#shut up aly no one cares

[eddiediaaz]

there's something very cathartic about telling a very angry man on the phone to fuck off and hang up. literally right after i say "hi welcome to (x), how can i help you" in my best nice voice, he started laughing and giving me shit and yelling about how we fucking suck and calling me names. i work at a customer service call center for like. over 1000 companies. i have NO idea what he was calling about yet, just that he was calling his apartment's management company. apparently he's been having a lot of issues with his landlord and yeah it really sucks for him!! but screaming at a random woman on the phone is not gonna help you dude.

[natti-ice]

dom!eddie x sub!reader

riding eddie on the couch and wayne catching them😋

Pairing: Dom!Eddie Munson x Sub!fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni, p in v, getting caught, “slut” is used once

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

Your legs are wrapped around Eddie's waist as you rock your hips back and forth, you can feel every inch of his cock sliding in and out of your tightness. You let out soft breathless moans and wrap your arms around his neck and pushing yourself further onto him. Eddie's big and rough hands are gripping your hips tightly, guiding your body with every thrust.

"Good girl, ride my cock just like that" he praises and starts to move your body a little faster, you can feel the old dated couch beneath the both of you start to sink as things become more intense. Eddie nuzzles his face into your neck, his warm breath tickles which turns you on even more. "You're such a good little slut for me" he whispers, lust laced in every syllable.

The only thing that could be heard in the trailer were your moans and the sound of skin slapping together as you began to bounce up and down on his cock. "Oh fuck, baby" you moaned out loudly, the immense pleasure started to turn your brain to mush, you couldn't comprehend anything else going on around you except for fucking Eddie. And damn, you love fucking Eddie.

Eddie moved his hands from your hips, allowing you to keep the pace, and grabs both of your tits. He squeezes them roughly, not enough to hurt you but just enough to make you go crazy. His calloused thumbs graze your hard and sensitive nipples causing you to whimper softly at just the slightest touch. "Mmm" he hums "so responsive"

You were both so caught up in the moment you didn't hear the trailer door open, it wasn't till you heard the older man's gravelly voice did you realize you weren't alone. "Dear lord" Wayne Munson spoke, your eyes widen and immediately try to get off of Eddie but he pulled you back down and threw a blanket over you haphazardly. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Wayne, seeing his face would make this even worse.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie yells out, annoyed that you two were interrupted “do you mind?”

“Um,” you can hear the shock and bewilderment in Wayne’s voice “I’ll just uh-” before he finished his sentence you could hear quick steps and the door slam shut. Eddie lets out a frustrated sigh and looks back up at you.

“So, where were we?” He says casually as if unfazed by what happened, his cock still buried deep inside you.

“What?” Your heart was beating out of your chest with embarrassment and lingering desire, you couldn’t believe you got caught but it gave you quite the rush “we can’t keep going” you try to reason with him but you knew it was no good.

“We can and we are,” he says with finality in his voice and begins to thrust up into you “I don’t care who sees, this is my pussy and I decide when I fuck it, understood?” He increases his pace and hold you in place as he jackhammers into your wet hole

The feeling of his cock stretching you out was too good to resist, you knew it was wrong but Eddie had a way of making you feel things no one else could, moans start to flow freely from you once again.

“Yes, sir”

Tags: @ali-r3n @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @canmargesimpson @nailbatanddungeon @queermaxwooo @zestychili @skrzydlak @supersmexyandhot @themadhattersqueen @arthurcerverogf @marshymallo

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[harrington-stevie]

mess of me | S.H.

Summary: Steve breaks a promise and it ruins your friendship. He doesn't hide the frustration about the possibility of seeing you leave Hawkins.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, slight praising

Word count: 2.8k

♥

Steve likes the way you dress up when you go out with your group of friends, but this is the second time he sees you in a bikini. And it makes him want to punch his own face.

You all decided to take a small trip to a lake with a waterfall. The late spring days started to feel hotter and you just wanted to do something different. Hawkins isn't exactly the best destination to spend a day doing something good.

He watches as you swim with Robin and the other girls. She splashes water at you as you both laugh. Nancy and Jonathan are enjoying the waterfall, all while Argyle and the boys fight with water guns.

Steve is sitting next to Eddie under the sunshade, the latter reading a fictional book as he wears dark shorts, a bandana wrapped around his hair that's tied in a ponytail.

"If you keep looking at her that much, I'm pretty sure she's gonna have third degree burns from your staring" Eddie speaks up, still focused on his book.

He snaps his head to the side, scoffing at his friend's words. "M'not looking at anyone. Just watching the view from the lake"

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. "Yeah, right. The view, huh?"

"Shut up, Munson" He rolls his eyes.

They're talking about you. You are the reason why Steve keeps staring too much at the lake, not even caring to jump in the water for a refresh. His friend knows you don't get along with him ever since he broke his promise of keeping your secret safe with him.

He ended up telling everyone you were planning on going back to New York. No one knew about your plans, not even Robin who's your closest friend after him. You didn't want to tell them just yet.

They were disappointed at you at first. But then, they all seem pretty understandable. Because any other place in the country would be better than Hawkins. Even if your friends lived there, even if the man you ever really liked lived there.

Even if it meant being away from everything that made you feel safe and happy. And Steve was mad at you because of that. He was mad you were willing to get away from them. He thought you were running away from everything.

He never really meant to betray you. He was nervous, frustrated. He didn't want you to leave. He still doesn't want you to leave. If he thinks too much about it, his body starts to get rigid and tense. His fingers curl in rage.

Eddie knows all about his friend's feelings. He knows how much he cares about you, how he would fight for you to stay. But now, you can't even really look at him without feeling sad and angry. Angry because you trusted him. Sad because you thought you had his back.

You've been friends for almost a year now, but you're close enough to trust each other. That's what you actually thought until he told everyone you were leaving soon. Now you just can't stand looking at his face.

His pretty fucking face, painted with moles of various sizes. His sun-kissed skin, strong muscles and sharp jawline. Maybe this is one of the reasons you have doubts about staying. But who knows if you're his type anyway.

Through his sunglasses he can't keep his eyes off you. His jaw is clenched and his teeth are gnashing from the pressure. All he wanted to do right now was to push you against a wall and ruin you. Not even in a good way, because he can't stand the fact he has to deal with your cold shoulder.

And he knows he did wrong with you. It wasn't his intention to. And he apologized whenever he could. He would kneel in front of you at random moments and apologize. He would send you roses with small notes. Damn, he would leave letters on your doorstep. But you would never respond to them, you would never actually let him know if he was forgiven. Steve didn't want to see you leave without forgiving him. And it was chewing him alive.

He watched as you got off the lake, grabbing a towel and drying yourself before you walked back to the car to pick a snack. He took it as an opportunity to follow you. You were fumbling through the basket looking for a bag of doritos when he stood right beside you, leaning against the car.

"Fuck off, Harrington" You grumbled, not even daring to look at him.

You recognized him by his scent, and you hated that you knew him just that much.

He didn't answer. Rather, he crossed his arms and waited until you finally picked what you wanted. You gave him silence again, and he sighed.

"How many times do you still want me to apologize? Because I'll do it"

"Doesn't matter, Steve. That's the problem, you were so selfish you couldn't keep my fucking secret safe with you for more than a week!" You snapped at him. He seemed unfazed by your anger because that's how you've been treating him ever since then.

"I was desperate because how could you even do that to us? You're leaving everything and everyone behind!" He pulled back from the car, extending his arm in exasperation.

"I don't want to go through this again, especially with you. I told you why, I don't think I have to give you an explanation for my decisions"

As you tried to walk back to the lake, he gripped your forearm carefully so he wouldn't hurt you. Steve pulled you back only a few steps, hesitantly closing the distance. You didn't want to be this close to him, it was too hard to look at his face.

"You're right, you don't. But– it's hard to let you leave" He looked at your face, how you were still hurt.

You were avoiding his gaze at all costs. His hazel eyes were too intense at this point.

"We barely know each other, Harrington. We've only met months ago. Don't say things like that when you don't mean them"

"The way you think you know me is so frustrating, by the way" He places his forefinger under your chin and lifts your face so you can finally look at him. "Stop being so stubborn, please look at me"

It takes several seconds for you to give in. You're still angry at him, you still wish you could just punch his perfect face. But you stay still without saying a word. Your creased brows are the only response he gets besides your watery eyes. You obviously want to cry. You wish you had another option, but you already made peace with the fact you want to leave Hawkins.

"I'm fucking sorry I was an idiot. I never wanted to hurt you in any fucking way. And if I could actually go back in time I would shut my fucking mouth" He curses through every sentence. His irises are almost burning holes into yours from the intense staring.

You keep looking at each other. Your mouth is closed in a thin line because what else can you say? You're reluctant about forgiving him. But maybe it's time to give up on it and finally move past it.

You’re both quiet, he crosses his arms again and just stands there with his head hanging low. You’re not sure what you should do. You don’t know what’s the right thing to do right now. You hate the situation, you just didn’t want it to be like that. 

“Just-” He sighs deeply. “Think about it, alright? I’m not gonna force you into doing anything”

You nod. There’s a small tension between you two, and you the meaning of all of this conversation. 

"You know you're very obvious about the way you look at me, right?" You suddenly ask, watching his expression turn into surprise as his eyes widen. You can't help but smirk. "Everyone keeps saying you're not exactly disguising it".

"What– I never did that" He tries to be oblivious, his tone was nervous and he averted his eyes from yours.

You chuckle at his defensive response. "Come on, Steve. Let's settle something, then. I'll forgive you if you admit this as your secret".

You look at him expectantly. He's still not looking at you, holding his hips as he bites into his inner cheeks. Steve groans and throws his head back. If that's what it takes for you to stop hating him, then it's worth doing it.

"Okay. Yeah, yeah, it's true" He glances at you again and moves his hands to place them both over your face and it surprises you. "Actually, I can't help but think about you for a while. It's stupid, but it's true. I think maybe it's why I reacted so badly at the news of you leaving. Because I didn't want to believe it".

His words hit you like a punch to the guts. And everything makes sense. He was definitely desperate and he couldn't think of anything else to do. His reaction wasn't really honest. He lost a few people before, he didn't want to lose you either.

But now, the thought of leaving the town and leaving him behind is starting to lose meaning. Because yes, you also couldn't stop thinking about him either.

You're too fond of him to be honest. Your first instinct is to pull him closer and finally kiss him. He didn't expect you to do it, so he stumbles forward a little. His hands still planted on your face, now cradling it. He kisses you back, sticking his tongue out to touch yours. It's delicate, but fervent as well. You taste the gum in his mouth and it's addicting already.

He doesn't let go of you until he tries to catch his breath. He retracts his head back only a few inches so he can take a look at you again. Steve pulls you for another kiss and struggles to hold back the groans in the back of his throat. Because you're too good to actually be true. Your taste is better than anything he's had before. Your tongue is fighting for dominance and he likes the way your teeth latch onto his bottom lip and gently pull it.

Still glued to you, he guides you behind the trees and bushes until you can't see the lake. The sun is peeking through the leaves and your breath hitches at the sight of him shirtless in front of you. His hazel eyes look brighter because of the light. You feel him pushing you against the tree, one of his hands splayed against your chest as the other one he uses to hold your waist.

"Steve, what are you–"

He pecks your lip hurriedly to shush you. "Just let me, okay? I know I lost your trust, but trust me on this just for today".

Steve plants soft kisses through your skin as he goes down, leaving traces of spit against your stomach, reaching for the straps of your bikini bottom. It takes your breath away to see him undoing the knot with just his teeth, watching as he looks up at you with something different in his eyes. You've only seen him looking at you like that only a couple of times. His fingertips graze the material as he pulls it to the side, revealing your cunt to him. You thank God you've shaved it.

He breathes against your skin and it gives you goosebumps. His hands are holding your ass tightly, squeezing it hard as he looks at your glistening folds. It almost sparkles against the sunlight and he can't think of anything more admiring right now. He kissed just a few inches close to your center, leaving a wet patch on your skin. You try to hold yourself, gripping the tree with both hands. 

Steve holds your left leg high until he places it over his shoulder, opening your folds just a little. It's enough for him to grow into his shorts. He effortlessly uses his thumb to open your cunt, watching in awe the way you're soaking for him. He pecks your skin softly, just above your clit and it makes you whine.

You hear him shushing you, because no matter if you're far from the lake, you wouldn't wanna be loud. Even though your friends know that, if you're taking too long to come back, you might as well be doing something they don't even care about.

You throw your head back, holding his hair through your fingers. It sends shock waves through your body as soon as he licks your folds for the first time. He slides his tongue up and down your slick, tasting your juices, humming in appreciation. He still holds one of your inner labia with his thumb to have more access. Everything seems to fade away in front of you, the sound of the waterfall is muffled and the air becomes dense. He draws circles with the tip of his tongue over your clit and you squirm under him.

"You're too fucking sweet, fuck" He grumbles, his lips softly grazing your skin.

He licks your pussy with so much pleasure, trying to taste you as much as he can. Steve changes between licking you and flicking his tongue over your clit. He slides his thumb down your entrance, making no effort to push into your hole and he hears you whimper. His finger works its way in and out of you, sliding up and down your core, feeling your walls contracting. You pull his locks tighter, messing with his hair as you feel the knot in your stomach grow wider.

