#i swear his family give me SO MUCH trouble

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us V

Summary:

Y.N moves in with Aemond, however he has trouble dealing with his jealousy as Y.N grows closer to Aegon.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Swearing, Jealousy, Insecurity, Miscommunication, Kissing, Semi Public Sex, P in V, Oral Sex (M Recieving).

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 5576

A.N - I used Zac Gabriel as the face claim for Daeron.

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Aemond was almost regretting his suggestion of going baby shopping the moment he stepped foot into the nursery store.

Rows and rows of items surrounded him, none of which he recognized apart from the basics: a cot, a pram and a changing table.

But what was all this other stuff? As he stood there, utterly bewildered, he picked up an odd-looking contraption with tubes and some kind of cup attached. His brow furrowed in confusion as he turned it over in his hands.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Y.N. appeared beside him and gave him an amused smile. “That’s a breast pump,” she explained, gently taking it from him.

Aemond blinked. "Are you going to-breastfeed?"

Y.N. nodded. “I’ll give it a try. I read in one of those baby books that I can eventually express milk so you can help with feeds if you want.”

He gave a quick nod, relief washing over him. That, at least, made sense. He would be involved in every aspect of their baby's life, even the late-night feedings.

They continued walking through the aisles, moving past shelves lined with more creams, lotions, and baby products than Aemond had ever seen in his life.

“Babies have really sensitive skin,” Y.N. explained, picking up a tub of lotion and reading the label. “We’ll have to be careful with what we buy for them.”

Aemond was still trying to make sense of the endless products when Y.N. casually mentioned, “I’m thinking I’ll have to put the cot in my room, at least for now. My flat doesn’t have a spare room, so I’ll probably look for a bigger place when the baby gets a bit older-”

Without thinking, Aemond blurted out, “-You could come live with me.”

Y.N. stopped, turning to him in surprise.

He shifted awkwardly, realizing how fast he’d said it, but he pressed on. “-I have the room, and I could help more with the baby. I don’t want to miss out on anything-and it just makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, we’re having a child together, and I-I want you to feel supported. I want to be there for everything.”

Aemond started rambling, listing reason after reason, but Y.N. interrupted him with a soft smile, placing her hand on his arm.

"I'd like that," she said quietly, "-as long as I can contribute toward the bills. I won’t let you pay for everything."

A wave of relief and happiness washed over him, and he agreed, already picturing them as a family in his penthouse. His focus shifted when he spotted something on a nearby shelf.

A cot mobile, but not just any mobile—this one had tiny, intricately designed dragons hanging from it. He wound it up, and a soft, gentle lullaby began playing as the dragons turned lazily in the air.

Aemond smiled, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve always liked dragons,” he said, nostalgia filling his voice.

Y.N. smiled, too, remembering how his notebooks in school had been covered in his dragon sketches. “I remember.”

“This one,” Aemond said decisively, picking up the boxed version of the mobile. “This is the one I want for our baby.”

Y.N. nodded, touched by his excitement. It was clear how much this meant to him.

As he cradled the box in his hands, she smiled at him, already imagining their baby lying beneath the mobile, lulled to sleep by the soft music and the gentle movement of the dragons.

"Do you know what kind of pram you want?" Aemond asked, trying to sound knowledgeable but still feeling a little out of his depth.

Y.N. chuckled, taking his hand. “I’ve seen a few possibilities. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Aemond had practically marshalled his siblings into helping with Y.N.'s move, each of them assigned specific tasks.

The moving process was well underway, and he was determined that Y.N. wouldn’t lift a finger—especially not anything heavier than a pillow.

So, while Aegon, Daeron, and Aemond handled the heavy lifting, Y.N. and Helaena sat on the floor of her now almost-empty bedroom, packing the last of her things into boxes.

“Honestly, Aemond, I can carry other things,” Y.N. protested as she folded some clothes into a box.

“Absolutely not,” Aemond replied from across the room.

Helaena snickered, helping Y.N. close a box. “He’s being protective. Just let him.”

Y.N. shook her head fondly, turning back to Helaena. “Men.”

Meanwhile, Aegon, ever the opportunist, had loudly volunteered to help with the bedroom packing.

“I’ll handle the personal items!” he announced with a smirk, only to be met with a swift slap on the back of the head from Aemond.

“Go help move the boxes that are already packed and sealed” Aemond ordered, sending Aegon out of the room with a scowl.

Y.N. had already arranged for most of her furniture to go into storage, having decided that she didn’t need much in the way of bulky items.

There was only one exception: her grandfather's beloved armchair. The old, worn chair didn’t match Aemond’s sleek black-and-white decor at all, but Y.N. had insisted on bringing it with her.

Aemond had stood his ground, but when she tied him up in bed and kept edging him during sex, bringing him to the brink of his orgasm as she rode him only to stop, and after four times of being denied the chance to come he caved in, only for him to end up a begging moaning mess as Y.N overstimulated him.

Now, as Daeron worked through her collection of books and DVDs, he raised an eyebrow at what he found.

“She’s got a lot of horror here,” he remarked, flipping through a few titles. “She seriously likes this stuff?”

Aemond, overhearing, glanced over. “It’s her favourite genre. She’s obsessed with creature features and disaster movies, too.”

“Creature features?” Daeron asked, confused.

“You know, movies with killer sharks or giant, man-eating animals,” Aemond replied nonchalantly.

Daeron laughed, shaking his head. “She’s has weird taste-” he teased, only for his eyes to widen when he pulled out a book from a box. “Oh, hello. What’s this? Fifty Shades of—"

Before Daeron could finish, Aemond snatched the book from his hands. “Fifty Shades of Shite, that’s what,” Aemond grumbled. “Now stop messing around and pack.”

Daeron mock saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

Aemond then made his way to check on Aegon, who had unsurprisingly gotten distracted. His elder brother was rifling through a stack of old letters, his face a picture of mischief.

“What the hell are you doing?” Aemond snapped.

“Found some letters-” Aegon replied, waving one around. “-From Jace”

Aemond frowned deeply, but there was a gnawing sense of curiosity that led him to take a glance over Aegon’s shoulder.

Sure enough, Jace’s love-sick declarations and desperate apologies were scrawled across the pages.

Aemond’s scowl deepened, but despite the irritation boiling inside him, he said, “Just put them back. It’s not our business.”

Aegon, with a dramatic sigh, pretended to comply, but when Aemond wasn’t looking, he tossed the letters into the bin.

“So long, Jace, you fucking idiot,” Aegon muttered under his breath.

When Aemond went back to the bedroom, he found Y.N. and Helaena laughing together, nearly finished with the last of the packing. Y.N. was holding up a small box of condoms, grinning.

“Well,” she chuckled, “I guess we won’t be needing these anymore.”

Before Aemond could respond, Aegon’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Hey, I could use them! Saves me buying more.”

Y.N., completely unbothered, shrugged and tossed the box in his direction. “-I didn’t know you was seeing anyone.”

Aegon caught the box and smirked. “Not currently. But I do have my eye on someone,” he replied smugly. “Just a matter of time before she’s mine.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow but didn’t press, going back to emptying her drawers.

Meanwhile, Aemond shot his brother a warning glare as Aegon winked suggestively at him, making his blood boil.

“Touch her, and I’ll kill you,” Aemond whispered to Aegon, to which his brother only grinned wider.

Y.N, oblivious to the tension between the brothers, finished packing her things and stood up, hands on her hips.

“Well, I think that’s everything. Let’s get the last boxes out, and then we can head over to the penthouse.”

As Y.N. looked around the penthouse, trying to get her bearings amidst the chaos of moving, she realized something was off.

"Aemond, where are all my things?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Aemond glanced up from the hallway, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “They’re in the other spare room,” he said casually, not catching the subtle shift in her expression.

Y.N.’s face fell. “Oh, s-so-I won’t be sharing your room?” she asked, her voice tight with a hint of disappointment.

Aemond, now noticing the change in her mood, looked confused. "I just assumed that you’d want your own space," he replied cautiously. "You know, somewhere you could have to yourself if you ever needed it."

Y.N. forced a smile, though her chest tightened. "N-No, it’s fine, I-I understand," she said quietly before slipping away down the hall and shutting herself into the spare room.

The click of the door felt like a punch to Aemond’s gut.

Aegon, who had been lounging on the couch, shot his brother a look of disbelief. “Well, aren’t you a fucking moron,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Daeron, standing nearby, chimed in with a frown. “You’re in love with her, she’s pregnant with your kid, and you ask her to move in, only to stick her in the spare room? What were you thinking?”

Helaena crossed her arms, giving Aemond a pointed look. “You need to fix this, and fast.” She shoved him gently towards the door.

Aemond swallowed, his stomach churning with guilt as he approached the spare room.

He knocked softly, and after a long moment, he heard her voice call from inside. “Come in.”

Aemond slipped inside, shutting the door gently behind him. Y.N. was sitting on the bed, surrounded by boxes, her eyes red as if she’d been fighting back tears. His heart sank, and he immediately knelt down in front of her, resting his hands on her knees.

“I’m so sorry,” Aemond said earnestly. “I should have talked to you first. I shouldn’t have just assumed anything.”

Y.N. gave him a small smile, but her eyes betrayed her hurt. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Aemond shook his head. “No, it’s not. I-I’ve never really lived with anyone before, not like this-” he confessed, his voice soft. “-As an adult, it’s all new to me. With Alys-she would only stay over every so often, but we never lived together. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Y.N.’s gaze softened as he spoke, her hand moving to cup his face gently. “I get that, Aemond. But it still hurt.”

He closed his eye, leaning into her touch. “I just wanted to make sure you were happy,” he murmured. “Of course, I want you in my bed every night, but I thought you might want a space to call your own. Where you can work on your art or-get away from me when I inevitably annoy you.” He smirked slightly at his own words, but his eyes were full of sincerity.

Y.N. smiled at that, her thumb brushing over his scared cheek. “Can I?” she asked hesitantly, motioning towards his eyepatch.

Aemond nodded, and she carefully slid the patch from his face, revealing his sapphire eye. Y.N. smiled softly, gazing at him. “There. Now I can see you,” she whispered.

The tenderness in her voice, the warmth of her touch—it was more than Aemond could take. He surged forward, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss.

His hands slid up her thighs to her waist, pushing her back gently until she was lying on the bed, her body sinking into the soft mattress.

The boxes around them were pushed aside, some tumbling onto the floor with a thud, but neither of them cared.

“I want you,” Aemond groaned into her mouth, his voice low and rough with desire.

Y.N. gasped, her breath shaky. “Your brothers and your sister-are here.”

Aemond smirked, his lips brushing against her neck. “We’d better be quiet then,” he teased, his fingers already working to pull her clothes off, his need for her growing with every passing second.

He peeled off his own shirt and lowered his trousers and boxers just enough to free his already hard cock.

Y.N audibly gasped when she felt Aemond’s fingers rubbing her folds.

“O-Oh Aemond” exclaimed Y.N as he slipped a finger inside her, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Always so warm-so wet for me” muttered Aemond as he added another finger, making sure to use his thumb, sweeping it against her pearl.

“I don’t want to wait-please-Aemond take me” whispered Y.N, as she wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, holding him as close as she could.

Aemond took his cock in hand, running the head along her warm wet folds, before he pressed inside her, inching forward slowly.

“So beautiful, swollen with my child” whispered Aemond.

“P-Please Aemond” whimpered Vaeda.

Aemond began to move with a slow, deep grinding. His movements deliberate and calculated.

“Gods be good,” panted Y.N.

“Fuck. You were made for me. You were made to fit my cock in this sweet cunt of yours.” breathed Aemond as he increased the pace of this thrusts.

“A-Aemond. Please.” exclaimed Y.N as she brought her hands up to his shoulders, clinging to him as his thrusts shift her up and down the bed.

Aemond makes a strangled sort of sound and lowers himself onto Y.N even more, kissing her passionately.

His hips rolling against hers, his cock thrusting in and out.

Y.N kissed him back, threading her fingers through his long silky hair, her nails scraping against his scalp, just the way he likes it.

“Mine” muttered Aemond.

Y.N could feel herself clenching around him as his cock keeps hitting the same spot inside her.

“Ooo Aemond-f-faster. P-please”

Aemond lets out a loud groan as he begins to move faster pounding into her, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing around the room.

“Aemond-Aemond-”

“You’re so fucking perfect-come-come for me” growls Aemond.

“Y-Yes., Aemond” moaned Y.N squirming, the heat shooting across her abdomen as her pleasure peaks, and she explodes, her cunt tightening around Aemond.

Aemond lets out a long low groan, his movements becoming erratic. His cock throbbing as he spills inside her.

Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena were sprawled out on the sofa in Aemond’s penthouse, waiting for any sign of their brother.

Daeron leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, a curious expression on his face. “Do you think he’s apologized yet?”

Aegon snickered, shaking his head with amusement. “If the sound of the headboard banging against the wall wasn’t enough of an indication, then our brother’s groaning sure was,” he said with a laugh, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Just then, the bedroom door creaked open, and Aemond stepped out, looking a little dishevelled.

He was shirtless, wearing only his jeans, his long silver hair was a tousled mess, and his cheeks tinged pink with exertion. Aegon immediately started snickering again, earning a scowl from Aemond.

Helaena raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh of her own. “Is Y.N. going to join us?” she asked innocently, though the amused glint in her eye didn’t go unnoticed.

Aemond rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s, uh-sleeping,” he replied, trying to sound casual.

Daeron’s eyes widened dramatically. “Sleeping? What did you do to her?”

Aegon let out a loud cackle. “Oh, I think we all heard what he did to her,” he said with a teasing grin, leaning back on the couch as if thoroughly entertained by the whole situation.

Aemond shot him a glare. “Shut up, Aegon.”

Still grinning, Aegon shrugged. “Hey, no judgment. Just, you know-it was loud.”

Aemond sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “It’s probably best if you all leave” he said, attempting to regain his composure. “Thanks for your help today, but I think we’ll have to rearrange game night-”

Helaena smiled as she stood up, gathering her things. “You’re welcome, Aemond”.

“Fine, but you’re buying the beer next game night.” Aegon quipped with a smirk as he got to his feet.

Aemond rolled his eye but nodded. “Fine, I’ll buy the beer.”

As Daeron grabbed his jacket, he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Bet Y.N. sleeps well tonight-”

Aemond shot him a final look of warning before quickly ushering all three of them toward the door.

“Out. All of you,” he commanded, though the faint smile on his lips showed he wasn’t truly angry.

As they left the penthouse, Aegon couldn’t resist one last comment, leaning back to shout, “Next time, at least soundproof the walls!”

The door slammed behind them, and Aemond leaned against it, exhaling deeply. Peace and quiet at last.

Aemond couldn't help but think that asking Y.N. to move in with him was one of the best decisions he'd ever made.

Life with her was everything he hadn't realized he'd been missing. They settled into an easy rhythm—taking turns cooking, sharing quiet evenings together, and every night, he found himself tangled in bed with her, relishing the warmth and intimacy that had quickly become second nature to them both.

What Aemond liked most, though, was watching Y.N. work. She had claimed a small corner of the penthouse, transforming it into her personal workspace.

All her materials were meticulously arranged—paints, brushes, restoration tools—and her attention to detail was astonishing. He found himself mesmerized by the faces she made when she was deep in concentration.

But more than anything, what drove him wild was as her pregnancy progressed, she often got quite warm, so she would often wear shorts and a sports bra whilst working from home.

The sight of her growing belly made him ache with desire and he spent his nights with his head between her thighs before he made love to her.

He was bursting with pride when she completed the restoration of a statue for the museum and watching her meticulously package up the finished piece, her smile radiant with accomplishment, was a memory he knew he’d never forget.

When she received an invite to the unveiling and insisted that he join her, he agreed without hesitation.

The night of the unveiling, Y.N. looked breathtaking. Her floor-length dress hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her swollen belly and ample curves. Aemond couldn’t take his eye off her the entire evening.

She was in her element, accepting praise and accolades for her work with grace and humility, glowing in the spotlight she so deserved. His heart swelled with pride every time someone came up to compliment her on the restoration.

Of course, the press had been there, snapping photos and recording every moment. It didn’t take long for the word to spread: Aemond Targaryen has not only moved on from Alys Rivers but is also expecting a child with someone new.

 He had known it was inevitable, but he thanked the gods they’d managed to keep it quiet for as long as they had.

Y.N. had handled the attention well, her smile never faltering, though Aemond could sense her relief when they finally made their way back home that night.

Now, with the unveiling behind them, his thoughts turned to their upcoming 20-week scan. He was counting down the days with barely contained excitement.

Soon, they’d find out the gender of the baby, and Aemond could finally start working on the nursery, something he’d been quietly planning in his mind for weeks.

The thought of preparing a space for their child filled him with a warmth that was both unfamiliar and exhilarating.

Aemond and Y.N. attended the 20-week scan with excitement buzzing between them. As Marie, moved the probe over Y.N.'s belly, the room filled with the rhythmic sound of their baby’s heartbeat.

Aemond held Y.N.'s hand tightly, his eye fixed on the monitor, watching in awe as their child appeared in crisp black and white. Everything looked perfect.

When Marie asked if they wanted to know the baby’s gender, Y.N. hesitated for a moment before saying, "Could you write it down and give it to Aemond?" Marie smiled knowingly and handed Aemond an envelope, now containing the secret of their baby's gender.

With the knowledge safely tucked away in his pocket, Aemond's mind quickly shifted to the nursery.

As soon as they got home, he began putting his plans into action.

He forbade Y.N. from stepping foot inside the room and told her the nursery would be a surprise. Soon after, various pieces of furniture were delivered—a cot, a changing table, and everything else they’d need.

To put everything together, Aemond enlisted the help of Aegon and Daeron, which turned into a comical disaster. As Y.N. sat in the living room, she could hear them bickering and swearing through the closed door.

At least twice, she heard Aemond threaten to kill Aegon, which was quickly followed by laughter and the unmistakable clinking of beer bottles.

The constant back and forth amused her—at least it sounded like they were having a good time.

Once the furniture was set up, she made a meal for them all, something hearty to thank them for their efforts.

 When the brothers emerged from the nursery, sweaty but satisfied, Aegon and Daeron couldn't stop smirking and elbowing each other as they watched Aemond gravitate toward Y.N.

He stood behind her, hands resting on her bump as she dished up the food, his eye soft and full of affection.

"Man, he’s totally whipped," Aegon muttered to Daeron, who snickered in agreement.

They couldn’t understand why Aemond hadn’t told Y.N. he was in love with her yet. Or even why he hadn’t asked her to officially be his girlfriend.

Aegon, never one to keep his thoughts to himself, brought it up. “So, bro,” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “what’s the deal? Why haven’t you asked Y.N. to be your girlfriend yet? You’re practically married at this point.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and at first, he ignored the question, but Aegon kept poking at him, goading him with teasing comments.

Finally, Aemond snapped, “Because I’m too scared, alright?”

His brothers went quiet, surprised by his outburst. Aemond sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his admission.

“I don’t know if she feels the same way. I don’t want to ruin what we have by saying something stupid.”

Aegon and Daeron exchanged a glance, their teasing expressions softening. Aegon, for once, was thoughtful. “You’ve got nothing to be scared of. Look at how she looks at you. I’m pretty sure she’s crazy about you.”

Daeron nodded. “And you’re going to be parents soon. You should tell her how you feel before it drives you mad.”

Aemond knew they were right, but the fear of rejection gnawed at him. What if telling her the truth upset the balance they’d found? He sighed, casting a glance toward the kitchen where Y.N. was laughing softly to herself, completely unaware of the conversation.

One day, he promised himself. One day soon.

At 30 weeks pregnant, Y.N. had been waiting anxiously to see the nursery Aemond had been working on.

He had kept her out of the room for weeks, insisting that it had to be perfect before she could see it.

But now, standing at the door, Aemond smiled and gently took her hands. “Close your eyes,” he instructed, guiding her carefully into the room.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trusting him completely as he led her forward.

Once they were inside, he took a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispered, “Open-”

Y.N.’s eyes fluttered open, and she gasped. The room was stunning. Cream and soft blue hues covered the walls, and the sunlight from the window illuminated the room in a warm, peaceful glow.

The crib stood proudly, adorned with the dragon mobile, its tiny wings gently swaying in the air. A beautifully crafted changing table was positioned nearby, and resting on it was a knitted blue blanket—Helaena’s handiwork.

“A boy-” Y.N. marvelled, her voice barely above a whisper as she admired every detail. She ran her fingers over the blanket, her heart swelling with love for the baby growing inside her.

Then her eyes caught sight of something—a sheet hanging over a section of the wall above the crib.

“What’s that for?” she asked, curiosity piqued.

Aemond stepped closer, his expression soft but a little nervous. “It’s covering the baby’s name,” he explained, watching her face carefully.

Y.N. looked at him in surprise. “But we haven’t really decided on names yet.”

Aemond smiled sheepishly. “I, uh-I kind of already chose one.”

Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but before she could say anything else, Aemond reached up and pulled the sheet away from the wall, revealing the name he had picked.

Y.N. took one look and burst into tears.

Aemond’s eyes widened in panic as he immediately wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding her close. “I thought—I’m sorry if I got it wrong. I can change it.”

But Y.N. shook her head, burying her face against his chest as she sobbed. “No,” she managed to say between tears, “I love it. I love it so much.”

A wave of relief washed over Aemond, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Thank the gods,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. Y.N. wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes still misty but filled with joy.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her gaze drifting back to the wall, where her grandfather’s name was painted in elegant script. “It’s not a traditional Targaryen name though”

Aemond smiled, gently wiping her tears away with his thumb. “So, we break the tradition,” he said softly, his hand resting on her bump. “It’s our choice what to name our son. Besides, we can give him a Targaryen middle name”.

Y.N. placed her hand over his, just as the baby kicked. They both smiled, feeling the life they had created together move beneath their hands.

Aemond chuckled softly. “I think he approves.”

Y.N. laughed, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “I think he does.”

Aemond looked around the nursery, a sense of satisfaction and pride in his work. “Now all that’s left is to get the pram and some clothes, and we’ll be good to go.”

Y.N. nodded, her heart full as she took in the room again, but mostly she looked at Aemond, marvelling at how lucky she was to be building a family with him.

Aemond arrived home after an exhausting day, his mind already wandering to Y.N. and the baby.

As he opened the door, his ears picked up on Y.N.'s voice, sounding almost-playful.

"No, Aegon, it's too hard," she said, a teasing edge to her tone.

Aegon groaned. "So? You love it when it’s hard."

Aemond froze, blood boiling in his veins as he heard Y.N. laugh.

"Okay, fine, let's try again, but give me some time to adjust," she responded.

Aemond saw red. Was his brother seriously fucking the mother of his child in his penthouse? Right under his nose? Whilst she was pregnant?

Rage bubbling inside him, Aemond stormed into the living room, heart pounding.

"What the hell is going on here?" he bellowed, fully prepared to murder Aegon with his bare hands.

To his surprise, he found Y.N. sitting cross-legged on the floor with a PlayStation controller in her hand.

Aegon was sprawled on the sofa beside her, also holding a controller, looking completely unbothered by Aemond's entrance.

"We're playing Mortal Kombat, genius," Aegon said with a lazy grin. "What’s got you so worked up?"

Aemond blinked, his fury deflating but still simmering beneath the surface. "What are you doing here, Aegon?" he snapped, irritation lacing his voice.

Aegon shrugged. "Y.N. called me. She was home alone, and wanted some company."

Aemond shot Y.N. a frustrated look. “You could’ve called me. I would’ve come home.”

Y.N. waved him off. “You were busy, Aemond. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Aegon smirked, clearly enjoying the tension between them. “I’ll be heading out anyway,” he said, standing up and stretching. “Got a date with Cerelle Lannister tonight. As much as I’d love to stick around and wind you up further, I’ve got better things to do.”

“Yeah, fuck off” Aemond muttered, earning a chiding look from Y.N.

“Aemond, don’t be rude,” she said, though Aegon laughed it off.

“No worries. I’m used to his mood swings by now.” He leaned over and planted an exaggerated kiss on Y.N.’s head, grinning when Aemond’s face twisted with annoyance.

“Later, you two,” he called over his shoulder, strolling out of the penthouse as if he hadn’t just wound his brother up like a toy.

The door shut with a soft click, leaving Aemond glaring after him.

"I don’t want him alone here with you," Aemond grumbled, still fuming.

Y.N. rolled her eyes and placed the controller down. “Why? It’s just Aegon.”

"You know how my brother is," Aemond said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t trust him.”

“I’m more than capable of handling Aegon," Y.N. shot back, her voice firm.

Aemond sighed. "I never said you weren’t capable. I just—" He paused, realizing how this was coming across. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I’m just trying to protect you, Y.N. That's all."

Y.N. crossed her arms, a look of mild irritation on her face. "Well, it sounds like you're doubting me."

Her moods had been unpredictable lately. One moment, she’d be happy and relaxed, the next, she was crying over something as simple as the wrong pasta brand or getting angry when he suggested healthier meals instead of her craving for fast food.

More than once, she had snapped at him to stay away, only to come to him moments later in tears, asking him to hold her or take her to bed.

As Y.N. gazed up at him from her position on the floor, Aemond braced himself, unsure of which mood she might descend into now.

But instead of another emotional outburst, she surprised him. Y.N. shifted to her knees, her eyes glinting with mischief as her fingers reached for his belt buckle.

Aemond’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening. "Y.N.," he warned, his voice low, but she silenced him with a smirk, undoing his trousers.

Next thing he knew, Y.N’s warm, wet mouth was wrapped around his soft cock.

Aemond put his hand on the back of her head as started to suck his cock and caress his balls.

Soon his cock sprang to life, and Aemond was losing his mind at the sight of her pink lips stretched around his hard length.

Y.N’s tongue ran around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Y.N!” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Y.N ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

Aemond’s heart almost stopped when she sucked his stones into her mouth, one at a time.

Her hand moving slowly over the hard length of him.

When Y.N engulfed Aemond’s cock in her mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Y.N was driving him crazy.

Aemond forced himself to open his eyes, he had to watch her sucking his cock. 

“Your taking me so well. Such a good girl” moaned Aemond.

Aemond knew it would push him too far to control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Y.N’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her pink lips stretched around him. Oh, it was heaven.

Y.N smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth. 

“It feels so good-” groaned Aemond his hand gripping her hair as he began to fuck her face.

“Hmmm” muttered Y.N as she dug her fingers into the flesh of his arse.

“I’m not going to last-if you carry on” Aemond admitted.

Y.N responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of Aemond’s cock as she could, whilst her other hand gently cupped his balls.

“Shit Y.N! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

She took every last drop, swallowing his seed and licking him clean.

When he recovered, Aemond saw Y.N’s self-satisfied smile.

“Was that to your liking?” asked Y.N.

“Y-Yes” gasped Aemond.

“Now can I have a Burger King?”

Aemond who was still dazed from his orgasm simply nodded. Damn that mouth of hers, he thought, his mind still reeling.

As he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, he couldn’t help but shake his head with a mixture of admiration and disbelief.

