saving grace that dreadful summer day, her brother Loras standing directly next to her. It was their sharp aim of the glistening rocks that caused your tears and sadness to turn to smiles and laughter - protecting you from the bullshit being thrown your way. The reason you were tormented in The Reach was due to being a bastard - born to a mother and father who were merely fifteen. They could not care for you, so they ushered you off to the nearest orphanage, leaving you without a house name but one that would be burned into your cranium. Flowers was a beautiful last name, elegant and soft but - when it revolved around those born out of lust, no one appreciated it. Still Margaery and Loras let you become one of their own, promising to bring you love and joy like you never knew before. It they had not saved you that day - you would have been stoned to death by those measly boys. But you never expected your life to take such a turn, shifting from anger and sadness to peace and serenity. The Tyrells were one of the only welcoming families in all of the Seven Kingdoms, well besides the Martells.

Due to how close you had gotten with Margaery over the course of sixty two nights, Mace Tyrell had appointed you the handmaiden for his young daughter. It came naturally being best friends with Margaery with her loving, sympathetic and feisty nature; You felt like a Tyrell one most days. Both of you were around the same age of 12 when you had been given the role, doing that even up into this very day. It came naturally to be in the princesses care, though she was not royalty at that age just yet. It was an ongoing dream you both had, being whisked away far away from Highgarden to enjoy the scenery of the world - hoping a loving Prince would make you his one day. Though it was a pipedream, it was one you chose to reminisce in. Those small daydreams started to diminish when Margaery was being whisked away to Renly Baratheon - promising to make her a Queen. You were so happy your best friend got to see the world, being in charge and love every minute of it - but deep down you wished it was you. Mace told you the second she was sauntered off to another realm, you would not longer be of service but, Lady Olenna and Margaery were always going to need you as the handmaiden.

You had been through it all with Queen Margaery, Renly's death - Joffery's death and now her marriage to Tommen. Poor girl had endured so much in so little time you were starting to feel for her, maybe it was the course of the Baratheon's everyone droned on about at times. Still being the one to comfort her through it all meant the world; You needed each other like fish needed water - two halves of a whole. She could not function without you and vice versa; No one could function without a great support system in King's Landing. With Cersei always making her rounds to check in on the both of you, always making quips about you being a bastard - both you and Margaery talked the biggest load of shit about her once she left. Then again that is what sister's do, they talk shit and laugh together. A gift from the gods above, a curse in the seven kingdoms. The optimism that Margaery held was one of the reasons that you became narrow to the world, living as a realist instead of in your sweetened fantasies. There was too much death shrouding for one to endure; You took the baggage on for her.

A stormy night in King's Landing was rare, only sunshine had made its way through the golden city. Standing on the balcony of the castle you watched how the rain trickled down softly in your chambers, how it rippled amongst blackwater bay in the most beautiful of ways. You were meant to be drawing a bath up for Margaery but, decided to let the water boil a bit more before letting her slip in. She loved a hot bath with her favorite citrus and clove oils, and on colder nights like this - it was heavily needed. Pulling your shawl tightly around your body you took a deep breath, letting the different spicy scents take over your senses. Warmth of the water and the cold from the rain were in heavy contrast - the one week you spent up in Winterfell with the Tyrells brought back so many memories like this - but at least Winterfell was welcoming and warm, not sticky and hateful like King's Landing. Hearing the gentle patters of feet on the cobblestone, you rushed over to the fireplace with your mitts, prancing the last of the boiling water over to the metal tub. As the final wash fell over you added the best part, fresh lilac and rose petals from the garden below - fresh cut by the Queen herself.

Standing back towards the fireplace, you watched the chamber door open but - reveal total darkness. Chewing on your bottom lip you felt the warmed presence of something else enter, causing your heart to shift into a flutter. There was a moment of total silence; The rain being drowned out by the racing in your ears, how your body shifted so quickly into fight mode. Candlelight could only take you so far to see - you were never particular on having more than a handful of candles lit at once, a hazard in itself plus the minimal lighting was better for you to sleep in. Slipping in through the open door was someone you never expected to see up this way, thinking he was down in the lower chambers, with six other companions. A black, almost black shawl draped over his shoulders was accompanied by brown pants; The strings pulled loose to show an incredible clean tuft of curls sitting at the base of his pelvis. Wandering eyes made their way up his lean torso, falling right onto his face - one you hated to admit was gorgeous. Generous auburn eyes glowed in the pale moonlight, his facial hair soft enough to scratch, making him purr. His hair, god that fucking short mane on top - how you were tempted to curl your fingers around every inch.

Ever since those from all Seven Kingdoms came to rejoice in the Purple Wedding, there had been one set of eyes permanently locking themselves onto you - watching your every move like it was the best entertainment yet. It all started when you first accompanied Margaery to the great hall for the ceremony, taking your place on her side in front. You stood facing your best friend with a wide smile, giving her some hope though she was to marry such a monster. Everyone in all of Westeros knew how much of a psychopath Joffery Baratheon was, if you could give Margaery a sliver of hope then you were going to. Distraction was prevalent during the ceremony when a warmed presence made its way behind you - boring into your soul. The bareness of your back in the lilac dress you wore had you able to feel every small lick of heat from dead set eyes. Before you could spin around to see the gaze wanting your attention so badly, a thick accented voice, low in nature appeared right in your ear, a heavy breath of wine and berries falling over your senses; "How long have you known the new Queen?" He asked, it was a genuine question from what you could tell. The urge to spin around and see exactly who you were talking to was high but, it would be frowned upon. Plus if your gaze was shifted elsewhere, Margaery would begin to panic.

"About ten years; Give or take," It was true, now that you both were close to your mid twenties now. When meeting at 12 years old you never expected your life to take such a turn like this, to now be standing only a few mere feet from the iron throne where your best friend was. In a way you only thought you were going to have tragedy and horrible memories to grow up with but, the Tyrell's changed your entire outlook on life. "Always her handmaiden, or more?" The same voice asked, goosebumps prickling your bare arms. His calloused, strong fingers began to stroke their way up your skin - reveling in how you gently shook at his touch. For this mystery man to have such an effect on you already was a sign of submission, something you were never going to give up easily. "She's my best friend," You sighed out, wanting to focus on the ceremony rather than another drunken fool who would try and have his way with you. Shrugging his touch off you held your hands together right in front of you, tilting your chin high with a sophisticated smile to your Queen. Deep down you did not want this man's touches to stop, or his sweetened words - you were hating how much you craved a total stranger; What spell did he cast on you?

"Hm, I am so sure of it. From the look you're giving her I can tell it's more than that," Honeyed words caused you to spin around effortlessly - cocking a wary eyebrow at the patron behind you. To not avail did you find him, just cautious eyes from each section of Westeros shooting you a glare. The heat on your face rose as you sighed out, turning back to the ceremony - now having Cersei Lannister shoot daggers in your direction. The familiar scent of wine and berries came back effortlessly once your eyes faced forward, sending a wave of heat through your nerves. "I'm sorry, who are you?" Your words barely came out above a whisper as you jaunted on, trying to put as much space as you could between yourself and this mystery man. Placing his body directly behind yours, he ghosted his hand over your waist - the heat causing your eyes to flutter shut for a split second, "Little canary, allow me to introduce mysel-"

"Sir, there is a wedding going on and I am not going to get in trouble due to you. Introductions can wait," You did not intend for the words to come in such a harsh manner as they did, it was the fact that Cersei and Jamie were staring at you as if they wanted you dead, you couldn't deal with that on what was suppose to be such a happy day. Before you could shuffle off towards the opposite side of the Great Hall, the hand ghosting over your body finally came into contact, a breathy moan escaping his lips before he began to speak; "Prince Oberyn Martell," He whispered into your ear, placing his hand flush against your waist - pulling you back to his chest. Resting your head against his forehead, you tried to keep your concentration focused primarily on the boring ceremony, the draping of cloth going forth now. But it was difficult when Oberyn's hands roamed your body like you were the last meal in all of the country, starving for your affection, your body, and soul. "Why don't we skip the dreadful event going on and, let me worship you. My paramour would take a quick liking to such a beauty as yourself."

His lips nipped at the soft spot behind your ear, causing a silent whimper to release from your lips. Fighting to keep your eyes opened Oberyn took the opportunity to slip his hand through the opening just below your breast, trailing his hot fingertips across your stomach - dipping lower, and lower until his reached the juncture of where your thigh met your pelvis. Shuttering at the feeling you could not help but think about his words, how he explicitly used the word paramour over wife. The Prince of Dorne; One who fucked everything and anything that could walk. Oberyn Martell was here, right behind you, touching you in such intimate ways as his lips trailed down to your neck. Biting at the supple flesh near your jaw, you felt the anger boil up in you that you were allowing this out in the open, for everyone to see; "Do I look like I'm from the pleasure houses?" The quip was quick, causing the Prince to laugh right into your ear - the assault his lips were having on your neck and jaw never stopped, trailing over to your shoulder instead. "No, you're more sophisticated than that; Feisty. You have a fire and spark I am dying to ravish."

Twirling around in his grasp, you pushed back a bit more to head towards the middle of the crowd. One of your hand was fixed on the back of his neck whilst the other was pressed firmly against his toned chest - both set of eyes peering in to one another. One of the most cocky smirks you have ever seen fell upon his Prince's lips - kissing the side of your mouth as he hiked your leg up around his waist, rolling his hips up into you. The broken moan leaving your lips made you flush, not wanting to give into his advances already. Moving your lips to press against the shell of his ear, you bite down harshly on his lobe, spitting your words out, "If you touch me again, I will break your fucking hand - Martell."

Tightening your hands into fists, you rolled your eyes as you sauntered back to the fireplace, using the poker to move around some of the burnt logs, "You're a long way from the brothels, Prince Oberyn." Shooting a glare at the man standing before you, you groaned as you focused on the amber flames - hoping they would take you away from this entire moment. In a way you were pleased to see Prince Oberyn again, but another was cursing you for feeling this type of way. Oberyn had a huge reputation across all of Westeros and Essos for being an intimate man; One who finds pleasure in all people. Nothing wrong with being sexually active, it was the fact that he could flirt with one and fuck another that made you feel sleazy, as if you were working around the corner at Little fingers establishments. There was a pride you had for not using sex to get to where you are, or what you wanted. Every now and again you did dabble but, it was nothing too exciting. A royal guard member here, a squire there - basic as men could come. "Ah but little canary, I am exactly where I need to be," The thick Dornish tang of Oberyn's accent caused goosebumps to rise on your skin - though you were fanning the flames. Silently you cursed yourself for having a wave of arousal pool in your heated center.

"No, you're not. Why have you come to my chambers?" It was a bit unethical to say the least for Margaery to bathe in your chambers, then again any chance she could get away from Joffrey she was taking. But she would never tell anyone that, she would never let out that she comes to your room for solace in the darkest hours on the mornings. Sucking your teeth whilst refusing to look at Oberyn, you put the fire poker down to add two more logs - breathing out in a ragged manner, "The Queen insisted I become acquainted with her lovely handmaiden." The words shot through your body like ice, freezing you from the inside out. There was no way Margaery would, even if she saw what Oberyn was doing to you earlier. Shaking your head you pounced to your feet, staring daggers into the man before you, silently cursing how you eyes ran up and down his beautiful physique. The urge to strike on him like a viper was strong, wanting to take the name for yourself. "Margaery would never, get lost," You sighed, rubbing the heel of your hand against tired eyes - setting the plush towels down to the side of the tub. Oberyn wasted no time rubbing the small of your back through your baby blue dress - letting the soft chiffon run over his fingertips.

"Aw, are you not enveloped by my charm?" You were, that was the sad part. A side of you wanted to submit in his grasp, let him pull anything he wanted from your body - but you could give him that pleasure. Straightening your back out, you shoved the Prince away from your body - making your way across the room to focus in on your desk chair, pulling your papers closer; Your quill only a few inches away. "Charm? You?" You spat in the direction of the Dornish Prince, watching how his mouth quirked into a hefty smirk. Following your steps over in front of your desk, he watched how you intricately started to write across the creased parchment, the story you had been working on for many moons now. It was one full of tradition revolving around Samhain; A foreign concept you were not well versed in but, it did not stop you from telling the spooky tale. Rolling your eyes as Oberyn comes to your side, you pushed your chair further to the left, cricking your neck to ease the ever-lasting tension; "Please." Oberyn was loving just how playfully snappy you are, loving to tease but hating to give him any/all satisfaction. With you it was like pulling teeth; Men like this never deserved your attention as Mace always said.