You snapped your eyes open suddenly, your lungs missing the air that left your body when Steve sucked on your clit, still fucking you with his thumb. He was humming against you, his mouth trapping your soft and sensitive skin, his tongue savoring you.

"Oh my God, Steve. That's–" You couldn't even finish your sentence because he didn't let you.

He was too focused on eating you out and fucking you mindless. You felt him shaking his head, giving you more pleasure than you thought it was possible. His thumb was quick to pump you, his lips adorning your clit in such a lustful way. His hair was so messy, it gave him the look of someone that was so pussy drunk, you throbbed against him.

Steve pulled your skin harder, feeling your body jolt in response. He took only a few seconds to look up at you, pupils dilated and blown eyes. His brows were knitted as he kept fucking you. He loved the view from down there, your chest heaving, your eyes also blown out. Mouth agape and nipples almost piercing through the fabric from being too hard.

His cock was pounding against his shorts, he could feel the burning sensation of it, because he was about to explode inside it. And he couldn't hold it back, especially because he didn't want to.

When he started to feel your pussy clenching around his finger, he slowed his pace, knowing it would give you more pleasure. He knew what he was doing. It makes your orgasm last longer too. Each second that passed, he could see how tense you were becoming. Every flick of his tongue on your clit was a jolt to your body. Your legs were trembling really bad and your mouth was dry.

You tried not to moan his name too loud, you tried to keep your whimpering down. He didn't even try to keep silent. You could hear him moaning and groaning against your core as well. You watched the moment his face contorted and he breathed heavily, hissing against your skin.

Steve sucked on your clit a few more times, circling your pussy with his thumb until you broke down on him. You throbbed and clenched, soaking his finger. He could feel you falling apart for him, pulling his hair up and forcing your cunt into his face, his nose nudging on your pubic bone. He stayed there for a while, now licking your wet pussy, gathering the rest of your juices left. He pecked on your skin gently, pulling out of you, hearing you cry out from missing his touch.

He tied the knot on your bikini back and pushed himself up. Finally meeting your flushed face after the show he just gave you. For a moment, you missed the way his shorts were wet because you could barely see it. He brushes a few strands of your sweaty hair off your face and glances at you.

"I'm really sorry I was an idiot before" He pleaded. You couldn't even process his words because you were still in a haze.

You closed the gap between you two and kissed him softly. "Please, don't leave Hawkins".

He held your waist desperately, squeezing it a little as he opened his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. You didn't answer him. You didn't know what you wanted anymore. Only right now you wanted him, just him.

"You're gonna need to refresh when we get back" You joke, feeling the wet short touching your thigh. Looking down at himself, he understands immediately and chuckles.

"You made a mess of me, in so many ways" Steve doesn't let you go out of his touch, he wants to stay there like that forever.

He holds you against his chest as you lean against the tree for several minutes. He leans on top of your head and closes his eyes. He feels his heart thumping against his chest. Steve fears he's still gonna lose you after this, but even if you go, at least he knows he's forgiven.

[starlightsreigns]

hold up | a lemonade story

summary ⇢ mellie's hanging on by a thread. how much longer can she hang on when one question coils deep in her? is roman... cheating on her? word count ⇢ 1.4k tags ⇢ minors, do not interact. implied cheating | two ; denial “What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you”

i don’t wanna lose my pride, but imma fuck me up a bitch.

“Melody, you’re going to drive yourself insane,” My friend Alyssa sighs. “Don’t you trust him?” 

That’s a great question. However, I’m past the point of giving a damn.  I’m literally driving myself to insanity with all of this and I’m not sure how to bring it up. How do you confront the love of your life about something like this without him immediately going on the defense?

“I don’t trust him, that’s the problem, and I don’t know how to get back to that point anymore.” 

Alyssa is my moral compass, she tries to keep me levelheaded when I feel myself slipping. She’s my best friend, but she’s a big fan of Roman and I’s relationship ��� Alyssa refuses to believe that he’s this person, that he can be a cheater when he’s been so caring. She sees the best in him. 

“Mellie, what has he done to make you feel this way?”

My eyes meet hers, “Don’t make me feel crazy, Aly, I’m already losin’ it here.”

“I’m not sayin’ that, I promise, I’m just tryna understand how you go to this point.” Alyssa sits up. “Just help me understand and I promise we can fuck his shit up tonight.” She offers a smile. 

While she’s the more levelheaded one of us, the thing I love the most about her is her willingness to support any and every decision I make — even if it’s the craziest shit she’s ever heard.

That’ll be helpful later. 

Somethin’ don’t feel right because it ain’t right.. Comin’ up after midnight

The house is the coldest it’s ever been in a long time. I’m pretty sure the only source of heat is coming from the anger seeping out of my pores when I hear his keys in the lock as I sit on the couch. A book sits in my lap untouched as he comes in through the door. 

“Hey, Mellie,” Roman throws my way lazily. He comes over to kiss my cheek and I can’t help but smell the perfume that radiates off his body. Chanel. At least the bitch has taste. “You up late.” 

My brain wants to cuss him out, but thankfully restraint still exists when I finally reply. “I’d say the same for you, baby, where you been at?”  

Roman glances in my direction while heading to the kitchen, “I went to the PC then had dinner with the twins.” 

“Oh, the twins are in town?” My eyes train on his back. 

There’s no way they can be in town. During a call with Trinity earlier in the day, she told me that her husband and his brother were doing house shows during the week, so, it’s impossible for them to be at dinner. Yet, he seems to think I’m the biggest idiot on planet earth. 

“Yeah, we went to that steakhouse on 85th.” Roman shuts the fridge and turns to look at me. “Then we got drinks at Tini’s and watched the game.” 

Of course, he has an answer for everything. A tinge of rage strikes me in my chest while watching how calm he is. 

“What game did you watch?” 

That stops him for a moment. 

But I continue, “I watched a couple on split screen.” 

Roman runs his hand over his beard then takes a long swig of beer. 

“Cowboys versus the Texans was good.” I bait with a small smile. 

“Yeah, that’s the one, we ain’t seen the results though.” 

Well, of course, he didn’t, maybe because those two teams didn’t have a game tonight. 

To not lose my cool, I let the conversation go. I can see him watching me from the corner of my eyes as I pretend to read my book. There’s nothing else I can say. I’ve caught him in more lies than I can count — and there’s a feeling in my gut that tells me he knows. 

Can’t you see there’s no other man above you?

Most people would judge me and I don’t blame them. Even with my suspicion, I can’t deny the love and affection I have. So, here I am under him. I can’t help it. 

“Look at me, baby,” Roman’s rough voice sharpens my attention. “you look so beautiful.” He runs his hand down my cheek. 

His eyes on me, for the first in a while, feels like how it used to be. It makes me forget all the pain that I’ve felt for so long. This is what I want back. 

My hand grips his wrist, pulling him down onto the bed, maneuvering so I’m on top. 

The gems on my acrylic nails catch some of the light from the moon. My hands are pressed against his chest, holding me steady, keeping the rhythm of our skin slapping together. I throw my head back with a moan, feeling the way he raises his hips to reach deeper into me. 

“Do you know how much I love you?” I breathe out, leaning down to kiss his neck. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” 

It was the truest thing I’ve ever said. It is the truest thing I’ll ever say. 

How did it come down to this?  scrolling through your call list

His phone is empty. She’s not on here, but I know she exists. How can I keep living in the paranoia where I know the ghost exists but there’s no proof of it? I toss his phone back onto his side of the bed with a huff just as he walks out of the bathroom. 

“what’s wrong?” He takes a look at my exasperated expression.

“You know how much I love you, right?” My voice is harsher than I wanted, but it catches his attention. “And we made our vows to be loyal to one another, i’m keeping my end.” 

Roman knits his eyebrows together, “I love you, too, Mellie.” He sits at the edge of the bed. “I’ll always be here.” 

The reassurance I was hoping to feel never comes. Instead, I’m slowly feeling rage. But, I don’t respond but nod. I can’t look jealous or crazy, that’ll only drive him away or make him sneakier. If anything, I need him to slip up. That’s the only way I can make sense of this — Lord, give me a sign. 

What’s worse? Lookin’ jealous or crazy?... I’d rather be crazy. 

Sleep was the last thing on my mind. Instead, my eyes fixated on the TV screen that flickered in the darkness. Roman was sound asleep beside me and my nerves had finally calmed enough for me to wonder if I was going insane. 

I’ve found no tangible proof. Maybe, just maybe, I’m convincing myself of something that isn’t true –possibly self-sabotaging and self-destructing. If I don’t stop now, all my hair will fall out from the stress. Three months of thinking these thoughts are slowly killing me. Not that he’s noticed, but I’ve lost 25 pounds in my mission to find out the nonexistent truth. 

My eyes are slowly closing when his screen catches my attention. It’s three in the morning, who could possibly be texting him? I’ve just come to an agreement with myself and now I’m plunged back into the uncertainty. I should just turn over and fall asleep, but I just need to look at the message and I’ll be over it. 

J: are you really not coming over tonight, baby? i miss you. mellie sees you more than enough. just come over and be back before she wakes up.

My eyes scan the message over and over again. I’m not sure what else I’m looking for, but I’m hoping that at some point the message would read something different — something that doesn’t confirm all my suspicions. I cover my mouth when the tears start to fall, not wanting to wake him up and find me in this position. My chest feels heavy and my feet are a ton of bricks when I make it out of bed. 

Out in the hallway, I slide down the wall with my hands still firmly covering my mouth to swallow the sobs. This isn’t what I wanted nor was it what I needed. My brain feels scrambled with incoherent thoughts. What do I do now? Should I leave? Should I take a baseball bat to his head? Yet, the only thing I’m sure of right now is that I might throw up.

It’s difficult for me to get back up to my feet. My body shakes uncontrollably in the darkness and my breathing is shallow until I’m taking deep breaths. I turn to glance into the room, feeling my skin heat up. This feeling isn’t sadness, it isn’t hurt, or disappointment. I’m past denial – what I’m feeling is scorn and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 

“But still inside me coiled deep was the need to know. Are you cheating? Are you cheating on me?”

please excuse the errors, classes are kicking my ass. hope you’ve enjoyed it 🫶🏽 very excited to post “don’t hurt yourself” x

[targaryenoceans]

ABOUT A GIRL

modern!aegon targaryen x fem!reader

notes: based on the song about a girl by nirvana. i don’t know what else to say, but enjoy!! also if you have a request i can do it! and should i do a part two?

summary: you were helaena’s best friend, ever since you guys were little. you were basically apart of the family. but then her brother aegon knocks on your door crying.

warning (s): sad boy aegon, alicent is a bad mother in this, reader is in college, so is aegon & helaena. parent issues, it’s pretty wholesome.

masterlist.

You heard banging on your front door, you sat up groggy looking at your phone to see what time it was.

2:23am

you we’re currently home alone, your parents had taken their much needed vacation, away from you? you didn’t know.

you got out of bed, putting on some shorts and walked downstairs as the frantic knocks on the door began louder and louder. you looked into the peep hole and saw a crying aegon, that was odd.

you were his sister’s best friend, helaena ever since elementary school. the targaryens were a very wealthy family, everyone knew that. you used to have a massive crush on aegon until he began not caring about anyone, throwing himself into smoking, girls, and etc.

you were now in college with helaena, you were majoring in music, something you’d loved since you were little.

aegon had majored in business something his mother had forced him into, following in the targaryen family ways.

helaena’s other brother, aemond was a freshman in college, he mostly kept to himself and you didn’t really see much of him. though you’d seen him bring only one girl home, alys rivers. he had lost one of his eyes due to an accident with his nephew which caused that side of the family distance themselves away.

daeron the youngest brother, was still in highschool. you didn’t know much of him as alicent had sent him oldtown with her side of the family.

you didn’t really have a problem with alicent, you knew she was trying her hardest, especially with aegon. she’d constantly yell at aegon for him for slacking off at school, when he should have been focusing on school.

then their father viserys, like daeron you didn’t really know much of him. he’d been sick and isolated for as long as you’d remember, you’d only see him in events or parties the family hosted, but he seemed to look worse each time.

you wouldn’t say you were distant from aegon, yes you tried to distance yourself from him but he seemed to pop up everywhere. the two of you would bond over music, mostly nirvana as that was his favorite band.

you opened the door, “aegon? what are you doing here? are you okay?” you asked him, seeing his tears and how he struggled to breath.

“can i come in?” aegon gasped out, sobbing even more that he saw your face.

“uh-y-yea..” you nodded, you were still half asleep. you let him in, the man nodded.

aegon walked in and shut the door behind him, wiping the tears from his eyes. he was breathing heavily, almost to the point of having a panic attack.

he walked himself to your kitchen, sitting on one of the stools and putting his head into his hands, he was a wreck. you knew it was probably alicent fault, per usual but it was never this bad.

you let out an exhale and followed him to the kitchen, leaning against the counter, staring at him cry into his hands.