He’d come home angry, jealous, ready to fight. Now, he was standing there, utterly undone, with no memory of why he was even frustrated in the first place.

TBC

[kamiraaah]

TWST PARENTS! Trappola, Hunt and Ashengrotto!!

⚠️⚠️First of all, I must warn you that these designs may change in the future, either because the game presented us with the official designs, or just because I really wanted to change... Or I could reuse these designs for these characters!⚠️⚠️ Given that warning...

Guys, gals, and non-binary pals. I present to you, the Trappola, Hunt, and Ashengrotto families!

The Trappolas it's a very common family, compared to others. Of course, Ace Trappola and his brother get into a lot of trouble and face their mother's anger very often... But hey! It's good that they have their father to calm things down when things escalate, right? It may not seem like it, but Mrs. Trappola in her youth was just like Ace, always getting into trouble and facing authorities without thinking twice… Which led to many fights with Ace's grandmother. Mr. Trappola, on the other hand, rarely started fights, at least physical ones. Since he has a sharp tongue, always with some offense or something to irritate the other person. Both Ace and his brother inherited these traits from their parents… Although the older one is a little more responsible and is sometimes the one who talks sense into Ace's head. Ace and his brother have always been close, even though they fight or torment each other, they both have great respect for each other, even now that they don't see each other as much…

The Hunt family is a mystery to many.

The members of this family are… Lively, for lack of a better description, and Rook is the best known among them, and yet he is a guy who hides many secrets.

Although they are unknown, they are apparently a family with a certain wealth, many stories surround their members about how the Hunts managed to get so much money and influence in Twisted Wonderland...

But of course none that came close to the truth.I still wonder what kind of people they are.

Mama, Papa and Grandma Ashengrotto! A very loving family that loves young Azul more than he can imagine. Miss Ashengrotto goes to great lengths to demonstrate her love for her son, even though she is a busy woman, always does everything possible and impossible to be present in her son's life. She is a great friend of the Leech family, and always gets in touch to talk or update each other on how the children are doing. Mr. Ashengrotto, Azul's stepfather, is a kind man who has great respect for his wife. At the beginning of his relationship with his current wife, he was afraid that it would end up affecting the relationship between mother and son… The last thing he wanted was to make the young man hate him, but time passed and Azul and him ended up getting very close ( and catching his stepfather off guard when he called him "papa"… who ended up crying with happiness). Unfortunately, he carries the guilt of not having noticed the bullying that Azul went through in his childhood, and whenever he can (or when Azul allows him) he helps him with whatever he can… Always trying to talk and advise the youngest. Grandmother Ashengrotto, like her daughter, is a kind but strict woman. Always wanting the best for her grandson and being one of his biggest supporters in any projects her grandson starts. Always demands that he visits her more often... And preferably with friends! She wants to make sure her precious grandson is being well taken care of!!

AND MORE FAMILIES DONE!! And I'm still going to draw pictures of other members of the TWST families, so please bear with me a little… I'm going as fast as I can!🫠

I'm not 100% satisfied with their designs... They have a big chance of being changed, but I hope you like them! 😚

[gloomwitchwrites]

You introduce your husband as your "boyfriend" to annoy them.

Anon! This prompt has me screaming! I really enjoyed writing for this one because it's such a fun idea. Sure, our 141 boys might be a little mad that they aren't being called by their proper title, but you know they'll just love punishing you for it.

I went a little different with this one. Instead of introductions, I made it so that reader is constantly referring to them as "boyfriend" in public settings. Depending on the situation, introductions wouldn't make sense if it was with friends, family, or coworkers because they would likely already know that they're "husband" and not "boyfriend." So i changed it up a bit in that way!

Some of these fall into spicy territory without being descriptive.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, non-descriptive mentions of sex, fade to black, brief dirty talk

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shakes his head and you roll your eyes.

“We can ask someone for help,” you suggest, scanning the massive wall of televisions.

Simon grunts and crosses his arms. “No.”

Sometimes Simon’s stubbornness is cute—even sexy—but right now you’re just annoyed with him. It makes you want to stir up trouble, to cause a little chaos just for the fun of it. Pouting, you turn, eyes narrowing to find an associate of the electronics store. When you spot one near the HDMI cables, you take off, not caring if Simon follows.

“Excuse me.”

The man’s head perks up. “How can I help you?”

You gesture behind you, your hand smacking into Simon’s chest. “My boyfriend—”

“Boyfriend?” growls Simon, but you ignore him.

“—can’t decide on a television.”

Simon is not your boyfriend. He’s your husband. But he’s being stubborn, not making a decision, and you want out of this store.

Shifting, you place one hand on Simon’s large bicep, grinning like you haven’t done anything at all. Simon’s hand immediately grabs your ass, squeezing hard. A warning. One that you ignore.

“I can help with that,” replies the associate. You glance at the man’s nametag. Jim.

“Thank you so much, Jim.” You lean against Simon, giving Jim your best smile. “Getting this guy to commit to anything is so hard sometimes, ya know?”

Jim makes a noncommittal noise as he walks toward the wall of televisions. You start to follow but Simon’s hold on your ass tightens, keeping you pressed against him. Simon leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

You elbow Simon in the side but it’s not hard. He lets go, keeping close to you as the two of you follow Jim over to the televisions. Standing back, you watch with glee as Simon is forced to talk to Jim. You stay out of it, but notice Simon’s gaze switching to you every so often.

You already know what he’s thinking. He’ll likely want to punish you, and sometimes those punishments are so sweet.

Once Simon selects something and the two of you are at the car, there is no safety net. Simon shuts the trunk and then you’re pressed against the car, your body trapped between it and Simon’s massive form.

“Boyfriend?” he accuses.

You shrug. “What do you mean?”

The growl in Simon’s throat comes out a groan. “Get in the car.” He lightly slaps your ass as you open the passenger door.

As you start to slide in, Simon’s hand returns, this time slipping under your skirt to find your thin, lace underwear. He tugs sharply, ripping the fabric.

“Simon!”

He stuffs the underwear into his pocket. “You don’t need these.” You feel your face growing hot.

Simon shuts your car door and walks around the driver’s side, hopping in. He reaches out, placing one large hand on your bare thigh. It roams upward, squeezing, sending a shiver of lust up your body to make your head spin. “When we get home, I’m fucking that boyfriend nonsense right out of you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“I’m so sorry, but this isn’t what my boyfriend ordered.”

Kyle frowns and glances up from his phone’s screen. That’s your voice he hears, but the term of address isn’t right.

Boyfriend. Not husband, as it fucking should be.

Kyle glances in your direction but you’re not looking at him. You’re smiling sweetly at the barista behind the counter.

“It should be hot. Not iced. I might have messed up. I’m so sorry. I can pay for another.” You raise your hands in a placating gesture but the barista doesn’t appear fazed at all.

“No biggie. Keep that one. Won’t take me more than a minute or two.”

“Thank you so much.” You glance at Kyle, and your smirk tells him all he needs to know.

You’re being a tease. You’re doing this on purpose. The drink order is wrong, and you’re using this as an excuse to poke at him.

Kyle locks his phone and casually slides it into his pocket. Do you think you’re going to annoy him by doing this? Maybe. The little smirk on your face tells him that’s entirely what you have in mind.

But the joke is on you. Doesn’t matter if you refer to him as “boyfriend,” because all it’ll earn you is a punishment.

As the barista slides the new drink across the counter to you, you thank them profusely. “Thank you so much. My boyfriend will really appreciate it.”

The barista only nods and turns back to the espresso machine.

As you approach with the coffee, Kyle gentle removes the drink from your grasp.

“Boyfriend?” he asks, amused.

You shake your head like you have no idea what he’s on about. “What?”

Kyle laughs and snags the other drink from your hand. With shock on your face, he strides up to the counter. “Can you set these aside for us? Be right back.”

They only nod and continue working. Kyle snags your wrist and drags you to the little hallway that curves out around. There are a few private corners in there, and the hallway itself opens up into the nearby bookstore.

Kyle checks the handle on the unisex bathroom. Finding it unlocked, he draws you inside.

“Kyle,” you hiss, but he’s not having any of it.

Kyle engages the lock and presses you up against the door.

“You owe me an apology,” he says.

“For what?” Kyle tuts, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. “Get on your knees,” he murmurs, undoing his belt buckle with the other hand. “Apologize with that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

John Price

John leans back in his chair, agitation irritating his spine.

House hunting isn’t something he’s particularly excited about. He is happy that it’s with you, his wife, but the tediousness of it all is exhausting to him. John would rather have you select a few places to tour and then be done with it all. Money isn’t the issue. He just wants you to find a place you like and the two of you can go from there.

He’d live in a tent if that’s what you want.

“My boyfriend isn’t all that picky.”

Boyfriend? John is tugged from his inner musings by your voice and that term of address. Boyfriend. Why the fuck would you call him that? John isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your goddamn husband.

You reach out, planting a hand on his thigh. You squeeze softly as you always do when you’re trying to reassure him, but John frowns down at it, and then looks up at you. You’re not looking at him. You’re staring at the realtor, completely ignoring him.

John licks his lips, considering whether to correct you or not, or leaving it up to a simple mistake, but you do it again.

This time, John didn’t mishear you.

Your hand squeezes his thigh again and Price rests his hand over yours. His fingers enclose your palm and he holds firm. You glance at him and John shoots you his best warning look. You don’t even react. Don’t event blink.

No. He’s going to correct you. He is absolutely fucking correcting you.

The realtor pivots the computer monitor. “I think any boyfriend would agree that these are excellent selections.”

That’s fucking it.

Price shoots up from his seat, keeping a tight grip on your hand. “I need to speak with my—” John pauses, swallowing down his annoyance. “Girlfriend. Privately.”

The realtor shrugs, smiling, but John is already turning around, dragging you out the door. Outside, the stuffy, summer air does nothing to soothe his annoyance.

“Boyfriend? Fucking boyfriend?” John crosses his arms over his chest, looming over you.

You shrug. “What’s the problem?”

“Behave yourself,” he says, lowering his voice.

“Or what?” you ask in mock innocence.

So, this is what you want. John understands the moment the words leave your mouth. You’re fucking teasing him. Fine. He’ll make you learn.

“We are gonna go back in, thank the kind woman for her time, and then we’re leaving.”

“No. I want to stay.”

John leans in but he notices the way you glance away from him and back, clearly flustered. “Good girls don’t play games.”

“Funny,” you reply, head tilting slightly. “That as my boyfriend you have any authority over me.”

John pivots, blocking the view of the front door from you. “I will bend you over that bench so fast, wife.”

“You won’t,” you stammer.

John arches an eyebrow and you visibly swallow. “Want to test me?”

You pout, and then playfully shove him in the chest. “You’re terrible.”

As you turn for the door, John grabs your waist pulling you close. “You started it.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“My boyfriend and I are redesigning our bathroom.”

Johnny’s attention splits. The associate showing him floor tiles is a distant thing. He might be talking about the newest ones on the market, but Johnny is no longer interested.

Did he just hear you right? Did you just call him boyfriend?

“That’s wonderful,” comes a reply, and Johnny notes an older woman talking to you near the laminate flooring that mimics wood. “Where is he?”

“Over there,” you wave at him, a smug smile on your face.

Boyfriend? Johnny is your fucking husband.

“Sir?” prompts the hardware store associate. “What do you think of these?”

Johnny grunts. “Fine. We’ll come back.” He waves the man off and starts for you even as you continuously refer to him as your boyfriend.

You’re doing it on purpose. You’re doing it to annoy him.

And it’s fucking working.

Johnny saddles up beside you, snaking his arm around your waist, pulling you taut against him.

“This is the boyfriend,” you begin, smiling.

“Husband,” corrects Johnny, flashing the same devious grin. He holds up his left hand, showing off the simple gold band. “Happily married to this one.”

The older woman’s eyes round.

“She likes to joke,” continues Johnny. “Come on, love. Better get home.”

Johnny easily guides you away. He leans down, whispering. “You little terror.”

“Bite me,” you reply.

“Oh. I will. Everywhere. When we get home.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

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@sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d

@heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez

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@talooolaaloolla @hantheconqueror @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Danny and Damien are twins au, but a slightly redeemed vlad makes Danny the CEO of Vlad Co and DALV and all his other shell companies. Danny is danny, he got pushed into this against his will and is very overwhelmed by CEO duties, so he reaches out to one of his father's sons, Timothy Drake-Wayne, for advice

-------------------

So, danny definitely knows his heritage in this au. He was the spare to Damien's heir, and while their relationship was strained by the constant competition, they still love each other, even when Danny started to show more proficiency in infiltration and subterfuge than assassination. Damien and Danny have a huge fight before Danny leaves, with Damien swearing to never forgive Danny for his betrayal, while Danny is like "what betrayal??? I just cant bring myself to kill someone outside of self-defense??"

(One of the things I hate about Danny and Damien Twin AUs is this depiction that, just because (usually) Danny is unwilling to kill, that makes him weak and a traitor. You think the medical staff in the LoA are assassinating people? Or the lawyers? He's not useless, he's just not good as an assassin)

He was sent to the Fentons at like... seven? eight? to study how the Fentons are purifying lazurus waters from Jack and Maddie, both of whom are partly sponsored by the League of Assassins. He's also learning more about spying from Jack, surprisingly, because no one would expect him of being a top tier spy. He has the occasional mission as a child, but it's mostly shadowing Jack to learn how to spy.

Danny sends letters to both Talia and Damien regarding updates on his training and the Fenton's research, but after a year of no reply from Damien, it's only to Talia. He's feels super hurt by this, and abandoned by the LoA, but the Fentons are kind and familial, and Talia visits once a year. She's unwilling to risk visiting more often, lest she risk getting the JL or the Spiders attention, but sometimes she even manages to visit on his birthday!

(Meanwhile, Talia starts sending birthday assassins to kill Damien so she can spend their birthday with Danyal. She's a really hot and cold mom.

Talia: You can choose me, and have a birthday dinner. Or you can choose your father and have a birthday assassin. You're choice. )

When Slade blows up the LoA, Danyal is given permanent orders to remain as Daniel Fenton until Talia, and only Talia, brings him back to the League. No missions and only one letter every six months. But when Ra's comes back to life and the League is back in power, Talia... never tells Danyal. Because she's seen how happy Damien is being a normal child with their father and wants that for Danyal too. Plus, she wants to continue to have a good relationship one of her children, sue her bruce.

So Danny is completely convinced that the League is mostly gone other than his mother, her zealots, and knows that his brother is living with their father. and he's... relieved. His brother is safe, and his mom told him their grandfather was avenged, so Danny can just enjoy his life. Which he does.

He sends out his six month report days before the portal accident.

Canon stuff happens until Danny is sixteen and Vlad, the fruitloop, steps down as CEO and strong-arms Danny into becoming CEO in his place. Jack and Maddie (who at this point know [or have always known in Jack's case, adn Danny didn't appreciate his dad using his his poker face against him like that] about Phantom) are thrilled.

Vlad is using his "foster son" (Dark Danny, but in this idea, he's Dante Masters) as an excuse as to why he's stepping down, since Dante needs all the attention he can give as a "troubled youth". Danny secretly hopes Dante kills Vlad in his sleep, but signs the papers away.

And there's so much work.

Danny has some idea of what he's doing (Vlad co is a tech company and DALV is weapons manufacturing, plus vlad gave him a crash course on CEOing). Sam and Tuck even help! But he wishes there was someone who could understand the pain of being a CEO while still a teen. But... his father's son, his brother, is one such person. And even though the other would never know, he really wanted to get to know his other siblings. So Danny reaches out for advice to Timothy Drake-Wayne.

Tim is immediately on guard when this Damien clone walks into his office claiming to be the new Vlad Co CEO. The clone acts nothing like Damien, but he still thinks this Danny Fenton is a league plant.

His paranoia doubles when Damien freaks out and confesses that A) Danny is apparently his twin brother and B) that he's been with the League of Assassins this whole time. Damien, who really doesn't want to admit that the reason he forced himself to forget his brother was because said brother didn't want to kill people, says "Tch. I didn't want to associate with the likes of him, so I put him out of my mind." Tim now believes that he's dealing with a master assassin with a huge grudge against Damien and Danyal showing no signs of malicious or aggression in their meetings only convinces him that Danyal is a master actor too.

Which, Danyal is a master actor. But all that other stuff is just Tim reaching.

[uglypastels]

Ridlington Park | I | Eddie Munson regency!au

Author's Note: It has been a long, long time, but I am back with another obnoxious AU. I hope you enjoy as we embark on this new adventure in Regency England. This story has been in the works for almost 2 years and is still far from finished, but I am having too much fun with this and have way too many ideas on where to take it, so suggestions are very much appreciated.

Word Count: 10k

Do be warned, Dear Reader, for this story in its entirety may contain:

female!reader. slow burn. forbidden romance. jealousy. pining. smut. alcohol consumption. swearing. OC family. horses. talks of arranged marriage. historical facts as well as trivial inaccuracies.

Due to the adult nature of the story, this author also kindly but sternly requires underage readers to pursue other works. 

The Ridlington Park Collection | Correspondence | Join the Taglist

Chapter One: A Game of Perseverance

“I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them.”

– Jane Austen, Letter to her sister Cassandra, 1798

Three stories high, full of balconied windows, the house stood tall and overlooked the entire street. Ridlington Park, they called it, and situated at the centre of life–that is, London–the front door of the building was enveloped in flowers matching the seasons all year long. Currently, it was bright peonies that caught the onlooker’s eye. The perfectly trimmed bushes and trees were planted symmetrically, leading up to the front doors, giving visitors the right impression of what they could await once they stepped inside.

The residing family had spent a good fortune and effort ensuring the house represented them perfectly: clean, fortunate, and grand, but all done so in the utmost respectable and modest fashion as they were never the ones to boast. The walls had a light, warm tone reminiscent of early mornings in Spring, and the interior was decorated with portraits, new and old, beautiful oil sceneries of lands near and far, and busts and vases. 

The evening was slowly approaching, the sun setting over the windows of the drawing room, enwrapping everything in a golden glow. The family sat silently around the room, giving each other the peace and quiet required for an uneventful afternoon followed by a slow night of fortunate sleep. The only sound appreciated was the pianoforte siding against the window, gracefully played by Mother. Four children sat around the separate corners of their world, enjoying the music while focusing on their own activities. Like most nights, these consisted of either reading or needlework, engaging in small conversations with one another occasionally. 

As typical as any evening at Ridlington Park, it was highly unusual for the rest of London– a city which runs on scandals and gossip. Outside, the streets were bustling with lords and ladies of the Ton making their way back home from the markets, gardens and their fellows’ tea parties, gossiping about the latest impropriety to have occurred. After all, such topics, no more than nonsense really, were simply inescapable. And no matter how hard they tried to ignore it all, one way or another, it would always find its way up to the Byrnwick family. Most of the time, you, Gentle Reader, could hold yourself accountable for introducing the rumours proudly, much to your brother’s annoyance, who did his best to turn the pages of his novel as loud as possible as you talked with your mother from across the room. 

‘Have you heard what happened at Lady Faulkner’s ball?’

  ‘Yes, sordid, really.’ Your mother sighed, turning around. ‘I am sure her family is in quite the uproar.’

‘Please,’ Christopher, your brother, shut his book down in frustration, clearly incapable of making any progress amidst the conversation. ‘If she had not wanted to get caught, she should have maybe ought to think twice about being out with a man in the middle of the gardens for everyone to see.’ 

You glared up at him. ‘Well, it is absurd that a woman cannot even stand in a public space with a man without bringing disgrace onto her entire family.’

‘Believe me; she did much more than just standing.’ Christopher scoffed, quickly receiving a cold stare from your mother. 

‘Still, it is unjust.’ You ignored his insinuations. ‘Think of how men are free to go out at any time of day or night with whomever they please.’ You stabbed your needle through the cloth a bit harsher than intended.

‘My, you sure seem to be giving all this much thought. Have you any plans we should know about, sister?’ Your brother smirked.

‘Christopher!’ Your mother scowled. ‘That is quite enough.’

‘I was only joking, Mother,’ Christopher sighed, ‘we all know she is not going anywhere anytime soon.’

You were ready to retort angrily, or at least throw your needle at him, when the doors to the drawing room opened, catching everyone’s attention by storm. Five pairs of identical eyes directly aimed at the door frame, only softening when recognising the intruders. A welcoming of surprised gasps greeted the Lord and his eldest, Nicholas, as they entered the room. Not one foot in the room, and all activities were being put to a halt as the rest of the family gathered around the men—a loving reunion after a months-long journey from the Americas. 

It was a surprising return, for father and son had yet to write of their plans in recent times. The last letter was received at Ridlington Park over three weeks ago, stating that the weather was amiable, if not a bit too humid, and that the family missed each other deeply. The lack of correspondence, therefore, was also an immediate subject. 

‘But why did you not write, dear?’ asked Mother, after embracing her son. Nicholas was too occupied by his youngest sibling to answer; airways tightened in the arms of his 11-year-old sister, Marjorie. His father responded instead:

‘How could we write at sea, my love? The message would not have gotten here any faster than we did,’ the lord chuckled to his wife. He was correct, too, of course. His eyes seemed to surpass the gaze of his present family members in search of the one missing piece. ‘Where is Annabelle? I thought she would be home by now.’ 

‘She is home, with her husband,’ you explained carefully. Your father blinked slowly, coming to terms with this fact he had tried to avoid for so long. Annabelle had married last season and was very well off, to a Duke, no less, but it was still a big adjustment for the family seeing her gone and out of the house. Even with her frequent visits, it was strange to have one head less at the dinner table; one less chair occupied each evening, one less song played on the pianoforte. 

‘Ah, well then,’ Father cleared his throat, ‘then we are complete.’ He looked at his wife and five children. One day, there would be even fewer of them. They will all be leaving the nest one by one. For some, marriage was long overdue, and as a man of high society, he could not wish his children a suitor or a lady soon enough, but as a father, he dreaded the day that the following proposals would take place.

Marjorie, becoming impatient and not as sentimental about her family’s reunion, tugged at Nicholas’ sleeve. ‘Come, you must tell us everything about your journey!’ She kept pulling until the eldest brother had no choice but to follow her and sit on the couch. Soon, everyone else joined on the chaises. 

‘I am afraid there is very little to tell,’ Nicholas said, taking a chocolate biscuit off the tray beside the sofa. ‘It was all rather dull.’ 

‘Do not be ridiculous, brother,’ Fitzwilliam, the second-youngest and still hungry for adventure and the world outside of the Ton, looked at his older brother with high expectations. ‘I do not believe you and Father had been gone this long and did not experience anything worthy of a tale.’ 

You listened on as your siblings bickered, arguing over the value of a story, and its worth of being told and heard. Finally, after listening to it for about a quarter of an hour, you had to agree with Nicholas; it was all rather dull. No wonder neither he nor father did not bother to mention anything but the weather in their correspondence. Their days quickly grew into a pattern one is used to in travel and business. A pattern you might have understood if you cared to pay attention. 

This attention only returned to the room when you heard your name being spoken. The conversation had shifted from the events that had been missed overseas to the town's happenings. Just as dull and irrelevant, some might say, the most interesting thus far was the staff changes at the house, and even these held very little consequence to you, but to this, some may disagree wholeheartedly. 

‘So, the season has begun, has it not, sister?’ Nicholas asked. 

‘Some weeks ago, yes.’ You did your best pretending not to feel an effect from this, occupying yourself with your needlework that was turning out far below the usual standard. ‘But do not worry; you have not missed much. In fact, I think things will finally begin to get a bit interesting with you back home.’ Nicholas had always had a taste for dramatics and had been known for having a very… loving nature. In the past years, you must have witnessed him falling in love at least a dozen times, preparing a proposal to half of these women, going through with it twice now, with one nearly making it to the alter if not for the bride getting caught in quite a compromising position with a footman.

For the next few weeks, Nicholas was known as the heartbroken gentleman, and you would have felt bad for him… if it was not for the fact that women from all over town came around to console him, day after day, of course not knowing that when his bride-to-be had been making arrangements with other men, your brother had been too busy charming ladies himself. It took a month for him to proclaim his love to another woman again.

‘I do not know what you mean,’ Nicholas deflected your comment, quickly looking over to your mother and second oldest brother, Christopher, ‘any fitting suitors I should be aware of?’ As the eldest brother, Nicholas made it his duty to ensure his sisters found good husbands. That meant status and wealth but, above anything else, a good and genteel nature. You remembered how picky he was when Annabelle had been searching for a husband, even more so than your parents. Still, it was something you appreciated about your brother. His protectiveness showed the little heart he still held for you and the rest of your family, as much as he tried to hide it away. 

Your mother bit her cheek, holding in the many thoughts and opinions she must have kept for herself. So did Christopher, who shared a very knowledgeable look of many words with Nicholas, one he understood clearly but you could not decipher just yet. However, you assumed the general message had been sent and received. 

‘If you had seen the choices, brother, you would understand my predicament and situation all too well, believe me.’ Pretending to seem unbothered by the encrypted messages being sent around the room, you preoccupied yourself once more with the needlework. 

‘I believe it is what you believe, sister,’ Nicholas turned back to your mother, ‘do you have a list of names? I shall go through them in the morning, see if it really is as bad as we are being told.’ 

You had wanted to reply, most likely in a dishonourable way, but you held your tongue and fell back in your seat, letting the rest of your family plan out the rest of your life, just like they had always done. 

Unbelievable, Nicholas was home for all of five minutes, and he was already making lists. And knowing him, which you would like to think you did, it was merely a formality for your sake. He would already have a dozen names at the top of his head, ready to send out invitations to men for an audience with you. 

Therefore, you were not surprised when, only a few days later, at the breakfast table, Nicholas told you about all the guests Ridlngton Park would soon be welcoming. 

‘There is Mr Elton, and Mr Brookes will be coming over for tea; I also heard Lord Frankworth is interested in a visit, so is Mr Campbell, and—’ he kept on giving you names, with all of them entering one ear and immediately leaving through your other. You could not care less who wanted to see you, not after spending the last month trying your hardest to escape all of their attempts at promenading, lunching, and chatting of sheer nonsense. 

‘I must ask you to be ready for your first audience before 10; a dress is already prepared in your room.’ Of course, there was a dress. All you could do was smile as you bit into a forkful of egg. 

‘Oh, and there is one gentleman I would particularly like you to meet,’ your father chimed in, almost as if with an afterthought that he recollected at the last minute. You looked up at him apprehensively. ‘I had made a nice acquaintance of his father on our travel. What was his name– Harrolds, no…’  ‘Harrington, father. It was Mr Harrington.’ Nicholas corrected before looking over to you as he shared more. ‘He is a tradesman, quite successful. His only son had joined us on the ship back to England.’ The emphasis on his lineage was made with an apparent inclination. There were no more heirs, meaning the son would inherit the man’s entire wealth. ‘Certainly seems like a reasonable young man, clever too. The two of you will have lots to speak of.’

Well, I certainly cannot wait to meet him,’ you forced out a smile before quickly getting on with your meal despite losing all your appetite. At that moment, your stomach felt like a hollow pit, eating away at you, ironically.