Breaking your concentration from writing was the feeling of his warm touch pulling at the strap of your dress, dipping it down enough to show the skin of your shoulder. Oberyn was quick on his feet, you had to give him that. Almost instantly his lips attached to your neck over the back of the chair, biting down on the pillowy skin. There was something so pleasurable about his plush lips but you could not give in, your hands tightening into fists whilst trying to contemplate your next move. "Such a delicate little thing, I wonder how wild you could be without your restraints," Oberyn hummed deeply, letting it ripple from his broad chest. Trailing his strong fingers down the front of your dress he wound up slinking his fingers across the swell of your breast, watching ever so gently for your reaction. He was a man of many passions but, he would never force you into anything you were not comfortable with. He was not going to let anything like that come about, killing anyone who dared do that to those he cared for. Whimpering at his words you managed to sling a sentence together, but not before he chuckled at your broken state, "I-I don't know what you mean - I do not have any restraints."

You did, and you knew that you did. It wasn't all of your fault, King's Landing made everyone stressed and tensed. Constantly dealing with the brutality and the bullshit being thrown your way caused you to develop thick skin; Beautiful personality lost in the brazen attitude of the Capital. Lamb to slaughter was the best way to describe how it felt to oppose the Baratheon's, the Lannister's and any house that was prevalent within the Red Keep. Leaning forth into Oberyn's touch, he hummed pleasantly against your neck, giving you the tentative stirs of his fingers against your nipples, "Oh but my little canary, you do. You carry the burden of life around with you like it was a badge of honor - that has made you so uptight." Hearing the truth fall from his lips caused your body to go rigid - the pleasure and sweet satisfaction he laced your body with just from a single touch dissipated. Slowly you craned your neck to stare up at him, trying to threaten him with only your eyes; Oh how bright they shone against the wet moonlight. Only a mere few inches from your face was the Prince, his eyes blackened due to bodily intoxication; "If looks could kill, I would have an honorable death," He winked, pushing himself away from you.

"Prince Oberyn, please leave my chambers immediately." It was getting out of hand this small game of cat and mouse, how he was chasing you with a pining sensation rather than fear. In those beautiful pants giving you little to imagine, you could see his taut backside pounding softly with every small step he took. Of course he noticed, it would be unlike him if he didn't. Slamming your open palms against the fresh oak desk, you rose quickly enough to show how serious you were. Daggers in your eyes and huffed breaths releasing in your wake made Oberyn's cock twitch - wanting to see you submit to him, release that hidden tension you were so adamant about not having. Waving off your excuse of madness, he let the hottest water of the bath ripple against his open palm - moaning at the sensation, "You need to relax, dear canary - sing for me. Come, join my bath," Oberyn pouted right in your direction - catching you with a meek smile. He waited, and waited, and waited for your loving response, knowing you were only moments away from fully cracking. But alas he was wrong, you would not submit without a fight; "No."

Shrugging your one word off as nothing, Oberyn began to hum as he let his shawl fall to the floor - pooling right behind him. His gaze never left yours as he pulled at the leather ties to his slacks, the softened leather outlining his thick cock deliciously. He was teasing you with every movement, not pulling his pants down right away but instead lowering them slowly. Each inch that he released caused the pool of arousal to grow between your legs - his shaft of his girthy length coming into full view. Under candlelight it was so tan, mostly from the nude bathing on the beach he loved to do, but his purple tip - begging to be sucked called your name; Your breath hitching in your throat. Winking at your shocked state, he finally let the pants pool on the floor with a loud groan - the colder air nipping at his bare skin. It did not take the Prince long to slip into the bath, sighing out heavily at the amazing feeling of the hot water on his skin. "Mmm, you made this perfect for me," his moan of appreciation opened the floodgates in your core, causing your legs to part slightly. What would he think if you dropped your dress and joined him? Would he welcome you with opened arms, or would he criticize you? Many thoughts of what you wanted this man to do to you flew through your mind, the dilemma was whether to act on them.

"You're an absolute nuisance, I will have the King's Guard escort you out," with the slam of your hands they came in contact with the wood again, causing Oberyn to jolt slightly in the water. Laughing at your remark he nodded, agreeing that he was a nuisance. He took great pride in knowing how much he pushed people beyond their limits, wanting them to see what life truly had to offer - what they should not be afraid of in hindsight. Life is all about adventure and new opportunity; Oberyn's mission was to make sure you felt the love and want that you deserve, that you craved from a young age. He knew what it was like to be unwanted, but never let that define him. Dorne is for lovers - he wanted every part of Westeros to see, feel, and hear it. Sinking further into the water of the golden tub, he deeply inhaled the beautiful clove scent, reminding him of Sunspear as he spoke, "When was the last time you were properly given the bounty of pleasure?" His face did not falter in the slightest, remaining strong and curious with a tightly pulled lip. Pondering your own expression wasn't hard to do in this lighting, but he could see the heat rising across your skin.

"Shut up-" you stopped yourself quick, not wanting to elaborate on what your mind was thinking. It had been a long, long time - before you even got to the Red Keep when you last experienced pleasure. The last person you ever let touch you in such an intimate setting was Podrick Payne, a chance encounter one night while Tyrion and Sansa were on some kind of retreat. Though it was one of the best sexual experiences, it was innocent with only fingers and mouths being of use. Nothing in between to really get your fancy going. Multiple nights you lulled yourself to sleep with the delicate touch of your own fingers inside your aching core - not thick or long enough to truly graze that one spongy spot. Now with Oberyn, you know that man could find that spot within seconds to have you see stars, to give yourself the beautiful release you were so desperately seeking. He would pull ripple upon ripple of your orgasm from you effortlessly, still begging you for more at the end of the day. That is all you have been craving since he touched you on the wedding day; "Ah, we must have a virgin in our midst."

It was a vicious slap back to reality, hearing such a skilled man call you a virgin. You were nowhere near that pure, losing yours within the last of your teenage years. The anger boiling over in your bloodstream was making you nervous at how badly you were going to snap at Oberyn. You didn't want to lose your cool with him, especially since you were starting to warm up to the idea of him pleasing you. But everyone in King's Landing made fun of you for being pure, uptight and a bitch - so it was like he was adding it the bullying deep within your mind. Pinpricks of tears latched themselves to your lashes as you tried to get them away, not wanting to cry in front of the Prince of Dorne. Rounding your desk you were like a bat out of hell, rushing over to the side of Oberyn as he laid in the tub, comfortable and at peace. Lowering your gaze to stare right at eye level, you let your vision go red before lashing out the harshest words you could muster, wanting them to burn, and sting; "I fucking hate you, Martell. You are one of those most bat shit fuckers I have ever laid my eyes upon, and one that is too slow on the dr-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Oberyn's wet hand came up quick from the hot water, slamming right against the juncture of your throat. Your knees buckled as they came into contact with the cold stone floor, your breath caught in his tight grasp. Bringing your hands up to grip at his wrist you saw the amused grin on his pouty lips, how his eyes slanted slightly to engage in your retort. Bringing your face closer to his, he let his fingers press down on your pulse point to cut the blood flow off - pounding of blood in your ears became deafening when he fanned his hot breath of your parted lips, "I'm what?" The words were calm, too calm for your liking. The fact that Oberyn did not bat an eye at what he was doing spoke measures; How he man handled you without a single thought to accompany it. Gods what you would give to slam yourself down onto his lap right now, but of course that would be too easy, you wanted him to submit. "T-Too slow on th-he dr-r-raw!" You managed to croak the words out with a playful smirk, but Oberyn was not having it. He moved so quickly to pin your face down against the side of the tub, letting some of the water splash against your chin and neck. Under your dress your thighs were trembling at the sudden surge of dominance; Your teeth putting your lip tightly.

"You grab a woman like a bitch in heat; Pathetic." This was not helping your case at all, with Oberyn tightening his grip around your neck as the harsh curl of the metal edge dug into your warm cheek. Wriggling against his restraint had you seeing stars, his warm hand in contrast with your cool skin - how you could feel every inch of his callouses from years and years of sparring. To be man handled by someone as experienced as Oberyn was what you needed - to give up control and order for a little bit just to feel, to embrace, and enjoy. Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult to call a quits now, let this man reign over you and let everything be where it needed. He has had decades upon decades of practice, why would you be any different to the first timers he had? "You know what I think?" Oberyn's words were almost distant when he spoke, though his lips were pressed right against your temple. Gulping down the pool of saliva making itself known within your mouth you tried to keep your focus, but could only imagine how that gorgeous chin strap and moustache would feel between your legs, against your bare thighs - rubbing that sweet bundle of nerves right at the top of your sex. If his hold wasn't so tight, you would be a moaning mess.

You had not realized that Oberyn was not liking your quietness, or how lost in thought you truly were to his advances. The only thing you could think of in this moment was how good you would look bouncing on his cock, dragging your nails down his chest on your bed - letting the Prince have his way with you. A harsh crack against your backside caused you to silently yelp, bringing your gaze back up to him as the devilish grin grew - seeing the pleasure building within your eyes; "I think because you have never known the touch of someone so skilled in their craft, one who will not be a disappointment, it has caused you to have a Lannister stick lodged so far up this beautiful ass, you cannot let yourself enjoy the smaller things life has to offer." Each word he let out was given new purpose, causing your chest to ignite. He was not wrong, it was invisible but to those who paid close attention to detail could see how far it was truly lodged up there. There was a glint in his eyes that showed he wanted to remove it, to let those barbed edges slid out of the deepened gashes they created. You did not deserve to be afraid, or scared to take advantage of life; You deserved happiness and freedom - Oberyn wanted to give you that though you were a tough nut to crack. "Flowers; A bastard, are you not?" The quick change in subject caused your heart to plummet, his hand to release small off of your neck.

"That has-" You began, shaking your head as far as he would allow. Oberyn was not having it though, knowing you were going to do what you did best - deny. Pushing your throat down harder against the metal rim he cut your words off quickly, not wanting you to put more negativity out when he was trying to give you some goodness - the greatness you deserved to have. "In Dorne we welcome bastards; Sand is not a name to be ashamed of but one to take great reward in. Hell, I have eight bastard girls myself." That was always a part of the Southern part of Westeros you loved, how the Dornish took pride in bastards rather than shut them away like they were garbage. Deep down you always pondered what it would be like to grow up in Dorne, to be appreciated and loved in a multitude of ways, rather than bullied and tormented. Hearing Oberyn mention his daughters caused your heart to explode with admiration; Just by simple words you could tell how proud he was of them. Though you hardened and sarcastic nature would not let you praise that man for it, instead your retort would be one that Oberyn would not shy away from - especially if it meant punishing you; "Good for you, old man."

It surprised you how quickly and clearly you managed to let that seep out, how the best insult you could come up with is age. Though your words were small they did have a greater impact on the man, though he would not show it properly. One of the things he had been most worried about recently was the small patch of grey hair that littered his temple, along with the softening of his belly, showing his age off a bit more than normal. You did not mean it in such a horrid way, no, it was meant as a teasing tactic to see what he would do to you. Seeing the slight hurt in his eyes made you feel tiny, small and childlike whimpering for help, the cool burst across your body was fear inducing. "You think 42 is old, little canary?" Though you couldn't tell now how much your words offended the Prince when he was beaming down at you, his body half in and half out of the water - the gorgeous outline of his length barely breaking the surface. How you wanted to just reach down and grab hold onto it, suck on the tip until you could taste his salty essence. "No, I think you're old," you meant for it to sound intimidating, but with the way you sated at his cock, your eyes told another story.

"Have you met such an old man who can pull such pleasure from your body in only two minutes?" Oberyn smirked at your expression, flicking his tongue out in a way to mock, and mimic what he could do to your aching mound. When his hand released off of your neck you let out an embarrassingly loud moan at the thought of Oberyn eating you out, clamping your eyes shut - but not moving your head. Perching himself up on his knees, Oberyn pulled you to your feet, letting his eyes wander across your beautiful dress-clad form. Roaming hands found the luscious ribbon holding the entire thing together, slowly tugging on each one to let your dress shed. You could not deny him this pleasure of seeing you in the nude - fuck you didn't want him to stop. The first set came undone easily, leaving only the next two as your life support almost. This was a teasing tactic he was doing, seeing how much you really wanted him and how much you actually played into his games; How much he played into yours. "Just let go, for one dear y/n. Let me take care of you-"

"I'd rather die," you cursed yourself silently at your words, sighing out. It was becoming tiring for you to keep this charade up - draining you of your happy essence to a man who wanted to worship you. Sucking in a deep breath, you let your eyes meet his finally, after so long of pondering what could be. Instinctively you placed your hands right on his shoulders to brace yourself, feeling the last of your straps become undone. Though your words felt like acid in your mouth, Oberyn smirked at your boldness - telling off a part of the royal family, which in some cases, would get you killed. The only was you wanted to die at the hands of Oberyn was by his mouth, his fingers and his cock. You'd want to die by the pleasure and overstimulation, rather than his perfected craft of poison. "I can have that arranged, you know," Oberyn challenged as he released the last of your bindings, letting your nude body stand before him as the soft fabric of your dress pooled at your feet. Instantly to the cool room your nipples pebbled for Oberyn, which caused him to latch his lips onto the tightened bud. Suckling gently to give you that new found pleasure, he held your hand as he lowered you to him in the tub - wanting you to relax. You were finally giving into him.