“i-im sorry for coming here…i-didn’t know where else to go.” he spoke between sobs, his voice was shaky.

you let out a silent yawn, “no, it’s fine..”

after a few seconds aegon’s sobs quieted down, into sniffs. he looked up at you, his eyes were bloodshot and their were visible signs of tears on his cheeks.

“what happened…” i slowly walked into him, hugging yourself, you hadn’t even realized that you were in a tank top and shorts.

aegon let out an exhale, looking down at his hands, which were picked at: a habit he had gained from alicent, helaena had told you. “i-it’s alicent..she found out…i failed first semester of one of my classes….i-she got mad-and yelled at me..and called me a disappointment to the f-family and i was u-useless..that was i was n-no so-son of her-” he stopped mid sentence, sounding as if he was about to cry again.

“aeg….” you whispered, stepping closer to him.

“it-its….she’s just so fucking mean…” aegon let out a sob again, burying his hands in his face again.

you looked at aegon sobbing again. you were almost going to call helaena but she’d probably be sleeping. you’d never see aegon like this ever. you’d normally want to distance yourself away from him, but you couldn’t: not that he was like this.

you stepped to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “it’s okay….” you rubbed his back, trying to give him comfort that he seemed to long for.

aegon didn’t lift his head up, but his sobs got more louder, he was not used to this comfort, his siblings would try and comfort him but that was different.

the comfort with you, he felt a actual comfort with you, he never admit it but…..he liked it. he didn’t want to go back home, he felt safe with you.

“it’s okay…” you whispered again, this time aegon didn’t care if he overstepped it with you, he hugged you, loosely wrapping his arms around your waist.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

aegon had stayed with you that night, slept in your bed. he’d asked to sleep on the couch, but you denied, you felt bad for him and the both of you slept in your king sized bed. you felt guilty almost, helaena was your best friend but you shared a bed with her troubled brother, whom she’d lost many friends because of him.

you opened your eyes, feeling your phone going off. you picked up your phone and saw helaena calling you, you were looked at the screen before you answered her, you knew that aegon hadn’t come home last night, and they probably were asking around.

“hello?” you asked, your voice filled with sleep.

“hey, mom and aegon had a bad fight last night. he left and isn’t back home..do you know where he is?” helaena’s soft voice spoke out, her voice filled with distress, worried for her sibling.

you stayed silent, helaena knew your silence was her answer, you’d been best friends with her for too many years to count. “he came crying to my door last night…” you told her, you couldn’t lie to your best friend, especially not helaena.

there was a sigh of relief, “he’s there? he’s okay?”

“yea…he’s okay.” you sat up, looking at the man on the bed beside you, his eyes were slightly puffy and red around them.

“mom is worried. she thinks he’s dead in a ditch somewhere….can i talk to him?” helaena asked, her soft softer and less distressed.

“he’s asleep, maybe you should come to my house.” you spoke, getting off the bed, and leaving your bedroom.

“i’ll be there in a few.” helaena spoke and ended the call.

you were left in silence again, walking to the living room and sat on the couch.

after a few minutes there was a knock on the door and it opening, helaena had a key to your house. you stood up and walked to her and hugged her.

“i was worried something bad happened to him.” helaena spoke, her face buried in your morning hair.

“i was worried last night, i’d never seen him so upset.” you pulled back from the hug, looking at her.

“yeah…can we go see him? i assume he’s asleep.” helaena spoke, already walking upstairs to where she assumed he was.

you followed her, the stairs creaking as they walked up it. helaena opened your door and saw aegon still asleep, a little drool falling on your bed.

helaena let out a sigh of relief as she saw him and walked to the side of the bed, she shook his shoulder, “aeg?”

aegon groaned in his sleep, and opened his eyes, his eyes slightly red but better than last night, “hel? why are you here?”

“we were worried, we thought something bad happened to you…” helaena sat on the bed.

“i was fine..” aegon sat up, his shirt twisted from sleeping.

“we called you, texted you, even emailed you!” helaena raised her voice, angry and annoyed at him. you stood from the doorway looking at the both of them.

aegon glanced at you, before looking back at his sister. “my phone was dead.”

helaena let out a huff, before hugging her brother. “don’t you ever run away like that again!”

aegon was a little startled by her hug but, hugged her back, closing his eyes.

you watched the siblings hug, you were happy, helaena was the most caring out of all the siblings. you were just worried about what alicent would do or say to him.

[meganx]

Just One Weekend // Lando Norris x OFC // Part Seven

Summary: Alice has been a Formula One fan all her life. When the opportunity came up to enter a competition that could mean attending an actual race, she pounced on it. When the news finally came that she had won, she was cautiously optimistic about what the experience would hold. Lando, on the other hand, would rather eat fish than spend an entire weekend entertaining a stranger.

All My Works

Series Master List

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Part Seven

Alice had always loved Sunday mornings on race weekends. Her house was filled with buzzing energy, and she and her dad would talk for hours about their predictions. More often than not, her mother would make pancakes drenched in syrup, and Rory would be doing her nails at the coffee table. The last few years, Mia would also join in, adding comments and asking a hundred different questions.

The feeling she got on race weekends was tripled when she walked between the motorhomes. The energy felt thick, almost tangible, and she could feel it down to her bones.

The McLaren garage was alive with anticipation. The sound of machines whirring to life and engineers scattering to complete last minute fixes created a heart beat and she was addicted to it. A part of her feared she would never be able to enjoy race weekends at home the same again.

When she arrived in the hospitality area, it was brimming with people. Athletes from all corners of the world were gathered on the balcony, looking over at the track. Against the feature wall stood a group of young women, all of them looking as though they had stepped right out of a magazine, taking photos. Between the two groups fluttered a host of VIP guests that were rich enough to afford tickets, and actors and actresses that Alice could never have dreamed of seeing in person.

Standing in the middle of it all, Alice felt invisible. Like she had been swallowed up whole. And, she loved every minute of it. She was a fly on the wall to conversations she really didn't belong in and could be seen in the background of photos reaching millions of views.

She relaxed quietly on one of the bar stools, sipping on her iced latte, just people-watching. She was absorbed in a conversation about an unreleased movie when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

Mia: You're on TV! (image attached)

Alice chuckled when she opened the image. It was of her walking into the paddock this morning in her white blouse and papaya orange linen shorts. She could tell Mia took the photo from her family's house and she could see Rory's head in the bottom left.

She didn't reply. Not because she didn't want to, but because Lando grabbed the phone from her hands before her thumbs could start typing.

"Morning, Alice. You look absolutely wonderful today."

Alice narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. Everything about him in that moment radiated mischief.

"What did you do?" she asked. She reached for her phone but he just lifted it out of her reach.

"Oh, Ali. Are you accusing me of something?" he teased. "Come on beautiful, we have places to be."

He began walking backwards towards the hospitality exit, dangling her phone like a carrot on a stick. She didn't really care about having her phone taken, but the curiosity of what he was up to ate at her. So she stood up, ice latte still in hand, and followed him. His smile turned triumphant when she started walking and he turned, walking at full speed now.

She followed after him hurriedly. "Where are we going, Lando?" she asked.

"Shush, Ali. You're going to ruin the surprise."

Her heart skipped a beat as the nickname reared its head for the second time. No one had ever really given her a nickname.

Their footsteps were absorbed by the ground and unnoticeable against the intense noise of the paddock. She followed him until they reached the other side of the hospitality suite. Lando opened the door, ushering her though, and as he shut the door the silence thundered in her ears.

"I wanted to say thank you," he said. "For your help yesterday. And for staying with me."

She nodded her head. "Anytime."

"I wanted to get you a gift, but I didn't really know what," he explained. He walked over to a square-shaped something leaning against the back of the couch, an orange towel draped over it. "I came up with this idea at like 2AM."

He pulled the towel off, and a large frame came into view. Inside the frame were pictures of all the drivers from this year's grid. She took a step closer and blinked once, hard, making sure she was seeing clearly.

Lando had gotten every single driver to sign under their picture.

"Lan -," she started. Her voice choked before she could say another word.

"You like it?"

She nodded viciously and launched towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck as his wrapped loosely around her waist.

"Thank you, Lando." Her voice cracked slightly, but she continued, "I love it."

"Good, I'm glad. Don't worry about getting it home, I'll have it shipped to you. Just send me your address."

She stepped back and smiled, eyes darting between Lando and the frame. He smiled that wide, toothy grin, and as he looked at her she swore she could see something in his gaze shift.

__________

The day was long and drawn out as she followed Lando and Oscar from debrief to media event to another meeting she didn't understand. But the excitement from the morning came back tenfold as the race was set to begin.

The cars were carefully lined up on the grid. Alice's eyes were glued to the television from where she sat in the garage. An engineer she barely recognized slid a pair of headphones into her ears and within seconds she could hear Lando's radio.

The lights flashed on, one after the other, and then she heard the characteristic voice of David Croft echoing through the speakers. Lights out and away we go.

Lando made it through the first lap unscathed and two positions up. The cars roared through the circuit, and the stands were alive with sound, and she savoured every minute of it.

By lap 25 Lando was in P5. Most of the drivers had already pitted, opting for a one-stop strategy in light of the dry weather. He weaved almost effortlessly through the corners and straights, and by Lap 50 the only driver in front of him was Oscar.

They raced a beautiful, clean race, and on the final lap, Lando managed to steal pole position from Oscar. Seeing him cross the line in first, wearing the helmet that she had designed, filled Amelia's heart with an indescribable pride.

The garage erupted, and engineers rushed to watch the podium ceremony. Alice stayed firmly seated, happy to watch the champagne spray from the comfort of the garage.

A small voice in the back of her mind reminded her that less than twenty-four hours ago, she had made a pinky promise, and she needed to deliver.

[cherrys-muses]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY SIXTH; side a — coming back for you - maroon 5 | s. kravinoff x reader

w; none!! an; the only problem i have with this is how short it is </3333 i’m sorry

mixtape here!

Lifting with a gasp, your hand reaches out to your side, only to find it empty and cold. Closing your eyes, pulling your hand away slowly, the heel of your palms dig into your eyes as you try to control your breathing. 

After a while, your hand slowly pulls away and you feel yourself slowly lie back on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling before slowly rolling over and staring at the empty side. 

Sergei had left — again. 

And your dreams are back. More like nightmares. 

Placing your hand on the empty spot again, tracing over the cotton of the sheets, your eyes slowly close. It’s going to be hard to fall back asleep again, but luckily, you do. 

When you finally wake up again, you realize how long you’d truly slept. It makes you feel lazy — especially with so much you had to do and finish, yet you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care. 

Once you shower and change into some new pajamas, you feel ten times better, even if a part of you is still missing just one thing. 

There’s a sound that startles you, your head quickly looking towards the bedroom door that had remained shut the whole time. A small sense of panic rushes over you, your eyes quickly looking over towards Sergei’s nightstand, rushing over as quietly as you could. 

You flinch once again when you hear another noise, this time closer. 

Opening the drawer slowly, your eyes leave the door to frantically search in the drawer. The door opens and you quickly grab whatever your hand lands on and quickly turn to point the object at the intruder. 

Or in this case — Sergei. 

“Oh, my God.” You breathe out, dropping your hand. Sergei lifts his brows, a small smile tugging at his lips as he walks over, dropping his bag on the ground. He’s quick to kneel in front of you, taking whatever you had in your hand. 

“Gonna tase me?” He teases, grabbing your hand after shutting the drawer. He presses a kiss to your knuckles before pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Maybe,” You mumble, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as your eyes close, relief quickly making your body melt into his. “I missed you. I couldn’t sleep.” Your lips brush against his cheek. 

He frowns and pulls one hand up towards your cheek, pulling your face from his. He stares up at you, worry lines creasing his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Your fingertips trace over the lines before dragging down his temple as you shake your head. “It’s not your fault.” 

“I’ll always come back to you, you know that, right?” 

If you could melt into a puddle fully with just a stare, it would be from his blue eyes. Your lips tug into a soft smile before leaning close and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before brushing your nose over his. 

“I know.” He smiles and pulls you in for an actual kiss — gentle and slow. 

He pulls away slowly. “I love you.” 

Pecking his lips quickly, you rest your forehead against his. “And I love you.”

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sstar-ggirl — @pretty-little-mind33 — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[flowerandblood]

The Second One (1/2)

[ modern • Aemond x Alys!sister • female ]

[ warnings: angst, kissing, physical violence, swearing, toxic relationship, toxic behaviour, manipulation ]

[ description: On the occasion of their grandfather's birthday, her older sister, Alys, comes to their house and introduces her partner to their family, who from the very beginning arouses her concern with his behavior. After a series of unpleasant words and arguments, he visits her in her room in the night, paying her a strange, ambiguous visit. Dark, manipulative, bitchy Aemond. Anon request. ]

This is Part 1 of The Loved One

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Her family decided to throw a party for her grandfather at their house to celebrate his 90th birthday, at which her older sister appeared for the first time with her partner. She was surprised that her man was so young and thought with shock that the age difference between them was at least 10 years.

She and her never understood each other very well, as Alys pursued her goals over dead bodies. After many years, she realised that she could not trust her, that she had to be careful with her words around her. She loved her and tried to accept her as she was, but she couldn't be her friend.