‘You know, if you gave this all a chance, you might find yourself to actually enjoy it in the end,’ your mother commented with a tight lip. 

‘I am sure I shall enjoy it then, as it means that it has all, in fact, ended.’ You sighed deeply, ‘I simply do not understand why this is a must in my life? Why must I marry this instant?’

‘Do not worry, dear. You are still young; you still have plenty of time, ' your father said, missing your point entirely and making you roll your eyes. ‘But your mother is right, too, a more agreeable attitude towards this will make things much easier.’

‘For whom, exactly? Is it for me to enjoy myself, or for everyone else as you will not have to endure me any longer?’

‘Can you really blame us?’ Nicholas mumbled, receiving a kick in the shin in return. He spent the rest of the discussion rubbing the targetted spot on his leg with a pained crease between his brows. You, besides gaining the small victory of maiming your brother, found yourself yet again on the losing side of another family dispute. Like all its predecessors, this battle ended with you pushing back your chair with a harsh scrape of the panelled floor and slugging back to your room where a dress awaited. 

It was beautiful; you could not deny that. Elegant and straightforward, it accented all your finest assets for interested suitors. It was comfortable: not too heavy or too textured in its pattern, it was made of soft material that slipped right on, with the fit of a well-tailored glove. Your hair was pulled up and out of your face, leaving nothing to hide behind. 

‘You look lovely, miss,’ your maid said with a kind smile as she put the final pin in your hair. 

‘Thank you, Claire.’ You muttered, noticing the saddened sympathy enveloping her features as she knew like no other how much you detested everything about what you were about to go through. ‘Have you got any advice? On how to endure it all?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ she shrugged, brushing something off your shoulder. ‘I suppose you could try making them uninterested in you, so they will want to leave sooner.’

‘That thought has crossed my mind,’ you admitted, ‘but I also do not want to put my entire family to shame.’ 

‘Of course, miss.’ Claire nodded. As she finished working on your presentation, you pondered over your possibilities. Indeed, presenting yourself as improper had been your first idea, and its appeal remained, but you were too afraid of the repercussions. If the gentlemen were to think of you as a lady without any manners, all it would do was put your upbringing up for question, something your parents did not deserve whatsoever. 

You also considered spreading gossip about the men coming to introduce themselves, which would scare your mother off them immediately, ensuring they were never to return by your parents’ preference. But it felt cruel to make up such lies. You were sure that in other circumstances, these were perfectly fine men. At this particular moment, you just happened to despise them and everything they stood for.

Perhaps the most appealing option was to simply not attend the audience. To run away and never to return… at least until the afternoon, once all the men had lost all their patience. But that would only cause you more trouble.

The ideas rolled around your head for the rest of the day, even once the suitors sat opposite you in the room. It was all incredibly dull, if not just mortifyingly humiliating, with your mother sitting only across the room, occupying herself with a book, or so it seemed because she most definitely was listening to the conversations attempted on your part.

‘So,’ as most of the dialogues began, the Lord whose name you already forgot spoke, clearing his throat, ‘I hear you read.’

‘Yes, ' you said, blinking to avoid staring too blankly at the wall behind the man, ignoring the balding patch atop his head. 

‘Grand,’ he smiled, somehow satisfied with your response already.

‘Do you… ride?’ you asked, hoping that at the least your mother heard your attempts at making a connection and would release you from this torment soon enough on the principle of your good sportsmanship.

‘No, God no, horses are far too beastly for my liking, unless we are speaking of the track, of course.’ The man scoffed, ‘However, I prefer more dignified activities, such as hunting.’ 

‘Of course, you do,’ you smiled, but the expression never reached your eyes. ‘What about chess? Do you play?’

‘I do not have the patience to commit to such silly games.’

Patience, you thought, or intelligence? And how ironic of him to speak of perseverance. You watched him take another small sandwich from the tea tray provided on a side table, which you were taught to ignore so as not to be observed as “gluttonous”. After all, no one wanted to marry a lady that ate all day. 

Considering that, you grabbed a plate and a piece of cake from the top of the tray and bit into it. The soft sponge melted on your tongue. In the meantime, you were asked a question, but you could not possibly answer with a mouthful of cake, could you? Once you had finished, you considered grabbing a second portion, but you could feel the judgmental look of your mother digging into the back of your head. 

You put the plate back down and your hands on your lap. 

‘I’m sorry, my lord, could you repeat the question, please. I fear I may have lost myself for a moment.’ And so, it continued. Thankfully, the man excused himself not long after, thanking you and your mama for the time, just for his seat to be replaced with someone else almost immediately. This time, the gentleman was significantly younger, with thick hair atop his head and charming eyes, but the second he spoke, you knew this would not reach much further than the comfort of this room. At the least, you did not see this relationship going any further than any of the other acquaintances you had made that day.

By lunchtime, you felt your eyes burning with fatigue, possibly caused by a constant suppression of tears. How much more could you possibly take of this torture?

‘Mr Elton was quite a charmer, was he not?’ Your mother commented as she sipped her tea. 

You suppressed your initial thought, rephrasing it to cause less offence, ‘He is too stubborn and self-centred. He barely let me speak a single word, too occupied by his own achievements to expect me to have any.’ 

‘Well, Lord Frankworth seemed to care very much for what you had to say.’ 

‘Only because he barely managed to string any thoughts together himself,’ you sighed. 

Your mother tightened her grip on the teacup before smiling. ‘Soon enough, we will find you a perfectly fine young man, dear. You just have to remain open-minded.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Speaking of, your next suitor should be here shortly.’ 

You did everything in your power not to groan at the announcement and instead nodded politely. ‘Who is it?’ 

‘Mr Harrington, the one your father was so keen on you meeting.’

‘Ah,’ yes, the American. The only thing that gave you some slight hope in the situation was that Mr Harrington had already spent plenty of time in the company of your father and brother Nicholas and had seemingly gained their blessing. But nothing could help you gain the energy to entertain yet another man with polite conversation. The sun had been beaming into the room since the early morning, only growing warmer and warmer, making the hairs at the small of your neck stick. 

‘Will you just excuse me for a moment, mother.’ You got up. 

‘Is something wrong?’ She looked suspicious but with a glint of worry in her eye. 

‘I am quite fine, just require some fresh air, I think,’ which was not entirely a lie.

‘Alright then, just make haste, child.’ Mr Harrington was on his way, after all. ‘We do not want to keep the man waiting.’ 

‘Of course not,’ you smiled, heading towards the door. When the large panels closed behind you, you picked up your skirt and ran toward the gardens. Your footsteps echoed through the corridors, and you caught several members of the house staff glancing your way with inquisitive looks. 

Ever since you could remember, the grounds around Ridlington Park had a fantastical power about them. It had been the turf on which you would spend countless childhood summer days playing games with your siblings, whether the competitive or imaginary type. But no matter what the six of you could think of, your favourite game would always remain Hide and Go Seek. The gardens were a perfect place for it, with endless nooks and crannies one could disappear into. It was nearly a giant maze, and you had mastered it from a very young age. Whilst most got lost between the shrubbery and flowers, you knew exactly where you had found yourself. 

There were plenty of hiding spots you enjoyed over the years, some that to this day remain a mystery to the rest of your family, but nonetheless, it was the stables you adored the most. It was a safe haven for you on many days, to the point that you had nearly become invisible to the staff working there. 

The stables were located in the far east corner of the grounds, and the walk towards it already cost more time than you had if you had ever planned on returning that quickly. Undeniably, there was a pinch of shame and guilt nipping at your heart towards the strange Mr Harrington, but that soon dissolved when you heard the neighing of Barley Sugar, a golden-brown mare you proudly called yours. A gift and result of a successful business trade made by your father years ago, the horse technically belonged to all of the Byrnwick children, as much as any of the other horses under the family’s possession, but the bond between you and that particular horse just turned out to be that much stronger. 

This was visible as soon as you entered the stable. Barley Sugar went wild at your presence, happily swinging her head from side to side. 

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ you grinned, petting the horse, who leaned into your touch immediately. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’

But your plans were quickly interrupted by a voice. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ 

��❀❀

An average sea voyage from the Americas to England should take approximately 16 days, considering the weather corresponds with the sails of the ship. During this journey, passengers would most likely endure days upon days of heavy and tall waves bashing across the ship’s sides, and that is to be expected in favourable conditions.

As Lord Byrnwick and his eldest had boarded the ship headed to London, the sky had been bright blue, and it did not change far beyond that. There was, of course, a risk for the two of them to sail across the world as they did, them being head of the family and its heir. A journey such as this one can go awry in many ways, and if it were not for the dangers of seafaring, there were the Anglo-American tensions to consider. After all, the previous year's war was still fresh in everyone’s mind, and one could not be careful enough when entertaining both sides. Luckily for the Byrnwicks, they were not of the superstitious kind, and good fortune had always seemed to be in the family’s favour up until the very moment they stepped on the boat to return home, many years beyond that. 

Ever the convivial one, the most considerable success of the trip, according to Lord Byrnwick, was not the business or diplomatic aspects of their ventures but the social. The man immensely enjoyed meeting other like-minded spirits from across the pond, and there had been plenty of fine nights at gentleman’s clubs spent over fine spirits and betting games, discussing all sorts of topics and exchanging information on all subjects. Promises were made to keep in touch whilst arrangements were made for more future meetings. It was only the polite thing to do. 

But aside from acquaintances and business partners, an addition to the household had also been made. Of some sort, that is, for it seemed that the two had found a new groom in America.

Now, Gentle Reader, do not conclude of the worst, as the groom we speak of is not the sort one is meant to meet at an altar but the kind who spends his days tending the horses and carriages. The young man, Mr Munson, had been doing precisely that when the Byrnwick heir stumbled upon his conveyance services in town, in dire need of transport for his regular means, which had already been occupied by his father for the day. It was an encounter by utter chance but certainly one with greater consequences. 

Several days later, coincidentally, a letter from London had arrived. Five pages long, each written by a member of the family recounting their most notable memories of the week. The children spoke of the ton's gossip and anecdotes of what occurred at home. Mother, however, took it upon herself to write of more important matters regarding the household. Many topics had to be discussed, but in the middle of her letter, there was mention of the unfortunate passing of the family’s barn manager, Mr Falstipp. It was an unexpected death, leaving the entire house in shock as the man had been working for the family for longer than the children had been alive. But it also resulted in the question of what was to be done now? 

It was likely only because the interaction had been so fresh in his mind that Nicholas suggested finding a replacement for Mr Falstipp here in America. This was an unusual offer, as his father commented, especially since they would not leave for home until another few days, but that was to be resolved by having the footmen take care of the horses for the time being. Besides, Nicholas was sure his siblings would be more than happy to help with the chores. 

The next day, he returned to the public stables and immediately noted how much cleaner they seemed than any other in town. The horses also looked exceptionally well taken care of and content. 

Mr Munson had just been feeding a colt when Nicholas eagerly announced, ‘Mr Munson, may I offer you a proposition?’ 

This, to no surprise, startled the other man for various reasons. ‘Sir?’ 

‘This must be a peculiar request, but you see, as of recently, my family has found itself in need of a new stablehand and from what I have seen you do, you, sir, would be the perfect candidate.’ Nicholas had the smile of a man losing his sanity, but his words could not be more genuine. 

‘Your family—’ Munson blinked, ‘you mean in London.’

‘Yes, and I understand that this might be a problem, but trust me when I say that you will most certainly find England to your liking, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ 

‘As you wish,’ Nicholas agreed. 

Eddie pondered over the offer for a short moment. It would have taken him no time to decide if it was not for what he was to leave behind, but he knew that his current employer would be able to find his replacement in no time, as jobs in town were hard to come by. 

But what must have been even more challenging to obtain was a ticket out of the wasteland he called home. For years, he had dreamt of an escape, never imagining it to be possible, and suddenly, here comes this stranger offering it to him on a silver platter. 

It would be terrifying to move so far away, he knew that, with many risks, but the further away he could manage to go from where he was now, the better. 

Eventually, after a minute of silence that left Nicholas restless and on the verge of embarrassment, Eddie smiled: ‘It would be my pleasure to work for you, sir.’ And he had meant that wholeheartedly. While it had only been a short few interactions that he had had with the man, the young Mr Byrnwick had already shown Eddie far more kindness than any of his prior employers, or any other man in his life, for a fact. Most importantly, the man knew nothing about Eddie’s past, which must have been the biggest selling point in the life-changing choice. 

‘Marvelous. You will not regret this, Eddie.’ Nicholas leaned in to shake his hand, only to realise that Eddie was still carrying the giant bucket of feed. ‘Well, we shall finalise everything on the boat, shall we?’ And so they did. 

A week later, Eddie found himself still in shock at his circumstances. He could not believe he was really to be leaving for England until the moment he set foot on the boat, and even once the sails had set and the American coast was nothing but a grim line on the horizon, the fact did not seem to settle in his mind just yet. 

Over the next 16 days, he had encountered the Byrnwicks only a handful of times. First, to meet Lord Byrnwick who, as head of the household, wanted a final say on the matter. A bit late, thought  Eddie, as the boat had long departed the harbour by then, but his ticket had already been paid for, and thus, he had little else to complain about. He had quickly made peace with the idea that he could make his new life across the ocean work no matter the circumstances. He had done it before, so what is one more homeless night under a new sky?

But the lord seemed all too happy to have found his staff replacement. Overall, the man was nothing like Eddie had expected a gentleman of English high society to be. From his previous experiences, the type often was rather conceited and arrogant, with a transparent opinion of anyone below their class. His new employer and his son, while undoubtedly lordly, had a modest nature about them. Quickly, Eddie had also gathered that the spontaneity with which Nicholas Byrnwick had called upon him for a job opportunity was not uncharacteristic of him, as the young man was rather energetic in his step and impulsive in his actions. 

But no matter how unassuming the men were, they did belong to a different rank of man and, therefore, stayed on the boat to the upper decks, engaging with the rest of their kind. 

The travel moved on slowly, but in the end, it was also a mere blink of an eye moment, and before he had realised it, Eddie had reached the shores of England. It was another day or two of travel to be done by horse. A carriage had been acquired for Nicholas and his father, but Eddie and the rest of the staff that travelled with the family for their adventure rode on horseback. No matter how much Eddie enjoyed the form of transportation, it was a tiring experience after several hours, but it also allowed him to meet the people he was to work with and, through that, those he would work for. 

‘So, what is the rest of the family like,’ he asked Mr Trowbridge, the lord’s valet. If there was anyone who could tell Eddie something, it would be this man. 

‘Well,’ Mr Trowbridge had a particularly nasal tone about his voice that especially came forward at the beginning of his sentences, ‘I do not believe there is much to tell. They are as any other family, really.’ 

‘My good man, you can hardly expect me to believe there is nothing worth telling about these people,’ Eddie laughed. ‘If it puts your mind at ease, I am only asking for the simplest facts—nothing to interest my fancy.’

The valet pondered over this for a moment. ‘Very well. You have, of course, met the Viscount and his eldest.’ He took a moment for Eddie to respond with a nod in agreement. He then took another moment to consider his following words. The longer he took, the more keen Eddie felt to suggest what to speak of. 

‘What about Lady Byrnwick?’

‘Lady Byrnwick is most amiable and has a very caring character, but you will not find her in the stables often unless she is searching for her children.’

‘Not fond of horses, is she?’

‘Rather the outside—-’ Trowbridge cleared his hair vigorously. ‘In the sense that the sun and pollen often leave her poorly. But the children…’ he punctuated his half-sentence with a heavy sigh. 

‘They are a handful?’ Eddie assumed. To this, Trowbridge searched for another description but found himself lacking the vocabulary, leading to a confirmation. 

‘I have worked for this family for nearly three decades, and I will assure you that each member is as proper a member of society as the next. While boisterous, they have been taught to be independent individuals.’ The valet's tone made Eddie consider how much of their good decorum was in gratitude for the man’s own intervention and guidance. 

‘At 27 years, Nicholas is the eldest, and the responsibilities of this role are one of the few aspects of his life which he takes seriously, I cannot put any doubt behind that.’ Indeed, whilst extremely impetuous, the heir’s son also understood the duties of his position and towards his family. 

‘Then there is Christopher. The boy has immense athletic abilities but not much beyond that. For a young man of his age of five and twenty, one would assume he would be able to compose himself with a bit more propriety, but it is very difficult for him. He is adventurous and rarely can sit still for an extended period of time, including his mouth. It is suggested that people be careful of what they say around the man.

‘The eldest daughter, Annabelle, married just before we had departed for America, thus is now the lady of her own house.’ Something in his tone suggested he was sad to see the young woman leave home. This possibly has to do with the fact that Miss Annabelle (Now known as Duchess Annabelle Ramsbury) was the most dutiful and respectful of the six children. ‘The marriage had been long overdue as she had just turned 22 on the day of the ceremony, but a love match was found nonetheless.’ The valet guffawed with pride. It was clear to Eddie that, while considering them a nuisance, the man cared deeply for the family he served.

‘I must admit, Trowbridge,’ Eddie chuckled in this horse’s trot pattern over the uneven paths. ‘When you began speaking of the family, I had imagined the children to be… well, children.’

‘How old are you, Munson?’ Trowbridge asked, somewhat bluntly. 

‘Twenty, sir.’ Perhaps closer to his next birthday than the last.

‘Ah, just the age of the second daughter then,’ he nodded in agreement. ‘She may perhaps be the most… rebellious of the kin. It is all in good spirit, as you must imagine, and I am sure the interest in such nonsense will dwindle as she matures. She is also the most fond of the family horses; thus, you will see her quite often, I expect. But as her sibling, she has mastered the care for the animals as well as the equipment.’ 

As he spoke of your skills, something about Trowbridge's expression communicated particular dismay to Eddie. ‘Is that bad? For a young woman to know how to carry herself around a horse?’ He, for one, certainly did not see a problem in it. On the contrary, it was an instrumental skill to develop for anyone. 

‘It is not exactly lady-like, is it?’ Trowbridge spoke as if that was the only relevant argument on the matter. Eddie had learned from a very young age that some opinions were better left unsaid, and seeing him as the senior in age and position, Eddie thought it unwise to argue with the valet on his first official day of employment. He instead simply nodded in understanding. Instead, he opted to continue the civil interrogation—

‘What of the youngest two? What are they like?’

‘Fitzwilliam is a dapper fellow. He is but seventeen, but very accomplished, though I cannot say he knows how to put his acquired skills to good use. He has ambitions that cannot be denied; it is just a question of whether these ambitions can ever be met. 

‘And lastly, we have Miss Marjorie. A darling girl, I assure you,’ Trowbridge stated. I can only suggest not letting her size fool you, Munson. She has managed to wrap her family around her little fingers the moment she learned to mumble a word, leaving her to cause quite the ruckus for the past eleven years.’ 

‘I do not see how that involves me, Sir,’ Eddie said. By this time, the sun had begun to set over the fields they passed, and soon, the company would break for their overnight travels at a nearby inn. 

‘It had come to my attention over the years that Mr Falstipp–the previous groom, that is— had been quite lenient on the children and their usage of the horses. This has caused a number of incidents that I would rather not see a repetition of.’

‘Understood.’ 

‘I am unaware of your er– American customs,’ the valet began his lecture, ‘but you must also know that here, ladies are not to ride unaccompanied—something that has been protested in the family to no avail, but it is simply the procedure. There must always be a chaperone nearby to supervise, whether that is a senior member of the family or an entrusted member of the household.’ 

‘I do not expect to have gained that trust just yet,’ Eddie said earnestly.

‘But let us hope you will.’ The smile Trowbridge gave Eddie was kind at first glance, but the movement of his eyes that inspected him told an entirely different story. He knew he still had much to learn about navigating himself around the kinds of people that were the Byrnwicks, even those who worked for them. The moment he set foot on English soil, he knew it would be challenging to fit in if he ever planned to do so. 

The truth is that he did not plan such a change. For you see, Dear Reader, Mr Eddie Munson was also a radical. He did not believe in adapting to society, which was visible in his entire being. One can also imagine the struggle he had to endure when given a uniform to wear. Frankly, the ensemble did not differ much from how the man dressed himself before, but the simple fact that he was told to wear this particular set of clothing upset him severely. 

On the first day after his arrival at Ridlington Park, he had managed to justify himself out of dressing in the required clothing by claiming that the trousers were a smidgen too tight. Without another size available, he was told to wear the clothes on his back until the new, fitted attire arrived.

But the clothes did not even begin to reach the problem of the horses he was meant to care for. 

Turned out, while he had been given all sorts of warnings against the family, what Eddie should have been preparing for was the beasts that homed the stables. The stubborn animals would not let him touch them, and any attempts were met with angry stares and stomping of the hooves. 

‘Easy, there,’ Eddie spoke as softly as he could, taking small steps in any direction that would not enrage the stallion whom he was currently attempting to feed. White Liquorice, a white Arabian, was undoubtedly an animal worthy of a viscount, and from the moment he had stepped into the Ridlington Park stables, Eddie knew that the Kentucky Saddlers and Quarter Horses he grew up with were no match for these and he would quickly have to learn to get on with them if he was to stay here. 

Yes, the first days were hard, but not even one week later, he had gotten used to the rhythm of operations. It helped that, working as the barn manager, he was the one in charge and mostly left alone. Mr Trowbridge had visited him to ensure he was adjusting to the new working conditions, which was kind, but besides that, Eddie rarely saw anyone but footmen requesting the carriage to be prepared for the family. 

That is until one afternoon when he heard the doors open and someone walking inside. He had been around the corner of the stables, cleaning some grooming tools. 

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ he heard the intruder speak. It was soft and gentle, most likely referring to one of the horses. Immediately, Eddie was reminded of one of the conversations shared with Lord Byrnwick’s valet. He swiftly got up from his seat and immediately found the culprit. 

He watched you pet one of the horses—Barley Sugar, was it—-petting her in a way he had not yet managed to do confidently. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’ These words triggered him to jump into action. 

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ He stepped forward, but his words startled you, causing you to turn around. As you did so, your foot got caught in an old set of bridles Eddie had still planned on detangling and putting away. The surprise coming with the unexpected presence of someone else, combined with the awkward position of your foot, led you to fall over with a shriek. 

Eddie cursed under his breath as he watched you huff on the ground. ‘Let me help you,’ he extended his hand to you, ‘and my apologies, it was not my intent to—’ 

‘Who are you?’ you said in a tone that could only be deemed skittish, if not directly fearful, but not enough to deny his offer to help you stand. Your reaction was validated as you had never met the man standing before you. You eyed him up and down, and the more details you noticed, the more you were sure that you had just stumbled upon a robbery, nay, a kidnapping. 

The man's presentation spoke for itself, truly. His long hair was dark and unkept, well over his shoulders. His clothes were nothing like the workers around your house were meant to dress like, making him stick out like a very sore thumb. The trousers were old and worn, and the shirt was loose over his upper body, revealing—oh god, was that a tattoo?

It was clear this is how you were to die.

‘Are you here to steal my horses?’ you blurted out before you could think. 

‘What?’ He blinked. ‘No, please, listen—’ but you did no such thing. Instead, you did the only thing a lady in distress could do. 

You screamed bloody murder. 

‘Help! Anyone! Help—’  you would have kept on going, shouting over his attempt at reason until he finally shut you up by placing his hand over your mouth, his other hand sturdily over your upper arm. The two of you stood there for a moment, chests both heaving in all forms of panic, listening for footsteps or any other presence, but the only sound was the soft breathing of the animals around you. 

‘I will let go now, miss,’ Eddie said slowly. Both your eyes were wide from the uncultivated situation that had just occurred. ‘And I will explain everything to you, just, please—and I beg you— do not scream.’ You nodded your head beneath his palm in agreement. Eddie counted to three as he stepped back and finally let go of you. Despite him never blocking your airways, you inhaled deeply. 

‘There is absolutely no reason to panic, ma’am.’ His accent was distant, one you had never had the pleasure of hearing before. His eyes, large and dark, locked you in, almost making you lose count of the lingering feeling of his hands on your body. He had given you a moment before he continued speaking, ensuring that you would not resume your screaming or make a run for it.

‘What is your reason of being here?’ You inquired. 

‘I work here. Have been, for the past week. I think it was your brother, in fact, that gave me the position. We met on his travels.’ 

Now, come to think of it, you remembered your family's conversation on the day your father and brother returned. There had been talk of new staff—a young man they had brought along with them from America as an official replacement for the late Mr Falstipp. But that did not explain his attire. 

‘You could be fired for breaking the dress code alone, you know. Not to mention for the, uhm, actions you had just performed.’ You commented.

‘Well, you can always report me, miss.’ Eddie, against all his better judgement, smiled. 

‘Maybe I should.’ Your heart was still pounding, and you felt so disoriented that even a simple smile made your head spin. ‘What is your name?’

‘Eddie.’

‘Well, Mr Eddie—’ you began, just to be quickly interrupted.

‘No, just Eddie.’ Eddie shook his head.

‘What do you mean? Do you have no family name?’ You had heard of men bringing in street urchins to work for them, but surely, this man was too old for such charity. And you could not imagine your brother to perform such acts of kindness anyway.

‘I do.’ His smile only widened in amusement at the conversation. ‘Eddie Munson.’

‘My, is it usual in America to introduce oneself like that?’ Never had you heard of a man introducing himself by only his first name, let alone a byname. 

‘It is usual to me,’ he quipped, ‘And it is more common than not introducing yourself at all.’ The way in which he looked up at you from under his lashes felt accusatory, but you could not find it within you to be upset at the critique, so you gave him your name instead. 

‘Pleasure to meet you, Miss Byrnwick.’ He gave you a small, polite bow that reminded you more of how children play Lord and Lady rather than a gentlemanly act. Next thing you knew, a smile was pulling at the corner of your lips, and a small giggle was ready to escape. 

For some reason, you hesitated to say your following words: ‘It is a pleasure, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ While always respecting the titles of others, Eddie never saw himself as one to follow such formalities. 

‘That is most improper.’ You held back the urge to scoff. 

‘But I insist.’ There was something in the corner of his eye that you managed to catch a glimpse of—this spark that no sunlight or fire could match. It was pure mischief, a spirit of chaos. But still, to call a man you barely knew by his first name was simply not right. Your family may jest as they please about your rebelling attitude to primitive customs, but you had to admit that some things ought to be done in a proper manner. And this was certainly not it. 

However, Mr Munson saw it in another light but did not find enough of an interest in the subject enough to argue it further. Rather, he cleared his throat briefly and observed you for a moment. 

How silly you must look in your fancy dress! Your hair was done up to match, and your shoes were most likely covered in mud. There was also no doubt that he had overheard you talking to your horse about running away. You had good faith that he could connect the pieces to form the complete picture. 

A bird flew past a window, making you glance past Eddie’s shoulder in haste. 

‘I hope I am not keeping you from any other plans, miss?’ He finally asked. Could you be so bold as to admit that he was saving you from other commitments by conversing with you?