Oberyn held your thighs as you lowered, wanting to let your legs cradle his waist while holding you close, letting you feel the skin to skin contact you have lacked. You had to admit the water was perfect, how hot it was against the cold room made your body shiver with delight. Hot baths like this were reserved for the Queen only, you had to deal with lukewarm; This changed everything. Every inch of stress and bullshit you have had to deal with over the last few years simply melted away to the scent of citrus and clove; The warm hands holding your thigh and back released positive endorphins to cloud that dull mind. In a way, under Oberyn's grasp, you felt like you again - not the distant memory of you that was locked away. The wet hand that laid against your back trailed wet touches up your spine, leading to the back of your neck. But this time when he held you, it wasn't out of anger - but love. Pulling your face towards him easily, Oberyn braced himself against your body as you did the same, knowing exactly what was going to happen next.

Gently Oberyn lurched forward to press his plush lips to yours with passion; Not enough to be marked as lust but, affection. The kiss was slow, and sweet - no real sign of sexual tension. How perfectly his lips molded to yours only amplified the slick between your legs, dribbling onto Oberyn's exposed cock. Your hand came to wrap around Oberyn's neck, pulling slightly at the tuft of curls he had flowing down the back of his head. The whimper escaping your lips was immediately swallowed by the Prince, his hold on your thigh becoming harsh. Pulling back slightly Oberyn turned breathless with a smile, pushing some of the dampened hair out of your face with ease; "See? Now was that so difficult?" Oberyn's chuckle was like music to your ears, the soft and pillowy nature felt like the home you never knew before. Returning his beautiful smile with such ease, you pressed your forehead against his with a sigh, loving how everything you have been harboring was slipping away, not threatening to come back as long as you were in Oberyn's arms. "Little canary, can I make you sing for me?" Oberyn's voice dipped lower, a seductive stance coming out as he laced his fingers in your hair, tugging your gentle locks. Breathlessly you responded, grinding your molten center against his aching length, earning a harsh slap against your ass, "Yes, release my body of the impurity the Lannister's have put on me."

"Don't you worry, my gorgeous sun, let me take care of you. Let me show you how we relieve tension in Dorne."

[moodymisty]

Please please please PLEASE produce some nsfw with female reader Alexis Polux Propaganda. I need some Imperial Fist content.

Author's note: HMNGNGNGGGGG POLUX TIME

Relationships: Alexis Polux/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Size difference, Praise kink, Polux is a good boy™, Rough-ish sex

"I'm surprised to see someone so young here,"

A voice speaks, and you don't entirely realize they're talking to you until they come up on your left side with an expectant look on their face.

"You look a bit too well dressed to be someones servant," You aren't quite a fan of the way he seems to examine you like a painting, but you assume he just isn't familiar with social gatherings. Many of the people in these circles are always examining for weaknesses, valuable information, so the feeling isn't entirely new. You just aren't used to it.

With a soft smile you nod to say hello despite him not giving you the same courtesy, holding your parchment close to your chest.

Your drawings had been going well, documenting the progress of the Palace has been no small feat, and the few picts you've taken will go along will with the various sketches you've been working on.

"Well, I'm usually not on Terra, But right now I'm here on business. Imp-"

The man cuts you off, letting out a noise. You're not sure if he's a commissar out of his regalia or a lord, not that it matters in the end.

"Ohhh! That's surprising."

You wonder why he thinks that.

"You don't seem like a young lady who would be part of the fortifications of the Sol system," It takes a lot in you to keep your place- to not roll your eyes - and just smile and nod.

"Well, looks are deceiving sometimes."

The man smiles and nods, seemingly amused your answer.

"Indeed they are."

You look away from him and over the massive and ornate railing at the view below you, spires and twisting paths of gold weaved between endless construction. Your primarch has been hard at work, and the pict you decide to take will serve as a useful thing to add to your ever growing documentation.

The man looks at you amusingly as you do it, but oddly enough doesn't ask why.

"How long have you been out here all alone?" He looks at you curiously, his chin tilted upward just slightly as he casually crosses his arms.

You think on it for a moment. You aren't meant to be here for the current meeting, it just happens to be going on in tandem to your arrival. You also haven't been alone for most of it, though your guardian- you can't think of any other word to call him, even if guardian doesn't quite fit - has been absent as he left to give orders briefly.

"No more than an hour, I think." The man throws out a hand, gesturing it vaguely in your direction.

"An hour out here? how about you come and get a drink with me? At least take a break and warm up before you come back out here." You politely shake your head and take a step back, still holding your parchments close to your chest.

"Oh, no thank you, I don't have the time to take a break, I'm quite busy."

He waves off your refusal. "Nonsense, have you even been to a Terran gathering? There's plenty of things I'm sure you've never seen before. Have you tried wine?"

You haven't, but your interest to do so is nonexistent under this context. Desires aside, you have work to do; Dorn and his men hold your work to a high bar and won't be fond to see you slacking off.

"I haven't but I really need to get back to my work, or my Pri-"

The man reaches for you hand and while he grasps it gently, the gesture is unwelcome.

You notice two Imperial Fists passing by as you tug your hand out of his own and back away, scowling at him. The closer Fist that passes you by looks at you, and moments later you hear the distinctive crackle of the vox device in his helmet turning on as he continues by. It's a soft sound you've gotten used to, in your time close to astartes.

"Surely your work isn't important enough to not enjoy some company. I am far too bored of the people who only seem to chat because they want something."

Despite his lament seemingly authentic he seems to want something from you, hence his forcefulness. he reaches forward once again to put a hand on your arm and you back away, but you accidentally back yourself between him and the railing- cornering yourself.

"I told you, I am here on business and I am really not interested in-"

You hear something to your left, the thundering of heavy footsteps - and the both of you turn to see the source.

A wide surface of bright yellow armor is what you see, spanning far wider than you and far taller, as well. It makes you overjoyed, you know who he is- while the man looses all the blood in his face at once.

“Let go of her.”

Polux doesn’t need to do much more than speak and the man removes his hand, as now it's suddenly as if you're on fire.

Polux stands in the same realm as the primarchs in height in his armor, and even someone used to being around space marines would find themself more than a bit intimidated by him by just his presence, let alone being the object of his displeasure.

You know he's far kinder than his off-putting visage implies, but both you and Polux are fine with not letting anyone know about it.

"Thank you, Polux."

The man seems surprised by you saying the marine's name so casually, and the way he looks down at you. He looks at you as if he knows you, which given how rare it is for astartes to interact with baseline humans, is more than a bit unusual. His short, cropped blonde hair is stuck to his head in weird ways, after so long underneath his helmet.

You turn to him, fingers flexing around your notebook as you take one side step in Polux's direction.

"I was trying to say I am here on Imperial Fist business. I am one of the remembrancers for The Fists documenting their fortification of Terra." Polux stares at the man, and his neutral face accidentally serves to frighten him more. Despite you knowing the astartes is almost what you would dare consider shy, his stalwart, wrinkled face does not imply that in the slightest.

"And I am quite busy doing so."

The man swallows, playing with his teeth while shifting his jaw nervously.

"Oh I am, so so sorry. I never meant to intrude on Fists business, I was only trying to offer a nice lady a d-" Polux ignores the man; Looking down at you.

"Are you alright?"

You know if you say you aren't Polux will more than likely drag the man somewhere to be punished for his misdeeds. But you're fine, and find the whole idea a bit too time consuming to deal with. It's not as if he did anything horrific, besides being far too pushy and irritating. Given your status as remembrancer mouthing off to someone who might possibly be a high lord wasn't something you can do either, less you risk getting your head rent from your shoulders.

"Yes, I'm ok. Just a little handsy."

Polux only needs to take one look in his direction and gesture, almost as if the man is a wild animal, to dismiss him, and he walks off with a briskness in his step.

Now alone with Polux you soften significantly; While he doesn't do the same visibly, you can tell in his tone of voice and eyes that he is somewhat less aggravated.

You give him a sweet smile, ignoring the chilly breeze penetrating your clothes. He must've gotten the vox that the Fist sent when he walked by, probably knowing a fight was brewing. He looks down at you with that stoic but soft expression.

Even as battle hardened and massive as he is, something about Polux is almost, gentle.

"Thank you so much for saving me, Polux. I needed that."

His face changes just the slightest bit. You don't know why, and you can only assume he finds your thank you thoughtful. You don't imagine he hears the words that often.

Reaching forward he grasps your shoulder with his wide gauntlet, and starts to push you along. You nearly stumble over with how much ground he expects you to cover in one step, almost loosing hold of your parchments.

"We should return to the Eternal Crusader."

When you returned to the ship, it had taken Polux 45 minutes to remove himself from his armor.

Record time; Given his size he wears custom armor that takes more effort- and thus time - to remove.

It had taken only fifteen more to return to his quarters, dragging you along. Once you got there, there was only roughly 40 seconds before the sound of the door locking, and Polux picking you up, and throwing you onto his cot.

Your clothes didn’t survive the minutes after- they became tattered ribbons on the floor as Polux made a strategic path to his target.

He had such a logistical way about it; his bred traits cause him to treat every scenario with stoic and almost taciturn attitude.

He thrusts into you, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room with an embarrassing loudness.

“Thank you for saving me, Alexis,”

The sentence goads him on hitting a deep part of him, and you feel the way he drives his cock even deeper into you. He’s pressing you into the cot, laying on your stomach back arched to present yourself to him. Polux is almost uncomfortably wide at his hips and torso, you can barely spread your thighs enough to allow him close enough, unless he puts your knees by your ears.

“Why must you find yourself in trouble every time I turn away from you,”

You let out a sharp moan as he drives himself into your particularly deep, and the thick base of his cock stretches you even wider.

“It just finds me, I don’t know what I’d do without you,”

He lets out a soft groan and you swear your feel his cock throb inside of you at the praise.

Polux has always had trouble recognizing his own skill among the other Imperial Fists. His skill is never enough, and he always doubts his place as belonging to his late brother. Your words fan a fire inside of him that only fuels with the acknowledgement that he has done his duty to the utmost of perfectionism, and never once faltered.

“More, please more,”

He grunts with effort as his massive forearms cage your body, his hips slapping against your ass. You know you're going to be covered in bruises that you'll have to cover, find excuses for, but you couldn't care less. You nearly squeal as the head of his cock bullies his way deeper inside of you, feeling like it’s at your belly button. His cot isn’t meant for this kind of abuse and creaks unhappily, threatening to crumble under the weight and strength of nearly 400 kilos of muscle and fat.

Why did you have to pick the biggest Imperial Fist that’s ever lived? Polux swallows your entire body in his shadow, and the overwhelming heat he exudes stifles the air with the hot smell of sweat and sex, combined with the odd chemical smell of an Astartes.

In an odd way it’s begun to stir something in you, and at times you at the way your body betrays you and begins to get hot at the worst of times.

Your hands desperately attempt to reach for anything to hold on to, one gripping his forearm and feeling his hair on your palm. You can feel the almost painful tightness in your lower stomach as you get closer and closer, gritting your teeth.

You have to be loud enough that it can be heard in the halls. You dread the idea of the serfs hearing their newest, brightest and shiniest remembrancer getting getting absolutely fucked out of her mind by one of the Imperial Fist's most stalwart and immovable men. But you can’t find the ability to be quiet- not when the Astartes is trying to force his cock impossibly deeper with each thrust as his balls slap against your cunt.

His brow furrows tight as he fucks you like it’s a singular goal, giving no mercy or gentleness.

The painful twisting vice in your stomach finally snaps when you cum, what little strength you had to keep your hips tilted upwards fails. You go nearly limp, and Polux is forced to move a hand to grab your hip and hold you up to continue trying to drive himself closer and closer to your cervix.

The way your soft walls clench around him almost stops the marine dead, and you can hear the hiss he lets out through his teeth.