Nor did it seem to her that Alys could ever see her as such.

She introduced the man she had come with perfunctorily, a scar on his left cheek – it seemed to her, looking at him from a distance, that one of his eyes was artificial, shining strangely in the light of the chandelier.

He was dressed in black tight jumper and fitted trousers, standing with his hands folded in front of him like a bodyguard, not paying much attention to what his sister was saying, biting his lower lip.

She thought that he didn't want to be here at all.

She shuddered when their gazes met for a long moment. Instead of looking away, however, she felt a sense of discomfort as she saw the way his eyes ran shamelessly over her entire body, the tip of his tongue hitting the side of his cheek.

She left the room deciding she didn't want to look at it, walking out through the back door into the garden.

Alys always overshadowed her – she felt small and bland in her presence. Her older sister could make a good impression when she wanted to, always extremely feminine, confident and mysterious, a true femme fatale.

She was very successful in the fashion industry, modeling for many years, her face was on the front pages of the world's magazines.

Unsurprisingly, she did not seek the friendship of her younger sister, who was a nobody next to her, a little girl playing at studying literary history. She loved reading, in the world of books she could be whoever she wanted, she could be the only one, the main character in the story.

Despite what she was feeling, she tried not to show her or anyone else her pain, focusing on her friends from her studies and the fact that she really liked what she was doing, recognising that getting into university thanks to her results without being forced to pay tuition fees was also some kind of success, something her parents always emphasised.

She sat on the grass taking advantage of the fact that it was a pleasant summer evening, due to living far outside the city boundaries she could admire the stars that stretched above her across the cloudless dark sky.

She heard the sound of a door being pushed open and slid shut and thought it was her father smoking compulsively. She smiled as she heard someone's footsteps heading in her direction being sure it was him, hearing the sound of a lighter being fired up and the hiss of a cigarette.

She glanced over her shoulder and froze seeing the man Alys had come with looking at her intently. She pulled back slightly as he sat down next to her, shocked to feel her heart pounding hard, knowing it was strange to say the least.

She felt uncomfortable.

He held out his hand with his cigarette to her and she shook her head without looking at him, wondering if she should return home. He grinned, letting the smoke out loudly through his nose.

"Are you running away from her too?" He asked with some kind of amusement, his voice low, deep, slightly hoarse. She felt a shudder at his words and looked at him uneasily with a expression of surprise on her face, wondering what he was implying.

She was running away from whom?

From Alys?

She swallowed loudly, recognising that his words were rude.

They might not have liked each other, but she was her sister.

"Why be with someone you're running away from?" She asked frustrated, wondering if he had come to arouse her sister's jealousy, to tease her at her expense.

She had no intention of getting dragged into any of their games.

She felt a squeeze in her throat when he looked at her with some kind of mockery – before responding to her, he pressed his cigarette to his lips and took a deep drag, letting the smoke out along with his words.

"She can fuck well." He hummed, as if it was a normal, decent response.

She shook her head in disbelief and stood up, moving ahead, leaving him alone. She walked into her house and passed Alys, who wanted to ask her a question.

"Did you perhaps see −"

"− in the garden."

She couldn't look at him for the entire dinner and, as if he was doing it on purpose, he took the seat opposite her before Alys could decide for him where they would sit. She told him to move closer to her mother, but he settled comfortably in his chair, playing with his fork.

"No. I'm fine here." He muttered, throwing her a long, meaningful look. She pressed her lips together, swallowing loudly, feeling sick to her stomach.

She thought they were both worthy of each other.

She had no idea what their relationship was, but Alys liked to live on the edge and perhaps that was what she experienced with him.

Extreme emotions.

Her older sister finally sat down next to him, noticing her at last, asking her questions out of politeness that she didn't feel like answering, seeing him looking at her with a smirk that made her sick.

What kind of man was this?

"How are you doing in your studies? What are you reading now? Any poetry?" She asked in her soft, low, feminine voice, taking a sip of wine, fixing her long black hair.

She exhaled quietly, swallowing hard, looking down at her plate, on which lay an uneaten piece of meat.

"I'm reading the prose of Witold Gombrowicz right now. He's a Polish writer." She explained, convinced that her sister would certainly not know who it was, she, however, surprised her as she blinked, looking at her partner in wonder.

"Gombrowicz… do you by any chance have books by this author in your flat, Aemond?" She asked him curiously, his gaze, however, not even paying her a moment's attention, fixed on her, making her feel like sinking to the ground.

"Yes." He replied briefly, with some kind of satisfaction from which she grew hot, feeling uncomfortable with the idea that she had any interest in common with the man who sat before her. Alys stirred in her chair, intrigued.

"That's interesting. Well, tell me, little sister, what this Gombrowicz is writing about." She said lightly, putting a bit of salad on her plate.

She felt some kind of humiliation at her words, like a monkey in a circus who was now going to juggle her knowledge for her enjoyment. She sighed quietly, giving up, having no idea how to explain it to her.

"It's complicated." She said truthfully, and her sister snorted.

"Don't you know what you're reading about? What are they teaching you in these studies?" She asked with lively amusement. She felt a tightening in her throat and tears pushing into her eyelids, which she held back with difficulty.

She exhaled and looked at the man sitting in front of her, staring at her expectantly, intrigued as to what she would do, how she would answer, the fingers of his hand rubbing against each other in a gesture of anticipation.

"Gombrowicz uses difficult metaphors, swaps out certain words, using other, infantile ones in their place. Most of it is written as if he himself is the protagonist of events, it is like his stream of consciousness, the plot is simultaneously present and absent.

What all his books have in common is that he is a broken man, rejected by Poland and the Poles because he fled to Argentina on the Transatlantic right after the outbreak of the Second World War instead of staying and fighting.

Everything he writes about is his relationship with his country, which he loves and hates, which he longs for and abhors, his despair about his sexuality and his psyche. He wrote all his life in Polish, but he did not return to Poland, the communists did not want to publish his work.

He was unable to express his feelings in another language and although he was considered a traitor, in my opinion his true feeling for his country, the enormity of his suffering in seeing how much poison there was in his nation, which he pointed his fingers at when others praised it to the skies, is expressed in his work.

He is, in my opinion, an outstanding author." She said on almost one exhale, grabbing her glass of water. She took a deep sip from it, setting it down with a loud clink of glass, not looking at them, feeling her heart pounding hard.

Her sister blinked, raising her eyebrows, shaking her head.

"Oh, Mother, so many long sentences, and I still don't know exactly what his books are about. Anyway, I'm glad that you're doing well with your studies." She said lightly, and she shuddered to see a wide, dangerous smile spread across the lips of the man before her.

He was enjoying what was happening.

He drew satisfaction from it.

Her sister went back to eating, turning to their aunt across the table, not seeing that she was struggling to hold back tears of humiliation.

Nor did she see the way her partner looked at her sister, unaware that he was giving her far too much attention.

She thought they were both fucked up.

She knew that another half hour at the most and she could run upstairs to her room saying she would go to bed and leave this whole gathering.

She saw Aemond grab a bottle of wine and pour himself half a glass, her sister threw him a puzzled, upset look.

"You're driving, aren't you?" She burbled, and he hummed under his breath, taking a deep sip. He set his glass down without looking at her.

"Not anymore. I'm tired."

She felt a squeeze in her pit at the thought that he was trying to make them stay here instead of going back to the city.

She thought the last thing she wanted was to listen to them moaning on the other side of the wall and looked away, resigned and tired.

According to her plan, after several minutes she said a polite goodbye to everyone and said she would go to bed now, not honouring him or her sister with a single glance.

She changed into her pyjamas consisting of a T-shirt and shorts and locked her door, wanting to make sure no one tried to enter her room.

She swallowed loudly when, an hour later, she heard their voices in the corridor, lifting her gaze from the book she had just been reading in the light of her bedside lamp while sitting on her bed.

"I told you already, I don't want to stay here overnight. Let's order an Uber." Her sister insisted, she could hear her muffled, frustrated voice.

"And I told you I am tired. I'd like to finally fucking rest. You wanted me to come, I came, and now I want to go to bed. Is that so fucking much?" She heard his low, angry voice and felt discomfort at the thought of hearing every word knowing that this was their private conversation.

"Can you keep your voice down? Do you always have to act like a little child? And why are you looking like a pervert at my little sister, huh? Do you think I can't see? Do you want to fuck her?" She hissed out in a whisper, and she felt her heart pounding hard, ashamed, embarrassed and horrified by her words, by the fact that she had noticed it and pretended that nothing had happened.

She heard his low chuckle.

"Maybe I want to. Maybe she wouldn't act like a bitch to me like you do." He growled and she heard a loud splat followed by complete silence.

She slapped him.

She stared at her door, breathing unevenly, swallowing her saliva with difficulty, wondering if she should come out and intervene or if it was better to stay quiet.

"Get the fuck out of my house." She hissed and he laughed, as if her words amused him.

"Fuck no. I'll stay here overnight and drive home in the morning by my car. If you want, order an Uber. Sorry −"

She heard someone come upstairs and from the way he spoke she deduced that it was her mother.

"− will it be a problem if I stay here overnight? I feel bad and I wouldn't want to go back to the city in this condition." He said lowly.

There was silence again – she thought that her mother didn't know what to do, having surely heard at least some of their argument.

"− I − yes − of course −" She muttered after a while. She heard the sound of a door opening on the other side of the corridor, their voices becoming increasingly indistinct.

Then she heard the loud clatter of Alys' heels, her and her mother's voices as they ran down the stairs.

"Fucking bastard." Said her sister, their mother trying to reassure her.

"− after all, I can't just throw him out, since you invited him −"

She heard the loud slamming of the front door. She got up on trembling legs and walked slowly to the window, seeing her sister lighting a cigarette with trembling hands, wiping her cheeks.

She cried.

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the sight, and even though she had hurt her so often with her words, she felt sorry for her. After a moment, she saw an Uber pull up in front of their house, and she got into it and just drove off.

She swallowed loudly at the thought that she had gone, but he had stayed.

What was he planning?

She turned off her lamp, hiding under the duvet, swallowing loudly, listening for any sounds. She felt restless – she couldn't fall asleep and she shivered feeling her heart pounding hard.

She felt that something was about to happen.

She shuddered, snapped out of a deep sleep when she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced quickly at her phone's display and saw that it was two o'clock in the morning.

She looked at her door, figuring that if she didn't get up he would go away, but he knocked again. She covered her face with her hands, feeling tears under her eyelids with fear.

"Please, go away. Please." She said pleadingly, wanting him to take pity on her, not having the strength for it, for their pushing and shoving, for him to fuck her now when in a week's time they'd be back together with her sister, looking for thrills, hating and loving each other like two elements.

She had no intention of being anyone's plaything.

"I want to talk about Gombrowicz." He said lowly and she groaned loudly, licking her lips, shaking her head.

"It's two in the morning." She muttered beggingly, not understanding completely what he had in mind.

"I'm not going until we talk about him." He said after a moment in a matter-of-fact, cool tone, and she sighed heavily, stood up and walked to the door, turning the key.

She opened it for him and there he was, standing in front of her, looking down at her with an indifferent expression on his face. He stepped inside as if nothing had happened, walking up to the window, opening it wide, pulling cigarettes and a lighter from the back pocket of his trousers.

She thought surprised that she had never met such an insolent man in her life.

She simply closed the door behind him, sitting down on her bed, leaning her back against the wall, covering her bare legs with the duvet.

He didn't look at her but out of the window, straight into the night, his face lit by the warm flame of the fire, his cigarette hissed. He took a drag of it, settling comfortably on her wide windowsill, silent for a long moment.

"Have you read Trans-Atlantyk?" He asked at last indifferently, still not looking at her while letting the smoke out with his mouth, his face turned in profile to her. She swallowed loudly, all tense, wrapping her knees with her hands.

"Yes." She replied quietly.

Silence fell between them again, broken only by the hiss of his cigarette each time he took a drag.

"What do you think about it?" He asked at last, just as matter-of-factly and dispassionately. She pressed her lips together, sleepy and tired.

"That it's his best book." She said truthfully, throwing him a depressed, exhausted look.

She didn't have the strength for this.

She just wanted to go to sleep.

"Why?" He continued, and she sighed heavily, placing her forehead on her knees.

"Because it is his response to what has been going on around him. It is his answer to all the accusations made against him. Proof that his country was not at all indifferent to him – on the contrary, although he wanted to, he could not eradicate it from his heart. He saw what was poisoning his country from within. What was destroying it and he had the courage to speak out about it.

He spoke of it with irony and contempt, but when you read into his words, there is only deep feeling and regret there, regret that his country cannot be what he would like, what he needs, what he loves. His people do not reciprocate this feeling, do not see the need to change, that everything is declining.

His feelings are complicated, but therefore true, because he shows that there are no easy answers. Out of the chaos of his thoughts there emerges some truth, some core, and although elusive, although dressed up in humour and irony that made me laugh, after reading this book I wanted to cry."

She said exactly what she felt, regardless of whether he was listening or not. She heard him hum at her words, silent for a long moment, his cigarette almost completely burnt out.