‘No, of course, not Mr Munson,’ you persisted. ‘I am simply cautious.’ Come to think of it, your screams must have been heard all around the grounds. If those who heard, in turn, had an ounce of common sense amongst them, they would have called for someone in the house. If that was the case, your mother would be here momentarily, and then it was back to the house for you. All you could do now was hide. 

‘May I ask what are you being cautious of?’ Eddie followed you with his eyes as you walked through the stables, looking for a hiding spot. 

‘If you must know, I am currently on the run,’ you stated while looking over a haystack in the far corner. 

‘Ah, so whilst you had accused me of being a criminal, it was you who had been committing the crimes then? Should I now scream for help?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, ' you said, attempting to climb the hay to get past it. ‘I have already brought much too much attention to myself.’ Your foot slipped, making you tumble back down to the ground. The accident made you stop for a moment before attempting to climb again, looking over your shoulder at the man. ‘Are you not going to even try and stop me?’ 

‘Oh,’ it was as if he had awakened from a deep thought or had just realised that what you suggested was exactly what he ought to do. ‘Well, would you listen if I told you not to climb up there?’ 

You pondered his question for a short moment. ‘No, I highly doubt it.’ Thus, you resumed your climbing. As you did, you heard the shuffling of his feet behind you. The next time you slipped up, this time from a far higher distance, he had been in precisely the right place to catch you in his arms. 

‘I cannot assure you I will be able to catch you once more, so it is in good conscience that I suggest you stop, ma’am,’ he said as you got back to your feet. 

‘You are right,’ you admitted. Then you realised just how close the two of you stood and quickly occupied yourself by looking for another hiding place. That is when you noticed it. You had spent years in this stable and knew every inch of the space, yet… ‘Have you moved things around?’ You looked back at Eddie. 

‘Only a little. I’m afraid my predecessor did not have a flair for organisation,’ he explained.

‘That may be so, but I would prefer you would put things back as they were.’ 

‘Excuse me?’ Eddie could not help but laugh at the demand.

‘Your new floor plan has completely disoriented me, ' you admitted. ‘It is unbecoming.’

‘My apologies. I will be sure to put things back as they were, then.’ His laugh still echoed his words.

You had not expected him to actually agree to this request. ‘You will?’ But quickly, you regained your composure and tried to hide the surprise in your voice. ‘Very well, thank you. Then, since you have discarded all of my possible hiding locations, what do you suggest I should do?’ 

‘I suggest you run.’ But it was not Eddie who had answered you. 

‘Mother, ' you gasped. What was it, in God’s good name, with everyone sneaking up on you today? Lady Byrnwick stood at the threshold of the stables with her arms crossed. Her lips tightened into a thin line as she took a step inside. You prepared yourself for a disciplinary outburst, but instead, your mother focused on the man standing next to you. 

‘You must be Mr Munson.’ The kindness in her voice was laughable. The overcompensation of her kindness threw both you and Eddie off. 

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ You noticed that he bowed his head in a much more orderly fashion than he had done to you. 

‘I hope my daughter has not been too much of a nuisance.’ 

‘Not at all.’ Eddie politely replied. 

‘Good, good. Well, I can already see that my son did a good job in finding you,’ she stated as she looked around the retouched interior. ‘And I hope that you will grow to enjoy England.’

‘I’ve had nothing to complain of yet.’ Eddie proudly said with that smile of his, and for a moment, you thought to have caught his eyes on you for just a second. Your mother nodded along with his words in satisfaction, but this cheeriness dissipated as soon as she directed herself to you. 

‘Has your headache cleared, dear?’ Her eyes were spitting fire. 

‘Yes, mother.’ 

‘Then we will be on our way.’ She stepped aside, giving you room to walk outside. ‘Goodbye, Mr Munson.’ Eddie had become the unintentional victim of the venom that perferred your mother's words. 

He was polite enough to look away as you made your shameful walk through the aisle between the horses’ stalls, but you couldn’t help but look behind you one final time as you left and catch his favourable grin. What a peculiar man he was, indeed—one whose presence you immediately began to miss. 

Perhaps that was because of the company you were in at the time. 

‘Have you gone completely mad?’ Your mother scowled. ‘Mr Harrington has been waiting for well over half an hour.’

‘He is still here?’ You stopped in your tracks. This day could not have gone any worse. It seemed like everything you had been doing was working in your favour.

‘Yes, so you better come up with a clever excuse for your tardiness as I will not be embarrassed any longer. I swear, have you no shame?’

‘I am truly sorry mother, I had lost track of the time.’

‘Doing what exactly? What were you doing in the stables, exactly? Considering you had told me you were going out for some fresh air.’ Yes, the air around the horses was not exactly to be called “fresh.” 

Unfortunately, you had no satisfying answer to any of your mother’s questions. Come to it, you yourself were unsure what exactly had brought you there in the first place, not to mention what made you stay. It must have been a sense of child-like naivete to think you could hide from your problems the way you attempted. 

Problems that were coming closer as Mr Harrington walked towards you through the aisle of hyacinths that grew all around you in various colours. 

‘What is he doing here?’ you mumbled towards your mother.

‘Considering the lovely weather, I had offered for us to sit out in the gardens.’ Your mother spoke out loud. That is when you noticed the set table and chairs under a large parasol on the patio. 

‘I hope you do not mind. I took the initiative of taking a stroll in your absence.’ Mr Harrington spoke in a cadence that would have been new to you if not for the fact that you had spent the last hour in the presence of a very similar tone. 

‘Of course, not,’ your mother had regained her ability to smile. ‘May I introduce my daughter.’ And so she did. 

‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. I completely lost track of time.’ You apologised and were ready to offer your hand to Mr Harrington when you noticed how filthy your gloves had become. In a panic, you pushed both your hands behind your back, trying to distract the man with a wide grin.

‘The important thing is that we are all here now,’ he manoeuvred, which you could not help but agree with, then led you to the patio. 

The next hour went by faster than you had ever imagined it would. Mr Steve Harrington turned out to be not only a great conversationalist but a rather fascinating one at that. It was only a fault of your own that you were distracted for a larger part of the conversation. There was simply something about the man’s brown eyes that constantly reminded you of somewhere else. He was very charming and, abiding by your brother’s promises, had a great, though perhaps somewhat awkward, wit. It seemed that his confidence, once clearly overt, had been lowered, causing him to stumble over his words at times and laugh at his own mistakes in a deprecating manner, but never enough to make it a bother in your eyes. Truly, it was all rather endearing.

But you could not, for the life of you, figure out what exactly caused these fumblings in his character, as nothing seemed to be particularly wrong with the man. Though you did not see him as an academic or scholar of any sort, from the way he spoke, you could tell he was one of the more clever men you had the fortune of meeting. And his looks were certainly no topic of discussion either. He was tall and lean, with a wonderful smile and soft brown hair that apparently was more common than imagined, as were those dark eyes and the way he held you in his arms—

You took a sip of the cold water as Mr Harrington expressed his gratitude to your mother for the audience and made sure the message would be conveyed to Lord Byrnwick, too. You nodded and smiled along. Even when he bid you farewell and bowed his head, your mind was elsewhere. As if expecting something to emerge from behind the hyacinths, you could not help but glance in the Eastern direction of the gardens. 

‘See, it was not all that bad, was it?’ your mother immediately said, pulling you back to the patio. By then, Mr Harrington had excused himself and was crossing the patio to the exit from the grounds but had turned briefly for a final goodbye, which you met with a polite wave. 

‘No, I suppose you are right, mother.’ You had persevered against all odds. As you watched the gentleman leave, you felt quite content with the meeting—happy, some would even say. The only problem was that you could not make quite clear what, or rather, who brought on this particular mood.

Chapter 2

Thank you so much for reading!! I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember the best way to support writers is to reblog and share. I love to hear what people think of my stories so feel free to leave a comment or an ask or message.

[chaosandmarigolds]

Before we begin. I would like to remind you all that Caleb is a fictional character, he cannot be hurt- but so is Simon Riley so do with that information what you will :)

“Garrick.”

Johnny clears his throat before speaking, the commotion of the station loud through the phone, “Ya n the missus still in th’ country?”

To that Kyle frowned, moving carry on bag to sit down on the chair, “We’re just gettin back from Las Vegas, Becca got-“

“Ollie is gone.”

well. That sent a shock through his system, with a quick straighten of the posture Kyle speaks again, “An’ Simon doesn’t-“

“Some bullshit happenin’ makin it look like he helped his girl with kidnappin em from da dad, dad’s takin em …”a breath, “Si doesn’t know Ollie is gone yet. He’s been in questionin for five hours kno.”

Kyle looks down at his boots for a moment, meanwhile his wife gives him a confused stare, “Jesus- fuck, you need me?”

“I dunnae ye. Probably, ya got a ETA?”

Kyle shrugged and then looks at Rebecca, who had her luggage stolen so they were waiting on the security to do their work. “Si’s kid is missin.”

She stares up at him in disbelief for a moment, “How?”

“Bio-dad bullshit.” Kyle puts the phone to his ear again, “Hows Cap holding up?”

“Pissed off. But we all are.”

“Ya seen LT yet?”

“Nah, got her’ two hours go.”

-

If he were being honest, he wanted to simply take the gun and shoot the detective- it would finally make that man shut his mouth. However, Simon was showing self restraint, yet that task grew harder with each moment. So as he sat in the empty room, he was mainly focusing on keeping his breathing even, and temper in check.

About ten minutes went by before someone came to let him go, and to no one surprise Price was behind the door with the officer.

“I need you to be-“

“Where’s Ollie? Where is she?”

Price tried to keep his expression neutral, “Caleb had temporary rights-“

“The fuck does that mean? Where is MY SON?” Okay, so temper wasn’t in check but he was doing his best.

“He’s going to Las Vegas.”

—

Rebecca sipped her coffee as she sat in the airport lounge, after talking the security and as Kyle gave out the description of the small boy. She was currently going through Caleb’s social media, as someone had gone through a lot of trouble to edit photos where Simon had been in and replace them with himself, somehow editing the timestamps as well. Which was funny, because normally she was the phone taking the family photos.

With a frown she turns her phone over and looks around the bustling airport.

That’s when she spots Caleb. Hoodie pulled up to cover his face and quickly walking through the terminals.

Some part of her knew she needed to tell Kyle, and to not rush after him. And she knew he probably could’ve over powered her/ but it was so easy to just use that book she had grabbed as she went after him to take him down.

He probably could’ve thrown her off but instead he let her pin him down, panicked eyes and heaved breathing. “I swear! I didn’t- it wasn’t my idea! They-I owed the em money! I had to!”

“Where is Oliver?”

“They had me hand him off-off to some lady! I don’t know! Russian, tall, I don’t know!”

Rebecca looks down at him, her heart beginning to race as the security began to come over and to grab them, and she slowly turned as Kyle pulls her away. “I don’t…I don’t think is about Ollie. I don’t think this is about him at all.”

-

Ollie stares at the ground of the small plane, having a cup of water and a little baggie of goldfish in front of him. His eyes red with tears.

“Oh, come now little man, eat up. Get strong.” The woman coax’s, her voice muffled by the accent but her smile sweet, “Your father does not want to see you hurt.”

“I wanna go home.”

“I know. But you cannot go right now, your father- he owes us a debt.”

—-

Tee…tee hee 🤍🤍

(Am I getting carried away? Yes obviously. But I am having too much fun to stop)

[deanwinchestergf]

and why would an angel rescue me from hell? good things do happen dean. not in my experience. i'm not here to perch on your shoulder. i was getting too close to the humans in my charge. you. to everything there is a season. you made an exception for me. you're different. for what's worth, i would give anything not to have you do this. i learned my lesson while i was away, dean. i serve heaven, i don't serve men and i certainly don't serve you. but you guys aren't supposed to be there, you're not in this story. yeah, well, we're making it up as we go. i'm hunted, i rebelled and i did it all, all of it, for you. so what i'm thelma and you're louise and we're just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together? i need your help because you're the only one who'll help me. that's a pretty nice timing, cas. we had an appointment. what happened to you cas? you used to be human, or at least like one. but cas, you'll call right? if you get into real trouble? this is cas, guys. he has gone to the mat cut and bleeding for us so many freaking times, don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt at least? it sounds so simple when you say it like that, where were you when i needed to hear it? i was there, where were you? i'm doing this for you, dean. i'm doing this because of you. but we were family once, i would've died for you, i almost did a few times. i've lost lisa, i've lost ben and now i've lost sam. don't make me lose you too. cas, you child, why didn't you listen to me. you used to fight together, bestest of friends, actually. if you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time. the very touch of you corrupts. when castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost. i'd rather have you, cursed or not. well, i'll go with you. i prayed to you cas, every night. cas, we're getting out of here, we're going home. i mean you kept saying you didn't think it would work, did you not trust me? cas, it's me. we need you, i need you. i won't hurt dean. cause you didn't trust me? you didn't trust me. please, man, i need you here. nobody wants him here more than i do. you gave us an order, castiel, and we gave you our trust. don't lose it over one man. you really believe we three will be enough? we always have been. his true weakness is revealed. you draped yourself with the flag of heaven but ultimately, it was all about saving one human. i'm glad you're here, man. how are you, dean? and then you'll kill the angel, castiel. now that one, that i suspect would hurt something awful. and when you turn, everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. everyone except me. i'm not gonna send lucifer into battle inside cas, what if he doesn't make it? it's not an it, sam. it's cas. but you're always there, you know? i could go with you. you mean too much to me, to everything. i'm gonna cure you of your human weakness, same way i cured my own. it's a gift, you keep those. you mean we? yes, dumbass, we. we lost everything and now you're gonna bring him back. we got cas back, that's a pretty damn big win. just don't get dead again. it's good to hear your voice. so this is goodbye? but i swear if he did something to her, if she's- then you're dead to me. either get on board or walk away. i don't know what's god and what isn't, and it's driving me crazy. dean, you asked what about all of this is real. we are. you used trust me, give me the benefit of the doubt, now you can barely look at me. i think it's time for me to move on. you didn't deserve that. since when do we get what we deserve? maybe if you didn't just up and leave us. i left but you didn't stop me. i should've stopped you. you're my best friend but i just let you go. and i forgive you, of course i forgive you. i'm sorry it took me so long, i'm sorry it took me til now to say it. you did it cas. okay, cas, i need to say something. you don't have to say it, i heard your prayer. well, here's to being right. you know what every other version of you did after gripping him tight and raising him from perdition? they did what they were told, but not you.

[louloulemons-posts]

Metal Head Cuddles

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Word Count : 1.7k

Warnings : not proofread, swears, shitty parents(reader), vecna stuff did happen, petnames, it’s just a load of fluff.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Meeting-hug :

Being Robins Buckleys cousin was great, moving in with her and her dad was also great. Your family wasn’t fantastic, but Robin and your uncle were.

“Are you sure it was okay for me to tag along? I could always go back and chill with Uncle Rich.”

“Come on Y/N, i know you wanna get out of it, but everyone will love you”.

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m 100% sure, now come on let’s go in.” You were at Robins friends, Steve, house, apparently they’d become best friends a couple years back.

Working at an ice cream shop together, you’d had a job of your own when you lived in Chicago, it had allowed you to move to Hawkins and not look back. An old music shop that was getting more and more popular by the day.

Harringtons house was nice, Robin said his parents had a good job, but weren’t around a lot. There was music and laughter as you walked into the house.

“Don’t be nervous, they’ll love you.” Robin linked your arms and you walked into the garden. “Buckley!” A voice called out as you left the house. “Harrington.”

A boy jogged up to you, floppy hair bouncing as he came. “Ah you must be Y/N, Robins said a lot about you. I’m Steve.”

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you.” He gave you a welcoming hug.

“I’ll get you guys a drink, beer?” he asked.

“Y/Ns driving,” Robin spoke.

“Lemonade?”

“Lemonades great thanks.”

“Come on let’s meet the others.” Your cousin waved over at some younger people. “Y/N, this is Dustin, Will, Mike, El, Lucas and Max.”

“It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Ahh so you’re Robins mystery cousin,” the curly haired boy said.

“The one and only,” you shrugged.

“It’s good to meet you anyways,” A red haired girl spoke, her eyes were glazed and you spotted a white cane, along with the hold she had on the boys arm beside her.

“And you guys.”

“Come on let’s meet the lovebirds.” Robin led you away to two teens who looked your age. “This is Nancy and Jonathan, guys this is my cousin Y/N.”

“Hey it’s great to meet you,” the girl spoke, standing to give you a squeeze.

“And you.”

“Where’s Munson?” Robin asked.

“Late as always,” Jonathan joked. On that note loud metal music was heard. “Speak of the devil,” Jonathan chuckled.

A few moments later a man with unruly hair came wandering in, his footsteps heavy and loud. He wore a large grin, dancing across his mouth as he took the younger curly haired boy hugged him.

The hug of a brother, Steve walked past, handing him a beer like it was a breath. He made his way over to us, handing me a cup full of lemonade and Robin her own bottle of booze.

“You been introduced to everyone?” Steve asked. “Pretty much, just not,” I motioned over to the man who was not letting out a cackle.

“Oh, hang on,” Steve paused for a second, because calling out the man’s name, “Eddie, come here man.” You heard him mutter something like, ‘Oh no already in trouble,’ to the younger kids, making them laugh.

He jogged over to us, taking a swig of his drink. “Hey guys,” he smiled, taking in everyone’s face when he finally landed on mine. His chocolate eyes met my gaze.

“Eddie this is Y/N, Robins cousin from Chicago,” Steve explained.

“Oh cool, nice to meet you,” he said, pulling you into a half hug.

You hand landed on his lower back in greeting as his kept his, respectfully on the middle of yours. “And you, Robins told me all about you guys,” I said to the group.

“Oh no, what’s she said?” Steve groaned.

“Nothing that isn’t true Dingus.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Random-Encounter Hug :

Pushing the cart through the aisle, I grabbed a couple veggies here and there, planning on making, yet another, thank you meal for Robin and my uncle.

After placing the tomato’s and peppers in the cart I looked back up, spotting a newly familiar figure. Grabbing the last few things I needed from this section I sped up, “Hey Eddie.”

The boy whirled round to look at me, “Y/N, hey, how are you?” He asked, instantly pulling me into a large hug, giving me a gentle squeeze.

“I’m good, just getting bits and pieces.”

“Same here, I’m want to make my uncle a nice meal for his birthday, but don’t tell anyone,” he leant down so he was closer to your ear, “I can’t really cook.”

Letting out a laugh, I smiled at the boy, “If you want I can help you?”

“You cook?”

“I do indeed, give me your number and we can figure out a recipe, go through everything step by step.”

“Really?”

“Sure, what does he like to eat?”

“Anything we eat out of cans a lot.”

“Does he like steak?”

“Sure.”

I motioned for him to follow me, pushing the cart and coming to a halt by the steaks and other various meat. Getting a small, cheap, but still a beautiful cut, I handed it to Eddie.

“Does he like mash potatoes?”

“Yeah.” I quickly grabbed some of them, and then some green beans. Eddie pulled a face at that, “Does he not like them?

“Oh he loves them, I do not,” his face scrunched.

“They’re not that bad I promise, cook them

in butter and seasoning.” The boy hummed, instantly trusting your words.

He stayed to help you with your own shopping, helping you take the bags to your car, holding his own. “Thank you for the help,” he said, “It was nice to see you again.”

“And you. Remember call me when you’re cooking, I’ll talk you through it all.” The boy gave you a smile, and pulled you into a sweet hug. Arms enclosing around your body, holding you close.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Exhaustion Hug :

You’d gone out for the day with Robin, Nancy, Steve, Jonathan and Eddie. Not sleeping well the night before after a screaming phone call from your mother, you were so tired.

“You okay?” Robin whispered.

“Oh yeah, just a bit sleepy. I’ll be fine.” You’d be on a long walk, wondering around shops, just having fun doing what people would consider mundane.

Eddie walked in front chatting away with Steve, Robin jumped into conversation with them, whilst Jonathan and Nancy led the group hand in hand.

Staying a few steps behind, you rubbed your eyes again. Not realising the group had stopped you bumped into Eddies back. “Shit sorry Eds.”

Turning to look at you, he smiled softly at your sleepy state. “It’s okay, you good?”

“Yeah just tired.” He nodded, humming, “Well we can’t have that can we.”

He turned back around and got low, “Hop on,” he said simply.

“What?”

“Get on my back.”

“Eddie no-“

“Y/N,” he said turning his face to you, “Please.” Well you couldn’t say no to that.

Wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, Eddie stood, holding underneath your thighs. “Comfy?”

“Mhm.” My face rested on his shoulder.

“Come on then, let go,” he walked with ease, as if he wasn’t carrying an extra weight. I felt so comfortable there, with him holding me, that my face nuzzled into his neck, breathing him in.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Anything for you.”

…

“Oh he’s so into her,” Steve said, watching the boy carry the sleepy girl. “Him into her? You don’t understand how much she talks about him. I swear Eddie coming today is the only reason she’s here,” Robin laughed.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Recharging Cuddles :

You don’t really know how it happened, but it was natural as anything. You and Eddie started dating, much to his Uncle Wayne’s joy.

Stood in the small kitchen in their new trailer, you were cooking a breakfast for Eddie and yourself, Wayne had already headed out for the day.

Feeling arms come around your waist and a face nuzzle into your neck, his curls tickled in their sleepy state. “Where did you go?” He said, voice laced with sleep.

“Making us breakfast Eds.”

“You weren’t there when I woke up.”

“Sorry baby, I just wanted to make you something.”

“You’re too sweet,” he spoke, placing a sweet kiss under your ear. “It’s almost ready, why don’t you sit at the table?”

He whined, “Wanna stay with you.”

“Okay sleepy boy,” With a free hand you rubbed his own that connected around your waist.

“Thank you.”

“Never have to thank me baby.” The boy remained attached to you the rest of the time you cooked, sliding you onto his lap as you ate.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Reunion hugs :

It had been two whole weeks since you’d seen Eddie, yourself, Robin and your uncle had been on vacation. Not even thinking about unpacking you jumped in your car and drove over to Eddies.

The trailer park was hit with sun, bright days becoming more common, the people of Hawkins soaking in the rays.

That was including your favourite boy, of course wearing jeans, black and ripped and a tank top. Some of his scars were on display but the large ones that covered his torso were hidden by the material.

Parking up, you climbed out of the car with ease. “Hey you,” you called as you walked over to him. “Oh my god”, he laughed, pushing off the stairs of the trailer and running to you.

Without a second thought your feet were off the ground, arms around his neck, he lifted you up and held you close. “I missed you so fucking much.” Hands going to his hair, you giggled, “I missed you too baby.”

“Never go away again,” he mumbled into your neck.

“Where’s my hug miss?” you heard another voice speak. “Wayne,” I smiled Eddie let me hop down from his hold and walk over to the older man. He took he in his arms and gave me a squeeze.

“Thank goodness you’re back, I couldn’t deal with anymore moping from this boy,” he motioned to Eddie. “Wayne,” he whined, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling your back to his chest.

“But seriously never leave me again.”

“Don’t plan on it.” He kissed the top of your head, holding you tighter.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : well hello it’s been a while, life’s been kinda crazy lately, so writings been the last thing on my mind. Hopefully I’ll be back to it soon, but I’m not gonna push myself, hope you guys understand.

All the love 🤍

- Lou

[notjustjavierpena]

Reader coming home from a night out a little tipsy and just happy. Javi is waiting up as he always does to make sure she’s safely back in his arms. Kids are already in bed and it’s just a little cute moment between the two. Reader being quite lovey dovey i guess.

Lovey-dovey

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This was a joy to write for you, anon!

Summary: Would Javier Peña still love you if you were a worm?

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, Drunk and horny reader, javi is a respectful man, undressing, kissing, making out, drunken tears

Word count: 1.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54772312

Lovey-dovey

Javier knows you’re home from the jingling of your keys outside the house, your shaking hands trying desperately to fit the key and unlock the front door without much success due to your drunken state. He is standing on the other side, entertaining himself briefly by listening to your quiet swear as you give up on your mission to get inside the right way. 

However, considerate as you are, you don’t even try to knock in case you wake up all your sleeping children. Instead, you start to pocket the keys to go around the back of the house and get inside the house through the door to the garden. 

It’s just before you step off the front porch that he opens the door for you, leaning against the doorframe to watch you whirl around in confusion. For a second, it looks like you think that you have made the door open by just wanting it enough, but then you smile warmly as you see your husband. 

You are drunk but not out of your mind. It is just enough for you to be clumsy in your state of giggles and heated cheeks, and you waltz inside with confidence that you shouldn’t really have with the way your heels make you walk like a newborn giraffe. 

“Hello husband,” you snicker. 

“Wife,” Javier closes the door after you, holding back a laugh as you hold onto the coat rack to keep your balance while stepping out of your shoes. He drops to his knees to help you, grabbing your ankle to gently slip off a heel, “Had a few martinis, huh? A few tequila sunrises?”

“No,” you grin widely.

Javier rises to his feet once more when your shoes stand perfectly perched on the shoe rack, “No?”

“I just had a little sip of everything,” you confess in a whisper, your words slightly slurred, “Connie let me taste all of her drinks, I barely got to drink mine.” 

“So you mixed a lot of alcohol?” He tuts, reaching around your waist to guide you towards the staircase as you look too unsure on your feet to not end up with your face falling into the floor if you miss a step. 

“A LOT!” You exclaim with a laugh. 

“Shhh,” he shushes you as you begin to ascend the stairs together. Not so considerate after all then but he wouldn’t have you any other way, even when you are trouble. 

“Shhh,” you parrot him with tired eyes, holding a finger in front of your pursed lips. He rolls his eyes affectionately, stepping onto the next few steps of the stairs and watching you watch your feet as you follow. 

“Sorry, I may have gotten a little drunk,” you finally admit, arm slung around Javier’s shoulder. 

“No, really?” He teases in the same tone as he might tease his daughter. 

“Can I sleep in your bed?” You ask in another whisper, almost as if you are fourteen again and Javier is your secret boyfriend that you are not allowed to be alone with. 

“Your bed is my bed,” he reassures with a twinkle in his eye. You have reached the top of the staircase now, and carefully move down the dark hallway to your bedroom whilst Javier tries shushing you when you comment on the family pictures on the walls. 

“You look so handsome here,” you point to a picture from your honeymoon but your finger slips from the glass as Javier has already dragged you further through the house. 

“Thank you. It was a long time ago,” he opens the door and pulls you inside.

As you enter the bedroom, you wrestle free from Javier’s arms and collapse onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. You have your arms out to the sides, staring up at the ceiling which spins slowly above you. 

“For the record,” you say absentmindedly, “You’re still very, very handsome.” 

“Thank you, mi amor (my love),” he chuckles softly, “C’mon, sit. I need to get you out of these clothes.”

“Oooh,” you whistle as his gentle hands start unbuttoning your blouse until it falls open and reveals your bra. He gives you a look, not even having to speak because you know he wants to say really? 

He shrugs it off your shoulders and you visibly shiver at his touch even though your skin is burning from the alcohol in your system. Javier would have you right here if you weren’t drunk. 