This is only the third time he’s fucked you, and the first time he’s initiated it. The feeling of nerves and neurons unused being stimulated in such a way is almost overwhelming to him, and he isn’t sure if he enjoys the way his body almost takes control from him in that desperate, primal effort to finish.

He grips your hip tighter and fucks you harder with little regard to your limp and well fucked body, cumming inside of you not a few moments later. Buried to the hilt you feel the hot pooling of cum inside of you, and the way his cock twitches with each spurt.

When he pulls out, you whimper at the feeling of your abused cunt fluttering around nothing, and beads of his cum leaking from you.

You feel the back of your thighs ache in pain, and you’re sure they’ll be bruised wonderfully in a few hours.

“…Are you well?”

Polux says with an almost out of place concern as you lay limp on his cot. You nod and try to turn on your side beneath him.

“I’ll, I’ll be ok.” You don’t know if you will be right away; Your lower stomach aches as your cunt tries to recover from his abuse, and you’re sure sitting down or doing anything strenuous is going to be painful the next few days.

Polux furrows his brow, shifting his thin lips.

“I, do not like how unclear my mind gets during my… time, with you.”

You wish you could explain to him that’s normal, but to a man who’s known nothing but the machinations of a crusade, of standing stalwart and logical in the face of unknowns- desireless - you don’t know if you ever could.

“Do you want me to leave?” You look up at him, and he shakes his head.

“No.”

You attempt to adjust, but the motion puts tension on your aching muscles and causes you to grimace.

“You’re hurt? You lied?” Polux looks at you sternly, and you shake your head.

“I’m just really, sore. And bruised.” Polux shifts and moves to stand, further motivated when you hiss in pain again.

“You need the Medicae.” You quickly speak up. “Would you like to explain to them how you, an Astartes, fucked me so hard I can’t walk, or should I?”

Polux stares at you stone faced, a thinking expression that would be funny, if not for the embarrassment you implied.

“I… I will go to the apothecary and say you injured yourself and need salve.” Polux shifts his jaw, and you can see some of his more shy personality come through. “I will, forgo the details.”

You can’t help but smile a bit before he leaves, watching as the man storms off task at hand, and leaves you to wait.

[horuslupercal]

ranking the primarchs as boyfriends

Lion: honestly I can't see him dating cause he doesn't like women and Caliban homophobia but let's pretend. he is better than you. you both know this. makes no particular effort to pay attention to you. bad at social cues. will take care of you, kind of. will tell his astartes to guard you in a dangerous situation at least. uncommunicative. 2/10 loveless political marriage

Fulgrim: canonically emotionally tapped out. okay boyfriend in public, does not really interact much in private. RSD.Primarch. decent amount of gifts. might actually catch feelings for you and then pull away even more. 1/10 are you really dating

Perturabo: also RSD.Primarch. it's difficult to make him happy and very easy to upset him. you will end up on life support when he kills you in a fit of rage and then panics about it. if you tell him you like his artsy endeavours he WILL shower you in them so there's that. you cannot fix him. 3/10 more unstable ground than eggshells

Khan: knows what he's about (sexual). writes very pretty letters but this does not quite make up for him being gone all the time. more interested in his friends. emotionally mature primarch. pretty good at interacting with mortals like he respects them. not a guy who's good at (or likes) commitment/being "tied down". 5/10 you should just be fwbs

Leman: well groomed. likes to feed you good food. more interested in his friends than you. braggart. surprisingly good at remembering important things and dates. 6/10 a thoughtful frat boy

Dorn: primarch most likely to indulge in a "shut up" ring. has emotions about you and literally tortures himself about it. claims he's controlled or whatever but he is an emotional time bomb. won't engage in relationship conversations. knows he's better than you. 3/10 dime a dozen in a philosophy class

Konrad: well fuck if he doesn't love you. believes in thought crime and possesses some moral OCD qualities. will trail bits of guts home. might accidentally kill you during a vision. he really does love you. swinging between obsession and apathy very quickly. 2/10 you knew what you were getting into

Sanguinius: afraid of you? (or of hurting you). half the time he has no energy for anything he gets off work (campaign) and lays down on the couch and doesn't answer his texts. impulsive. kind of incapable of turning "off". sad. tries to be sweet. 4/10 is he really interested in you?

Ferrus: throws tantrums. knows he's better than you and his legion knows it too. jokes about your weakness with a little too much regularity for it to feel like a joke. won't fix this if you express being upset about it. 1/10 /fit/ (4chan) regular

Angron: will kill you in his sleep. will cry about it. doesn't really think of himself as a complete person anymore and makes it the problem of everyone around him. doesn't want to date you and ruin you. won't even tell you his newest scheme for glorious combat based suicide. 1/10 he's not in a good place

Roboute: arrogant. busy. "I was a TA for a logic class-". says he's willing to communicate but leaves halfway through because something happened and doesn't pick it back up. will bring you to beautiful cliffside locales and spin you like a movie. 5/10 you are a side project

Mortarion: unwashed. kissing him will poison you. doesn't come to bed on time. appreciates you from a distance but does not pay much attention to you. would be very upset if something happened to you. his legion definitely thinks you're stupid. 1/10 he doesn't you he needs SSRIs

Magnus: knows better than you. horror movie protag's boyfriend who says it's just a joke as he reads the ancient texts from the creepy book. flaunts you around, he's very proud of you. either constantly asking what you want or completely dead to the world distracted in some project. 5/10 he will get you killed

Horus: lovebombing: the primarch. knows what he's about (sexual). more than a little self absorbed. occasionally loses his temper and then is very good about explaining it away until you feel bad. you are spoiled to hell. 4/10 emotionally abusive boyfriend with a magic aura

Lorgar: you are his world. his light. his life. he knows best and you should just do what he says. you will no longer be human but something higher (socially) (literally). gets so invested he lets other things fall to the wayside and it's kind of disastrous. 5/10 at least you're god

Vulkan: trying his best to actually respect you. occasionally fails. means to spend time with you and then gets wrapped up in duties and projects. cuddlemaster. cute relationship gestures. 7/10 your best option

Corvus: won't communicate. ghosts away when things get awkward. really random, overly intense opinions and he will slay you on those hills. busy. hypocrite. 1/10 teenager

Alpharius Omegon: either they're both in on this so they can use you or only one of them is in on this and the other one is plotting your death because this wasn't the plan. 1/10 actively dangerous

[callmemaeverick]

Good Cop, Bad Boy Part II: Scary Dog Privileges - A. Aretas

Pairing: Armando x f!Reader Summary: You learn what scary dog privilege is and who better to give it to you than Armando. WC: 2.2k [I went overboard, I can't seem to end a story it seems] TW: men being slightly creepy

Ps: pics are not mine, they are sourced from the internet. If these are urs, lemme know and Ill credit where credit is due or take it down