"After I first read this book I couldn't sleep. I felt anxious. As if I had suddenly entered someone's mind, heard their private thoughts and then no longer knew whether I or the author was thinking about something. I had never felt anything like that before." He said calmly, running his tongue over his lower lip, dropping his cigarette into her glass of water that stood on her desk.

She looked at him uncertainly noticing that his face was no longer so tense and aggressive – he was lying comfortably spread out, leaning his back against a wall, pulling another cigarette from his pack.

She considered his words in silence, recognising with surprise that she understood what he was talking about, that she had in fact felt the same way when she read this author's books.

"Can I sleep here with you?" He asked suddenly, and she threw him a shocked, horrified look. She watched him nonchalantly light another cigarette.

What?

"− no − I − God −" She mumbled out, burying her face in her hands, wanting to tell him that he was just terrifying her, that what he was asking was wrong in so many different ways and was putting her in a very awkward position.

She felt a certain discomfort looking at his face, feeling that it was some kind of game, that he was testing her.

"− I can sleep on the floor − I won't touch you −" He said finally looking at her, letting out a puff of smoke with a quiet hiss of his lips.

She couldn't tell what she saw in that look, dark, cold, proud.

He, however, was still sitting in the same place and still looking at her.

"I don't believe you. You want to have fun at my expense, but I don't feel like it. We've talked, now leave. Please." She said, looking bravely into his face, trying to sound as soft as possible.

She had no intention of offending him.

She just wanted him to let her alone.

"I don't love your sister." He said lightly, as if he were talking about the weather. She snorted, shaking her head.

"I don't care. She cried today because of you after she left our house. You're insolent and unpleasant, intruding on me in my own home and making me feel uncomfortable." She choked out, frustrated and angry, furrowing her brow, feeling that she was losing patience.

He, however, chuckled lowly at her words, amused, shaking the ash from his cigarette out of the window.

"She was crying? That's interesting. She didn't give a shit that you almost cried because of her at the table." He murmured, glancing at her curiously, clearly wanting to check her reaction. She pressed her lips together at his words.

"She told me about you. What an ugly duckling you are. That you don't know how to dress well, don't know how to accentuate your figure and your assets. That you hide yourself in big sweatshirts and sit with your nose in books instead of really living and that there's nothing to talk to you about because you can't converse about anything interesting." He mused, taking another drag, cocking his head with curiosity.

"It's none of your business. Get out." She said dryly.

He stood up, approaching her slowly, crouching in front of her bed – he placed his elbows on her bedding, his cigarette in his mouth, which he lightly removed with his hand as he caught his balance.

She felt pain in her heart at his words and tightness in her throat, her fingers clenched on the material of her duvet, her eyebrows arching in anguish. She felt tears under her eyelids again, but she didn't want to give this bastard any satisfaction.

"Get out." She repeated coolly in a trembling voice, looking at him coldly.

"Did you tell her what she wanted to hear too, before you got bored?" She asked with derision, the corner of her mouth twitching in a mocking smile. She saw his gaze darken – he licked his lower lip involuntarily as if he recognised that he was accepting her challenge.

"But when I saw you today I understood why she said that. Because you're pretty. Because you're kind. Polite and cultured. Because you can converse about high literature, and she just doesn't understand what you're talking about. You don't have to spend hours applying make-up, wearing deep necklines and tight dresses to be naturally beautiful. To attract and intrigue. She's fucking jealous of you, little one." He hummed and she felt a shudder at the way he called her, thinking how inappropriate it was.

She pressed her body against the wall, wanting to be as far away from him and his words as possible, feeling hot, thinking that he was manipulating her.

"I didn't have to say much. She prefers to fuck, you know? To feel desired." He murmured lowly, taking another drag, looking at her expectantly, some dangerous glint in his eye.

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked finally, feeling that she didn't have the strength for it, that she just wanted him to leave her alone. He grinned in a way that made her feel a shiver.

"Just so you know the problem isn't with you." He said lightly, as if it was obvious. She shook her head unable to follow his train of thought.

"Why are you with her if you despise her?" She asked, feeling that she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, her voice slightly raised and trembling.

"Because she has big tits and a big ass. Because she sucks cock well." He said calmly and she shook her head, feeling embarrassed by his words, feeling as one by one tears began to run down her cheeks.

She covered her face with her hands, feeling that it was too much for her, that they were both worthy of each other.

Why was he meddling her in their affairs?

"− hey − hey, little one −" He whispered – she felt the mattress next to her bend under his weight and she immediately jumped back, terrified, pushing him away, shaking her head.

"− no − please, no, leave −" She mumbled out, but he just put his arms around her and pressed her against his chest. She could hear his heart beating fast – he smelled of wine, cigarettes and some intense, masculine perfume.

"− please, let me go −" She wailed through her tears, but he hushed her, his free hand stroking her hair, the other holding his cigarette.

She felt him lean his back against the wall and settle into a half-lying position, drawing her with him, his large, warm hand roaming over her head and back, in some strange, irrational way making her feel comfortable.

"− cry −" He whispered quietly with some kind of understanding, as if he knew what she was going through, and although she didn't want to, she allowed herself to burst into sobs, along with her tears flowing out of her all the years she felt next to her sister like nobody.

She didn't want to come off as the jealous one, the one who couldn't enjoy other people's successes, but she understood that Alys never praised her sincerely – everything she said was the bare minimum so that no one could accuse her of being judgmental towards her.

She felt bad at the thought of sobbing in her man's embrace, cuddled up to his chest, but she couldn't help it. She didn't have the strength anymore: she just wanted to sleep, to simply rest.

"− it's okay, little one − I know −" He hummed stroking her hair with slow, tender movements, playing with her curls once in a while, smoking his cigarette, the pleasant, cool night air breezing over her warm, red cheeks.

They were both quiet, lying like that in silence, looking towards the window. She sniffed with her nose and snuggled into him, surrendering.

She thought that if he tried to rape her she would start screaming loudly to wake her family, but some subconscious feeling told her that he wouldn't do it.

That for some reason he too sought comfort in her.

"− I'm done with her, you know? − after what I saw today − after the way she spoke to you I realised that she has no respect not only for me, but even for her immediate family − I was deluding myself that she was only saying that to me because I'm a piece of shit, but I was wrong −" He murmured quietly, weariness and discouragement in his voice. She swallowed loudly, trembling in his embrace.

"You don't speak respectfully to her either." She whispered resentfully, wondering if he really thought he was blameless.

He chuckled quietly at her words – she shuddered when she felt him kiss her hair as if they had been close, as if they had known each other for years. He rested his chin on the top of her head, playing with her hair.

"− that's true − but I don't pretend to be a saint − I know what I want and I make it clear − she hides her desires behind pretty, empty words −" He grunted, stroking her head with a calm, steady motion of his hand.

For some reason what he was doing was calming her down _ she was no longer so frightened, though she still felt strange and uncomfortable.

"If you make it clear what you want, why don't you say why you came here?" She asked with a grudge, feeling pain at the thought of him toying with her and getting exactly what he wanted. He hummed, letting the smoke out through his nose.

"I already told you. I want to talk to you about Gomborowicz and sleep in the same bed with you." He murmured low, kissing her head again, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her hair.

She felt bad at the thought that for some reason it was pleasurable, that she felt a sense of satisfaction that she was now the one in bed with him and not her sister.

She shuddered when his hand slid up to her face and lifted her chin, forcing her to rise her head. She drew in a loud breath when she felt his full lips immediately pressed to hers, soft, wet and hot, his tobacco-tasting tongue invading deep into her throat making her feel throbbing between her thighs.

She pressed her hand against his sleek black jumper, ashamed and terrified that she didn't have the strength to resist him, that she was taking pleasure in the way his fingers stroked her cheek gently as their tongues met and licked with a loud, lewd clicks, slick and sticky from their saliva, his cigarette slowly burning out in his other hand.

She wasn't sure she'd ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time, her heart pounding like mad. She felt her moisture between her thighs, so she clenched her legs tightly to relieve herself any way she could.

She knew he felt it – his hand slid from her face down her back to her buttocks and slipped from behind between her thighs, his fingers pressed against the material of her shorts, rubbing her there in sure, slow, circular motions.

"No." She mumbled and pulled away from him, terrified, feeling that this had gone too far, that she couldn't do this, that she wouldn't let him take advantage so that he could then laugh in Alys face with the satisfaction that her little sister had welcomed him between her thighs with joy.

They stared at each other with eyes wide open, breathing embarrassingly loudly.

"Come here."

"Please, get out."

"Come."

She felt her heart pounding hard, knowing that they were now fighting each other for dominance, for who would have the last word, who would give in.

"If you don't leave, I'm going to get up and wake my parents saying that you came to my room in the middle of the night and you won't leave me alone." She said dryly. He pressed his lips together feeling that her words were final, that she wasn't joking.

"You don't want me to leave." He whispered lowly pressing his lips together, breathing unevenly, his cigarette extinguished.

She swallowed loudly involuntarily glancing down and felt a shudder as she saw the bulge in his trousers.

He was hard.

She shook her head feeling her tears gather in the corners of her eyes again.

"I can't, I'm sorry, it was a mistake. I don't want to do it, not like this, it's wrong. Fuck!" She cursed, knowing it had gone too far anyway, burying her face in her hands, heartbroken that she could have done such a thing to her own sister.

She heard him rose lazily, dropping his second cigarette into her glass of water. He looked at her over his shoulder in a way that made her feel a tightness in her throat.

"I'm sorry, little one. I didn't mean to hurt you. Really." He said lowly with some kind of pain and just walked out, leaving her alone at last.

She collapsed on her bed, covering herself with her duvet up to her head, wanting to hide, to disappear, to sink into the ground.

She couldn't believe how close it was.

How close it was for them to fuck.

She cried her eyes out terrified that she felt tension between her thighs, that she was aroused.

That some part of her wanted him to come back and finish what he had started.

She was awakened in the morning by the loud slam of the front door of her house. She got up quickly, walking over to her open window, looking out of it into the driveway.

She saw him open his car door and give her one last look, as if he hoped he would see her there. She felt a strange tightening in her heart and pain, burning tears under her eyelids.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him – after a moment she heard the muffled sound of music and the whirr of an engine.

She watched with a blank stare as he drove away and disappeared around the corner, pressing her forehead against the frame of the window, feeling a river of tears begin to run down her cheeks.

She wiped her face with her hands, heartbroken that this man had brought her to such a state in one evening, and turned away, wanting to return to her bed.

I wish I had met you before her.

She froze, spotting something white on the floor beneath her door. After a moment, she noticed that it was a folded piece of paper and she walked over to it quickly, picking it up from the floor and opened it. There was only one sentence written inside.

Aemond Taglist:

_____

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy

[starry-bi-sky]

im having more fem Danyal thoughts. But specifically I've been thinking about Dani in this au. Now, Fem Danyal is just the alt. version of Danny to my other DAG au, which means she follows that lore. that being said. Danyal and Dani already had a pretty rocky introduction in the first place, ANd if we follow canon's setup, Dani in fem!Danyal's world would be a boy rather than a girl. I'm gonna call him Ali for easier difference (my train of thought was Daniel -> Eli -> Ali). While Danny may resemble Talia more than Bruce, Danny and Damian still look very similar to each other. Their blood relation is unquestionable.

You can imagine how fem Danyal might feel, walking into her room one day after school, and finding a little boy on her bed who looks, at first glance, like the little brother she loves to death. If meeting Ellie triggered Kill Bill Sirens in Danny's head, meeting Ali bass boosted them. For a terrifying, fleeting moment, Danny thinks Damian is right there. That somehow, her clever, intelligent little brother found out she was alive and tracked her down.

She slams the door shut, completely at a loss for words. Her heart has nearly stopped a second time. Then she realizes: this boy's eyes are blue. Not green. He looks too old to be her brother. His jawline too narrow, his hair too messy. As he talks, his voice is not the same as the sparse few videos on the internet showing Damian speaking. This is not the child she helped take his first steps with, nor the child she watched utter his first words. This is not the boy whom she taught to pick up a sword; this is not her brother.

Safe to say, Ali gets a knife pulled on him much, much faster than his female counterpart did. He lives, fortunately, but their relationship is unsteady and rocky even after Ali betrays Vlad and joins Danny.

Danny is unsettled by him, not for being her clone -- although that plays a minor part -- but because every time he drifts into her peripherals, she keeps thinking it's Damian. And it spooks her half out of her mind. She gets her hopes up at the same time her heart drops, then she turns her head, and it's not Damian; it's Dani.

It's also why she won't call him 'Dani', it's one letter too close to 'Dami' and she's afraid she'll call him that if she's not careful. So when he brings it up jokingly, she immediately shoots it down; "I'll call you Eli." instead. (Ali thinks she's boring -- he thought 'danny with a y' and 'dani with an i' was funny. Frankly, so did Danny, but she's too uncomfortable with the idea of calling him Dani.)

When he asks her why, she lies and says it's to prevent confusion. When their relationship is better, "Eli" eventually becomes "Ali".

("Why Ali?" he'll ask her, with an ear pressed against her ribs while Danny coils one of his curls around her finger. She's steadily become more and more affectionate; Danny has the impeccable ability of making it seem so forced and stiff and natural at the same time.)