“Stand up,” he orders and then helps you out of your skirt, his careful fingers lingering on your waist as he lowers it to the ground. Your head swims. Javier goes quiet. He taps your legs to signal that you need to lift them one at a time so he can pull the skirt away. You sway slightly, leaning into his touch as he steadies you with a firm grip. His eyes meet yours from where he is kneeling on the floor, filled with warmth and adoration, and you can't help but smile back at him. 

“T-shirt?” He asks. 

“Mhm,” you hum.

For both of you, it is almost too much to have him undo your bra without following it up with making love to you. He remembers the first time you met and he had walked you home, drunk out of your mind and trying to get laid. He hadn’t done it back then either, and not even a ring on your finger would change that now. 

He slides the straps off of your shoulders and down your arms, collecting all the pieces of clothing from the floor so he can throw them into the laundry basket by the dresser. Then he gets one of your loose t-shirts from your drawer and turns to walk back to you.

However, you ambush him by pushing him up against the furniture to kiss him. You taste of fruity cocktails that mix with his own minty breath and Javier lets himself indulge for a moment, deepening the kiss to taste your silky tongue but keeping it slow. He throws the t-shirt over his shoulder so he can settle two hands on your cheeks, framing your face in his large palms. 

"You're so good to me," you whisper into his mouth. 

“It’s because I love taking care of you, wife,” he murmurs and guides you back to the bed, tricking you to think that he wants more (and he does, revealed by the tent in his underwear, but not like this; his cock will flag eventually). Instead, he helps you sit down and pulls the t-shirt over your head before you can protest. 

“Javi,” you pout as you move your arms through the sleeves with his help. 

“I know, baby, we can kiss tomorrow when you aren’t drunk,” he says softly, “Tell me about tonight instead. Did you have a good time?” 

“We had such a nice time,” you giggle, seeming to move on pretty quickly. He leaves your side to get you a glass of water and your makeup remover wipes from the bathroom. 

“That’s nice, mamá,” he replies with concentration on his face, beginning to rub your mascara off, “Did you talk about your husbands? Scold me behind my back, huh?”

“We talked about how horribly you treat us,” you bat your lashes innocently, “I don’t know if we can take it anymore.”

“Running off together, are we?” You take a tiny sip of your water. He holds his fingers under the bottom to make you gulp it down instead. 

“I think I might love you too much for that,” you say after swallowing. Javier’s fingers are gentle as he cleanses your skin. 

“You love me?” He asks playfully and crouches to wipe the foundation off your neck too. You hum as an answer. It’s almost too much to feel him like that, so you try to initiate another heated kiss but he shakes his head and pulls away. 

“No,” he says in the same tone as one would use to stop a cat from doing something naughty. 

“What if I promise to be a good girl?” You challenge.

“You’re making this extremely difficult for me, baby,” Javier’s breath catches in his throat, conflict written all over him. He looks like he is just about to give in but then, “No.”

“But,” you pout again, watching him leave your side. 

“Go to sleep,” he orders albeit reluctantly as he climbs into his own side of the bed, “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Time goes by after he has turned off the light. Javier hears your breathing in the quiet room but there’s no sign that sleep has found you yet. He gives you the space you need to rest, tries to think about something that will make his cock flaccid again.

“Javi,” you suddenly say into the dark.

“Yes, honey?” He tries not to sigh. Besides him, you have moved to sit up once again and you are flicking on the light on your nightstand. 

When Javier turns his head to look at you, he sees, much to his shock, that you are on the verge of drunken tears. He sits up immediately with slight panic at your shifting emotions, “What’s wrong, mi amor (my love)?”

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You ask just before turning into a blubbering mess. You let yourself fall against your husband’s shoulder, and he wraps his arms around your crying form. 

There’s a fond smile on his lips as he finds out that it is nothing serious. Instead, it is you feeling everything at a heightened rate. He shushes you gently, rocking you back and forth whilst kissing your hair. 

“I would love you so much as a worm,” he promises through a chuckle. 

“Don’t laugh,” you whine into his chest, “There are physical boundaries that come with me being a worm.”

“We would overcome them,” he replies but you just continue sobbing to the point where he feels tears on his bare skin, “But I really need you to go to sleep right now, okay? I know you’re upset but I promise you that I’d love you even if you were un escarabajo pelotero (a dung beetle).” 

You breathe hard for a few seconds to calm your tears, and Javier figures that you have seen some kind of logic in his argument or at least enough to let yourself be calmed. You wipe your eyes when you pull away. Javier gets some tissues from his nightstand and helps you with the tear streaks you miss. 

“No need to cry, okay?” He runs a hand over your back.

“Okay,” you repeat with a final sniffle. 

“Dame un beso (give me a kiss),” he purses his lips and you peck them almost shyly. However, he just kisses you a few times more, “Good girl. Now lie down and go to sleep.” 

You do as you are told, and he lies down on his side to look at you. The crying seems to knock you out, causing you to snore softly as the clock ticks on your nightstand. He slings an arm over your stomach, cupping your side, and falls asleep too. 

You make him so happy. Even like this.

Especially like this.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[yuff7e]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ tanjiro, inosuke, & zenitsu bf headcanons !! gender neutral reader

the cuties song -> www.spotify.com

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ tanjiro !!

- literally the cutest ever.

- he’s soso respectful and genuine

- if you want a boy that will genuinely listen to you and how you feel about certain things, get a tanjiro.

- he deserves sm love and he’d definitely put you in his top priorities while also making sure you weren’t getting hurt in the process !!

- he’s a big fan of physical touch, so if you’re also training to be a hashira don’t be surprised when everytime he passes you he brushes his hand up against yours. (HES SO CUTE IMA EAT HIM)

- WILL defend you.

- like if someone’s talking bad about you he’s walking right up to them with no fear

- of course, he isn’t aggressive so he would handle the situation calmly

- “why are you saying that about [name]-sama? did they do something to you?”

- will purposely choose you each time they get to pick who they want to train with, and will get a little jelly if u don’t pick him

- but it’s fine !! as long as he sees you happy he’s happy.

- you’re one of the people he trusts with nezuko during the daytime, and will let you carry her box if you ask

- he enjoys seeing you and his sister spending time together, he feels like you’re genuinely apart of his family

- he finds comfort in you when he’s missing his family, and isn’t ashamed to cry or show his true emotions infront of you

- he likes it when you hang out with inosuke and zenitsu too, but gets a little embarrassed if they act weird.

- like, if zenitsu starts flirting with you or inosuke starts screaming like a grizzly bear

- he knows you wouldn’t judge him though, he just wishes his friends acted cooler around you !! because … you’re so cool !!

- “i want to be with you forever, [name]-chan.”

—

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ inosuke !!

- ohh boy, you got this man’s attention.

- if you seriously got him to like you and date you, you’re the one and you don’t have a choice

- you’re definitely his top priority besides defeating muzan

- like genuinely you’re right up there, you’re over his basic needs like eating and sleeping

- he can get a little flustered if you’re a fan of physical touch and decide to touch him in front of tanjiro or zenitsu

- but he secretly loves it, although he’d never tell you that !! (just kidding, he absolutely would but would make you swear to never tell anyone)

- WILL flex infront of you during training, especially his arm and back muscles. since he’s so flexible he’d show that off too

- “hey babe check this out!” (cue him spinning on his head, crashing into 4 different hashiras and getting in trouble)

- he’d have those moments where he’d just stare at you and gawk, not even in a weird way but genuinely just because he likes you so much

- like you’re so attractive !! and nice !! and… amazing !!

- if you were as flexible and strong as him just know he’d be picking you and training everyday and not hold back

- like he’d throw you over his head and if you lost he’d laugh at you, but if you win and knock him over your head he’d be head over heels

- he loves it when you beat him, which sounds crazy considering the fact inosuke is a pretty sore loser .. but when it comes to you and seeing how strong you are he’s so impressed

- that was one of the main reasons he started to like you

- you’re basically his idol, and that MEANS SOMETHIMG BRO !!!! RAAHGG !!

- i think his love language would be gift giving, hes definitely showing up to the demon corps with a pretty rock he found and putting it on your nightstand and wait for you to notice

- “inosuke! did you get me this?”

- “no”

—

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ zenitsu !!

- such a flirt we already know this

- but, he’s also extremely respectful

- he has pretty bad self control but if he genuinely likes you and who you are instead of just what you look like he’s actually a great guy

- he’s the definition of if he wanted to he would

- like, if you’re sad he’d get you 3 bouquets of roses and the other 3 would be outside because he couldn’t carry them all

- “zenitsuu!! you didn’t have to do that!!”

- “if it’s for my lady/man i’d do anything!!”

- his love language is love in any form

- physical touch, gift giving, words of affirmation

- but omg does this boy needs words of affirmation

- there’s a big part of him that feels unworthy of your love, like - you seriously love him? no way.

- will wake up with a HUGE smile on his face every morning with you being the first thing on his mind

- would beg to share a room with you alone, not for anything weird (although zenitsu is lowkey so weird) he genuinely doesn’t want his friends to see you sleeping (╥﹏╥)

- he gets so jelly over every single thing, like - why do inosuke and tanjiro get to see you sleeping?! in your purest form!! ahhhhh!!

- would pick you every time during training and if you pick someone else he’s begging you to train with him until you finally give in and train with him

- if not and you’re adamant on training with somebody else he’s giving that person a death stare the whole time, no exceptions

- unless you tell him to stop, he’ll try - but he can’t help himself… you’re just so amazing

- he always talks to you about yalls future together and will actually get emotional as he speaks, holding onto your hands as he speaks about how yall are going to have 5 kids and a big house

- “i love you so much [name]-chan!!! i want you to marry me!!!”

—

yay that’s it !! thx for reading guys :3 i might do the other hashiras next, but if anyone has any demon slayer requests PLEASE send them in, demon slayer is one of my biggest interests right now and i will go OFF while writing for you guys !! send em in !!

REQUESTS : OPEN

[magics-neptunes-things]

Impossible Love Resists Best

Hi guys ♥

First of all, can we talk about this gif please?

It’s from this request that I received like an eternity ago, sorry?

Summary : How to survive when your super-protective-intrusive older sister aka Patri Guijarro discovers that you have an affair with one of your teammates.

TW : Swearing, !GuijarroReader

Enjoy and tell me what you think about this one :)

______________________________________________________________

We can’t really say that Patri is the one you better get along with between your other brothers and sisters. Even if you were born two years after her, you don’t have quite the same tempter. You were four children in the family and the only thing that brought you and Patri together was football. You never liked seeing her meddle in your affairs or wanting to control every parts of your life.

So when she found herself playing at FC Barcelona in 2015, you were pretty relieved. You chose Atletico Madrid some months after her departure, just to stay in Spain but not follow her steps. Your call to the Spanish national team, however, more or less forced you to play together from time to time. When your contract with Atletico ended and you had to make a choice, you hesitated for a long time before accepting the offer from Barcelona. Seeing your sister every day honestly made you hesitate a lot. It was one thing to support her at family celebrations, but it was another to have her in everyday life.

So, before you agreed, you asked Alexia Putellas for advice. You play together on the national team and she knows Patri very well. You knew Alexia would take your opinion into consideration and think about the well-being of her team before anything else. After much discussion with her, you finally agreed and arrived in Barcelona in the summer of 2022.

And finally, everything went rather well. You didn’t spend too much time with your sister, preferring to train with Salma, Ingrid and Mapi or Lucy. Unlike Patri, you went to the World Cup in Australia and even though it caused some tense discussions between you two, it never changed your way of seeing things.

Apart from the ideals and your desire to change things, you had to admit that there was something else that made you want to fly to kangaroo country. I mean, someone.

This someone who wakes up gently at your side, opening her delicious chocolate eyes.

You and Ona met during your first selection for the Spanish adult team. It wasn’t until after Euro 2022 that you got together. A sweet way to console yourself for your defeat. But, concerned about your sister’s reaction, you decided to keep this relationship hidden. When Ona was still in Manchester, it wasn’t too complicated. You talked a lot by messages or by Facetime and since the Federation used to always make the same pairs for hotel rooms, you took the opportunity to find yourself at those times.

You were afraid that Ona’s arrival in Barcelona would change things, but not at all. The beautiful brunette took an apartment five minutes walk from yours, finding you the excuse to carpool very often. Nobody suspected that if you came together sometimes, it was because you spent the night together. In truth, since Ona is in the same city as you are, you have trouble spending time away from her.

"Holà" Ona mumble before turning in her back to stretch her body.

Her movement brings down the sheet on her body and you don't hesitate to let your eyes slide on her. When you go up to her eyes, she arched an amused eyebrow and you offer her a guilty smile.

"Don’t start like this, or we will never get there on time"

"I’m not even sorry"

You give her an angelic smile that makes her laugh and you get closer to her to curl up against her, your head on her chest. The regular beating of her heart makes you doze again, unless it's her nails that massage your skull. You hums and close your eyes, getting yourself comfortable.

"Do you have anything to do today? After training?"

"Pina is planning to kidnapp me to go shopping"

You roll your eyes as Ona giggle. You hate shopping. You hate looking for something for hours, only to realize that what you liked is no longer available in the right size. You hate people in stores who go half crazy and having to lug a dozen bags to your parked car 20 minutes walk away makes you want to kill someone.

"And you?"

"Nothing, maybe I'll go see my parents"

You hums one more time and begin to stroke Ona's arm. This is maybe your favorite part of her body, you have a thing with her arms and hands. You both stay like this for twenty minutes, before you need to prepare yourself for training. Like many other times, you arrive together in the car park and go together to the changing rooms. But, in order not to draw the attention of your teammates to your relationship, you and Ona decided to spend as much time together visually as with others. Because outside of FC Barcelona, it’s clear that Ona is the one you spend the most time with.

********

Celebrating a team victory at a local bar, you find yourself stuck between Mapi and Lucy. Usually you refuse this kind of party, knowing that Patri is there almost every time. And besides, Ona has a reputation for leaving early, so she can discreetly join you at home without it appearing strange. The only time you left one of these parties together, you were surprised by Alexia while you were kissing in Ona’s car, unable to keep your hands to yourself after restricting yourself all evening. The blond was looking for you to give you back the jacket you had forgotten.

This makes her the only person who knows about your relationship and she promised not to get involved, even though she advised you to talk to Patri before she found out for herself.

You were drinking alcohol-free cocktail, not wanting to have a headache tomorrow morning.

"I'm booooored" Mapi whines, letting herself go of the backrest. "I need an occupation. Why don’t we find you someone, Mini-Guijarro?"

You grimace at the nickname you hate, seeing Ona tense on her chair a few meters from you. Not wanting to be the second Guijarro, you actually go with your first name on your jersey for example.

"Go dancing with your girlfriend, you dork" you answer smiling at Mapi, sipping your drink.

"Are you annoying my little sister?" Patri ask sitting on the free chair in front of you. "That’s one thing I have reserved for myself, you know?"

Mapi laugh as you roll your eyes. The blonde sits more upright and leans on the table explaining her action plan to Patri.

"I thought we could find someone for your sister."

"Are you joking? She’s a baby" Patri replies coldly, killing the fun.

"What are you talking about? She’s not a 12 years old anymore"

Your frown and take a quick look at Ona. She's looking at you too, but like some other girl around your table. Mapi had raised an eyebrow and Patri was about to respond to her before Lucy does it first.

"Why don’t you stop talking about her like she’s not here?"

Both decided not to add anything, at least for the first few seconds. This gives you time to shoot a look and a smile to thanks Lucy, who answers you with a wink.

It’s exactly for this kind of thing that you never talked about your relationship with Ona to Patri and for which you never talked about your love life with her. She knows you have a preference for women, but that’s all. She never even knew the name of one of your girlfriends. Not that you’ve had dozens, but still.

"Do you know she’s a footballer and not a nun, at least?"

Mapi comes back, getting your sister’s attention and you sigh.

"What do you mean?"

Looking kind of angry, Patri crossed her arms on her chest and looks at Mapi with a bad air. Mapi seems determined to change her mind and let you have a sentimental life, perhaps imagining that Patri’s opinion has already prevented you from doing something.

"She’s young, pretty hot and I’m sure that if she wanted to she’d walk out of here with several phone numbers."

"Just because you used to sleep around at the time doesn’t mean everyone does. And don't go there or I'm sure Ingrid would love to learn that you call one of your common friend hot."

Mapi’s amused look becomes a black stare and you decide that the line had been crossed. You get up from your seat, glaring at your sister, raising your voice maybe a little too much than you hopped.

"Enough. Can you stop two minutes of disrespecting people, Patri? I do what I want, when I want, with whom I want. It's not for you to say what is good for me, as if you were interested enough in me for that, other than to remind me all the time that you do everything better than me. You’re just so pathetic. Leave me the fuck alone."

Moving away from the table, you realize that Ona is no longer in her seat but you find her leaning on the bar, in the company of others of your teammates. Going through the dance floor, you intercept Ingrid and advise her to go and get her girlfriend before her and your sister kill each other. Then you finally join the bar and settle down next to Ona.

You meddle in the discussion a few minutes before discreetly shifting your attention to Ona. Your hand found her fingers under the bar and you clenched them discreetly to draw her attention to you.

"Are you okay?" you ask her gently.

"Yeah. The comment about your sentimental possibilities was a little too much"

You make a grimace, frustrated not to be able to take her in your arms to reassure her properly. You stay immersed in her eyes for a few more moments and you realize that you no longer want to stay. You want to go home, your sister’s behavior has greatly annoyed you and you want to talk about it to Ona, too.

"As soon as someone leave, we're leaving too" you decide.

Ona nods and she had the time to finish her drink before Lucy and Aitana decided to leave. You jump at the chance and tell the others that you’re coming home too, followed by Ona. The four of you go out after saying your goodbyes, yourself carefully avoided your sister’s gaze, and it is with great relief that you breathe fresh air from the outside. Ona and you said goodbye to the two others women and went to your car.

"My sister is the dumbest person on earth" you groan angrily, barely the door of the car closed behind you.

Ona smiled sympathetically, but said nothing. She didn’t want to add fuel to the fire, knowing how tense your relationship with Patri has been since you were little. It’s not the first time you’ve complained about it and you’ve already told her a lot. But the way she’s behaving with you makes you half crazy, not to mention she’s even starting to talk badly to your mutual friends now. Mapi and Patri being apparently still in the bar when you left, you imagined that Ingrid’s intervention must have been saving the night.

You relax a little when you feel Ona’s hand on yours. She searches for some seconds on her phone a playlist that will suit you both and the rest of the trip is done in silence. You obviously notice that your girlfriend is also lost in her thoughts, but you prefer to wait until you are at home to question her.

When you arrive home, you both go to the kitchen to drink a glass of water before making a jump in the bathroom to shower before returning to your bedroom. There, you draw Ona against you and you let a new silence settle. You shiver when you feel her draw random shapes on the skin of your belly and even if the feeling is more than pleasant, you decide to attract her attention by raising her chin in your direction.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"I was just wondering what would happen the day Patri heard about us" Ona said, shrugging.

"You saw what she said earlier, it’s clear that she will take it badly."

You sigh and gently shake your head. She’s your sister, she’s supposed to want your happiness, right?

"Yes, that’s, okay. But us?"

"I don’t understand your question Hermosa"

Eyebrows slightly gathered, you watch Ona sit on your lap and you automatically place your hands on her thighs.

"I’m going to ask you the most selfish question in the world." Ona looks embarrassed, but you smile at her and beckon to continue. "If she tells you to stop our relationship, what would you do?"

The answer seems obvious to you, but you quickly realize that in Ona’s mind this is not necessarily the case. Perhaps it comes from the fact that his parents and brother have never behaved in a way other than that of a loving and supportive family.

"I'm not going to listen Ona, obviously. This option isn't even a possibility."

"Really?"

"Really."

With this you smile and draw her against you again to put your lips on hers. The shyness displayed on your girlfriend’s face squeezes your heart and you resent Patri a little more to impose this kind of doubts. During the kiss your hand is placed on her cheek and you caress her tenderly with your thumb when you speak again.

"I don’t want to lose you, Ona"

"Me neither, Princesa"

********

The next morning, it’s with a better mood that you wake up. When you look at your phone, you realize that your sister tried to call you last night, but you decide to ignore this information for now. You put on an underwear and a t-shirt of Ona, trying not to make any noise and not to wake up the pretty brunette who still sleeps peacefully. You know she usually wakes up quickly once you’re out of bed, but you still have hope that you can make her breakfast before she joins you.

You rummage through your kitchen, realizing it might be time to go shopping, but you end up finding everything you need. The avocado toasts are ready and you were finishing your scrambled eggs when Ona startles you by jumping on your back. The cry you utter is far from advantageous to you, but you cannot hold back your smile when you hear Ona’s laughters.

"Don’t scare me like that!"

"Sorry" she laughs again before putting a kiss on your cheek and coming down from your back.

You cast an amused glance at her before turning in her direction with a plate in each hand.

"Mrs’s breakfast is served"

"It’s Miss until I’m married, thank you" she smirks, taking her plate from your hand.

"Watch out, Batlle."

She stick out her tongue at you and you roll your eyes before following her on the sofa in the living room, where you have the habit of having breakfast, with a music channel on. The discussion between you two is easy and playful, plans to go to the beach being even made since you have the day off. As a local, Ona knows exactly where to go to avoid the world. And doing a little road has never been disturbing for you. You love your trips with your cars, make with laughter and songs of your adolescence shouted out loud.

Your plates and glasses finished, you turn to Ona.

"Have you eaten enough?"

You ask while looking at her, lazily stretching. The dishes will wait a little while before being made.

"Not really" said Ona in a dreamy way. "I think I wouldn’t mind a dessert"

You barely have time to realize what she means that she jumps on you (literally) and you find yourself lying all along on the couch, your hands stuck in Ona’s above your head.

"Oh. This kind of dessert" you laugh, although your laugh get stuck in your throat when you feel her lying on you to deposit open-mouth kisses in the hollow of your neck.

She knows exactly what to do and you feel waves of shivers and heat running through your entire body. You lose your feet when you feel her add bites to her kisses, not enough to leave marks, but enough to set your skin on fire.

You finally manage to free your hands and this manage to satisfy your need to feel Ona’s skin on yours. The t-shirt she was wearing found itself carelessly thrown on the ground somewhere, soon followed by yours. The warmth of her body against your skin gives you incredible sensations and you let her body slide between your legs to feel her even closer to you. Grabbing her head with both of your hands, you kiss her, trying to show her all the emotions she makes you feel. Judging by the moan she lets out, it must be pretty convincing.

Your living room being the first thing visible once the front door of your apartment is passed, it would have been almost impossible to try to hide somewhere. You know you would have tried anyway if you had realized earlier that your front door was opening. Yet you and Ona just have time to turn your heads to find out that the intruder is no one but your sister. To whom you had the stupidity to give the double of your keys, on the insistence of your mother.

Your first reflex is to roll Ona behind you and sit in front of her to hide her nakedness, not particularly wanting your sister to see your girlfriend like that.

"What are you doing here?" you ask.

The number of times Patri has set foot here is counted on the fingers of the hand. That she passed without even taking the time to warn you is surprising, but the one who is the most surprised of the three is probably Patri herself. Wide-eyed, she seems about to drop the paper bag with the logo of the local bakery.

You take advantage of her shock to pick up your t-shirts and get dressed and that’s where Patri restarts. You even wonderif she realized in the first instance that the person with whom you were exchanging a kiss qualified Pegi 18 was actually Ona.

"What the fuck is going on here?!"

She’s angry, of course. The bag of the bakery is thrown on a piece of furniture and when you hear her raise your voice, you get up from the sofa to be at her height. By an alignment of the stars you are taller than her by a few centimeters and you thank the nature of this gift, knowing how impressive Patri can be when she's angry.

"Don’t yell at me, you’re at my house, not yours"

"Shut up! You’re so stupid. Just to stand up to me about last night you had to take someone home? And one of our other teammates?"

The statement is so unexpected that you find yourself speechless for a few seconds. You never imagined for a second that your sister would think that you and Ona were just a one-night stand. But it's especially the fact that she imagines that it turns once again around her that annoys you.

"Out of all the girls in the bar you chose Ona? How can you be so immature?"

"And I'm the immature one now"

You’re laughing, nervously of course. You are so angry that you feel your hands shake, but you manage to keep a certain degree of calm when you feel Ona gently settling her arm on you. Over your shoulder, you look at her. You would have preferred to announce your relationship to your sister in better conditions, but since we were there…

However, it's Patri who speaks before you, speaking directly to Ona.

"What about you? Are you crazy or what? My little sister? Let go of her Ona or I swear that you will regret it"

Yeah, you know you’re not doing the right thing either. But the tone she speaks to the woman you love is even worse than the one she spoke to Mapi last night. And that’s all it takes to get you started.

"Don't you dare talk to her like that" you said to her sharply while bypassing the coffee table to face her.

"I came to apologize for speaking badly to you last night, but I would have been better off getting hit by a car apparently"

She keeps screaming and it starts to get on your nerves.

"This idea is tempting to me" you spit

You try to maintain your anger by talking to her coldly, teeth clenched. You feel Ona moving behind you, standing without really knowing what to do. Her presence, however, allows you to realize that it would be better to continue to try to explain yourself rather than respond to Patri’s provocations. So you take a deep breath before speaking again.

"Look, listen to me. It's not what it look like, I k-"

"Yeah, like you two weren't about to fuck on your couch."

Two seconds of astonished silence followed her sarcasm, while you realized that you correctly understood what she just said. And, so suddenly that neither Ona nor Patri had time to realize what was happening, you grab your sister by the collar of her t-shirt to get her out of your house.

"Get. Out."

You raised your voice too and push her out of your apartment with all your strength. You slam the door in her head, then grab her damn bag of croissant, open the door again to throw it in her face and slam it one more time. The neighbors will be happy.

********

Lying on the couch in Ona’s apartment after an intense workout, you’re both watching your new passion series on Netflix. You haven’t looked at your sister or spoken to her for more than a week now and you still as mad at her. You and Ona informed Alexia of the turn of events and after a long discussion with her, you decided to gradually let your teammates know about your relationship.

Most were surprised to learn this, but after seeing the different pieces of the puzzle put together, it didn't seem improbable to them. For her part, Lucy laughed, saying that she already knew and that you were not very discreet when it came to ogling the other. And Mapi slapped you in the back, certifying that you had very good taste. It made you roll your eyes and laughed Ona, but overall you are rather relieved of everyone’s reactions. Even management and the team committee were briefed and made no comments.

There was only Patri.

"I knew he was cheating on her. What a son of a bitch" grumbles Ona, eyes fixing on the screen while lying against you.

You smile and slide your lips into her hair while shifting your attention to the screen. Despite your respective fears, Patri’s behavior didn't distance you, quite the contrary. Your way of doing things hasn't changed during training or matches, both wishing to keep a distance between your professional life and your personal life.

"Language, young lady" you sing before kissing her scalp again.

You are interrupted in your viewing by your phone which starts to vibrate on the coffee table, attracting your attention. You decided not to answer, before the name of the person trying to reach you appeared. "Papi". You frown, extending your arm to grab your phone. Your dad’s not one to call, just texting with dozens of emoji every text.