Photo credits @yeahnohoneybye (bottom left)

~~~~

You didn’t notice it at first. In fact, you were the second to last person to realize it and when you did, you couldn’t un-notice it.

According to the people around you, it was so obvious, they had known for months. It was only you and Armando who hadn’t caught up yet. And when you finally did catch up, you did not know whether to laugh and punch someone. And the best thing was, the person who had to break it to you was none other than 15-year-old Callie.

Mike was hosting his monthly cookout and his expansive yard was teeming with friends, family and every police officer who was off shift. You weren’t really having a bad time, but no one from the station seemed to want to spend time talking to you for more than 5 minutes.

It weirded you out because you don’t consider yourself a boring person. In fact, you were one of the department's top interrogator. You could talk and talk and talk to the point that the suspects would let their guards down and began talking too. But that day, you barely got to make a conversation.

“Whoa, what’s with the face?”

You looked up and smiled at Callie as she took a seat at the vacant table with you.

“It’s nothing. It’s just…” You hesitated but then decided to hell with it. “Do I smell?”

“What?”

“Do I smell? Have I got something in my teeth? Is my eyeliner smudged?”

The kid looked at you like you’d grown a second head. Maybe that’s why, you thought.

“Uhh no. You look great!”

“Then why isn’t anybody talking to me?” Your voice raised a little bit so you quickly reined it in. “There’s like half the department here. My old partner is there but he ran off before I barely finished telling him about Dorn’s stupid accident. That cute new beat cop there could barely meet my eyes when we were chatting at the drinks table.“

The whole time you were ranting, Callie seemed to struggle to fight back a smile. It was an expression you caught and zeroed in on.

“You know something.” When her grin finally broke out, your eyes narrowed. “Spill it!”

The girl you once babysat sighed. “Oh, you have no idea how many girls would kill to be in your position right now.”

“Ostracized by society?” Never it be said that you were not dramatic.

“Privileged!” She exclaimed. “It’s your scary dog privilege.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“My what now?”

The groan Callie let out was something that once came out of your own throat when you were a teenager. "Sheesh, you’re old.”

How dare she. “I’m 29.” You bit back, indignant.

Callie ignored you with a roll of her eyes. “Scary dog privilege. It's like having a guard dog that's so scary, no one wanted to mess with you. Or in your case, talk to you.”

“And you’re saying I have that? That scary dog… privilege?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

You almost snapped. “Notice what?!”

There’s a subtle twitch at Callie’s lips, threatening to become a smirk. She leaned in and you subconsciously did the same.

“He’s been watching you all afternoon.”

“Who?”

“Armando.”

The mention of his name sent a zap of something unidentified down your spine but you had more than enough practice of hiding it.

“What? No, he's not!” You laughed but couldn’t help yourself turning to locate the man.

You found him at the far corner of the yard, having a drink with Dorn and Rafe.

It had take a bit of time and effort from Mike to fight for his son to be exonerated. Especially when Armando had helped with so many cases and after a gruelling and extensive trial, Armando was granted amnesty provided that he worked off his remaining years of incarceration with the MDPD and AMMO. And after the whole thing with McGrath, Dorn, not one to hold a grudge, had warmed up quickly to him. The pair grew amicable, or at least respectful of each other and the skillset they brought to AMMO.

Then, as if he could sense you, Armando turned and met your eyes.

You immediately tore your gaze away and shook your head. “Yeah, no. That’s… that’s ridiculous.”

Callie, who had been watching you the whole time, did indeed smirk. “Suit yourself.”

Stubborn as a mule, you refused to entertain the thought until Monday rolled around.

“C’mon, Mike. It's just a 3 hour drive. I'll be fine!" You sounded like a teenager; but you couldn't help it. Not when one of your superiors insisted on acting like a father.

"No! You're not going alone. Period."

"Then you come with me."

"The fuck I am! I got a wife to get back to."

"Then, I'll go alone."

"The fuck you not!"

You groaned aloud, exasperation lacing your tone. There was no winning against Mike. Especially when you knew he has a point. But this was a once in a lifetime event and you were not going to miss it. A part of you had wanted to nod and agree with Mike and just go anyway, but you had too much respect for the man to do so, even if he was being a little overprotective.

"Dornatello," You swivelled in your chair towards your bestfriend, using his nickname to butter him up. "Please come with me,"

The big man shook his head, not even reacting to the nickname anymore. “No can do, shortstop. It’s my turn to cook tonight.”

When your eyes met Marcus, the man raised his hands up and the question died on your tongue.

It was at that moment you realized how fucking single you were.

The sound of someone descending the stairs to the war room quieted your energy a little. Especially when you saw who it was.

Armando gave his customary head nod to his father in greeting before he quirked an eyebrow at you. In the year working with him, most of you could read him based on his face alone.

“There's gonna be a meteor shower tonight.” You explained. “But you need to go somewhere dark to watch it because there’s too much light in the city." Turning back to Mike, you continued your argument. "I'm a fucking cop, Mike! I can handle myself"

"I know you can. But a female cop, alone in some dark-ass national preserve can still die."

"I'll go."

All at once the room went silent as everyone turned to Armando.

"What?"

"You need someone to go with you, right? I'll go."

Someone shifted in their seat somewhere behind you and you knew it was a nervous Dorn. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Marcus discreetly pulling on Mike’s pant leg, a giddy smile on his face.

"It's a 3 hour drive and we would be there until early morning." It was a way-out. It was your way of telling him to back out if he was not serious. You won't get your hope up just yet.

But Armando just levelled you a with a look and shrugged.

You fought not to show how warm you felt at the offer, but inside your heart felt like it was about to explode. A small smile of gratitude worked its way to your lips.

"Okay. I'll pick up up at 8?"

"Okay."

A beat passed. None of you looked away.

And then. "Okay. It's a date!" Mike exclaimed, breaking the tension. "Now, can we get to work?"

Blushing slightly, you broke off eye contact and turned to the screens.

xxxx

When you told him you'd pick him up, Armando apparently heard, "You should drive my car.", because the moment you pulled up at his small apartment, he walked over to the drivers side and opened your door.

"What?"

"I'm driving,"

"Excuse me?"

The way he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow made you want to smack him, but you knew that it was an argument you would not win. Besides, if you were honest with yourself, you felt much safer with him driving than driving yourself.

Pretending to be exasperated, you exited the car and let him slide in.

The drive up to Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park normally took 3 hours; but with Armando behind the wheel, you arrived earlier than expected. Or it felt that way with how the time seemed to fly when the whole journey consisted of you mostly talking and him mostly listening.

You talked about everything you could think off. Your current watch on Netflix, your new obsession with jigsaw puzzles. And occasionally; you would get some tidbits of info on your partner as well.

In any other situation, with any other man, you would have felt self-conscious with the amount of chatter that came out of you. However with Armando, you felt comfortable enough to tell him things you don't normally reveal.

But then you stepped onto the designated clearing in the park and all words died on your lips.

The place was dark. Very dark and you were some of the only people there. Slightly down the middle, a group of men sat around a small camping lamp. They saw you arrive and almost all at once, their heads turned to you.

Despite being a cop, despite having years of self-defense training, a chill crept down your spine. Maybe Mike has a point.

"You okay?"

His voice could very well have been a weighted blanket with how quickly the feeling of relief washed over you. You turned to Armando who revealed himself from behind you and nodded, moving further inside the clearing to find a spot to sit.

The moment they seemed to realize you were not alone, the men ignored you completely.

That's when you remembered what Callie told you and an amused smile broke out from you as you watched Armando take a seat on the picnic mat you brought.

"What?"

"She was right." When he gave you his signature look, you elaborated. "The scary dog privilege."

"The what?"

Your grin widened and you leaned closer as if sharing a secret. "She told me that you give out this scary dog vibe that makes people stay away from you and anyone you're around. And I think I see it now."

Armando scoffed but turned away from you. "Fuck outta here,"

"You do! Now that I realized it, you truly do!"

"How?"

"My interrogations went easier when I have you in the room with me." You started a count. "Remember? That perp practically spelled everything out for us last week and I barely said a word. We went to that shady bar looking for that fence the other day, and the bartender cooperated like that." You snapped your fingers.

Beside you, Armando rolled his eyes, but you were on a roll.

“And on Saturday Callie said you scared some of the guys from the precinct because you were…”You realized what you were about to say and trailed off.

“I was what?”

This time, it was you who averted your eyes. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

Silence draped over you both and the darkness began to lift a little. People around you were more visible but most importantly, the sky above.

Millions of stars dotted the black above you and not for the first time, you realize how insignificant you are in this universe. For that moment in time, your work did not matter, your problems did not matter, you did not matter. You are a speck. Nothing more.

About an hour or so later, the first streaks of light appeared across the sky and you gasped, clutching Armando’s arm.

“Holy shit!” The view was breathtaking.

Your mouth fell open as you watched the small debris of matter that flew into your earth’s atmosphere, zooming past you at lightning speed. Every now and then, their light illuminated the clearing, giving you an ethereal glimpse of the national park and the people around you.

You turned to the man beside you and grinned wider when you saw the small smile on his face. People around you oohed and aahed and you joined them with abandon.

You had seen plenty of solar and lunar eclipses, even experienced an Aurora Borealis once. But this was the one that was the hardest for you to experience. This was the last one on your bucket list.

When the first flight died down, you finally felt the soreness of your cheeks. That's what you got for smiling so hard but goddammit it was worth it.

You turned to the man beside you.

"Thanks," You said and waited for him to properly turn to you before you sincerely added. "Thanks for doing this with me.”

Armando looked back at you but there was a softness in his gaze. Under the glow of starlight, he looked positively gorgeous. Gone was the hard lines of his face, the tightness in his jaw. Gone was the haunted look in he always carried.

All that was left was a brown-eyed boy who offered to watch meteors with you.

[ghostinthegallery]

As a certified xenos-supporter and lover of sexy space robots, I still get lots of Primarch-info through osmosis. Although it is probably weird info, so here are the first facts I think about for each of them.

Lion

- beard

- his kids are a damn mess

Fulgrim

- snek

- demon sword

- Griffith we have at home

Perterabo

- cunt

- hates everyone except Magnus apparently?

Khan

- imposter syndrom

- put him in charge

Russ

- hates magic except when his kids do it

- murder for daddy's approval

Dorn

- has a blankie from his grandpa and that's adorable

- likes walls

Curze

- blood pits

- needs a shower

Sanguinius

- perfect boy everyone loves

- died to give us 40k Christmas

Ferrus

- divorced, beheaded, died

- the hands are necrodermis akshually

- ate sand one time

Angron

- all of the Primarchs have the right to punch Big E in the dick forever, but Angron gets to go first

Guilliman

- spreadsheets

Mortarion

- abusive childhood even by 40k standards

- moth?

Magnus

- hot nerd with beautiful titties

- did nothing wrong the best he could with the information he had

Horus

- stabbed real bad one time

- toxic polycule

- kind of shocked at how little I know given he had a whole Heresy names after him

Lorgar

- Bible camp nerd

- Big E blew up his planet and he was way too okay with it

Vulkan

- big hugs

- perpetual? For some reason?

Corax

- hates Lorgar

- that's really it

Alpharius

- killed a custodes one time and nobody cared

- secret first primarch

Omegon

- bald

[bucknastysbabe]

Pleaseee I beg for more modern big dick jace!! Love your writing :)

Yessss it’s his speciality, thank you for the compliment Xoxo!

Jace Velaryon x Karstark!Reader | College!AU

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Tinder works in this universe, sweetie pie hockey player Jace, with a huge ass horse cock, Cousin Cregan for the win, filthy nasty wet sloppy, pnv!sex, Jace is terrified of his own dick, cutie gf/bf softness, poor Karstark is on the ride of the lifetime, sex playlists and general first time awkwardness, Virgin!Jace, LUBE💯

A/N: me no beta still but I’ll go back over and check stuff

You rolled over onto your belly, you’d been texting this cutie from your college about two weeks now. All plump lips and pretty smiles— shamefully had a sorta hockey mullet going on but you could look past it. Did you mention his was rich as fuck? Really sweet too.

You were surprised he’d even matched with you on the dating app. You too went to Barrowton, a large university in the vast North of Westeros. So you didn’t fuck off to Dorne as planned but got a good education and a track scholarship at the least. Jace, the boy you’d been messaging, was here on academics and hockey. You’d seen him around with your cousin Cregan.

Stark. Karstark. Weird, you knew.

You’d went out with Jacaerys once so far, the brunette so sweet and humble for his upbringing. He liked to listen, citing that ‘northern accents were kinda hot’. Jace blushed to his ears afterwards, you pinching his cheek with a grin. He’d walked you back to your apartment, almost squeaking when you dragged him in.

The roomies merely raised a brow or continued their bickering over the Bachelor. Jace stuttered, “Uhhh what’cha got planned Karstark?” Were you being the idiot this time? Didn’t he want to fuck? Like all guys? You fumbled over your words and shrugged, eyes looking away, “I don’t know— uh, whatever the rest of guys want.”

Jace frowned, crossing his arms, “Sex, yeah?”

“Sex…yeah.”

The brunette came a little closer, grabbing your hand, brown eyes sparkling as he gently suggested, “Why don’t we just watch a movie? No pressure.”

You’d be screaming crying sliding down the wall gagging if you could but instead smiled and nodded, “That sounds perfect. I’ll go make some popcorn and you can pick out a drink.” He grinned and followed your way, casually picking at your roommates and their gossiping.

Jacaerys had become more of a staple in your life now— when time allowed for it. Still reluctant about anything that involved getting his pants off. By the new gods and old you were fucking horny too. For cock, specifically, Jace was a menace about eating you out. Came in his pants over it, moaning into your pussy about ‘how sweet you were’.

Maybe he was a virgin. Your Bolton roomie, a bit of an odd one, suggested he may have micropenis or something on her strange listing of diseases. You just wanted to bounce on his cock! He was either good sir micropenis or real good at hiding his dick, you had made out in his lap quite often. You figured calling Cregan might help, even if he was Jace’s bestie.