("Do you not like it?" She'll ask him, voice stilted and unsure. She's got her heart in her throat, but she's starting to stop seeing Damian whenever she looks down. "We can keep it Eli if you'd like.")

("No, no. I like it. Just... why Ali? Does it mean anything?")

(Danny will smooth her palm over Ali's forehead, scratching his hairline with her nails, and feel embarrassed. She'll be silent until he looks up at her, and then she clears her throat. "It means eminent; exalted; noble.")

(Ali stares at her in dead silence, long enough that she starts to grow worried. Then tears bubble up in his eyes, and for a moment Danny thinks she said something wrong. "I lied;" he croaks, "I love it.")

(She will hesitate, and then wipe the tears off with her thumbs. "Ali al Ghul," she'll mutter, "but that name is for you and I only. To the world, you're Ali Fenton." Perhaps she shouldn't be giving him her mother's last name, but he is of her blood now too.)

[azrielsshadowbaby]

If You Don't Know- Chapter Seven

I'm sorry.... I'm just so sorry.

Warnings- Smut. Adultery.

Dahlia didn’t say a word.

She just stepped aside. Her fingers slipped from the doorknob as she moved back, the soft creak of the floorboard beneath her heel the only sound in the cottage. Aemond stood in the doorway for a moment, blinking against the warmth of the room, and against the way she looked standing there, backlit in the soft gold of the overhead light, barefoot and quiet and watching him like she couldn’t decide if he was real or not.

Then, slowly, he stepped inside. The door shut gently behind him with a soft click, sealing the silence in. He hovered just past the threshold, his boots still on the mat, shoulders stiff under his hoodie. His hands stayed in his pocket like he didn’t trust them to be anywhere else. For a second neither of them moved. Aemond exhaled through his nose.

‘I… don’t know why I’m here’ he said, voice low, rough. ‘I saw the light on and…well’

Dahlia’s heart twisted in her chest ‘It’s okay’

She didn’t push. Didn’t ask the obvious questions, the ones burning just under her ribs.

‘I was just about to make another cup of tea’ she added, voice soft, careful. ‘Maybe do some late-night internet scrolling for sheep shearers that don’t sound like a dying pig’

She turned toward the kitchen without waiting for a response, giving him the chance to leave, or stay.

Aemond hesitated. Then followed.

The cottage was warm and dimly lit, the scent of lemon tea and something faintly floral hanging in the air. The narrow kitchen stretched ahead, a low hum from the kettle on the stove filling the silence. Aemond lowered himself into the bench seat at the little pine table tucked in against the wall, its cushions mismatched, its edges worn from use. His knees bumped against the underside as he adjusted. Too tall for the space. Too wide for it. Too everything.

Dahlia didn’t looked at him as she pulled down two mugs and opened the tea tin.

But he looked at her. He looked at her like a man trying to memorise the shape of something he’d been trying not to dream about.

‘The place looks nice, you’ve made it yours’ he said, breaking the quiet.

Dahlia didn’t look back, just added a tea bag to each cup ‘Tried to’

‘It suits you’

The kettle clicked. The silence swelled. And Aemond sat there, in the warmth, in the quiet, in the place she’d built without him, trying to ignore the way it still felt like coming home. Dahlia handed him the mug wordlessly, their fingers brushing just slightly. She settled across from him at the narrow kitchen table, the quiet hum of the cottage filling the space between them, soft rain now trickling against the windows, the distant creak of old wood, the faint pop of the fire still dying in the living room.

She wrapped her fingers around her own mug and cleared her throat gently. ‘I’m … sorry about the other day’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I didn’t realise Alys knew about-‘ she stopped herself before the word could leave her mouth. About us. She didn’t say it.

Aemond didn’t look up from his tea right away. His fingers curled easily around the cup like it weighed nothing in his large hands. ‘It’s okay’ he said quietly. ‘It’s not your fault. Alys just… isn’t taking very well to you being here.’

Dahlia smiled into her cup, trying to soften the edges of the tension. ‘Well. I’m only partly sorry for that.’

Aemond huffed, a sound that built into a reluctant chuckle, shaking his head ‘Of course you’re not’

His laugh cut through the quiet like sunlight. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She hadn’t realised how much she missed that sound.

Dahlia smirked over the rim of her mug, but there was something soft in her expression too. Something vulnerable. He watched her for a moment longer than he meant to, caught in the way her mouth quirked, the way the low light lit up her eyes. She looked… settled. Quietly alive. Like she belonged exactly where she was. And he was the one who didn’t fit anymore.

 There was a pause. He glanced down into his cup. Swallowed.

Then, softer, Aemond said ‘I’m happy you’re here’

Dahlia stilled, like the air caught in her throat. Her fingers tightened slightly around the mug. She didn’t look up right away, but when she did, her eyes were sharp, unreadable and wide all at once. He wanted to say more. Wanted to explain what that meant. Even though it hurt. That her being here made something inside him breath again. But the words stayed caught somewhere between his throat and his ribs. So he just sat there, watching her take a slow sip, her lips parting around the rim of the mug.

Trying to ease the sudden weight of his words, she offered another grin. ‘Yeah, that definitely sounded like happy screaming the other day’

Aemond looked up at her over the rim of his mug, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. ‘Well you’d know, you used to be pretty familiar it’

She giggled, her cheeks burning, and shook her head. ‘You’re awful’

Aemond chuckled, an actual chuckle, the sound low and warm and rare.

He leaned back slightly, head hitting the wall behind him with a quiet thud, the smile lingering just a moment. ���That’s the running theme lately’

Dahlia looked at him then. Really looked. And for just a second, he didn’t look like the sharp, cold figure everyone else saw. He looked tired. And honest. And maybe even a little sorry. She tilted her head, resting her elbow on the table, cheek against her hand. Her chest ached. Still, she said gently. ‘Well, I won’t disagree with the masses’ She said teasing. ‘But I think she’ll calm down, you know. You haven’t done anything wrong’

Aemond exhaled, looking down again. ‘She just clings to shit like this. It’s why I didn’t tell her about you. About… what we were’

‘She probably didn’t appreciate hearing it from Aegon’ Dahlia said, raising an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, well. Aegon’s a dickhead’

Dahlia smirked. ‘True’

Aemond shrugged. ‘I just didn’t think it was worth getting her all pissy over’

That stung- a little more than she’d expected it to.

She put on a mock offended pout. ‘Well now I’m deeply hurt. Here I was thinking what we had was special.’

Her voice was teasing, light. But when she looked at him, his face was unreadable. His smile had faded. He wasn’t laughing anymore. His gaze held hers across the table, heavy, unmoving.

‘There was a part of me’ he said, voice quiet and steady. ‘That really thought I was never going to see you again’

Her breath stopped in her throat. She looked down, her tea long forgotten, heart thudding so loud it felt like it might betray her silence. Her eyes burned. The way he said it, low and unguarded, cut through the air like a blade. It was the kind of honesty that lived just beneath the skin. Bruised and tender. Still bleeding.

‘Aemond..’ Dahlia whispered. ‘I’m so sorry. I would’ve stayed, if I could’ve. I-‘

‘You could have.’ He huffed a laugh that held no amusement, rolling his eyes before finding hers again, setting his mug down too hard, and it clattered. ‘You know you could have’

She rose from the bench with a small huff, her voice shaking. ‘No I couldn’t, my mum needed me’

Aemond stood too now, the tension spilling from his frame. ‘You could have brought her here. We could’ve gotten her carers. Mum offered you help. You just-what? Pretended she didn’t?’

Dahlia backed a step toward the sink, mug in her hand ‘I wasn’t going to take that kind of handout from your mother. She was my responsibility’

Aemond’s voice grew louder, angrier. ‘She was supposed to be your mother! She was supposed to take care of you Dahlia. And she never did! I would have! You should have chosen me! Chosen to stay here and be happy!’

‘She was still my mother!’ Dahlia shouted, turning around, leaving her mug to slam into the sink. The ceramic clink echoed. ‘No, she didn’t care about me. No, she didn’t love me. But she needed me!’

And then he snapped. Aemond surged forward. His hands slammed down on the counter, one on either side of her, his body crowding her. His frame blocking the light, his jaw clenched so tightly it trembled.

‘I NEEDED YOU!’ he roared.

His face was inches from hers. His breath hit her lips. She didn’t flinch. Her chest heaved. So did his. And then he looked at her mouth. Once. Then again. She felt her own breath falter, her heart in her throat.

And then he kissed her.

It was fire and ache and desperation. His mouth crashed onto hers with all the force of everything unsaid between them, and she met him with equal desperation. His hands found her waist, pulled her against him, as though he needed to feel every inch of her pressed to him to believe she was real. One hand slid up to her jaw, holding her like she was something fragile, but he was kissing her like he was starving.

And Gods, she was kissing him back.

Her fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, curling against his chest like she’d been holding back this exact need for far too long. Her other hand slid up to his bicep, clinging to the shape of his muscle she remembered, the way his body felt under her, over her, against her.

The warmth of his mouth, familiar and intoxicating, melted every wall she’d built since the moment she left. The taste of him, the scrape of his teeth, the heat of his breath, it was like oxygen after months of drowning. She moaned softly against him and felt his answering groan vibrate through her chest. Her body leaned into his like it was muscle memory, like it knew.

This. This what she’d been craving in the quiet nights alone, what she’d dreamed of when she couldn’t breathe from grief, what she’d missed more than she would ever admit aloud.

And then, all at once, the guilt hit her.

The image of Alys. In his bed. In their bed. Laying there where Dahlia used to, where she shouldn’t be thinking of herself anymore.

She was kissing someone else’s boyfriend. No, she was kissing him. The man she’d never stopped loving. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn’t why she came back. The weight of it slammed into her chest, stealing the air from her lungs, and her hands shifted, one pressing against his chest. Their mouths broke apart, the sound wet and reluctant, breath catching between them.

‘Aemond…’ she whispered, trembling, forehead nearly resting against his. ‘We can’t’

His eyes opened slowly, pupils wide, lips swollen, confusion folding into regret.

‘Shit’ he muttered ‘Shit’

His hands dropped from her like they’d burned him. He took a step back. Then another.

‘I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean-‘ he ran a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling hard. ‘Fuck… I should… I need to go’

‘Aemond-‘

But he was already at the door, pulling it open like the air inside the cottage might kill him.

Dahlia called after him, stumbling forward, reaching. ‘Aemond…

But he was gone. The door shut behind him. The sound echoed in the silence he left behind. And Dahlia stood there, in the kitchen doorway, her lips aching, her body still trembling with want, and the sting of everything she couldn’t have crashing down around her.

 It was quiet. Too quiet. The weight of the kiss still hung in the air like smoke, too quick, too hot, too real. Dahlia stood frozen, her fingers hovering over her lips, her heart pounding against her ribs like it was trying to break out of her chest, like she’d just been yanked out of a dream. The front door had slammed behind him, the sound still reverberating around the house like a gunshot. He’d ran. He’d kissed her and ran. He’d grabbed her and kissed her like it was the last time he’d ever be allowed to touch her. He’d left her standing in his wake.

Her lips still burned. She could feel the imprint of him like a brand, hot, demanding, impossible to ignore. The taste of him still lingered on her tongue. That mix of salt and guilt. She swallowed hard, chest tight, eyes locked on the door like she could watch him scramble back to his bed, where his girlfriend was waiting for him.

Dahlia was still trying to steady herself, hand holding onto the door frame as she turned back to the kitchen, when the door banged open again. She spun around.

He stood there in the doorway, breathing hard. The rain had caught him, but only just, his dark hoodie was damp at the shoulders and chest, clinging slightly where it had started to soak in. His hair was tousled from the wind, a few wet strands clinging to his temple. He didn’t look wild… he looked undone. He looked at her like he hadn’t finished what he started. The air between them vibrated.

Neither of them moved at first. He stood framed in the doorway like he was still trying to decide whether walking back in had been a mistake. But then his jaw clenched, and he exhaled, one sharp breath of weakness, before stepping forward and pushing the door shut behind him with a dull thud, like a final decision.

His boots were quiet on the wooden floor as he crossed the room, his eyes never leaving hers. There was something stormy in his expression, not the rage she’d seen earlier, but something deeper. A battle waging between restraint and the impossible pull toward her. When he reached her, he didn’t speak. He just reached out, cupped her face with both hands, and kissed her.

Hard.

His mouth crashed into hers again as he crossed the space in three strides, his body pressed to hers with he weight of everything he’d refused to feel. His hands were rough, one at her waist dragging her in, the other fisting the fabric of her jumper as if it offended him to not have her skin. Rainwater soaked through the item of clothing where he held her, his thumbs digging into her ribs as he pressed her back into the wall. Her gasp was swallowed by his mouth, his tongue sweeping in, claiming, tasting, owning. She clawed at his hoodie, yanking it up, wet cotton catching at his shoulders. He broke  the kiss just long enough to tear it off. Then he was on her again.

The kiss was chaotic- needy, angry, filled with the kind of hunger that made her gasp and stumble as he walked her backward toward the stairs. His mouth devoured hers, tongue sliding in with no hesitation, tasting her like he’s been dying for it. She moaned into him, soft and unguarded, and it only made him clutch her harder, kiss her deeper.