After putting the episode on Pause, Ona turns on you so that she is lying on her stomach to be able to look at you. Your concern must be seen since she's also frowning.

"Holà?"

"Holà mija" your father calmly answers you, as if you were calling each other every night.

"What's happening?" you asks, not wanting to lose time.

"Nothing, I just wanted to hear you. It's been a while."

"Do I have to remind you who I got my poor lying qualities from?" you ask while bowing an eyebrow.

At the other end of the line, your father laughs softly and this makes you smile despite everything. Always a little lost, Ona questions you with a look. Unable to give her additional information at the moment, you shrug and replace tenderly one of the strands of her bun.

"Maybe, but you have your football skills from me"

"Sure. So, what's up?"

"Well... Patri called."

"Oh."

Here we are. You roll your eyes and put your phone on speakers, allowing your girlfriend to listen to the conversation. After all, she was as involved in the story as you.

"What did Lady Patri say?"

"She said that you had a fight about a random girl and that you threw her out of your apartment. And that since this day you weren't talking to her."

"Ona isn't a random girl for fuck's sake. She's my girlfriend!"

"Language young lady!"

Hearing your father take you back as you did previously almost make laugh Ona and she hides her face in your belly. It’s time for you to keep your seriousness and you bite your lip before resuming more calmly.

"She showed up at my apartment without telling me, even if we had a fight the night before and found me with Ona."

Needless to say what you were doing.

"She started yelling at me and calling me immature and she spoke to her badly, I wasn’t going to throw flowers at her anyway, was I?"

"No."

Your father’s silence lasts a few seconds and you imagine him perfectly thinking while rubbing his chin. No wonder he called you, your mother has always sided with Patri over the years. Your father is different, being the youngest of four boys, he suffered during his childhood with his big brothers. He understands perfectly your point of view and your feelings regarding Patri and her way of wanting to manage your life.

"So you have a girlfriend?"

"Yes"

Ona look back at you and you smirk, wrapping a strand of her hair around your finger.

"Since when are you both together?"

"Since the Euro, when we lost against England."

"So it's quiet serious then"

"It is Papi. I didn't want to talk about it to Patri though it's like she doesn't want me to be happy."

"I wouldn't say that, Muñeca."

You shrugs and another silence passed.

"When you say Ona, it's for Ona Batlle, verdad?"

You hums, still playing with Ona's hair.

"Oh that's good. I met her dad last summer in Australia, did you know he likes to go mushroom too?"

"I’m so glad to know you’ve got something in common with my stepfather, Papi" you laugh with Ona.

"Have you ever met him and her wife officially? I hope you made a good impression on them"

You roll your eyes one more time before giving him your answer, Ona chuckle a little before laying down on you. You relieved about this conversation, even if Patri has once again interfered in your life by mentioning your couple to your parents before doing it yourself. Your father doesn’t seem against your relationship, and he more or less informed you that your mother didn’t either. As for your other brothers and sisters, they don’t seem to care much, but that doesn’t surprise you. They were never for gossip.

********

"Can I have my kiss now?"

Smiling, you were chasing Ona along the corridors of the stadium where you train. The rain having invited itself to the party, the training ground quickly turned into fields of mud, and after a training match you found yourself thrown to the ground following a tackle of your girlfriend. That explains why your body is covered in dirt, mud and grass.

"No!" Ona laughs at you as you try to draw her against you by grabbing her by the bottom of her shirt.

She manages to escape you and starts running. Having been assigned to store the equipment, you are the last to join the changing rooms. All the others rushed to enjoy a good hot shower.

"Come on baby, at least a lovely cuddle?"

"Y/N get of of me!"

Ona isn't really running, if she wanted to escape you it would have been a long time before she would have lost you. Her speed is no longer a secret to anyone. Ona was still laughing and you grin, feeling her slap you on your hand so you drop the piece of her cloth.

"Why? It’s your fault if I’m in this state anyway"

You end up grabbing your girlfriend’s arm and pulling her against you to kiss her tenderly. Willingly letting it happen, Ona puts her arms around your neck and responds to your kiss. Knowing that no one will bother you, you gently wedge her between the wall and you. You didn’t think it could be cold and when you feel her take off quickly and shiver, you laugh softly.

"Sorry" you smile mischievously.

"More kissed and you’ll be forgiven" she whispers against your lips

You oblige easily at her request, putting your lips on hers again. Only to be interrupted by an embarrassed cough. Turning your face in the source of the sound, you discover your sister. Sighing, you take off a little of Ona, without releasing her completely.

"This is the second time, Patri. What do you want?"

"Mom would like to know if you are coming back to Palma this weekend" Patri whispers without looking at you.

You glance at Ona who is also looking at you, before answering her. The team you had to face this weekend cannot receive you because of administrative problems, the game was moved later during the season. You usually go home to your parents when you have a whole free weekend. Except this time, Ona's family invited you for Ona’s mother’s birthday and there’s no way you’re not going.

"I have already said no. Ona and I already have plans."

Patri plays nervously with her fingers before answering you. You don’t know what your mother said to her, but she seems determined to try and patch things up between you.

"Look, if it’s because of our argument…"

"Oh my God Patricia… you never learn from your mistakes?"

"What?"

She look at you, confused, and you sigh. You don't really want to talk to her, but you know that she will never let it go if you don't explain yourself.

"Not everything is about you! I can't go because we're going at Ona's Mom's birthday. Mama already knows that, are you both saying that I'm a liar now?"

"No, of course not."

"So, end of the conversation."

Without any word, you grab Ona by the hand and drag her with you in the locker room. You really need to take this shower now and forget about the interaction you just had with your sister.

********

"Are you thinking about making up with your sister or not?"

Another day, another match and you find yourself in a four-man position with Ona, Alexia and Salma. If Salma plugged in her headphones and listened to music, Ona fell asleep on your knees, leaving only you and Alexia awake for the moment.

"What do you mean?" you ask your captain curiously.

"I know you’ve never been best friends in the world, but she’s still your sister. When my father passed away, my sister and mother were my biggest support and I wouldn’t be where I am now without them."

You bite your lip thoughtfully. You have already met Alba several times and you appreciate her, she is a cheerful and devoted person to Alexia. Proud of her older sister, she doesn't mask her admiration. But what struck you every time was the way Alexia put her little sister on a pedestal. No jealousy, no unhealthy competitiveness.

"The relationship I have with Patri has nothing to do with the one you have with Alba" you point out gently.

"She's still your sister. And I know she's not perfect, but she's really trying to make the things better between you two."

You shrug your shoulders and shift your attention to the window. The train journey is long today, the opposing team being located in the north, you have almost the whole country to cross.

"If she comes to apologize, I might think about it again" you end up answering by glancing at Ona, peacefully asleep. "And not just at me."

Alexia nods with a satisfied little smile. She seems sure it’s going to happen, you’re much less so. You’ve never heard your sister apologize to anyone since she was 10, when your parents stopped asking her to apologize when something was wrong.

********

It didn’t take long for Patri to approach you and attempt reconciliation. The discussion you had with Alexia made you think a little, realizing that you may have been a little too closed to the discussion with your older sister. But you’re still hoping she’ll apologize to you first, before you tell her that maybe she was a little too cold.

You talked to Ona about it, of course. After you arrived at the hotel, you had a few hours to settle in and immediately raised the subject with your girlfriend. The latina, lulled by the love of her older brother from a young age, is obviously not against a reconciliation with Patri. She was never even angry with her, rather sad to see you tear yourself apart in this way. The catalan is definitely for family peace.

After your game, as you walk around the stadium to thank your fans and take some pictures with Lucy, you see your sister sneaking up on you, making sure she’s far enough away from the audience to talk to you.

"Would you like to come drink something with me afterwards? At the hotel restaurant?"

Surprise, you hesitate a split second by biting your lip. But when you see that Patri is about to beg you to accept, you end up nodding with a simple nod.

It’s a little nervous that you come down from your hotel room to find Patri after Ona kissed you tenderly, telling you that she is sure that everything will be fine. For your part, you just hope that no scream will ring between you two.

When you arrive, Patri is already there and beckons you to join her, which you finish by approaching with a face as relaxed as possible. You barely have time to sit down when someone come to take your order and after ordering a Coke Zero you shift your attention to your sister.

"I’m not sure where to start" Patri said, frowning.

"Maybe because of what made you ask me to come here?" you answer with a shrug.

"I don’t want to fight anymore. I know we never got along perfectly well, but it’s never been so strong"

You nod and bite your lip thoughtfully. You have to take it upon yourself to choose the right words and not provoke an argument. Because deep down, you also want things to relax with her. As Alexia said, she’s still your big sister and the same blood is in your veins.

"I’m sorry I reacted the way I did about your relationship with Ona"

You look up at her, waiting for the rest. There’s so much to discuss that you actually don’t know where to start either.

"Like you said, my first reaction was stupid and realizing that you hid your relationship for over a year because of me… First I was hurt and then I realized how stupid I was. All I wanted to do was protect you."

"I’m not three anymore, Patri. And even back then I was pissed that you wouldn’t let me do the big swing, just so you know."

A slight smile appears on your face and it is also born on the face of Patri when she realizes that you make a small touch of humor.

"I chose the wrong way. I’m sorry."

You nod again, sincerely happy to hear these words coming out of your big sister’s mouth. It's certainly time for you to tell her what you think about your behavior.

"I certainly didn’t react in the right way either. But seeing you intervene in my life regularly took away a little more patience each time. And the story with Ona was really the one thing too many, and you talked to her so bad that it drives me crazy."

"I can understand. I'll talk to her to."

Patri’s simple answer suits you once again and you relax a little, letting yourself go against the back of your chair. The night has long since fallen outside and you feel tired of the training and the match of earlier, during which you played the entire time.

"So... You and Ona, it's serious?"

You shift your attention once again to her, taking a few seconds to ensure the substance of the question before answering her.

"I’m in love with her, Patri. We managed to be close to each other when she was in Manchester but since she’s in Barcelona it’s even stronger. She’s just… I don’t know. I just know it’s her."

Patri smiled and nodded gently, before changing the subject of conversation. After about thirty minutes, without having exchanged any argument, you decide to go back to your respective rooms. You are surprised by the hug she offers you before entering her room, but you answer it nevertheless gladly.

When you arrive in your room, Ona is waiting for you, sitting at the edge of her bed. Well, one of the two beds you have glued so that you can sleep together without taking the risk of falling. Even if you always end up in each other’s arms, it remains more comfortable.

"How did it go?" asks you immediately the Catalan, her head tilted to the side to be able to better observe you.

"Good" you just answer, hoping your smile speaks for itself.

After closing the door, you approach her and sit by her side. It doesn’t take her long to grab your hand in hers and intertwine your fingers. Talking to Patri about your feelings for Ona made you realize or recall how much you love her. And how lucky you are to have her by your side. Ona is perfect for you and you love everything about her.

"What did you talk about?"

Ona’s curiosity makes you smile, but you respond willingly. After all, you never hid anything from her and you always had full and blind trust in her. That is not going to change today.

"About our childhood, the different way we see things…"

You shrug your shoulders, trying to pick up the conversation you had. It was intense but clearly necessary. You really hope that everything would be better since now.

"And about us, too" you add with a small smile.

"What did you tell her?"

"That I’m crazy about you"

Your smile gets bigger when you see Ona blushing. She also smiles and you don't waist time to break the distance between your two faces to put a kiss on her lips. It's the pure truth, even if you have never had the opportunity to reveal to her the strength of your feelings for her with simple words. You always felt like they weren’t strong enough to express how you feel about her.

"Well I hope you told her that I'm crazy about you too?" Ona smirks after the kiss.

"You can tell her later. She want to excuse herself to you too"

Ona nods, distracted by your fingers running along her hips. You didn't let her answer anything else, kissing softly her jaw and her neck, determined to celebrate your victory with her and your possible reconciliation with Patri.

********

2 Years Later

"Oh my God Patri, get out!"

A pillow flies through the room and you hear your sister laughing before she quickly closes the door. You don’t know what kind of power it is, but your sister always manages to interrupt you and Ona when things start to get interesting.

Realizing that the atmosphere is dead, you sigh and roll on your back while you were previously lying on Ona for an intense making-out session. Returning to Palma de Mallorca, to your parents for your brother’s birthday, you naturally took Ona with you. Your father loves her and your Mother seems to like her too. The bond between your families is also very good, your fathers having both quickly clicked on the many points they have in common.

"Next time we take a hotel room" you nag, making Ona laugh softly.

Smiling despite yourself, you gently lower her t-shirt that you had raised on her stomach before looking at her when she rolls on her side.

"Or we could take a small apartment here. I really like this place and if we want to change from Barcelona some days we would just jump on the plane. Not even an hour and we’re here."

"Why not" you smile softly.

She smiles back at you when you stroke her face tenderly, drawing imaginary features between her freckles. More than three years have passed and you will never get tired of her. The little box containing the ring you planned to propose to her with tonight is neatly hidden in one of your pairs of socks and you’ve actually booked a room in a local palace for the night. It's indeed out of question to celebrate your engagement in your parents' house, with your sister’s weasel or your nephews and nieces ready to land at any time in your childhood room.

"Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?" you innocently ask Ona.

"I’d go anywhere with you" smiled Ona and you kissed her one last time before you got out of bed.

You discreetly take the box and the ring, sliding it in the pocket of your jeans before joining Ona who awaits you in the corridor.

"I forgot my phone" you’re just answering her questioning look.

You take a look at it and Patri’s message informs you that everything is in place. She’s supposed to take your proposal in photo and video, so that you have a memory of that moment. All Ona has to say is yes. Despite your stress, you know her answer will be positive.

Walking hand in hand, you got lost in your thoughts and Ona is quiet too. But a glance at her informs you that she is smiling and relaxed. Her gaze on the sea returns to you and she addresses you an interrogative glance.

"Are you all right?"

You just nod with a smile, busy remembering the speech you prepared. Despite your certainty, you feel that anxiety is gaining ground and you are happy to see that the place you have designated to Patri is finally there.

"Actually, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about" you start, interrupting your walk.

In the distance, hidden behind a rock, Patri draws her camera when she sees you stop. The video is already on and your big sister is as stressed as you. If she misses what you asked her to do, she could be banned from marriage.

It's with a tender smile that Patri watches the questioning read on Ona’s face, followed by tenderness when you make your statement to her and surprise when she sees you kneeling, the famous ring presented in its case. The following photos contain the moment when you pass the ring on her finger, the one where the latin jumps at your neck and the last is that of your first kiss as fiancées.

Ona said yes, of course.

Because You and Her are forever.

[trippinsorrows]

give me a reason + two

authors note: wow! so humbled by people's interest in this one! forgot to mention that i'll be playing around with joe's career, in terms of the timeline and whatnot.

also, if ya'll ever watched the bernie mac show, i was very much inspired in one section by that scene where vanessa and them was doing that car wash at bernie's house lmaooo

in addition (last point, i swear lmao), i can do faceclaims for the character, mainly mariella's family. if ya'll want. i know some people prefer to visualize for themselves. just lmk.

i don't own any lyrics used.

previous chapter

words: 7k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: language, fluff, some angst, blink and you'll miss it sexy time.

Spring, 2005

Spring break.

The time looked forward to by most students, especially college students, who are granted a free week to get into all kinds of trouble, mischief and then return to campus like nothing ever happened. 

Joe and Byron can’t deny that they’ve definitely had their fair share of that the first part of college, but now with two years under their belts and only two years left to go, they’re focused on having killer seasons and landing their dreams of going into the NFL.

It’s why when coach decides to give the players a break, canceling all practices during said break, there’s not even an initial question about what they should do with their time.

Home.

They’re going home.

Because while being away is nice at times, there’s absolutely no place like home and being surrounded by the people you love the most.

Byron glances at Joe who’s looking down at his phone. “You gonna see Brianna while we in town?”

Joe looks up. He can’t say he hasn’t thought about it. Brianna, Joe’s last high school girlfriend, was inarguably the easiest of all the girls he’s ever dated. And if not for him not wanting to be tied down while away at college, he would have tried to make it work. 

“I don’t know,” he answers, truthfully. “We’ll see.”

“Well, I’m definitely hitting up Tamia. Heard she and ole’ dude broke up.”

Joe shakes his head. Tamia has been Byron’s on and off girlfriend since freaking middle school. They date, break up, date other people, break up with said other people and start right back over. Truthfully, Joe can see Tamia being the one for Byron considering how long they’ve been in this little cycle. 

“Just make sure you’re safe, man.”

Byron looks like he’s just been told to make sure he wears a seatbelt. “Always, bro. You know me.”

Joe knows him alright. Knows he can be reckless at times. And with so much at stake in the next upcoming two years, they can’t afford to be reckless. 

“I do. That’s why I’m saying it.”

“Man….” Joe laughs at Byron’s dismissal. “What do we have here?” Joe turns his attention to where Byron has set his gaze only to quickly scowl with disgust. “Ugh, they in high school.”

Joe is also instantly repulsed. “That’s fucking gross.” 

Byron shakes in his seat, as if trying to shake the disgust off himself when he sees something. “Wait a minute…” Joe again tries to see what’s triggered the exclamation of irritation. “Oh hell no.”

“What are you—what the hell!” Joe shouts out as Byron suddenly swerves into the next turn lane, barely missing hitting a car. “The fuck are you doing, man!”

“That’s Ella out there!” He answers, speeding near the station where a bunch of high school girls are operating a car wash, trying to raise money for who knows what. 

At the mention of Ri, Joe’s attention is snatched. “What?” He’s looking around as Byron looks to quickly park the truck, clearly eager to get out. Joe doesn’t see her just yet. It’s not until they’re parked and out of the car that his eyes land on her.

Her smile is the first thing he notices. She’s laughing. Not surprising. For as long as he’s known her, which has been his whole life essentially, she’s always the one in the group to make everyone laugh.

Usually from her klutziness. 

It’s never a dull moment with Mariella Holmes. 

Moving closer, he can see that it’s definitely Ri, and she’s giggling along with the other girls, dancing to what he recognizes is Black Eyed Peas latest song, “My Humps.”

It’s that realization that helps Joe understand why Byron is so annoyed.

The dancing could be seen as a bit provocative.

“Ella!”

Her head snaps up at Byron’s voice, easily landing on him. Joe watches her mouth drop open in shock before she shouts, “BJ!”

Dropping the soapy rag in the bucket, she’s nearly sprinting over to the two of them, tackling Byron with a hug first. “What are you doing here?”

It’s when she steps back that she moves over to him. She smirks, crossing her arms. “Should have known you wouldn’t turn down a chance to come see me.”

Joe laughs, pulling her in for a hug. “Never.”

“What am I doing here?” Byron cuts in, angrily gesturing to her. “What are you doing out here dressed like this?”

She looks down at her outfit, frowning. Joe does the same. It’s a bathing suit top with jean shorts and flip flops. What’s so bad about that?

And she expresses as such.

“Ummm, the dance team is having a car wash. We’re trying to raise money for travel costs this season.”

This doesn’t seem acceptable to Byron as he asks, “well, you ain’t having nothing else to wear? All exposed and everything.”

That’s when she rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so annoying.” 

He starts to pull his shirt off when even Joe chimes in, “dude, come on.”

“She’s half naked!”

“I’m wearing a bathing suit, BJ.” Mariella says it like he’s slow. Like he was on the short bus. “I know you’ve been away at school, so you haven’t been around as much, but I have boobs now—”

At that, both Joe and Byron turn up their nose. The last thing they need is that type of visual.

She continues, gesturing to her body. “I hit puberty, and allll the areas started filling out. It happens!”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Byron covers his mouth. “I don’t give a damn. You’re sixteen, not twenty-one.”

She gives a sly smile. “That’s not what my fake ID says.”

Joe catches her gaze, seeing that she’s just messing with him. It makes him laugh. 

“Your what? Girl, you done lost your damn mind.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Relax, BJ. You know I can’t get a fake ID. My dumbass would feel too bad and turn myself in.”

“That’s true,” Joe chimes, and she glares, reaching over to hit him. She starts to say something, only for her eyes to go wide. “What’s wrong?”

She says nothing, just awkwardly shifting her weight from one leg to another. He starts to ask again when a new voice joins the conversation. 

“Hey, babe.”

Byron jumps to a new level of annoyance. “Babe?” He and Joe watch as some scrawny looking little boy, who’s really not that scrawny in actuality but looks it compared to Byron and Joe, walks up to Mariella, kissing her. 

Byron looks like he’s about to have a stroke. He asks with all the smoke. “Who the hell are you?” 

Scrawny scoffs and has the audacity to throw the question back at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh my god.” Mariella murmurs, slapping her hand against her forehead. “BJ, this is my boyfriend, Derrick—”

Mariella having a boyfriend makes sense to Joe. She’s 16 now. Why wouldn’t she be dating? It’s normal and expected. 

If only Byron saw it that way. “Boyfriend? Since when do you have a boy—”

“Derrick, this is my brother, BJ or Byron, and basically like my non-blood brother, Joe.”

Scrawny AKA Derrick looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Oh shit, my bad—”

If only he knew that Byron doesn’t forgive nor does he forget when it comes to his little sisters, especially Mariella. 

He steps toward the shorter young man. “Naw. You bad. You wanted to know who the hell I was, so let me tell you, I’m the nigga that’s gon fuck you up if you ever—”

“Byron!” Mariella is now fuming, grabbing him by his arm as she tugs him in a different direction. “Give us a couple minutes.” She flashes a sweet smile at Derrick and a pleading expression to Joe for him to also be nice.

Joe waits until they’re out of hearing distance. He then slaps Derrick on the arm. “Don’t take it personally. That’s just Byron. He’s always been a hothead.”

Derrick gives a nervous laugh, showing off braces that Joe didn’t notice before. He refrains from frowning. Ri could definitely do better than this dweeb. “You like Ri?”

Derrick shrugs, offering an unimpressive. “She’s alright.”

And that’s all Joe needs to hear to know what this kid is really about. Stepping toward him, he keeps his voice leveled and expression ice cold. “Do anything to hurt her, and you won’t have to worry about Byron.” He gives a steel smile. “I’m the one you’ll never see coming.”

———-

Present 

Post-traumatic amnesia (PTA) 

Or some milder form of it. 

Amnesia, at the very least.

That’s what Dr. Reynolds says is the cause of Mari’s complete loss of memory. A result of the head trauma she received from the accident. A prognosis that somehow feels almost worse than the coma, at least to Joe.

Because for the life of him, he doesn’t know how to look at the woman he’s known his entire life, and have her look back at him like he’s a stranger, like she has no idea who he is. 

Because she doesn’t have any idea who he is.

As devastating as that blow is, he knows it hits harder for her parents. April nearly collapsed in Byron Sr’s arms as Dr. Reynolds informed them of Mari’s memory loss.

She was in tears, desperately asking, “but—but she’ll get them back, right, doctor?”

And Joe only has to glance at the doctor, the way his lips press together before he informs sympathetically, “we don’t know. Some patients do eventually retrieve their memories. Others….others never do.”

Joe can’t even allow himself to think of the latter option. 

A couple days post coma, he knocks on her door, seeing she’s alone, her parents most likely grabbing food or something.

She glances at the door offering a small smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. It’s insincere, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that either, because one of the things he’s always loved about her has always been her smile. So big and infectious. Just like her personality. 

“Hey.” There’s nothing big and infectious about her almost unsure tone. 

“Hey.” He doesn’t wait for her to welcome him in, just walks in, taking the seat on the side of her bed. “How you feeling?”

She gives a one sided shrug. He notices the cuts and bruising on her face have gone down tremendously. That's a plus in a situation full of minuses. “Don’t know.” After obviously thinking about the question more, she offers a more descriptive answer. “Very...confused.”

“About?” He then adds. “Maybe I can clear it up for you.”

“I don’t know. It’s….it’s mostly about who I am.” He could definitely answer that one for her. She shakes her head, providing an example. “Like, I’m apparently this big singer, but I can’t even think about singing right now. It doesn’t—it doesn’t even feel like me.” She chuckles bitterly. “Not that I know who me is.”

“You love music. Always have. And you’re good at it. Singing. Writing. Producing. Dancing. All of it.” She looks over at him as he says with all the honesty and sincerity, “there’s nothing, creatively, you can’t do.”

Mariella nods, as if taking in the information to analyze later on. “What about you?” She asks. “What do you do?”

A lot of things. A lot of things he now regrets deeply. But, that’s not her question. “Professional wrestler.” He starts to say WWE to see if she knows what that is, but that isn’t important. Shit about him isn’t the priority. 

Mariella looks him over, nodding. “It fits.”

He smiles a bit. The first he’s done in weeks. “What else do you want to know?”

She’s quiet for a few moments before asking the question he didn’t know he was dreading until now. “How did I end up here?”

What a loaded question he was absolutely not prepared for.

There’s a lot of things that led them to where they are right now. A lot of which he blames himself for, and her as well, but not nearly as much as he blames himself. They both played a role in how badly their relationship deteriorated, but Joe puts the bulk of it on himself. 

He’s older and should know better.

But, the specific incident that resulted in her accident, the blowout that ended with her requesting the one thing she always swore she never wanted to have happened when they got married…that’s it.

That is the truth she is probably looking for. It’s a truth, however, he can’t find it in him to tell her.

Because selfishly, he doesn’t want that to be the thing to trigger her memories, or any memories of all the things that have gone so terribly wrong the past two years. He doesn’t want that for her.

Doesn’t want it for them.

It’s why he settles on an answer that’s neither a lie but also not the full truth.

“You had a lot on your mind and went for a drive.” His voice shifts into something quiet. He’s still trying to process his feelings about that part of this whole thing. “You were hit head on by a drunk driver.”

Silence.

For a brief second, he’s unsure if he should have just told the truth. Been honest with her and let the cards fall as they may.

And then she speaks.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He looks up. Joe sees it. That sense of humor that some could only take in doses, but for him, it’s always been a highlight. She’s always been able to put a smile on his face even in the darkest of his days. “How long have we been married?”

Another unexpected question, but he answers truthfully. “This March makes 11 years.”

“Wow.” This seems to take her by surprise. “And how long have we been together?”

“That….that’s a bit of a long story.”

She lifts her brow, gesturing to her hospital bed. “Not like I have anywhere to be.”

He chuckles. She has a point, but the story of them…that seems too complicated or detailed to share in a freaking hospital. Because in his mind, he’s started to sort the different ways and things he can do to help remind her of who she is. 

Of who they were. 

Finally, he answers, “I just—I think you should—” 

There’s a knock on the door, Joe turning to see April and Byron Sr.

April is the first to speak, walking over to them. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She’s almost hesitant to move too close. Joe can see she wants nothing more to engulf her youngest in a hug but recognizes the same almost uncomfortable expression Mariella wore the minute he walked in.

“It’s okay.” He assures, going to stand up. “I’ll leave you guys—”

“Actually,” Byron Sr. interjects, shooting Joe a sympathetic expression. “We were hoping to speak with you.” He looks toward Mariella, and Joe hates it. Hates the almost discomfort that exists between them. She’s always been super close with her parents. Especially her dad. “If that’s alright, sweetheart?”