“What do you want?”

You rolled your eyes, “You have such a way with words dear Cregan. Why won’t Jace fuck me?”

There was a pause and a loud guffaw accompanied by the sounds of a phone falling. He picked up again, “Ha, sorry, took me off guard there cousin.” Narrowing your eyes and cursing got him to speaking, “Oh he’s just got a uh— how would you say— huge godsdamn prick. He made two chicks cry his freshman year and is scarred or something. Good luck.” Click.

Well, Cregan Stark was always to the point. You understood the assignment. Lube, lube, more fucking lube. Maybe start with a handy. You had a jaw injury from eating shit during hurtles so head wasn’t happening. So you texted Jace to come over later and picked out a slutty little lingerie set you hadn’t worn in awhile. Frankly it made your tits look great.

You wore a big shirt down to your knees to cover it up. In your room it was immaculately clean, scented with a rosy candle, and maybe a frantically drawn up ‘$$$$$3333xxxxxx’ playlist. Jace wouldn’t notice the shirt, you often dressed like that, he’d just be baffled why you weren’t cold. You came from a freezing ass little town constantly plagued by storms and wind from the Bay of Seals. Poor southern boy didn’t know cold in Barrowton.

“Your lover boy is here,” Aliss Glover hollered.

You blanched and took a deep breath. You’d had dick before, you were no virgin. Just. It was Jace! He was practically perfect! Shaking your head you walked to then apartment’s door and opened it to a smiling Jace, sporting a mean black eye.

You yelped wile pulling the junior into a hug, “What the hell happened?” Jacaerys laughed it off, kissing your cheeks sweetly. He sighed, “Got a little heated at the practice scrimmage today, don’t worry, we’re all good.” You raised a brow but let it be, Cregan always took care of his kin and friends. You grabbed his hand and led Jace away while he was babbling to Aliss.

You pushed him in first, closing and locking the door behind, discreetly pressing play on your speaker. Jacaerys’ face whitened as he looked around, realizing there was something going on. He stared back at you, eyes dark and cheeks pink. The brunette questioned, “You uh- did I- what’s going on?”

You ripped off the big ass shirt and stood there, holding your composure. By a thin little wire. Jace let out a rush of breath, lust crowding his features. You knew the look quite well. He stalked closer, hands winding around your lacy waist. You looked up at his dark expression.

“Baby,” he growled, “Tell me what’s going on. Now. Trapping me in here looking like that Hm?” His thumbs dug into your soft skin, eliciting a squeak from you. In a quaver you rambled, “I reallyreally- wantedtofuckyoubutifyourenotintoiticanstop-“

His plush lips sealing over your trembling ones shut you up, plastering yourself needily to his body, afraid he’ll run off. Jace moaned softly, lips pressing insistent kisses, getting more open mouthed by the second. His roughened hands grabbed your ass as he murmured in High Valyrian.

Jace laughed, “I thought you were the bold one, here I am keeping you from jumping out the window.” His cute nose nuzzled against your own. You replied sulkily, “Very funny, I thought you were going to run back out!” He kissed you again with a ‘mhm’ and picked your frame up, moving toward your little dorm bed. He groaned as he settled your frame down, stopping to shuck off his shirt.

His abs never failed to disappoint. Jace grew a bit quiet and sheepish, eyes darting up and back down to his shorts. He sat on the end of the bed and sighed, “Alright alright, I already know you called Cregan.” A warm hand gripped your ankle, a thumb rubbing grounding circles. The elder explained, “He’s never told a lie, it’s just a lot bigger than most girls prefer. I want you really fucking bad, like, so bad.”

There was a pause as he ran a hand through shaggy hair.

“I just don’t want to hurt you and ruin everything. This one girl made me pay for her gyno.” You couldn’t help but guffaw, “What a bitch! No! We will make this work. If it doesn’t whatever there’s other ways to cum. Just c’mere again and whip it out. Lemme touch it atleast.”

The brunette’s somber eyes lightened a bit, plush lips splitting into a toothy smile. He eased off the little shorts, the even smaller briefs, leaving your mouth agape. Gods be damned and the children of the forest too. He was hung like a damn horse and not even half-hard. Jace blushed and threw his hands up, “It’s a family blessing and curse apparently! I don’t have a list of size queens up for grabs.”

You growled, “I got lube and patience, c’mere lover boy.”

He turned to you, crawling over your needy body, that heavy cock swaying, utterly mesmerizing. Gods— his balls too. You groaned, “How did you hide that beauty?” He snipped back, “Tuck and go. Stop staring so hard!”

“What? It’s hot? You and your huge cock are hot.”

“Crazed northwoman.”

He settled on his haunches, your legs propped over his knees, waiting for the dummy to notice the panties were crotchless. You leaned to turn over to the mega-lube bottle and squirted a handful. “Oh fuck, you d-didn’t, there’s no damn,” he panted.

“Mhmm,” you hummed happily, slapping your lubed hand on his prick. The poor thing’s eyes rolled up as he moaned your name, you growing more aroused at the feeling of hot, throbbing flesh. How much blood it took to fill that thing— all for you. You pressed, “Feels good baby?” He nodded, head thrown back, mouth wide, “So good.”

You jacked him at a steady pace, not too fast. Because dammit you were getting that thing somewhat stuffed inside of you. He panted, “Lemme, lemme stretch you out, make you cum first.” Jace’s familiar fingers slid at your sopping entrance, glassy eyes watching your cunt suck him in.

You arched a bit, shivering with excitement, Jace’s two fingers pumping and curling. You twisted your hand on the bulbous tip of Jacaerys’ cock and he cried out, jamming a third finger into you. The pair of you grunted and hissed like teens— trying out new territories. Soon you were gasping and mewling helplessly as he had four fingers deep inside, pinching your pussy in the sweetest way.

You came on his fingers, Jace slathering the slick also on his cock. Everything felt wet— your boyfriends cock was dripping with lube, slick, and his own pre. He was red faced and steadying staccato breaths, gently removing your hand, handing his shirt to you. Jace moved further up your body, face to face again.

He asked sweetly, “You okay?”

Pecking his bee-stung lips you murmured, “Mhm, whenever you want baby.”

“Just tell me okay? Please? Want this to be good for you.”

More little smacks of kisses and sappy cooing. Jace breathed out, guiding himself to your entrance. He repeated under his breath, “Okay, okay, here we go, here we go, okay baby, here goes.” You could almost laugh because only the tip had just touched you. Then he moved further in, stretching your pussy open. You locked your legs around his waist for a better angle, breathing slowly.

The intrusion was intense, his cock filling every part of your cunt. Then the tip was fully in, Jace groaning like he’d been murdered. You panted, a bit overwhelmed, nuzzling into his jaw. “Keep going,” you whined. Jace nodded haphazardly, getting the girth of his shaft in. He bottomed out with a wheeze, you squirming.

Holy fuck. This was intense. You felt like you’d been stuffed with cock. It burned so fucking good— so good, you told him, maybe? Jace croaked, “Y-yeah baby? Fuuuck you’re tight.” You whimpered, “Mhm, l-look, stuffed me so good. Gods, oh, S’alot Jace.” He peered down to see the bulge at your lower belly, his cock that fucking big.

Jacaerys needed to get to work or he’d blow every godsdamn where. Agonizingly he pulled his cock backward until the tip remained, then jerked forward. You saw the absolute ecstasy flit across his features, Jace choking on his moans. You goaded him on in little cries, too cock drunk to function, getting the wreck to build a rhythm.

Jace was sloppily mouthing at the lace over your tits, trim hips smacking your ass over and over. All you were capable of was mewling, crying, and holding him for dear life. You’d always thought it was dumb that girls would go cross eyed but— there was two Jacaerys fucking you silly. He stared up at you, dark eyes full of affection, lips agape.

His voice was a shivering wreck, “You’re so perfect.”

You grabbed his head to kiss him again, the blunt tip of his cock nudging your innermost walls. It was causing a strange friction, nothing like you’d felt, making your bladder and insides feel a little too warm. You whined in overstimulation, clit throbbing in time with your fluttering pulse. A hook drew downwards fast— you were gonna come.

Scratching at your boyfriend’s shoulders you wailed into his mouth, legs spasming around. Jace began to knit his brows in concern before you yowled his name, gushing on his cock, sobbing with every stabbing pulse of the intense orgasm. He choked on his spit, eyes going wide, swearing, “S-sweet s-seven!” His fat prick was trapped by your cunt, milking him for all he was worth.

Thank god for birth control. He wasn’t going anywhere.

You continued to mewl and hold onto Jacaerys, the male grinding his teeth down on a yelp, emptying deep into your abused hole. You writhed again, his cum having no room, slipping out with every stunted pump of his hips, whining under his breath. The brunette spewed nonsense in your ear, falling flat atop you with an ‘oof’.

You were too out of it to complain, trying to put two and two together. The rational little part of your brain complained about the mess— how you totally squirted all over your boyfriend and the bed. He hummed dopily, “God, I made you squirt, gonna dream about this forever.” You nodded blearily, “Uh-huh babe.”

His cock eventually softened enough to slide out of your poor pussy with a slick squelch. Absolutely disgusting— yet desire twitched at the sound of how used you had been by the guy. Jace rolled onto his side, hiking one of your legs atop his own. You hissed in discomfort, Jace apologizing.

He peered at you intensely, asking in a saccharine tone, “You okay Babygirl? Thought I sent you off the planet there for a second.” You smirked at him, brushing back his messy locks, rasping, “I may have seen the light. Sorry ‘bout the mess. That thing has talent— you have talent.”

“I think if it wasn’t messy then I didn’t do a good job,” he drew closer to nip at your lip, “Didn’t even have to touch your clit babes.” Another bolt of arousal hit you. So you slapped his side and harrumphed, “Shush Jace. You’ve worn me out enough.” He grinned, kissing your hairline and cheek between laughs.

“I’m sure in two months I’ll be a pro.”

“That’s a bet.”

[lovexjoe]

PENPALS Part 3

Your dad was suppose to be home 4 days ago with Uncle Mike but they are no where to be found. You were currently leaving the hospital when the news report caught your attention.. WANTED FUGITIVES? It broke your heart knowing Captain passed the way he did. Your dad gave you the phone call and you couldn’t even make it to the funeral due to your exams and clinicals. You knew it wasn’t true at all, someone had to be framing them.

But who is that other person with them? You knew Mike had a son but you never knew any details beyond that. They were broadcasting names and pictures on the tv. Uncle Mike popped up first. Your phone interrupted everything and you decided to just step outside because it was quiet hours in the hospital. You picked up the phone and nearly cried.

“Hey baby, yes I’m okay, but I need you to go to Dorn’s house. We got some injuries we need some help with.” Your heart felt whole again to hear your dad’s voice.

“Okay I’ll be right there.” You snuck out with a kit from the hospital and headed straight to Dorn’s house. You notice a black van was following you for quite some time, but you managed to lose them.

As you pulled into the driveway your heart started to beat fast. The idea of something happening to your dad really shook you to the core. Being away from home for so long due to nursing school you lost so much time with your family. You also missed Uncle Mike, he’s the only person that knows how to deal with your dad.

You knocked on the door to see Dorn and immediately he gives you a hug. You missed him and Kelly so much. As you walk inside you immediately give your dad a hug and check to see if he had any bad injuries.

“There’s my favorite niece!” Uncle Mike picks you up and spins you around. You noticed a familiar face in the kitchen and your heart immediately went to your ass.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You look at the prisoner who you’ve fell head over heels for but haven’t heard a word from in 2 weeks. Armando just stood in the kitchen holding a beer looking like a lost puppy. He knew he was going to see you once Marcus made that call.

“Y/N this is my son Armando he-“

“YOUR SON?!” You were in love with a MIKE 2.0 ??!??!!? That Lowrey DNA is a fucking bitch. You had the biggest crush on Uncle Mike in your teenage years now you bent ass backwards over his son.

“Princess it’s okay. He’s come a long way since killing Captain Howard-“ Marcus tries comforting you.

“Marcus…” Mike gives him a dirty look cause it was a low blow.

He killed Captain Howard?……

The look on your face broke Armando’s heart. Yes he killed Captain Howard and if he had a choice he would have never done it. He watched the terror of it unfold in front of his eyes and he regretted every moment of it. Whatever you guys had was probably dead after hearing that. You ended the conversation as you started to clean up Uncle Mike’s wounds.

“Geez I remember when I was babysitting you now you over here cleaning me up.” Mike jokes as he sips on a beer.

“Sounds like you getting old” You started to laugh as he straightens himself up and push his chest out.

“There was a car following me on the way over here but I managed to lose it.” You finished stitching up his wound and Armando was next.

“You should stay here tonight just in case. You and Armando can share the guest bedroom. Mike and Marcus can stay on the pullout.” Dorn suggested and Kelly agrees with him.

“Armando you sleeping on the floor and don’t get any ideas!” Marcus warns.

“Please Marcus, that boy is clearly in love with whoever in dem damn polaroids he got on him.” Mike teases and your face immediately turns red as you wipe down Armando’s wound. He tries to maintain a straight face but he couldn’t help the little smile that creeped up. Yes he was in love with you as crazy as it sounded. He wanted to tell you after the visit but he lost all his access due to the fight.

After playing nurse for everybody, it was time to clean up and get some rest. You and Armando headed off to the guest bedroom with the clothes and towels Dorn gave you. As soon as the door closed, you pulled him in for a hug. Yes he killed Captain Howard, but he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. You let all your emotions come to the surface.

“I thought I lost you…”You let out a soft cry. Armando caress your face and wiped your tears. He didn’t deserve you even after hearing he killed Captain you still wanted to talk to him. He didn’t want to question it, he just thanked his lucky stars.

“You could never lose me mami. I love you Y/N. The day after the visit, I wanted to tell you but the fight happened and they cut off all my access. I love you I’m so lucky to even have you.” That all you needed to hear. You pulled him in a for kiss. This time you guys had extra hours to yourself no guards to interrupt your time.

“Alright stinky go take a shower!” He strips down and you took both of your clothes to the laundry. Obviously you checked to see if anyone was up but the lights were already out. Your dad and Uncle Mike already snoring in the living room. You hopped into the shower with him, taking in his figure for the first time. He had old scars and some new wounds but god was he handsome. The water cascading down his caramel skin had you drooling. You couldn’t help but take in how …..packed he was. He was already bricked up but you couldn’t blame him. You knew he’d be getting off to your picture so seeing you in front of him like this…..he was using the last bit of self control he had.

“Touch me….” You wrapped his arms around you as the water hits the both of you. The warmth of the water and the steam filling the air was adding to the heat you were feeling for him.

“I-I shouldn’t ….we should wait…” Your foreheads touching as his hands stay firmly at your waist. He didn’t want you to feel like you were obligated to give him some ass just cause he’s out of prison. He could easily help himself in the middle of the night or just have self control. But seeing you out those fucking scrubs had him bricked and aching.