They stumbled through the hallway and up the stairs like they couldn’t bear to let go long enough to walk properly. His hands gripped the back of her thighs, lifting her halfway up the stairs before she laughed, breathless, and shoved him backwards with a kiss, dragging him by the waistband of his jeans the rest of the way. He groaned when she bit his bottom lip, shoving her bedroom door open with his shoulder before dragging her inside. The door banged shut behind them.

They were already undressing each other, tugging and ripping, pulling damp fabric over flushed skin. Aemond couldn’t stop touching her. His hands mapped her body like he was relearning her curves from memory, her ribs, her waist, the dip of her hip, the line of her thigh. Clothes fell away piece by piece, his jeans, her jumper, her bra, all of it tossed somewhere into the dark like it offended them. By the time he backed her toward the bed, they were down to skin.

Raw. Exposed. Real.

Dahlia fell back against the mattress, hair spread wild across the sheets, eyes wide, chest heaving. And he looked at her. Like she was holy. Like he’d gone to war for this moment and didn’t know how to survive it. He crawled over her slowly, almost reverently, dragging his lips across the slope of her stomach, the curve of her ribs, the hollow at the base of her throat. His hands spanned her thighs, holding her open, his hips nestling between them with ease born of memory and obsession. He kissed her again, harder now. Messier. One hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her jaw to keep her still while his tongue explored her mouth like he hadn’t tasted her in years. After a moment he pulled away for a breath.

But he didn’t move further. Not yet. For a second, two, maybe three, they just looked at each other. The room was silent but for the rain, for their breath, for the wild pulse of something too big to name pressing between them.

Dahlia’s eyes searched his, her lips parted, still swollen from his kiss. Her hair was fanned across the pillow, her skin flushed, glowing with heat and want and something softer that terrified him more than anything else.  And Aemond looked at her like he was trying to memorise her. Every freckle. Every curve. Every shallow breath she took beneath him. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Then back to her eyes.

And he thought about how long he had waited to have her again. To feel her wrapped around him, to lose himself in the only place that’s ever truly felt like his. He hated that it was like this. That Alys was still lying in his bed across the farm, probably asleep completely unaware of what he was doing. What he was giving away.

But in this moment, he didn’t care. He couldn’t.

Because Dahlia was under him- here, real, wanting- and all he could think about was the way her body used to welcome him. How she used to cling to him like he was the only think holding her together, how good, how right it felt to be inside her.

And then, he moved.

He shifted his hips, guiding himself to her entrance, the heat of her already slick and ready, and in one long, aching thrust, he slid into her. Her breath caught. Her fingers clenched around his arms. His head dropped to her shoulder, a growl catching in his throat as he bottomed out inside her, every muscle locking. She felt like sin and salvation. And he had no intention of letting go.

He sank into her slowly, deliberately at first. Like he meant to savour it. Like he thought he could take his time. Her body welcomed him with a warmth that made his breath catch, the tight heat of her pussy wrapping around him like it had never forgotten, like she was made to take him. Aemond closed his eyes for a heartbeat, groaning low in his throat, trying to hold back, to stay inside that feeling and just feel her. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop himself. He drew back and thrust again, harder this time. Then again. And again.

The rhythm took over like it had been waiting beneath his skin all along. Fast. Deep. Rough. The bed rocked beneath them, heard board thudding softly against the wall, sheets twisting around her legs as he drove into her over and over, chasing that place where thought disappeared and only instinct remained.

Dahlia’s moan tore through the dark. ‘Aemond-‘

His name fell from her lips breathless and raw,  and it lit something in him. Something hot and territorial and furious with how long he’d been without her. He kissed her fiercely, silencing the next moan, hips snapping into hers with a force that made her gasp into his mouth. Her hands scrambled across his back, nails dragging, legs tightening around his waist as if she couldn’t bear the idea of even a second of space between them. She didn’t care that he was supposed to be with someone else. Didn’t care that Alys was probably still asleep in the farmhouse, curled into his pillow, waiting. Right now, he wasn’t hers. Right now, he was Dahlia’s.

And he was everywhere. In her. On her. Pressed so close she could barely breathe without inhaling him. Every thrust knocked another breath from her lungs, but she didn’t ask him to stop. Didn’t tell him to slow down. She met him, matched his rhythm, rose to meet every punishing movement with the same urgency, the same fire.

Nothing else existed. Not the house around them. Not the woman waiting in his bed across the fields. This was their night. Her body writhed beneath him, slick with sweat, mouths parted with soft, broken cries that only made him drive harder. He was losing himself in her, gritting his teeth, trying to draw it out, but his control was long gone. The feel of her, the sounds she made, the way her fingers clawed into him, it was too much.

She gasped again, another breathless ‘Aemond’ and he growled into her shoulder, his hips stuttering as her pussy clenched around him. He was close. So close. And he didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Didn’t care. Because this was everything. The weight of all those silent nights, every repressed thought, every memory of her skin, her mouth, her moans. All of it poured out in the way he moved, the way he took her, the way he needed her to feel it.

To know it wasn’t over.

Dahlia’s body tensed beneath him, her back arching, heels digging into the small of his back as her breath caught in a single, broken gasp. She came hard, her whole-body trembling, fingers clawing at his shoulders, his name tumbling from her lips in a fractured cry that cut through the dark like lightening.

And it shattered something in him. Aemond’s grip tightened. His rhythm broke. With a guttural groan, he hauled her legs up and back, folding them toward her chest, holding her open for him as he drove into her with renewed force. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room, fast and frantic, his pace no longer controlled, just desperate, brutal need.

She whimpered beneath him, her hands scrambling for something to hold, to anchor her, but he gave her no reprieve. Just the weight of his body. The push and pull of his hips. And the breathless sound of his voice, low and ragged in her ear. Aemond’s head dropped to her shoulder, then her throat, his lips brushing over her skin as he grunted- Fuck- the word falling from him like surrender, like prayer. He could feel himself losing control, the tension snapping tight in his gut, her body clenching around him like she wanted to drag him down with her.

And gods, he wanted to give in.

He kissed her, rough and possessive. One hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her thigh as he pressed in, deeper, harder, closer. He didn’t pull out. He never had with her. Not once. With Alys, there had always been a moment where he stepped back, distanced himself. A line he didn’t cross. A piece of himself he never gave. But with Dahlia?

It had always been different. Finishing inside her wasn’t a decision, it was instinct. It was need. It was the only thing that ever felt right.

His hips stuttered, breath catching as he pushed in one final time and came- deep inside her, body trembling, eyes squeezed shut, her name spilling from his lips in a hoarse whisper as he pressed his mouth to hers. And she kissed him back. Moaning into him. Meeting him. Like she felt it too, the weight of him filling her, the heat, the ache, the closeness that came with being taken like this. Like this was the only way they ever really made sense.

[lemotmo]

It's baffling

Q. Well you wanted it to matter and have meaning. Congratulations he's really dead.

A. Killing him off makes less than zero sense. It's why no one believed Tim would actually do it. It's a terrible fucking business decision. I also don't know that I believe any of it either. There is no meeting anywhere in which a show runner announces he has decided to kill off a secondary character like Ravi (no offense to him, he's lovely but that's exactly the kind of character you do kill off) then randomly on a whim decides to kill off your main character, who's actor happens to be an executive producer on the show, instead. It's the definition of a fireable offense. And if he really has done this with that little thought and care then he absolutely should be relieved of his duties. The plotline made no sense at all. Some of the dialogue was beautiful and moving but the actual plot was nonsense. And then Chimney randomly took the rat home to his pregnant wife and kid? Bullshit. Then Tim gives that joke of an interview where he says they had no idea filming in downtown L.A for his little show would ever be leaked or something people would be interested in leaking?? Shut up, asshole. It's the number one show on a major network. People know the show. There was zero chance anyone believed no one would notice them filming that wide open. I'm not saying that killing off the character doesn't open the show up for new direction and focus, because it does (and I stand by the fact that they overused Bobby in several storylines). But killing him off on impulse, which is how everyone is saying this went down, should end Tim's career. It's that unprofessional and egregious. Mostly I'm leaning towards it's a con. Because it's an incredibly concerning business decision that he never should have been allowed to make if it's true.

Thank you Nonny!

I got two Ali asks that kinda belong together, so I'm going to post both of them, one after the other.

I don't know what to think anymore to be honest. What is the point of all of it? If he's really dead? Why? He was in a good place and the show was in a good place. Why kill off your own show by killing off one of the mains like this?

If he isn't really dead? Why piss off your audience like this? Because I can guarantee you that a lot of people will stop watching if that is the case. Sure, it'll be a shock and a surprise if he's back, but the audience won't be happy with being lied to about something as big and emotional as this.

So I do agree with Ali here. It makes zero sense.

What was Tim thinking? Absolutely no one is happy after this episode. 🤷‍♀️

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[kyoteugly]

If not Buddie, why Buddie shaped? #2

Following my theory that season 7 and 8 are new seasons 1 and 2 on abc, where the writers revisits the big events from character’s pasts and retells them (you can read it here) I want to look closer at new episode 8x06 “Confessions”.

This is all fresh in my mind, I watched the episode like 4h ago, there is a chance I’ll miss something.

Like I said, I think we’re going to see at least 4 more big moments revisited (or rather the emotional state those events invoked) from previous seasons before Buddie goes canon. Kitchen scene, well, will and shooting arc. And one of those happened in this episode! But also so many other things! 

EDDIE:

Starting with Eddie in the confessional. I can’t help but see his fight club era here (call me bias, I love season 3 Eddie so much!). An attempt to find a healthy outlet to his emotions. He’s struggling and fighting with his inner demons, this time instead of rage it’s sadness and loneliness. 

And he is doing it with an outsider's help. Father Brian is like Lena Bosko. Why Lena and not Frank? I think Eddie would just shut on therapy at this point. He needs someone to talk to, someone with opinions and advice, caring enough to want to help but also not afraid to go straight to the point and call his bs - Lena and Father Brian did just that.

Ok. Time to revisit a big event from Eddie’s past - the well. ABC put the call with the little boy trapped in a pipe in episode promo as the red herring. The real purpose of this call was to remind us about the Eddie Begins episode. The important thing from Eddie Begins is that Eddie was alone in the dark pit - and in the end he saved himself. 

So the real connection between those two episodes is not in the call where 118 saves the little boy, but between Eddie coming out from underwater, drawing a deep breath and Eddie shaving a mustache, shedding his mask and dancing, breathing fully again.

sorry for the meme, I'm tired

It’s also interesting that the moment Eddie allowed himself to feel joy Buck knocked at his door.

BUCK:

This one is pretty straight forward. Like I said before, Tommy represents Abby - a transformative relationship - like Buck said himself. The fact that Tommy was engaged with Abby is a really beautiful way to further connect and close both relationships. What leads to the break up from Tommy’s side is also similar. Tommy knows he would fall deeply for Buck, and Abby didn’t come back because she knew she would lose herself in Buck. They were both protecting themselves.

And here is also a little parallel to Ali. Like her, Tommy offers Buck a proper and honest break up, showing maturity, understanding and clear reason why. And yes, Ali was also protecting herself, ending their relationship before they broke each other's hearts.

And one more thing from Buck’s side. The whole Abby thing throws him off. Maddie tells him it’s not a big thing, Josh tells him not to judge Tommy (honestly, Josh’s speech is amazing!) - this calms him down in the end, dating the same woman doesn’t feel awkward anymore. But the questions Josh is asking leave Buck confused. Taking the next step, moving in together - it’s like Buck is trying to prove he really feels those things Josh was talking about (or maybe even compensate for his “freak out”, confirm he’s fully into this relationship). And on some level Buck has those feelings, he cares about Tommy, but more than that, he simply feels he should be on the level Josh suggested and he wants this to work. It’s Buck’s impulsiveness coming to play, an action that causes reaction in a form of big gesture to confirm his feelings - a nod to his relationship with Taylor.

Fortunately Tommy explains those feelings to Buck (and to the audience) in a very kind way. 

Honestly, their relationship (the last two episodes especially) was handled beautifully, without unnecessary drama, without too much spotlight. It started with fireworks, naturally progressed and faded gently.

The cherry on top: Evan meant something more, something special for Tommy. Ending his goodbye with Buck means “we’re friends now”.

BUDDIE:

There are two things here I want to mention.

Ever since Gerrard separated Buck and Eddie this is the episode where we can see them working together as partners again. And this finally wraps up the divorce era.

The ending scene represents different scenes for each of them, ending different arcs.

For Buck the couch scene represents Abby’s comeback in season 3. He watched her ride off in the ambulance with her fiance (with Eddie solid by his side), and later he got closure from her.

For Eddie this scene represents him being embraced by the 118 after he dug himself out from the well. He’s connected again, no longer alone. 

And of course, the most obvious and sweetest thing - it’s the right couch (and they finally drink that beer).