Mariella shrugs, clearly unbothered. “Sure.” She starts to lay back in her bed a little. “I’m kinda tired anyway.”

Joe wonders how much of that is truth, and how much of it is her just wanting to be alone from people who are virtual strangers.

Strangers…

That’s definitely a word he never thought could be used in any context regarding Mariella.

Once outside the room and in the private waiting area, her parents wait until a set of nurses pass before April is the first to speak. She reaches over and places a comforting hand. “How are you doing, Joe? Really?”

A mess. He’s a fucking mess. Joe has seen much, much better days than the past few weeks. But, he also doesn’t want to make this about him, about his mental state, so he provides a half truth.

“Been better.” His response is gruff as he quickly moves to change topics. “What about you guys?”

Having his wife have no idea who he is is brutal, but he can’t even begin to imagine what it’s been like for two parents to not have their youngest child recognize them, to have no idea who they are.

Byron Sr. is the first to answer, mirroring his son-in-law’s words. “Been better.” 

April shifts in her seat, bringing her hand back to her lap. “We umm—we spoke to Dr. Reynolds earlier today.”

Joe looks up, partially wondering why he wasn’t present for that meeting. “Okay.”

“She doesn’t remember anything, Joe. Not her childhood. Not her family. Not…not even us.” April voice breaks at the end of her statement as Joe looks away. Hearing this again isn’t exactly helpful, though he would never disrespect her parents by asking them to shut up. Even if it’s what he wants. “And we—well, we just think—”

Byron Sr. cuts in, hand on his wife’s knee. “We want to take her back home with us, Joe.” Joe’s stomach drops. “We want to take her back to Florida.”

———-

Spring, 2022

Cameras.

That’s the one thing Mariella, Mari, still struggles to get used to. The bright lights flashing in her face as her photo is taken, whether on the red carpet, on the stage, or even when she’s just making a run to the grocery store. The latter one hasn’t happened as much as it used to, for which she’s grateful, but still.

So there’s a bit of an adjustment as she looks around the room, the hair and makeup team touching up her face once more before they kick off the segment.

She doesn’t regret it. Doesn’t regret it at all. It’s a good look for him. For her too. And beyond any type of benefit for their careers, she’s just happy she gets to see him.

Because that’s the part she doesn’t think she’ll ever truly get over or be okay with.

The distance.

As directed, she walks down the hall, making sure not to look directly into the camera. This is made infinitely easier by pretending she’s shooting a music video. Which, truth be told, it isn’t very different. 

Mari wears the confused expression perfectly, looking down at her phone as if it has information that could help her when she ‘accidentally’ walks into him.

Head up, she gasps and immediately gets to apologizing, just as was in the script. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I wasn’t even looking where I was going.”

His eyes widen as he ‘realizes’ who she is. “Wow. No, you are absolutely fine. Wow. You’re Mari!”

Smiling, she points at him, “and you are…..”

He seems a bit taken back at first, like he’s waiting for her to also recognize him. When that doesn’t happen, he offers his hand. “Sami Zayn. Master strategist and locker room leader.”

She nods, perfectly conveying another confused look at just what that means. “Does—does that mean you’re good with directions? Cause I suck at them.”

“It absolutely does, and you are in luck, because I just so happen to be free right now and would love to give you a tour.”

She opens her mouth to protest, “oh, that’s so sweet, but I really should—” she looks down at her phone. “You know what, I’m a little early, so why not?”

“Awesome.” He claps his hands together and offers his arm. Mari smiles and links hers in his as he starts leading them down the hall, pointing out the most obvious of things. 

The camera cuts, and she engages in conversation with Sami, who’s actually a lot like the ‘character’ he plays. Super charismatic and engaging. Kinda reminds her of herself. So much so that before she realizes, they’re back to recording after having moved across the arena. 

“And lastly we have—” His eyes suddenly widen as he realizes where they are, Sami moving his hand to her back as he directs them in the opposite direction. “Wait, we do not want to go—”

“There it is!” Mari, however, is smiling brightly as she walks toward the door.

Sami looks like he’s about to have a panic attack, frantically warning, “Mari, I know you’re like an international mega star, but trust me, you do not want to bother that man—” He’s silenced by her knocking on the door. 

His face is turning red as he urgently whispers to her, “we should really get out of here. Like right now!.”

She turns to him, confused. “Why?”

And before Sami can respond, the door is ripped open, the scowling faces of the Usos the first thing Sami lands on. He’s preparing to get chewed out only for them to look at Mari and instantly start smiling.

“Whassup, Mari!” Jimmy is the first to greet her, pulling her in for a hug. Followed by Jey, the two of them engaging in some secret handshake that ends with a ‘Yeet’.

Sami, however, laughs nervously, gesturing between the three. “Wait, you—you guys know Mari?”

Jimmy answers, slinging his arm around her. “Man, of course. This family!”

“You’re related to them?” Sami asks, eyes wide. 

Mari opens her mouth to answer when another person emerges from the private locker room, taking up almost the entire door frame, face stoic and eyes cold. 

Sami looks like he’s about to piss himself. He swallows. “My Tribal Chief, I’m so sorry—”

He’s interrupted by Mari who smiles and pulls away from Jimmy to walk up to Roman.“Hi, baby.” Sami looks on stunned as she leans up and kisses his cheek, pressing her body into his, hand on his abs. “Sorry, I’m a bit late.” She grins over at Sami. “Sami was giving me a tour of the place.”

The reddening of his cheeks is about what and what with the red of his hair. “I don’t—I’m not—”

Playfully rolling her eyes as Roman continues to look like he’s contemplating murder, she lifts her left hand, showing off a beautiful diamond ring. “Roman’s my husband.”

Mouth open like a child who just found out Santa isn’t real, Sami does his best to reel in his surprise. “Of course, you’re married. I totally knew that!” He laughs nervously, hands on his hips. “That’s why I gladly brought you to the Tribal Chief myself. Wanted to ensure nothing but the best for the Bloodline’s first lady.”

“That was really sweet of you. Thank you.” She continues to smile, and Roman continues to send daggers with just one, stolid expression. Mari peers up, kissing him again as she reaches for his hand. “Come on.” She tugs him toward the inside of the locker room, Roman finally budging as he gives Sami one last look that has the redhead contemplating requesting a switch to Raw. 

However, as Jimmy and Jey go to follow along with their cousin, Roman is quick to slam the door in their faces. 

“Hey, Uce, uhhh,—” Jimmy tries to jangle the knob only to realize it’s locked. He starts knocking. “Roman! Hey, you gon let us in?”

A couple seconds later the door does open, but it’s Solo, followed by Paul Heyman. Wise Man closes the door behind him. He looks around, briefly bewildered and clears his throat, announcing, “The Tribal Chief has requested to be left alone this evening.” 

Sami is the only one to laugh, playfully shoving Solo and pointing to the locker room. “I bet he has.” Solo, however, also looks like he’s also contemplating murder. Sami coughs awkwardly and turns to walk away, just as the camera crew announces ‘cut’.

The remaining men share laughs about the promo, meanwhile inside the locker room Mariella relishes in the feel of being reunited with her husband in real life, and now in the WWE kayfabe verse.

She’s pressed against his body, arms around his neck with his locked around her waist, holding her to him. “Hey, Big Daddy.”

Roman, Joe, rolls his eyes. Mariella giggles. She knows he has such a love/hate relationship with the term of endearment, one of many she has for the massive man before her. “You miss me?”

He makes a sound, leaning down to connect their lips. “Always, baby.” 

She smiles into their kiss, “good answer.” His big hands venture down to squeeze her ass, Mariella moaning into his mouth which triggers something for him. He lifts her up, her legs locking around his waist as he goes to sit back down in the big leather chair. Joe’s tongue entering her mouth is enough to elicit another moan but also alert her to the fact of where he wants to take this.

“Baby, we cannot do the nasty at your job.”

“I don’t know why you still call it that.” His fake irritation makes her giggle. It’s an inside joke between them that she’ll never let die so long as she lives. “And who says we can’t?”

“I don’t know. The FCC?” He rolls his eyes as she grasps at his beard that she can tell he dyed recently. Most likely because of his job. She wishes he could leave it be. She likes the gray. It does….things to her. “Besides, you know the deal. If we do it right now, we can’t do it tonight.” He continues to move his hands across her ass. “Mama’s got a show this Sunday, and I’d rather not be rendered immobile because my husband impaled me on his big ole’ dick.”

Again, Joe rolls his eyes, even though there’s more truth to her statement than the typical playful jokes she cracks at any given time. Joe has a high sex drive. She’s known this for some years. Mariella, however, does not. And it’s not even that she doesn’t enjoy sex with her husband. It’s that her husband doesn’t know how to stop, doesn’t know how to come, make her come one time for the one time, and just be done with it.

No. This man wants rounds. And truthfully, she just doesn’t have the stamina to keep up with him. Outside of porn stars, she doesn’t know who would.

Man is an absolute beast.

“So damn dramatic,” he chuckles against her neck. “You know I be doing most of the work anyway.”

She opens her mouth to protest. “Okay, that may or may not be true.” She can feel him smiling against her. It’s not like he minds. Joe is dominant in the sheets, wanting to be in control at all times. Her preference given he’s much more well versed in the sexual arts than she is. “But, in my defense, you’re built like a Greek god.” A Samoan god. “I get winded walking up the staircase in our house.”

“Bullshit.” He pulls back, pointing out. “You be on that stage dancing your ass off for damn near three hours.” 

She rolls her eyes, murmuring, “okay, that also may or may not be true.” Mari’s eyes flutter as he moves his hand under her dress. Long, thick fingers easily pushing aside her underwear, feeling the pool of her arousal. She squeezes his shoulders. “Joe….”

He grunts almost, gliding his fingers across her wet folds. She exhales sharply. “You this wet already and really want me to think you don’t want Big Daddy to fuck this tight lil’ pussy?”

Whining against him, Mariella unconsciously tries to move around on his lap to get his fingers back on her. In her, preferably. And it’s when he enters one of those deliciously talented fingers inside of her gushy opening, she caves. “Fine.” He smirks as she warns, “but you’re pushing me around in the wheelchair after!”

———-

Between a rock and a hard place.

That’s how Joe has felt the past few weeks, maybe even longer. But especially now.

He knows Ri’s parents are right. That they have every right to want her to spend time at home with them, in the place where she grew up, where most of her formative years and subsequent formative memories lie. Logically, it makes sense.

But, he can’t seem to get past his discomfort at the fact that Ri won’t be getting discharged and coming home with him. No, she’ll be discharged and hop on a plane with them back to Florida. Selfishly, he was hoping the doctor wouldn’t clear her to fly, but that plan went out the window. Dr. Reynolds is clearly on the same page with her parents about the potential benefit of being around constant triggers. Triggers that could help generate memories.

And Joe isn’t against that. At all. 

It’s just the fact that he won’t be there that rubs him the right way. 

“Joe.”

His eyes shut, an instant headache coming on. This is the last thing he needs. 

Turning around, he’s met with Olivia “Liv” Holmes default stare of icy indifference. Out of all of Mariella’s siblings, her family in general, Liv has always been his least favorite.

For a lot of different reasons. The main one being how she always treated Mariella when they were younger. Not mean, per se. But not kindly either. She always acted like Mariella was annoying, and she definitely could be at times, but not to the extent that Liv made it seem.

Like Mariella was just this big nuisance. It’s part of the reason she always wanted to hang out with him and Byron when they were growing up, because Liv spent most of her time with her twin sister, Everly, and her own friend group.

“Liv.” He really doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, let alone her. Their interactions have always been brief and limited to what is essential. For good reason too.

“I take it my parents told you we’re taking Ella back home to Florida with us.”

Joe has to bite back a smartass comment. Liv’s smirk and the almost smug tone of her voice isn’t what he needs right now.

“Yes.” He matches her energy a bit, reminding. “For the first couple weeks, at least. Then I’m going to bring her back home with me.” 

Where she belongs.

Liv smiles, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “We’ll see.”

Joe gives her a look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know she called me.” He freezes. “The night of the accident.” Joe manages to keep a calm face despite his surprise at her words. Mariella has never been close with Liv, most of their communication occurring via texts and family group chats. 

There’s only one reason she would call her sister who happens to be a divorce attorney.

“I want a divorce.”

Liv continuing to speak is ironically appreciated, as it pulls him from the memories of what is now an infamous argument. “I was sleeping and missed her call, but she didn’t leave a message. Kinda wishing she did, because I’m still trying to figure out just what the hell she was doing out on the road that late at night.” 

He keeps his cool. Somehow. “I already told you—”

“I know what you said, Joe.” Her interruption is sharp. “I also don’t believe you, because what the hell could she have so heavy on her mind after winning 5 Grammys?” She crosses her arms. “It doesn’t make sense.”

When he doesn’t say anything, she continues her accusatory assault. “You seem to forget that we were in high school together, Joe. I know how you were.” At this, he can’t say anything, can’t necessarily defend himself against truth. “You and Byron fucked damn near half the girls in our school, probably at college too, and then all of a sudden you turn in your hoe card to be with my baby sister? Because you love her? I never bought that shit for a minute.”

While he can’t deny his promiscuous past, Joe isn’t about to stand here and let this woman act like he’s this horrible person who took advantage of Mariella. “What’s your point, Liv? Huh? I’m not fucking stupid. I know you never approved of me being with Ri, but just like I didn’t give a fuck then, I still don’t give a fuck now.”

Liv does relatively well hiding her disapproval among her family, to some extent. But Joe has always been hip to her truth. She thinks Mariella should have gotten with someone else, anyone else probably. Anyone who wasn’t him.

Liv, who has never done well with being challenged, steps forward, glare intense and purposeful. “I’m gonna find out what happened that night, Joe. Because I know there’s something you’re not telling us.” He keeps up his unreadable expression, though there’s a small chunk of guilt swimming around the back of his head. Not even about not being completely honest with Mariella’s family.

More about not being honest with her.

She lowers her voice. “And when I do find out—”

“Liv.”

Joe and Liv turn to see Byron Jr. standing before them with a disappointed expression.

Arms crossed, he steps toward them, focused more on Liv than Joe. “Don’t be starting no shit today, alright? This the last thing we need.”

In recent years, especially since becoming a father, BJ has matured from his hotheaded days, often even a voice of reason. One of the reasons he’s been voted Locker Room captain for his team, the 49ers, 3 years in a row.

Liv rolls her eyes. “You’ve always been blinded by your friendship with him—”

“Hey.” Byron raises his voice a bit. “I mean it. You blaming people doesn’t change what happened, and you know damn well Ella would have a fit at you coming at Joe like this.”

Not really. Maybe before. Before everything collapsed so tragically between the two of them.

“Whatever.” She gives a final almost warning glare to the two of them before stalking off, probably to go see Mariella.

BJ places a comforting hand on Joe’s shoulder once she’s gone. “You good, man?” 

Not at all. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. 

BJ gives a sad smile. “Don’t let Olevil get to you.” Her nickname from back when they were in high school makes Joe chuckle. “You going back to work next week?”

Joe blows out a breath. That hasn’t even crossed his mind the past couple weeks. He doesn’t even really know what storyline they came up with to cover his absence. Nor does he care really. “I haven’t even thought about that, man.”

“I think you should.” And before Joe can protest, Byron lifts his hand. “Hear me out. She’s gonna be with our parents for a few weeks, so you know she’ll be in good hands. What you gon’ do while she’s gone? Sit around the house sad and moping and shit? You know she would be chewing you out for that, telling you that you gotta get back in the game.”

Joe gives a bit of a smile. Byron is right. Knowing Mariella, she’d have a whole theatrical ass presentation as to why he should return to work, song and dance included. 

“Yeah…”

Byron slaps him on his shoulder. “Just think about it, alright?” 

Joe nods, because he will. And not for himself, not even for his job, because he doesn’t give a fuck about that right now.

But for Mariella.

His Ri. 

Because she’ll always be his Ri.

And he’s determined to make sure she doesn’t forget it this time.

———-

Spring, 2022 [cont.]

“Baby!” It’s a distant voice that becomes closer as it's repeatedly conjoined with a small hand shaking at his shoulder. “Baby, wake up.”

And he does. Eyes fluttering open, his vision is blurred initially, gradually clearing up to reveal the face of his beautiful wife. Cognizant of his surroundings, Joe realizes she’s sitting on top of him, notebook and pen in hand.

He smiles. It’s been a while since she’s woken him up for this. And while he’ll regret it in the morning, he’s grateful for it now. Grateful for these little callbacks to when they were broke, living in a crappy apartment, trying to chase the dream as inspiration struck her at all hours of the night. And she would wake him up, wanting his feedback. 

He didn’t really mind then. 

And he doesn’t really mind now.

That’s just his Ri.

Eyes squinting, she asks, “you up?”

He chuckles, also enjoying the sight of her straddling him wearing only his shirt. “Yes, baby. I’m up.”

“About time,” she complains, and he rolls his eyes. So damn dramatic. “I’m feeling inspired.” She says it while giving almost jazz hands, pretty brown eyes landing back on him. “Wanna hear the lyrics?”

He yawns, glancing at the digital clock that reads 2:37AM. “What else would I be doing at this time?”

She glares. “Is that sarcasm I detect, mister? Is it my fault my musical muse comes alive at night? That she flourishes when most—”

“Ri.”

“Huh?”

He closes his eyes. Joe loves Mariella with everything in him, but he’s not in the mood for one of her theatrical tangents at damn near 3 o’clock in the morning. “Lyrics.”

“Oh! Right!” Chuckling, he watches as she reads over whatever she’s written to herself at first. A bit of a habit. She’s always initially self-conscious about her lyrics. “Now, it’s just off the top of my head, so be nice, okay?”

“I’m always nice to you, Ri.” It’s the truth. As annoyed as he can get sometimes, she’s never been on that list. “And I’m sure it’s fine.” 

She smiles appreciatively, slightly taking him by surprise as she quietly sings the lyrics versus just reading them to him.

Yellow diamonds in the light

Now we're standing side by side

As your shadow crosses mine

What it takes to come alive

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny

But I've gotta let it go

We found love in a hopeless place

Finished, she looks down at him, expectantly, “well?”

“I love it.” He loves most of what she writes though. He especially loves to hear her sing. “What inspired it?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about us. About how far we come.” She shrugs, his hands rubbing circles on her hips. “Your show was sold out tonight, Joe. Mine is sold out too. Like, we both sold out Madison Square Garden. That feels almost too perfect to be true.”

He makes a sound. “But, it is, baby.”

“I know.” She sighs heavily and asks in a partial hypothetical tone. “We’re like really hot shit, huh?” Joe chuckles as she gasps and places her tablet down on his chest, quickly writing something down. He says nothing, having been with her for so long that none of her quirky ways really surprise him anymore.

“Also.”

“Also?”

She glares but moves to place the notebook and pen on the nightstand, resting her hands on his chest. “I was thinking about our conversation earlier…” He’s quiet, waiting patiently for her to finish her sentence even if it does have him a bit on edge. He’s never been good with waiting. “Let’s do it.”

Her answer takes him by surprise. “You sure?”

She nods, tugging at his beard. “We’re not getting any younger.” She giggles, eyes playfully narrowing. “Especially you, old man.” 

At that, he sucks his teeth. “Who you calling old?” He squeezes her side, and she squeals. He knows that’s where she’s ticklish. She falls out, laughing, and he takes the advantage of her being distracted to flip them so she’s flat on her back. “Naw, say it again. I ain’t hear you.”

“Joe, stop,” she giggles as he hovers over her, tickling her until she pushes back against his shoulder. He grabs her hand, restricting her when she opens her eyes. Her laughter quietly dies down when their eyes lock. 

Love. 

So much love.

Joe leans down and connects their lips, softly, slowly, just as meaningful as any other kiss they’ve shared. She moans into his mouth, feeling his hardened length graze against her opening, her essence already making its way down her inner thighs.

He feels this too, groaning and lifting her thigh to widen her as he carefully enters her, watching her arch her back at the entrance. She whimpers, hands moving around his shoulders.

He kisses her wrist, watching the pleasure on her face as he gives her deep strokes, slow and plunging, just how he knows she likes it. “Shhhh….let me take care of you, baby.”

And he does.

He always has.

He always will.

[thought--bubble]

To Punish My Darling

Canon Aemond (Dark) X (Maid Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 3,375

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Based off THIS request

Warnings: Child labor, Arranged Marriage, Execution, Dub-con, Smut. (Oral male receiving)

"It is a privilege to work at the red keep" Your mother had said to you as she fixed a bonnet on your head.

At the age of 10 you did not see it this way but alas you were the oldest of your siblings and your parents did not have much money, it was your turn to start helping the family, so you would join your mother in being a chambermaid at the red keep.

"I have been working up there for years and haven't had any trouble. You will simply take your work and keep your head down." This is how you came to work at the red keep. Your first assignment had been collecting the washing.

At the age of ten you were not trusted to do much else other than scuttle about the castle collecting clothes for washing and then once washed bringing them back to their rightful owner. This was an easy job and the first few days you completed the task without so much as a hiccup. But today, your third day, you were to pick up the washing of the Prince Aemond Targaryen.

The problem? He had recently received a grievous injury, which left him recovering in his chambers.

"He will be in there; you will need to knock and await a clear order to enter. is that understood?" The head maid Alandra had warned you. You nodded your head furiously in understanding and skipped through the corridors making your way to his chambers. When you arrived you simply rapped upon the door as you had done with all the others putting your ear to the door to await a response.

"Enter!" You hear a voice muffled, from the door and distance. You open the door and enter the chamber looking for the basket for washing.

" I said do not enter!" The angry voice of a young boy came hurtling at you as you freeze in terror. You avert your eyes "M-m-my Prince my apologies, I thought I- I- I heard-" He cuts you off abruptly "Thought what? that you could just enter my chambers when I advised you not to! Come to see, did you? Come to see the horror?" As he says this, he keeps his head turned from you.

"N-no I am here to pick up the washing! I swear!" Your entire body shakes, you have clearly made a grave mistake and upset a Targaryen Prince and even at this youthful age you understand the repercussions that could result from an incident like this.

"Take it and go" he says quietly, still turned away from you. "Do not come back in here.” You bow your head quickly grabbing the basket of laundry and run from his chambers. You quickly drop the laundry off to the woman doing the washing and run to find your mother.

Your mother, most distressed to hear this news, tells Alandra who simply states that all they can do at this point is wait to see if anything comes of it.

3 more days pass and you continue your work waiting for the hammer to fall but it never comes. After a month or two you had all but forgotten the incident, the only lingering reminder being your refusal to return to the chambers of Prince Aemond.

That is until he is released from his recovery, eyepatch firmly in place. Now it is much more difficult to avoid him, this becomes especially apparent when you accidentally stumble onto his hidden reading spot which happens to also be the place you like to eat your midday meal.

"Oh, my apologies my Prince" You bow your head and back up desperate to get out of there as quickly as possible. "What's that?" He gestures toward the oranges in your hand.

"O-oranges my Prince" You back up one more step itching to remove yourself from his presence. "Give me one" he holds his hand out to you; you timidly step forward until you are just close enough to place the oranges in his outstretched hand.

"I said one" He leaves his hand outstretched waiting for you to remove one of the oranges. With a quivering hand you reach down and lift one of the oranges. Once you have it you grip it tightly and take a step back preparing to drop into a curtsy. "Stay" he doesn't lift his head when he makes this command, he simply starts to peel his orange.

You stand rooted in place.

"Well sit. I Cannot have you standing over me like some sort of ogre" he gestures to the empty space to his left. You quietly and slowly lower yourself to the ground and the two of you quietly eat your oranges not exchanging a word.

This one chance meeting develops into a regular meeting tucked away in the back of the garden. The silent meetings change over time into brief conversations which further change into much longer and much deeper conversations.

Before you even understood how impossible this situation is you had become besotted with the prince. You found yourself rushing to your meeting spot and laughing with him until your sides hurt.

Your feelings only got stronger as you saw him grow from a boy to a man. lithe, assertive face and lone purple eye that you still see every night when you lay down to sleep.

The little fantasy you had built up in your head all comes crashing down when your mother announces the son of the local butcher has expressed interest in you.

"I am not interested in him!" You scream. "My heart belongs to another!"

"Do you think I am a fool?" Your mother seethes. "Do you think I do not see the doe eyes you make toward the prince?" You look up at your mother, eyes welling with tears.

"I ... I love him mother." Your mother runs her hands down her face. "He is a Prince of the realm! You are but a maid!" she pulls you in for a hug "Darling it is impossible. You are so bright, my pride, you have to know this."

You cry into your mother's shoulder. You know it is impossible. You have known this all along, but you were happy being able to pretend that maybe, just maybe you could have what your heart most desired.

You lament the thought of marrying another and putting that fantasy to rest. Ending that dream in its entirety.

"He will be a butcher. That is a comfortable life for you. I cannot imagine we could find a better match" She strokes your cheeks fondly. "All I wish for you, my beauty, is a life easier than mine, and with this match, you will get that" her eyes convey a silent plea as she looks at you.

"I understand mother. This is a smart match." You nod your head as you fight back your tears. As much as this hurts, you know she is right. Life as a butcher's wife would be one of moderate comfort, while the life of a Princess would never be yours to have.

Over the coming weeks you are introduced to the young man your parents have decided to be your husband. Alden is a nice boy. He is decent looking and overly sweet. You were pleased to see that he wasn't quite as plump as his mother or have as little hair as his father.

You move about your daily duties in the castle the way you always have. You have not told Aemond of the match set for you by your parents. You knew he would not care but, you had a lingering feeling of discomfort over breaching the topic with him. You did, however, want to tell him before you were wed. Your husband-to-be had decided that he did not want his wife to be a maid at the castle. You would work in the butcher shop like the rest of his family. So, with a heavy heart just two days before your planned marriage you sit down in the garden next to Aemond, two oranges in hand.

He lifts his head from his book. "You're late. I was thinking I may have to go fetch my own orange today. "

"My apologies, I have a few tasks I have been training some of the new girls on" You squeeze your orange in the palm of your hand digging your nails into the course skin.

He raises an eyebrow. "I don't want a different chamber maid; you do things just as I like."

"As will they, I will make sure of it. My.... My time working here has ended. I am to join my husband’s family at their shop in town"

You avoid his gaze as you speak just watching the orange in your hand as you squeeze it tighter and tighter your fingernails buried in the outer layer.

"I did not know that you had been wed." He closes the book he was reading placing it in his lap.

"Look at me" he nearly barks.

The tone shocks you out of your daze "I-I-I-I am not, not yet. I am to be wed in two days."

The playful look he had worn when you arrived has vanished and been replaced with a steely cold look. "To whom?" his voice is quiet but controlled.

You look at him with a dumfounded expression. You were not expecting a reaction like this from him. You really did not expect a reaction at all, let alone one so passionate.

"I asked you a question, I expect that you answer it." His one eye is locked on you, and he taps his finger against the cover of his book.

"Alden. He is the son of the local butcher" You look down at the ground and lower your voice "It is a smart match."