“Armando I’ve waited long enough…please touch me….I need you…” you moved his hands to your ass and started to kiss on his neck.

Fuck. The self control was out the window.

🙊🙈

Taglist: @yeahnohoneybye @cardi-bre91 @onlysarang @romanreignsluver1 @minwn

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@marley1773

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@midnightheat

[piastrirots]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ not ready to make nice !

pairing: armando aretas x howard!reader summary: all you’ve ever dreamed about since your granddad being killed was the son of a bitch who did it sharing the same fate. what you never expected was to have to work with your granddads killer to rescue your sister and especially not that you’d take a liking to him. word count: 3.7k warnings: typical bad boys violence (guns, blood, death...) read at your own caution <3 notes: thank you for my first request, i had so much fun writing it! feel free to comment down your thoughts, things you want to see etc.

YOU FELT SO HELPLESS AS YOU REPLAYED THE SCREAMS OF YOUR SISTER CALLIE, but it was nothing to what your sister must have been feeling. You felt so stupid - your mother entrusted you to look after your sister whilst she hunted down your grandads killer and like a fool you left her alone at the house when you got a message to go to Dorn's you just could not ignore.

You would have disregarded the message like you did the millions of texts of pity that people from the station have sent following your indefinite suspension. It was unfair, but since your granddad was under investigation for working with the cartel (which was absolutely bullshit), it was only procedure to have his protégé and granddaughter on leave until everything was cleared up.

Following this, your mother had you and your younger sister on house arrest. You understood your mothers concern and admired her grit and ability to separate her personal feelings from her work. You couldn't begin to imagine how she must be feeling and certainly wonder how she copes with everything.

You didn't really see much of your granddad growing up since he was always working and just like him, your mother followed in his footsteps. It only made sense to everyone when you joined the police academy straight out of high school and worked at the station your grandfather did.

You fiddled with the necklace clasped to your neck nervously as you watched the drone footage of the men who had captured Mike's wife and your sister from the safety of the AMMO van. You didn't deserve to be here - it should be your sister. The same Callie who was being held hostage by dangerous people she had no business being entwined with.

Kelly squeezed your shoulder reassuringly and you give her a forced smile she could see right through. "It's going to be alright," Kelly said, piercing through the silence that enveloped the trio that was Kelly, yourself and Dorn.

You wished you could be in the thick of the action, but knew you would be no help to anyone in your distressed state. Your eyes flickered from your sister and briefly landed on the man who arguably was the reason you were all here.

Armando Aretas. The man that had cursed her family and the name that once made your stomach churn. As you observed him in the water, gun poised, you couldn't summon hatred, only a detached indifference.

She couldn't stop reliving their first meeting, each detail etched in her mind like a broken record. She knew everything about his case: Armando, Mike's son, tied to the cartel, infamous for his role in her grandfather's and other officials' deaths, and locked away in maximum security for the past few years.

Her empathy, seen by her mother as a weakness in their line of work, blurred her objectivity. She resisted this notion, yet felt a pang of sympathy for Armando.

His life story was a tragedy in itself: manipulated by his mother, misled into dark deeds, and shattered by the revelation that his beloved father was actually the cop his mother had him hunt down. It was a complex web that stirred sympathy despite his crimes. The nature versus nurture debate, something she'd studied in school, fascinated her. She pondered how upbringing and genetics influenced choices, even in someone as troubled as Armando.

Despite his past, she sensed a glimmer of remorse in Armando, especially in his recent efforts to clear her grandfather's tainted name.

Urgency had drove her to burst into Dorn's house upon receiving a cryptic message warning of Mike, Marcus, and Armando's presence, and urging her not to call the police. She remembered her eyes scanning the room, and then her eyes met his: emerging from a file, unmistakable even dressed in a bud light shirt and a truckie cap.

His expression faltered briefly, something flickering in his eyes—recognition, perhaps regret? She swiftly looked away, her mind racing. She was quick to make a beeline for Dorn, who sat at his desk, scrutinizing security footage.

The sound of gunshots shattered her focus. "Shit, shit, shit," Dorn muttered as the footage flickered and went out.

Panic surged through her. They had been warned not to intervene, but with the situation unclear and no backup in sight, the three of them impulsively decided to join the action, Dorn pressing hard on the accelerator.

They arrived too slowly for her liking, but she was the first to kick open the van door and grab a gun, rushing towards the crumbling ruins where her sister and others were held. Dorn and Kelly followed closely, but soon they had to split up due to the overwhelming number of men on the other side.

Her sole focus was on rescuing her sister, ensuring she returned home safe and sound. The thought of anything happening to her sister was unbearable, a burden she couldn't bear to carry.

She moved through the abandoned building with caution, every sense on high alert for any sign of her sister or anyone really. The eerie silence enveloped her; the absence of gunshots and screams left a chilling void that unsettled her deeply.

Just as she was about to give up and retreat to regroup with Kelly and Dorn, she spotted her. A glimpse of straight brown hair caught her eye, unmistakably her sister. And she seemed to be alone as well.

"Callie!" she called out, quickly holstering her gun. In that moment, the danger and the looming threat of the hostile environment faded into insignificance. The girl turned around, and you couldn't help but release a laugh of relief, running her hands through her hair.

Callie spun around at the sound of her name, initially startled but then relieved when she realized it was only her sister. A smile broke across her face, and she rushed forward for a warm embrace. They held each other tightly, and she felt herself finally let go of the tension.

"I can't believe it's really you," she said, pulling back slightly to grip Callie's shoulders and study her face, as if fearing she might vanish into thin air.

For a moment, they were enveloped in their own little world, a bubble that felt impenetrable. It was just the two of them.

But then Callie's screams shattered the moment, snapping you back to reality. You whirled around, but it was already too late.

A stranger had grabbed Callie, and instinct took over as you lunged forward, gripping the man's arms to pry him away from your sister. In his other hand, a knife sliced into your shoulder. Adrenaline dulled the worst of the pain, but you winced as he withdrew the blade.

Positioning yourself between the man and your sister, you shielded Callie instinctively. You swore you wouldn't let anything happen to your sister again, not on your watch.

Preparing to confront the assailant, you adopted a fighter's stance, your shoulder throbbing but ignored in the heat of the moment.

Before the man could strike again, you glimpsed Armando over his shoulder, gun trained on the back of the man's head.

Their eyes met, and in that instant, they shared an unspoken understanding. She saw trust in his gaze—at least for this crucial moment.

Wrapping her arms protectively around Callie, they both dropped to the ground just as Armando squeezed the trigger. The deafening silence that followed was broken only by the thud of the man's body hitting the ground.

Your eyes remained fixed on Armando as he swiftly approached. There was a hesitation in his movement, a conflict evident in his expression, before he went against his instincts and extended his hand towards you. Part of you wanted to rebuff the gesture, to stand on your own, but you couldn't deny that he had just saved both you and Callie's lives. Reluctantly, you reached out and grasped his hand, allowing him to help you up.

As they stood face to face, you realized just how much taller he was, which added to the lingering tension between them.

Their eyes locked in a silent exchange—yours clouded with confusion and a whirlwind of thoughts, his dark and intense. You cleared your throat, breaking the moment that felt like it stretched on for an eternity.

Helping Callie to her feet, you felt your sister's arm wrap around your waist, a comforting embrace amidst the chaos. Together, the three of them navigated through the abandoned building, searching for an exit. It took some time, but finally, Callie spotted a glimmer of light cutting through the darkness—a way out.

You felt a brief surge of relief, quickly snuffed out by the sudden emergence of danger. Three assailants descended upon Armando with lethal intent, their knives flashing in the dim light. Despite taking a few hits, Armando fought back with fierce determination. His movements were swift and calculated, deflecting blows and retaliating with precision.

Beside you, Callie clung to you in fear, her wide eyes darting between the unfolding violence and your uncertain face. Should you intervene? Part of you wanted to let justice play out, to see if these men would finally meet their comeuppance. But Callie's presence reminded you of innocence untouched by the darkness that surrounded Armando.

"Run!" Armando's command pierced through the chaos, directed at both you and Callie. Callie wasted no time, obeying without question as she sought safety. You hesitated for a moment longer, torn between curiosity and caution. In the end, the instinct to protect prevailed, and you guided Callie to a secluded spot, instructing her to hide and close her eyes until it was safe.

Returning to the fray, you joined Armando just as another assailant attempted a sneak attack. With swift reflexes, you seized the attacker by the neck, swiftly incapacitating him with a forceful chokehold. As he slumped unconscious, you brushed off the dirt and debris, refocusing on the ongoing struggle.

Armando had managed to evade most of their attacks and had already neutralized one of the attackers. But the sudden, deafening blast shattered the night, signaling the arrival of an unexpected adversary. A helicopter descended violently from above, crashing through the glass roof of the building. Smoke billowed, obscuring vision as its menacing blades sliced through the air with deadly intent.

Caught off guard, one of Armando's assailants faltered, his footing lost in the confusion. The helicopter's blades found their mark, hurling him away with a sickening thud.

"Let's go," Armando's urgent voice cut through the chaos, and he extended his hand towards you. Without hesitation, you grasped it tightly, knowing that in this moment, trusting him was your only option. He started to move in one direction, but you tugged gently on his hand, indicating the opposite direction. Confusion flickered across his face, silently questioning your choice.

"My sister," you explained quietly, nodding towards where you had left Callie. Understanding immediately, his expression softening, You hurried towards where Callie was hiding, Armando following your lead without protest.

When you reached Callie, you gently released Armando's hand and cupped your sister's face, relieved to find her unharmed but visibly shaken. Her eyes, wide with fear, met yours briefly before you focused on reassuring her.

"Let's get out of here, Callie," you murmured softly, helping her to her feet. Armando remained close by, a silent pillar of strength amidst the chaos. With Callie beside you, you navigated through the debris-strewn building, every step a cautious move towards safety.

The sound of sirens grew louder, their wail promising help and rescue drawing nearer by the moment. But as the cacophony echoed through the shattered building, Armando's presence beside you felt heavy with unspoken tension. The sirens, usually a beacon of hope, now cast a shadow of unease.

You glanced at Armando, catching the furrow of his brow and the distant look in his eyes. The sirens weren't a comfort to him; they were a haunting echo of the prison cell waiting for him when this was finished.

They had found themselves deep in the forest, the uncertainty of their surroundings providing a little more safety than the building they had just left.

Armando, who had been their steadfast protector through the chaos, now showed signs of weariness that had gone unnoticed in the heat of the escape. As he slowed to a stop and slumped against a nearby tree, it became painfully clear just how dire his situation was.

You had been laser-focused on guiding Callie to safety, shielding her from the danger that had threatened their lives moments before. Now, as you turned your attention to Armando, your heart sank at the sight of him clutching his shoulder, his face contorted with pain. The urgency of the escape had overshadowed his injuries, and guilt gnawed at you for not noticing sooner.

"Hey," you murmured softly, your voice laced with concern and regret. Crouching beside him, you carefully inspected the wound, your eyes tracing every line of pain etched across his features.

Callie hovered nearby, her own worry mirrored in her eyes as she watched silently.

With gentle hands, you lifted his hand to examine the injury. The sight made you wince; it was clear this was no ordinary cut or scrape. Blood seeped through torn fabric, evidence of the violence that had unfolded only moments ago.

His eyes followed your every movement, studying your reaction with a hint of amusement. Despite the pain etched on his face, a small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed your subtle grimace.

"You squeamish?" His voice, husky with pain yet laced with a hint of playful teasing, caught you off guard. His ability to crack a joke in such a dire situation surprised you, momentarily breaking the tension that hung heavily in the air.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. A small, genuine smile tugged at your lips. "That obvious?" you replied softly.

With practiced efficiency, you tore a strip of fabric from your shirt and began to wrap it tightly around his arm, applying pressure to stem the flow of blood. Your hands moved swiftly, guided by a combination of urgency and careful precision, your focus unwavering despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Armando watched you work in silence, his eyes hooded with a mix of pain and something else—something you couldn't quite decipher. The forest around you seemed to fade into the background as you tended to him, the rustling leaves and distant sounds of wildlife a distant backdrop to the moment.

As you worked to stabilize his condition, you couldn't shake the feeling of his gaze upon you, the weight of his silent observation palpable. The atmosphere between you shifted subtly, a current of unspoken emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Armando's breathing was shallow, his complexion growing paler beneath the layer of sweat that glistened on his brow. You noticed the way his chest rose and fell unevenly, the signs of light-headedness and erratic heartbeat becoming more apparent.

"Stay with me, Armando," you murmured softly, your voice a steady anchor in the midst of uncertainty. Your fingers continued their careful work, applying pressure and adjusting the makeshift bandage as needed. Each touch was gentle yet purposeful.

The forest around you seemed to hold its breath as you worked, the rustling of leaves serving as a stark reminder of the isolation that surrounded you. But then, the snap of a branch shattered the fragile calm, jolting you back to the present.

Armando stirred beside you, a reflexive movement to rise, but you placed a firm hand on his uninjured shoulder, commanding Callie to keep him still. Instinct took over as you swiftly drew your gun from its holster, your training kicking in as you flicked off the safety and aimed towards the source of the sound.

Tension coiled in the air as seconds stretched into eternity, your senses heightened and focused on the approaching threat. Then, emerging from the shadows with an air of nonchalance that belied the danger of the situation, was Mike.

"Woah," Mike exclaimed, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I've had way too many of those pointed at me today."

Relief flooded through you, dissipating the tension like a punctured balloon. You rolled your eyes at Mike's antics, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the seriousness of the moment. Slowly, you returned your gun to its holster.

"Nice to see you too, Mike," you replied, your voice laced with a mix of gratitude and amusement. The bond between you and Mike was one forged through shared dangers and trust, a connection that transcended the chaos that had brought the two of them together in the first place.

Callie, sensing the shift in atmosphere, dashed towards Mike and enveloped him in a tight hug. "I missed you too, kiddo," Mike chuckled warmly, ruffling Callie's hair affectionately. His gaze shifted beyond her, settling on Armando who now seemed to be regaining some color despite his injuries.

Mike wasted no time after his affectionate exchange with Callie. With a sense of urgency, he made his way to Armando's side, offering him a steadying hand and helping him to his feet. You followed closely behind, observing with a mix of relief and concern as Mike scanned Armando's body, his brow furrowed with worry.

"You alright, man?" Mike's voice was filled with genuine concern as he assessed Armando's condition. Armando managed a silent nod in response, his exhaustion evident in every line of his face and posture.

The moment of quiet reassurance was abruptly shattered by the distinct click of a gun being cocked. Instinctively, all four of you spun around, eyes scanning the shadows and underbrush that surrounded you. The forest, once serene and tranquil, now seemed to bristle with unseen threats.

Your hand instinctively went to your holster, fingers curling around the grip of your weapon. Mike's stance shifted subtly, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he positioned himself between you, Callie, and the direction of the ominous sound. Adrenaline surged through your veins, sharpening your senses and heightening your awareness.

"Who's there?" Mike's voice rang out, firm and commanding. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of movement or threat. Your grip tightened on your weapon, prepared for whatever might emerge from the shadows.

Minutes stretched into eternity before a figure finally emerged from the dense foliage.

The tension in the forest thickened to a suffocating level as my mother emerged from the shadows, a gun leveled directly at Armando. My initial shock at seeing her dissolved into confusion and concern as her serious expression betrayed no hint of recognition or relief.

"Mum?" I managed to utter, my voice wavering with a mix of emotions. I instinctively released my grip on my own gun, hopeful that her appearance meant salvation rather than further danger. But her unwavering aim at Armando shattered any illusions of safety.

My gaze followed hers to where Mike stood defensively in front of Armando, his posture protective yet tense. Callie's distress was palpable as she clung to Mike, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. You stood frozen, torn between the desire to protect Armando and the urge to comfort your mother.

Mike attempted to reason with her, his voice calm yet urgent, but the anger and betrayal radiating from my mother were unmistakable. It was clear that words alone would not sway her resolve. As the standoff intensified, I knew there was only one path forward.

With hesitant steps, you moved to stand between your mother and the trio —Mike, Armando, and Callie. Your hand stretched out in a silent plea, a gesture laden with unspoken desperation and determination.

"Mum, please," You implored softly, my voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of a plea for reason. "Put the gun down."

My mother's gaze flickered between me and the men behind me, emotions warring within her. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the sounds of rustling leaves and sirens fading into insignificance. 

"Move away from him," your mother commanded, placing emphasis on every word, gripping her gun tightly. "And take your sister with you."

Callie ran towards you and with a burst of bravery, challenged her mother. "He saved my life," she let out, looking between Armando who was watching the scene unfold, unsure of his fate and her mother who stood rock solid. 

"He saved our lives," you joined in, turning to Armando with a look of determination.

For a moment that stretched agonizingly, she hesitated. The gun trembled imperceptibly in her grip, her resolve faltering under the weight of you and your sisters plea and the truth that stood before her. 

Finally, with a shuddering exhale, she lowered the gun. With the gun lowered, the confrontation over, you should be happy, and yet a new wave of unease washed over you. Your mother's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Go, before I change my mind," she finally uttered, her voice strained but resolute. Callie wasted no time, rushing to envelop your mother in a tight, reassuring hug. You stood apart, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, wondering if you should go to your mother and Callie, or help Mike and Armando.

Turning away from the tender moment between mother and daughter, you approached Armando and Mike at the edge of the dock. Together, you helped guide Armando onto the boat, Mike offering last-minute fatherly advice that echoed softly against the backdrop of the lapping waves.

Watching them, you couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for Mike—a man who had spent so little time with his son now bidding him farewell under such dire circumstances. It was a scene that tugged at your heartstrings and made you glance away, the ache in your chest growing more palpable by the second.

Instinctively, you reached for your necklace, fingers searching for the familiar weight against your skin. Panic fluttered as your touch met empty space. Looking down, you realized with a sinking feeling that the chain must have snapped during the chaos. It was a simple necklace, a gift from Callie—a token of your bond, adorned with the initial of your first name.

Before the full weight of loss could settle in, a voice cut through your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the boat now drifting further into the horizon. Armando's smirk was unmistakable as he held up the shimmering necklace in his hand.

"Thanks for the necklace," he called out, his tone carrying a mix of mockery and triumph. "Until next time cariño."

The engine roared to life, drowning out everything around it as Armando steered the boat away, disappearing into the vastness of the sea. 

"Callie is going to kill me."

the request:: Y/n attend Armando wounded as they was against the tree. Y/n were much more hurt than him didn't tell anyone your breathing was heavy but well y/n didn't care, he was the only thing that mattered. She stopped her mother from killing him.

[midnight--sadness]

Giving dragons to non-dragonriding Targaryens.

(Note: this makes no sense in terms of timelines, it is just for fun! 😊)

Daenerys: Morning -- no great philosophical reason, I just think my girl deserves a pretty pink dragon

Daella: Viserion -- he is such a gentle dragon, she would (probably) get over her fear of them if she had him contantly cuddling her

Saera: Syrax -- a spoiled dragon for a girl who always desired attention

Viserra: Sunfyre -- the most beautiful of Alysanne's daughters must have the most beautiful dragon in the known world

Aemma Arryn: Tessarion -- the Blue Queen would match with Meleys the Red Queen, whose rider Rhaenys is Aemma's cousin

Viserys II: Rhaegal -- I feel like between Drogon and Viserion, sometimes Rhaegal is forgotten, which is also something I feel happens with Viserys, particularly in the midst of the tragedy of the Dance

Aegon IV: Syrax -- both very fertile and pampered

Naerys: Dreamfyre -- both of Dreamfyre's previous riders, Rhaena and Helaena, had twins, so I wanted to have that connection to Naerys

Daeron I: Meraxes -- the obvious Dorne connection and both Queen Rhaenys and Daeron have Velaryon mothers

Daena: Caraxes -- the Blood Wyrm being ridden by Daemon's wild granddaughter OR Meleys

Elaena: Arrax -- his coloring perfectly matches her hair OR Moondancer -- she "stole" her aunt Baela's husband and also her dragon

Daeron II: Silverwing -- only appropriate that Good Queen Alysanne's dragon is ridden by King Daeron the Good

Daemon Blackfyre: Balerion -- the Black Dread for the Black Dragon

Aegor Rivers: Vermithor -- the Bronze Fury for a perpetually angry man

Brynden Rivers: the Cannibal -- known for eating other dragons and Brynden is a supposed kinslayer OR Caraxes -- the Blood Wyrm for Bloodraven, both lean and formidable

Shiera Seastar: Seasmoke or Silverwing -- a silver dragon that matches her aesthetic

Baelor: Sunfyre -- golden like the sun of Dorne and his name "sun" like the Martell sigil, in honor of his mother Myriah Martell, and "fire" connects to the Targaryen words

Maekar: Vhagar -- a war dragon

Aemon: Viserion -- Daenerys' sweet boy for the man who so desperately wanted to protect her

Aerion: the Cannibal -- the dragon's menacing green eyes are the color of wildfire

Rhaegar: Grey Ghost -- a wild dragon, known for his elusiveness, is mysterious and avoidant of people, and would be a good companion to Rhaegar and the way no one really knew him

Rhaenys: Balerion -- she named her kitten after the Black Dread, so it is only fair that she gets to ride him

Please let me know what you think!

Do you think there is another dragon/rider combination or is there someone here you would assign another dragon?

[daenystheedreamer]

joffmarge demon children

the thing with the kids names is margaery is a) sane and self-actualised and b) has a rabid guard dog who will kill that blonde bitch if he so much as pokes her. so if joffrey goes "i want to name our three demon children maegor rhaenyra and aerion" margaery can say no. and really cersei wouldn't even fight her on that even though she fights her on everything. she would convince herself it was her idea all along. so the kids do have to have normal names. theyre definitely having a set of insane twins tho. anyway guys under the cut

eldest child and daughter PRINCESS CERYSE BARATHEON. hightower targ-adjacent looks from alerie which i see as ash-blonde hair blue eyes. mini cersei and cersei's fave except after she turned 12 cersei started hating her.

eldest son PRINCE ROBERT BARATHEON. i think it would be funny if he had black hair and blue eyes because olenna stockpiled renly semen or found some random who looked baratheon enough. i want this to happen because it would drive cersei insane. because yes it makes it look like the robert genes just skipped a generation and joff IS legit but SHE knows thats not fucking true. otherwise brown hair brown eyes with a strong build. cersei hates this boy beyond measure. he hates her back def a little misogynist but obsessed with mommy marge

PRINCESS TYA BARATHEON dirty blonde hair green eyes. they were sure it would be a son and cersei marge were fighting over naming him after tywin or loras while joff was like maegor >:) anyway turns out to be a girl and cersei is like oh of course we should name her after ms loras and marge is like oh no we SHOULD honour lord tywin. this is also me referencing tya of tya and gowen fame. after cersei drops ceryse as favourite girlgrandchild she picks tya but its just to torment ceryse. tya hates ceryse because when ceryse was in her mean girl era she would bully tya.

PRINCE LORENT and PRINCESS ALICENT BARATHEON twinsies :3 brown hair brown eyes or brown hair green eyes. cersei sees some kind of a reflection in alicent (sad scared insecure little girl) or maybe its more like she sees a trembling mouse and wants to stomp on it. lorent is mentored by loras and the rest of the evil kingsguard so he's not normal.

PRINCE LYONEL BARATHEON, brown haired and brown eyed. gets sent off to myrcella and trystane in dorne and ends up astoundingly normal. meets his dad after not seeing him for eight years and is like man we should kill this guy. meets all his siblings and is like wow you are all insane

PRINCESS JOANNA BARATHEON fourth and final kid, brown haired and brown eyed. cersei thinks a brunette named for her mother is the greatest insult margaery could ever make. dies young maybe in a freak accident maybe due to the red keep's general evil and cersei WILL be making a scene at the funeral and tormenting marge over it. might be what makes marge snap and kill her. alternatively PRINCE CERION BARATHEON and he's cersei's fave in the style of joffrey and when he dies she goes apoplectic. marge thinks they'll bond over it but cersei in fact gets worse

anyway these are some guys i made up for them. is seven too many... i like it for the faith allusion but would marge bother on more pregnancies once she's pumped out a son and heir. if so pick and choose which ones are fun.

[aauroraxia]

The polar opposites the 5'0 pregnant reader who knows he deserves better and the only one who can break his wall down but very feisty when she need to be. Very scary when she hungry. Everything time he look at her . His heart just can't take it

Trance

Armando Aretas

genre: fluff ig

warnings: none rlly

Polar- no complete opposites

Mike needed Armando’s help on a case. You were also asked by Mike to help.

That’s where you two met.

You and Armando

He took a interest in you and your relationship grew from there. But he did soon realize something, not really a problem but instead, a fact. You two were complete opposites.

Mean and Nice

Hot and Cold

Fast and Slow

This made it hard for him to plan dates and things for you two to do, finding something that you both could enjoy. But, there were still restrictions on what you to could do, him being a wanted man and all.

So most of the time y’all spend together are at your apartment. Which led to you being 3 months pregnant. You hadn’t told Mike yet but you think he suspects it.

Kelly still suspects that Armando is a terrible person and was going to hurt you sooner or later.

You, Armando, Kelly, Mike, Marcus, and Dorn were staying late at the agency. You and Kelly were just talking while the boys were searching places and people on Dorn’s computer.

Kelly started glaring at Armando

“I just don’t trust him. He’s a disrespectful, self-centered, arrogant criminal.”

Armando wasn’t deaf, he could obviously hear Kelly. He turned his head glancing at you, then back at the computer.

You’d had it with Kelly, “You’ve been taking shots at Armando ever since he started working with us. Well that stops now. You don’t know him enough to judge him off of past actions! So if you have something say, say it now and we will walk out the door right now and we’ll never help you with anything ever again!”

You heart was racing. You were fed up. Armando walked over to you he leaned down and whispered in your ear “Tu bebe luchadora, me gusta.” You smiled looking up at him.

Y’all’s relationship was great. Armando is usually known as deadpanned, unemotional, or stonefaced. He would never show his true emotions, nor communicate how he felt. Everyone brushed it off and let him be him.

But that wouldn’t fly with you. You would break that wall down before it was even finished being built. You’re patient with him. But he’s also patient with you.

Pregnancy hormones and hungers are no joke. Mike, Marcus, and Kelly would describe you as scary when you’re hungry, Armando thought it was muy linda, cute. He was completely in love with you.

The way you walked, the way you talked, everything you do makes his heart do backflips. So much that his heart couldn’t take it. You had him in a trance.

Translations:

Tu bebe luchadora, me gusta - You’re feisty baby, i like it.

—

Hii! This story was just a little difficult for me to write for some reason and it’s definitely not the best so I’ll probably have to rewrite it. I honesty feel like my writing isn’t even good enough to be published right now but hey🤷🏽‍♀️. I think my issue is that I want my writing to be like everyone else’s and I’m very self conscious. Anywho keep the requests coming, I will be posting one more story today!