"Hmmmm.... Seems so"

The rest of your midday meeting passed in silence, Aemond's jaw clenched his orange resting upon his book.

Eventually, you bid him farewell and continued with the training of your replacement maids before heading home for the night.

You wake up the next morning preparing for your last day working in the red keep. You will be married the next day, and your new life will start. Your meetings with Aemond, will be just memories of a young girl. Plenty of fodder for dreams and nothing more.

Leaving your home, which normally was no special affair, led you directly into a scene of chaos. People all around you chattering about the execution of a thief, a thief who dared to steal from the icy cold Prince Aemond.

A general sense of dread fills your body as you follow the large crowd into the courtyard. Aemond and a few of the guards stood around a man on his knees his head down.

"Stealing from the crown is an offence punishable by death" Aemond states loudly his voice quieting the crowd. He twirls a large sapphire between his fingers.

"You have stolen something very precious to me."

"M-m-my Prince, I do not know how that came into my home!" The man you now recognize as Alden pleads.

You gasp covering your mouth. Why would Alden steal from the prince? He is hardly at the keep. Only ever there to help his father deliver meats, when would he have had time to steal from Aemond?

"It was found not only in your home but on your person" Aemond's voice is loud, crisp, clear, and cold as ice.

Your mother walks up beside you and takes your hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. You look over at her bewildered and frightened, but her gaze is set toward the horrifying display before you.

"Let this be a lesson to all" His one cold eye scans the crowd until it lands on your mother.

"For those who wish to steal from me.... this is the fate that awaits you" his eye stays locked on your mother as the executioner behind him raises an axe over a quivering and crying Alden. Your stomach is cold, as if full of ice as you look at the man you thought was your friend. His eye set on your mother making sure she understands his silent threat.

You hear the sound of the axe come down and quickly lower your head, focusing your thoughts instead on your mothers’ shoes. Her feet are so dainty.

The crowd starts to disperse, and your mother tugs your hand bringing you toward the keep.

"No! I am not going in there!" You try to yank your hand away from your mother, but she pulls it back to her quickly.

"There is no choice in this, I think that much is clear" She snaps at you keeping her voice low. "We go back to work and continue on."

You nod your head; words do not come to you, but you continue with a kind of mechanical movement. One foot in front of the other. You complete your tasks in much the same way. The only deviation being that you decided to skip your midday meal.

Only 2 hours after your usual meeting time you were summoned to Aemond's chambers. He never summons you. He always knew when to expect you to turn over his linens, collect his clothing for washing. He never needed to summon you.

You approach his door as if you are the one being led to the axe. It could not be a coincidence that yesterday you told Aemond you were to marry Alden and today Alden is publicly executed.... could it?

You lightly knock on his door and await his usual call for you to enter; instead, the door flies open. You flinch back slightly at the sudden movement looking off to the side.

"Come in" He stands to the side giving you space to enter.

"You requested my presence my Prince?" you try to keep your voice low, and eyes angled so you are looking just behind him, hoping beyond all hope that he cannot see how absolutely terrified you are.

"Look at me" he stands directly before you, so close you can feel the heat springing from his body. You slowly raise your head and look up at him through your lashes.

"You are to stay working here, at the red keep as my personal chamber maid."

"Yes, my Prince" You slightly nod your head.

"You missed midday meal, I waited for an orange that never came" he places his hands behind his back and leans forward ever closer, bridging the already miniscule gap that lay between you.

"I found myself without an appetite."

"That may be so, but I was famished...." he clicks his tongue. "Still am"

He grabs you by your chin tightly. "You could not have possibly thought I would have let him have you" He growls up against the side of your face. "There are many things that I deserve that are given to others, but I would not lose my darling to a butcher" his voice is filled with disgust.

"This is not possible, you can not marry me I am a maid!" you look at him eyes pleading as he starts to chuckle.

"I know that, I do not plan to marry you."

You look at him questioningly "Then what-"

" I plan to keep you as my own." he lightly traces his finger down your cheek.

your face falls.

"Now, it brings me no pleasure to punish my darling, but you have left me no choice" He moves in close dragging his nose along the side of your face inhaling your scent. "You will be an obedient servant for me? Won't you?"

"Yes, my prince" an unfamiliar feeling of fear mixed with anticipation creeps up your spine as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer to him.

"Now.... I will give you a set of instructions and you will follow each one with immediacy and accuracy." as you go to respond he interrupts "Do not speak unless I ask you to". You nod just to let him know you understood his instruction.

"Good.... now remove everything" You look at him your face conveying a look of confusion.

"Everything that you are wearing" He tilts his head to the side, again putting his arms behind his back, a small smirk on his face.

You slowly start to unlace your dress, hands nervously shaking.

"Quickly now. I have somewhere to be." You take a deep breath in and just as before your movements become mechanical. Taking your clothes off as you would at home before washing. As you pull each piece of clothing off you fold it and place it in a pile by your feet. Once you are fully undressed you look back to Aemond awaiting his next order.

He walks up close to you. "Now me"

Your trembling fingers slowly start to unclasp the buckles on his doublet. He chuckles and clicks his tongue "Quickly".

Your fingers move along his buckles and laces like a musician playing an instrument, quick and precise. Once he is as bare as you are, nothing left on but his eye patch. He motions you over to the bed, as you move to get on it his voice echoes through the room.

"No" he stops you and pulls you back toward the edge of the bed.

"Kneel here" you get down on your knees facing the edge of the frame as he sits before you.

"As I told you, I have someplace to be" He wraps his hand around your chin, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb. "My pretty little darling" He starts to pump himself to full hardness, while gripping your chin tighter, the nail of his thumb digging into the sensitive skin of your lip.

He hits your chin with the hardened tip of his cock and chuckles.

"You look even prettier like this." He slides the tip of his cock against your plush lips.

"open", you open your mouth looking up at him through your lashes. "That's good" he slides the tip into your mouth as you settle yourself down between his legs. He grabs the braid tied up on the back of your head and grips it tight slowly lowering your head. As he pushes you further and further down his shaft you start to sputter

"Shhhhh darling" He coos gently as he strokes the side of your face. He holds your head in place as you get used to the sensation, breathing through your nose.

He continues to push your head down until your nose is buried in his groin and you are gagging, tears flowing from your eyes, drool dripping from the sides of your mouth. He sighs and chuckles, before grabbing your braid and holding your head in place as he pulls you slightly back. You struggle to take in a gulp of air before he is back inside your mouth, his hips thrusting feverishly as he uses your mouth as if it were not attached to an actual human.

The sounds of his sighs and pants, along with your gagging and slurping fill the room as the heat and tingling between your thighs grows almost unbearable. He stands from the bed still gripping your hair tightly shoving his cock further into your mouth battering the back of your throat as he increases his pace.

You attempt to look up at him, but your eyes can only see the blurry shape of the man above you.

Just as your head begins to feel light, like you could just float away, he stiffens in your mouth and presses himself all the way to the back of your throat and holds you there. You fight the urge to pull away as you feel him empty himself directly down your throat as he lets out a choked groan.

When he finally pulls himself out of your mouth and walks back toward his clothes you sit back on your feet, wiping the tears from your eyes and gasping for air.

"Turns out I lied" he says coolly.

You look over at him still panting heavily, face red, chin covered in drool.

"I did find pleasure in that."

To be added to taglist click here

@targaryen-dynasty

[ericshoney]

Big sister to the rescue! ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: Your younger brothers all get sick at the same time, so you being the best older sister go support them.

Warnings: swearing, nicknames, sickness, mention of throwing up, medicine, fluff

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

Nick, Matt and Chris had all fallen sick at the same time. This meant that none of them could go out and get whatever they needed to get better. But to their luck, you had a break from college and were able to fly to LA and help them out.

When you arrived at their place, it was oddly quiet. You used your key and quietly walked up the stairs to see the living room empty. You then walked towards Matt's room to see him fast asleep, curled up in his blankets.

You walked over to the male and touched his forehead, feeling the heat instantly. He grumbled and pulled the covers over himself, slowly opening his eyes to look at you.

"Hey Matt, didn't mean to wake you up. Your burning." You said quietly, knowing he most likely had a headache.

"Hmm. Thanks for coming." He mumbled, his voice low and scratchy.

"That's what family is for. I'll head to the store, anything you want?" You asked.

"This fucking headache to go away." He moaned.

"I know, I'll get some medicine." You replied with a laugh.

Matt nodded and curled back into his bed. You left him to rest as you went to check on Nick next. The eldest was coming out of his bathroom, looking groggy.

"Oh hey." He called, seeing you and giving you a small wave.

"Hey Nick, I've just checked on Matt and said I'll go to the store, what do you need?" You asked him.

"Probably lots of water. I just threw up my whole body weight." He answered, making you chuckle. Even when Nick was sick, he could still joke.

"Okay, medicine for you too." You said.

He nodded and you left to finally check on Chris. The youngest triplet was curled up much like Matt, but without his bed covers on. He was groaning and held his stomach.

"Hey bud, I'm here." You called softly, going over and rubbing his back.

Out of all three triplets, you felt more protective over Chris. You knew all three could fend for themselves, but you knew Chris would probably get into trouble if he wasn't guided the right way.

"Hey." He grumbled.

"I'm now going to the store. I've checked on Matt and Nick. How are you feeling?" You asked.

"My stomach fucking hurts bad, sis." He whined, trying to curl up more.

"Okay buddy, I'll go get some medicine. Don't worry, okay. I'm here." You said.

Chris nodded as you left for the store. It wasn't too busy so you were able to get in and out pretty quickly, happy they had everything you wanted.

You first went to Nick, giving him his medicine, some water and a few crackers to eat. He raised an eyebrow at the food, making you laugh.

"It's food, Nick. It will help make you feel better." You said.

"Whatever, it's basically cardboard." He muttered.

You laughed and shook your head, going downstairs to see Matt. The boy was now sat up in his bed, his hair all over the place and a small pout on his face.

"Hey bud, here you go." You said, passing him the medicine.

"Thank you." He responded.

You smiled and nodded, saying you were going to see Chris now. Matt nodded and continued watching his TV. You then went downstairs to Chris' room and gave him what he needed.

"Hey sis?" He called.

"Yeah bud?" You replied.

"Can....Can you stay with me for a bit, please?" He asked.

"Course, budge over." You answered with a smile, laying on his bed with him.

Chris smiled as you played with his hair, helping him relax and ease his mind, hoping all your brothers got over their sickness soon.

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

Tags:

@mattsfavbigtitties @lgbtq-girl @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @sturniolo-fann @riowritesitall

[lazycats-stuff]

Hi! I loved your male Y/N x Bruce Wayne Cadmus clone fic. Is there any way you could make a part 2? Maybe the clone comes to live with them and then they have to explain to the rest of the family who they are and help them adjust to living with the Batfamily. Also Ra’s maybe pops in from time to time and the clone starts to become protective over Y/N when it comes to others, especially Ra’s creepiness. Thx!!!

Oh I can. Sorry that this took so long though... I love the idea though. Also, PART 1 is linked to this. And it will be under Bruce Wayne masterlist, since the part 1 is there. Just so there isn't any confusion. And yes, the same GIF because I can't be bothered today.

Summary: (Y/N) is rather protective of one of his dads.

Warnings:

It has been a few months since the clone, well, the boy came to live with them to the manor. Of course, explaining to the boys who he was and how he came to be wasn't an easy task. And it turns out it wasn't. Sitting them all down was easy enough. (Y/N) broke the news and the response was not receptive.

All of them were confused, shocked, Damian was absolutely disturbed. So much so, he stormed out of the room and slamming the door of his room. And if Damian can't control his emotion like that, you know he's not okay. (Y/N) sighed, burying his face into his hands.

(Y/N) loved his sons so much and seeing them upset made him upset. At this point, he wondered if this was a bad idea. He couldn't bear to see a rift in his family. Bruce patted his back, then gently rubbed his shoulder in comfort.

" I'm going to check on him. " (Y/N) said, trying to compose himself before he went to see Damian. Bruce kissed his cheek squeezing his shoulder in comfort before letting go and turning to his other sons.

" I know this is all... Insane to say the least, but the clone is a human who deserves a shot at life. " Bruce crossed his arms and (Y/N) has left to look for Damian, knowing exactly where he went. (Y/N) gently knocked on the door, listening to inside noises.

" Dames, can I come in? " (Y/N) asked softly and he sighed in relief once he heard a yes, although a faint one

(Y/N) entered and then closed the door behind him. Damian was curled in the bed, Titus curled around him. (Y/N) smiled at the sight and sat down where there was actual space left for him. He started gently scratching Damian's scalp.

" I know that the news upset you, but he is nothing like Ra's. only by his hair and eyes. And would I ever lie to you Dames? " (Y/N) started softly and Damian sighed.

" No baba. "

" Good. The boy needs a chance in life too. Just like you had to escape the League so you can have a semi normal life with us. Okay? You know that you kiddos are my number one priority. And he is a kid in trouble. So please, don't worry about it. Okay? " (Y/N) asked and Damian nodded, gently patting Titus.

" Good. " (Y/N) kissed Damian's forehead and decided to leave him be for now. (Y/N) quickly went back down to check how Bruce was faring. The other 3 boys were simply calm. Talking to Bruce about their questions and concerns.

(Y/N) walked up to his other 3 sons, giving them each a hug. " If anyone is worried about Damian, he is fine. He was just a bit upset. Worried that the boy will be like Ra's. " (Y/N) explained and everyone nodded and Bruce turned to hold (Y/N) by the waist.

" Anyway, I can't believe that Ra's is in the mix. " Jason said and Tim nodded.

" The bastard has got more excuses to get closer to you dad. And I don't like it. " Tim said and (Y/N) gently scratched Tim's scalp.

" Tim, I can take care of myself. I understand the worry, but Bruce trained me, " (Y/N) said and Tim nodded.

" Doesn't mean we don't worry dad. " Dick stood up to get some water.

" And if Ra's shows up, you know where to find my guns. " Jason added as he took out his phone and Bruce sighed as he squeezed (Y/N)'s hips.

" I swear, everyone in this house will put me into my grave. " Bruce muttered kissing (Y/N)'s cheek. (Y/N) smile and lean on Bruce.

" I love you too. "

It has been a few months since the clone, well, the boy came to the manor. The transition wasn't really easy. The boys seeing their enemy in the poor boy wasn't easy and Bruce and (Y/N) knew that full well. It wasn't going to be easy and the two made sure that the boy felt comfortable.

And yes, the clone is still looking for a name so they don't call him, yo, bro, dude. All of these were used by the first 4 sons, not by Bruce and (Y/N), just for the record. Just a quick FYI. (Y/N) really tried to make sure that the boy was more comfortable. He made sure of it.

And the rest of the boys too, don't take it wrong.

This particular evening, (Y/N) had a rare night off and has decided to spend his time reading a book in the living room, under a blanket, on the comfiest sofa that money can buy. the clone was somewhere near, not particularly fond of being alone. The boy was working on that with Black Canary, who turned into his therapist.

Either way, it was going rather well and (Y/N) won't complain about it. As long as it's going well, although with a few bumps, he won't complain about anything. (Y/N) was well into the book, enjoying it when he heard Alfred's voice.

" Master (Y/N), Ra's al Ghul is here, " Alfred announced and (Y/N) groaned as he put a piece of paper in between the pages so he could know where to go of on. Then he closed the book, turning his head to look at Ra's. The smug bastard was there, standing near the kitchen table.

Ra's has been here a few times before, to see (Y/N) and to see the extent of the genetics at work. (Y/N) would often sneakily leave the manor at the time, not in the mood to look at Ra's or to even talk to him. He wanted to die rather than to see the old bastard.

Unfortunately, Bruce and the birds were out patrolling, so any backup, if we don't include the boy, is gone.

" Ah, it seems you are alone (Y/N). " Ra's said and (Y/N) wanted to scoff. " The detective is out and about on patrol it seems. " Ra's noted and (Y/N) forced himself not to sigh.

" Why are you here? To annoy me? "

Ra's chuckled then shook his head.

" Always blunt. I'm here to see the boy. Does he have a name at least? "

" He didn't choose one yet. " (Y/N) stood up, adjusting his shirt. He was in one of Bruce's shirts and some nice sweatpants. If he knew that the bastard was coming, he would have changed. Into something more practical to fight in. And not feel that exposed. Bruce was a huge man and (Y/N) was tall, but more lean so... Bruce's shirts may or may not expose some shoulder and some chest.

Either way, he didn't like being ogled by anyone but Bruce. This was for his eyes only. (Y/N) fixed the shirt, hiding the spot that Ra's was eyeing hungrily. The boy, the clone stilled in the kitchen, watching and listening in silence. He is ready to fight for his dad, although he hasn't called him dad, he thinks of him as a dad.

And (Y/N) could fight, after all, Ra's' genes, Bruce's genes and (Y/N)'s genes mixed in make a fighter. A great one at that.

Ra's then turned his sights on the boy who was in the kitchen, listening and watching like a hawk.

" Ah, there he is. You still have no name? " Ra's asked, moving closer to the boy.

" I do have a name. It's William. " Now William responded with confidence and (Y/N) was proud. His boy has a name and it's William. He has to let Bruce and the boys know ASAP.

" I see. It seems you got a name... A strong one it seems. "

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, knowing that Ra's wanted (Y/N) to get an Arabic name, but (Y/N) and Bruce put their foot down to anyone who tried to give now William, a name.

It was something that William should have done on his own. It's something that he should have a choice in. It's something empowering in having that choice. Something that everyone should have when their sense of individual self is pushed onto them, when they have no choice in the matter.

Giving yourself a name is something impowering.

" It seems you are doing well in here, " Ra's noted and William nodded, also put off by Ra's. (Y/N) was glad that he wasn't the only one.

" And as for you (Y/N), " Ra's turned to (Y/N), who crossed his arms, " You look lovely tonight. The casual attire you more than official attire you wear at galas and at work I must say. "

(Y/N) wanted to crawl somewhere and die. William crossed his arms, just ready to pounce at Ra's. He could sense the undertone that Ra's was using and didn't like it one bit. He stood behind (Y/N), ready to protect his dad.

Ra's simply raised his brow, but didn't comment on it.

" Well, I have more tasks here in Gotham, so I must get going. " Ra's took (Y/N)'s hand and kissed the back of it, just like he always does and then left.

(Y/N) shuddered once Ra's was out of sight and out of mind.

" You okay dad? " William asked and (Y/N)'s eyes widened, but smiled.

" You called me dad... " (Y/N) said happily, hugging William.

" Not the point dad. He is creepy. "

(Y/N) nodded in agreement. " I know son, he is creepy towards me. My guess is that he has feelings for me, but I'm loyal to Bruce and Bruce only. I can handle the old bastard. " (Y/N) patted William's cheek.

" Don't worry, okay. Now, do you want to watch a movie? " (Y/N) asked and William nodded.

" Alright, choose a movie off of Netflix while I make some snacks. "

[alexa-fika]

Could i please request a fem!child!reader who's picked up swearing with the whitebeard pirates?

Reader sorta knows what it means but also doesn't,

Also flips people off mid convo, (doesn't know what means but thinks it's funny.)

And when she gets angry/annoyed she is kinda a savage, like I can imagine reader with ace (and any other characters) then a group of pirates starts threatening them but reader is just going ham with the insults.

Puppy Escapes ( Shanks x gn!reader x Whitebeard pirates)

Part 1 ( Can also be read as a stand alone)

A/N I am combining these two requests, I kinda change some buts since I would be crushed if Dokucha actually rejected their families love so they came back with something else knstead! Iy’all seemef to like the first one so hopefully you like this one to, I think I COOKED just like Shanks is gonna be COOKED 😂

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/drink the sky and @/firefly-graphics

Shanks stared owlishly at the child before them, having just found them in one of the many crow-nests that composed the Red force.

"Boss, what is it?" he heard Lucky call from the ship's Deck.

"My doom," he replied morbidly, fully jumping into the crow's nest and kneeling down next to the child who had the courtesy of at least looking remorseful.

"Dokuchaaaa," he called, stretching the last syllables of their name as they noticed them trying to avoid his stare.

The child, who by now had turned into a flustered mess, both at the fact that they had been busted and that they had gotten busted by the man with whom they were infatuated.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see Mister Shanks again," they mutter.

Shanks lets out a huff but cannot help to give the child a slight grin.

"Your brothers banned you from seeing me again?" he asked, letting out a small laugh as they nodded sadly.

"You know they really won't be happy with this."

"I don't care! Big brothers were being meanies! I just wanted to see Mister Shanks, but they won't let me! I hate them!" they exclaimed

"Come on, Dokucha, I know you don't mean that, do ya?"

"No... I don't," they sniffled.

"It's okay, I know you love your brothers; they love you too. They just worry for you."

"I love them b-but I also love Mister Shanks," they called as they burst into tears and ran towards the man.

"There, There, it's alright," he whispered as he patted the child's back, calming them down as he made his way down the crow's nest, the child held tightly in his hands.

"Come on now, why are you crying?"

"B-Because I said that I hated my brothers! I didn't mean it! I love them so much!" They sobbed

Shanks let a small snicker at their troubles as he continued to rub their back.

"They're gonna be mad at Mister Shanks now, and I won't be able to see you!"

"Already breaking hearts, boss?" Yassop merrily called, letting another belly laugh as his Captain just rolled his eyes at his statement

"Listen, Dokucha, don't worry about that. We will get something figured out, but for now, how about you enjoy your time here? What do you say? Want to be my assistant today?"

They rubbed their eyes furiously at their statement, trying to erase the remains of their previous outbursts, a few rogue sniffles still escaping them, much to their chagrin.

"I get to be Mister Shanks's Assistant?"

"Think you're up for it?" he questioned, lowering them to the floor and continuing to hold their hand.

"Yes, I'm up for anything that Mister Shanks asks of me!" They happily agreed

"Hear that, Beck? I got me an assistant, and they actually appreciate me."

Said man, rolled his eyes as he shook the ashes from the tip of his cigarette, bringing it back to his lips and glancing at the pair

"Better escape while you can; that one right there is a hassle. Too high-maintenance"

"Hah?!"

"Yes, But he's a handsome hassle!" Dokucha piped back with a grin as they hugged his much larger hand against their cheek.

"O-Oi, are you insulting me or complimenting me here?!" Shanks cried

-

"Now you've done it, Akagami!" Ace growls, jumping into the Red Force, followed promptly by Thatch once it had pulled closer to the Moby Dick

"I don't care if you're my brother's savior; you're not getting away with stealing my baby sibling!"

"Now, Now it was just a misunderstanding," He calls a laidback smile on his face as the young men stomp his way.

"Like hell it was!" Ace hollers, reeling a fire-filled fist.

"Brother Portgas D Ace!" Dokucha calls, halting the man on his step

"Oh, Looks like you're in trouble now," Shanks calls, covering his snickers with his hand as the child marched to the nervous fire user.

"Don't you dare hurt Mister Shanks!"

"Why not Dokucha?! This creep stole you from us," Thatch cried.

"Because you'll damage his pretty face!"

"That's the only reason?!" Shanks exclaimed mortified

"Of course not, Mister Shanks! it's because I love Mister Shanks!" They exclaimed, running his way and attaching themselves to his leg, much to the horror of the two commanders

"I'm not sure if that makes it better," he huffs out.

"Dokucha..." Thatch cries, falling on his knees as tears begin to fall down his face comically

"I think this time my heart is really broken," he sobs.

"Hey, Dokucha, I will see you later, okay? It's time to go back now," he murmurs as he kneels beside the kid.

" B-But I don't want to leave Mister Shanks," They cried, their tiny hands clenching into fists as small tears began to pool at the edge of their eyes.

"I will see you again, okay? I think your brothers really need you now."

"They need me?" they questioned, glancing at the irate Ace and a still knelt Thatch.

"Of course, they need someone to keep them in line, think you can do that? It's your next task as my assistant."

"Leave it to me, Mister Shanks!" they exclaimed, wiping off their tears as a determined look appeared on their face.

"Atta Kid," He cheered, rubbing their head.

"I will see you soon, okay?"

"Like We will let that fucking happen" Thach growls pulling out his swords

"Alright, enough of this," A voice cuts in

"Akagami, please return our sibling to us, Ace; Thatch, we're done here," Marco orders as he lands on the ship's bow, causing the Red Force to sink slightly, bouncing back to the waves as it tried to withstand the sudden arrival.

"Ah, Marco, it's not too late, you know; how about you join me and bring your sibling with you."

"Screw off, Red-haired," he answered scowling as the Captain just sent a grin his way, giving his last goodbyes to the small kid as they ran to the Chef, who hugged them tightly, rubbing their cheeks together ask he continued repeating how much they missed them as he made his way back to their galleon.

-

"You are grounded."

"But Papaw!" they whine, looking up at the old giant.

"Not buts. You are grounded for a week, and that is final. For the following week, you will be accompanied by either me or one of your brothers at all times."

"But that's so fucking unfair!"

"..."

"..."

"MY BABY, they tainted you!!" Thatch cried, shaking the child with tears cascading down his face

"Brother Thatch?" they question, confused, their mind becoming dizzy at the motion.

"Stop it, you idiot," Marco called, hitting the back of Thatc's head, causing the latter to release Dokucha only to turn to him with a scowl.

"Damn you, Marco! Let me lament myself; they have tarnished their pure heart," he cried, throwing himself on the ground once again.

"...I'm going to kill him. I am going to roast him alive and give the fishes a barbecued meal of a lifetime," Ace growled.

"What the hell is going on?" Dokucha cried.

"Dokucha, stop," Marco called a stern tone in his voice.

"You brat, where did you learn those words from? Was it from Akagami's crew?"

"Ah? I heard Mister Shanks say those words-

"Ace. Let's prepare for that barbecue. I will have them fillet for this," The Chef murmured, a dark aura surrounding him.

"But since Big Brothers say them a lot, I thought it was okay..."

"..."

"Dokucha, who exactly did you hear say those words?" Whitebeard asked, a glare in his eye as he questioned them

"Big brother Thatch and Big brother Ace!" they cheered.

"..."

"Dokucha. Will you go find Vista for now? Do not leave his side; you are still grounded, Marco called, watching as they stomped off with a pout on their face.

"Assholes," They mutter.

"Keep it up. You just earned another week of being grounded," Marco called.

"But Brother Marco, I don't know what words I can't say!"

"We will continue this discussion later. For now, if you don't know what it means, then you don't say it understood."

"Okay.." they mutter, walking away to find the swordsman.

"Marco, make sure you have the clinic ready," Whitebeard called as he glared down the two wide-eyed and sweating commanders.

"Will do pops."

"Ah-wait..wait a second Pops-

That day screaming and pleas for mercy from the two commanders reverberated across the sea, reaching the ears of the Red Force vessel as they departed from the Moby Dick's location.

"Hmm, looks like that old man found out who was responsible for the child's colorful language," hums Shanks as he leans back on the chair he laid on, downing a cup of sake as he did.

Here we go! Guess Shanks is not the only one getting Cooked! Good thing they have a express healer on watch! Thatch and Ace will definitely need them!

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

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