Bonus MADNEY:

Couldn’t help but notice some revisits here.  Maddie’s postpartum depression is addressed very clearly, nothing to add here. During the pandemic Chimney stayed at Buck’s place, afraid to put pregnant Maddie in danger of catching the virus. Something happened on a call that changed his mind, made him overcome his fear and enjoy the future with his family. The same in this episode. But there is a little twist here and it involves brothers. In season 7 the new audience learned about Kevin. Guess who wasn’t yet introduced (and also took care of Maddie during the pandemic)... yes, I believe this season we will see Albert again. 

That’s it for now. Let me know if you want more posts like this. Feel free to contact me if you want some clarification or just to talk.

Tagging some people who may be interested (if you want me to remove you from this post let me know): @buddiebeginz @stagefoureddiediaz @lemotmo @inell

[albertasunrise]

Hope You Can Forgive Me - Hope

Masterlist

GIF by olisgifs

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (So here is my first fic update since having Lando! I hope this was worth the wait and I can't wait to hear what you all think. There is some time hopping in this chapter but it's all necessary. Enjoy ♥️)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

The words hung in the air between you. Swirling around in his head as he processed that he was sitting at a table with you after all this time. That you were smiling softly at him, not growling at him in frustration because he’d gotten on your nerves for the final time. 

“Tommy told me that you ended up going back to the hospital after you left that day and I-“

“You mean the day you tossed me out?” He interrupted, surprised by how he suddenly felt 10 years of anger surge to the surface. 

“Joel I-“

“I don’t need your sorries.” He stated plainly and you nodded numbly “What I needed then was for you to see how badly I was doing but you couldn’t.” 

He couldn’t say he blamed you really. You were facing life with a partner who was never going to walk again whilst you had to raise his toddler and the newborn baby you shared. 

‘Dwelling on the past isn’t going to change it so let's just agree to move on.” He piped up after a tense pause and he could have laughed at how your shoulders dropped and you allowed yourself to relax. 

You both sat in awkward silence for a while before Joel finally broke it. His question brought a proud smile to your face. 

“Noah’s turned out to be a fine young man.” He stated as he took a sip of his coffee “Sarah’s besotted with him.”

“He’s just like his father.” You gushed “Patient and kind.” You continued as you looked down at the wedding band and engagement ring that you still wore “He’d never said a cross word to me till recently. Learning that he and Sarah had been inseparable as babies was tough on him.

“He pleaded with me to reach out to you but I confess… I didn’t think you’d want to speak to me after everything.” 

“I never stopped caring.” Joel stated honestly “I have spent the last decade blaming myself for that crash… it should have been me that-“

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” You pleaded as you stared at him with round, tear-filled, eyes “The accident was not your fault! The truck driver is the one to blame for what happened and it was wrong of me to blame you.” You let out a long sigh before taking a large sip of coffee before continuing “I was pregnant and hormonal and facing having to care long-term for my partner as well as raise a toddler and a newborn.

“Life looked bleak and I just needed someone to blame… but I shouldn’t have blamed you.” You choked out, voice wobbling as you spoke that last statement. 

Joel remained silent. Watching you as you pulled yourself together before continuing. 

“I should have seen that you weren’t well, you're right.” You started again after a few tense moments of silence “After Tommy told me what happened… my mind started to replay everything and it was so obvious that something was wrong. I should have seen it… not shut you out so I could wallow in my own misery.” 

“I get it… I do-“ 

“But it doesn’t excuse it, Joel.” You interrupted “I should have done better by you and I’m sorry.” 

Joel nodded. Giving you a small smile before downing the last dregs of his coffee. 

“Well… now that all the tense formalities are out of the way… shall we get another coffee and catch up properly?” He asked with a grin, instantly lifting the mood. 

“That would be wonderful.” 

2 months later…

Joel watched from the patio as Noah and Sarah played a heated game of swing ball, Ali watching from the sidelines as she cheered her brother on. Tommy was at the grill, having promised Joel that he could ‘cook some damn burgers’, leaving the older Miller to watch the two childhood sweethearts play. Memories of a little Noah showing an even smaller Sarah how to throw a ball flashed in his mind. They had always played so well together. 

Some things never change it seemed. 

Joel’s attention was torn away from Sarah and her beau and towards you, as you placed the salad and condiments in the centre of the table. 

“Foods up!” Called Tommy and soon the table was filled with chatter as everyone dug in. 

It felt like old times. Only, someone was missing. 

Once the food was consumed and the dishes dealt with, Sarah, Ali and Noah slunk away to read their books under the tree at the bottom of Joel's garden, leaving you, Joel and Tommy to sip at your cold beers and catch up. 

"How's things been with you?" Tommy asked you as he turned to face you. It was something that you had always liked about Tommy. When he was talking to you he gave you his undivided attention and never butted in when you spoke. Something that Alec and his family had always done that had driven you to distraction... But never the Miller boys. They always listened to what you had to say. 

"Yeah, they're good." You nodded as you replied and placed your bottle on the table "Starting to meld well with the nice team. Making some friends too which is nice." 

"Any hot men in the office catch your eye?" 

Tommy's question took you by surprise and you couldn't help but glance at Joel a moment before you answered. He was looking anywhere but you and Tommy as they both awaited your answer and you felt a small pang of hope fill you. Why, you weren't sure. 

"Not really looking for anything at the moment." You said, shrugging your shoulders "Been so focused on work and the kids the last few months that I haven't really thought about what comes next." 

Your eyes drifted to Noah and Ali who were talking animatedly about, you assumed, something that had happened in the books they were holding. Both had ended up bookworms like their dad, something you were glad of as they had grown up. Buying them books to distract them from the reality of how sick Alec had been. 

"Plus Alec hasn't been gone long. Would be wrong for me to just move on." 

"You're entitled to be happy." Tommy stated plainly as he gave you that signature Miller look "He would want you to live life to the fullest. Lord knows you've earned that." 

"I guess." You shrugged. 

Truth be told, since coming back into the Miller's lives your feelings for Joel had started to stir again. He had turned out to be an incredible father, not that you had doubted him for a second but he had been forced to take on parenthood completely on his own when you had left. Ali's parents had died a few years after the accident leaving Joel with just Tommy for family but he had been in the army. So he had to take it all on by himself and he had flourished. Sarah was a kind, polite and caring young girl and the spitting image of her mother. Something that had made you both happy and sad. Happy, that she had turned out so beautiful, but sad because there wasn't a day that went by that you didn't miss Ali. So much so that you had named your own daughter after her. 

"How about you brother?" Tommy asked, taking the attention off of you "How's things been with that chick you're dating?" 

"We've been on like two dates Tommy." Joel sighed but his brother shrugged. 

'Still dating her." He chuckled as he took a long pull of his beer "Given her the Miller magic yet?" Joel choked on his beer as the words settled between you and your stomach sank.

He was dating? 

Of course, he was dating. He was an attractive young man, why wouldn't he? Yet this information felt like a punch to the gut. You knew you had no right to feel this way about Joel seeing someone yet it was a fight to keep the tears at bay. You would later realise as you analysed your feelings over a large glass of wine at home that a small part of you had always held onto the hope that one day, you and Joel may have had your chance. 

That after all these years, he would realise how you felt and would return those feelings. You would later realise that that was a fool's hope. 

You had broken things beyond repair with Joel all those years ago. 

There was no hope for the two of you now. There was no way he felt the same way about you. 

Oh if only you knew. 

You had found yourself quickly falling into old traditions with the Millers. Regular gatherings at Joels where food and laughter are shared only this time Noah and Sarah weren't babies anymore. You found yourself missing their antics. Howthey used to hide behind the wooden castle climbing frame that Joel had built Sarah before she'd even made her entrance to the world. They would crouch behind it and giggle, thinking no one knew they were there and you would all chuckle at them and how perfect together they were. Even from such a young age. 

You had found yourself wondering if Joel had ever thought about having more kids. He was still young after all, having had Sarah in his early twenties same as you had had Ali so young yourself. You had definitely thought that there would have been more children in your future but Alec's health hadn't allowed for that and so that dream of another baby had died along with him. 

When Sandy had stepped into the fold, you had had your question of whether Joel wanted more kids answered from the moment she'd opened her mouth at the annual pre-Christmas get-together. She was young, late twenties and perky. Both physically and personality-wise.

She had sat there for hours talking about how she had no interest in having kids. That she liked them but that it had never appealed to her personally. You had asked Joel if he had thought about having any more to which he'd replied "Nah, one and done for me." 

It had shocked you how blasé he had been about the subject and it had stung you. Why, you weren't sure but you supposed its because you had secretly hoped you'd have one with him one day. 

Now though, that pipedream seemed an impossibility that Sandy was in the picture. You hated her for it...

You knew you had no reason to. She was sweet. There didn't appear to be a bad bone in her body but she grated on your nerves with her big eyes and sickly sweet smiles. 

Your feelings for Joel may have had some bearing on your opinion of her you supposed. 

Those pesky feelings had only continued to grow the more time you spent with Joel. You and he would alternate some nights during the week for dinners or movie nights. Ali and Sarah had become fast friends, something you had worried would irritate Noah now that his relationship with Sarah seemed to have developed a third wheel but on the contrary, he seemed to welcome her. 

They still managed to find time to spend together without his sister hanging around but he didn't begrudge her presence when she was there. He'd always been a great big brother to her. 

But now it seemed that you had become the third wheel in Joel's relationship with Sandy. These once peaceful evenings had been overtaken by her loud personality but Joel seemed to lap it up, completely oblivious to how you were starting to pull away. Unable to watch them be so sickeningly happy. 

It all came to a head three months later. Unable to keep up the fake smiles any longer. 

"So, I found a new taco recipe I want to try for Taco Tuesday this week." Joel stated as he dried the last dish and placed it on the drying rack beside the sink "Churizo with fried potatoes, avocados, onions and Cilantro... Read it in a magazine this week and I knew I had to try it."

"Sounds good." You answered numbly as you picked up the last few dried plates and cutlery to put away "I'm sure the kids will love it." 

"You okay?" Joel asked upon sensing your tone. 

"Mhmm." You knew your reply wasn't fooling anyone. 

"Okay, what's up?" He asked, letting out a sigh as he turned his whole body to face you, rested his hip against the counter and crossed his arms, accentuating his strong arms and broad shoulders. 

"Nothing it's just... I won't be able to make Taco Tuesday this week. Or movie night on Thursday." You replied, not looking at him as you spoke. 

"Okay, I'll save that recipe for next week then." 

"I can't go next week either." You replied bluntly and his brows furrowed as he looked across at you.

"Why not?" 

"I'm going to be busy the next few weeks is all." 

"Few weeks?" He questioned and you simply nodded. 

"Yeah."

"Care to look at me whilst you lie to me?" He growled and you let out a long sigh before returning his gaze. 

"I'm not lying to you, Joel." You growled "I have a lot going on with work so I won't be able to make our usual arrangements for a month or so.

"But the kids-" 

"Can do all that shit without me." You replied, more snappy than you'd meant to. 

"That shit?" Joel pushed, his tone sounding a little wounded "Is something going on? Did I do something?" 

"No." You replied as you sighed loudly "You haven't done anything wrong."

It wasn't exactly a lie. His dating Sandy wasn't wrong. It just hurt you to watch. 

Joel didn't push but he knew you weren't being honest with him. You had always been easy to read, wearing your heart on your sleeve for the world to see but he didn't understand why you were suddenly going cold on him. Things had fallen back into place so easily. He thought things were good. He didn't push it any further. 

"You're still coming to the cook out week after next though right?" He asked and your heart broke at how hopeful he seemed. 

"Yeah, I'll be there." You lied, hoping he would believe you and would drop it. 

He seemed to buy it because his shoulders relaxed and he gave you a small smile. You smiled back but your stomach twisted painfully. You had two weeks to come up with a decent lie for why you couldn't make it. You knew it had to be believable or Joel would be around yours banging on your door and you knew you'd not be able to lie to him if that were to happen. 

You left with Noah that evening barely gracing Joel or Sarah with a goodbye and it was from that that he knew something serious was up. Just didn't know how to find out. 

...

Sandy had arrived a little after you had left. Cuddling on the couch, she instantly picked up on Joel's distracted state and didn't wait to question him on it. So he told her about how weird you had been that evening. How you'd suddenly become cold and closed off. 

"I don't know what I've done." Joel sighed "She was just so off this evening and then she's suddenly telling me that she's going to be busy for the foreseeable and I just... I don't get it."

"Oh Joel, baby, you're such a typical bloke." Sandy chuckled sympathetically as she turned her top half to look at him "She's obviously got feelings for you." 

"She doesn't have feelings for me." Joel scoffed "Don't be absurd." 

"Why else would she suddenly stop hanging out with her friend the moment he meets someone?" 

"I-" 

"I've had my suspicions for a while but the last few times we've hung out it's been pretty clear that she's got feelings for you Joel." 

"But she..." 

"Would you like it if you had a crush on someone and their new beau was there all the time?" She asked and Joel sighed "I am happy to back off a little if you want to spend more time with her but I don't think she'll want to." 

"She can't have feelings for me." He muttered and Sandy chuckled as she watched his mind whir. 

"Perhaps you should go see her and find out." Sandy shrugged, smiling sweetly at Joel as he looked up at her "Give her some closure." 

Joel parked across from your house before wiping his clammy hands on his jeans and willing his heart to slow. It had been a few days since that conversation with Sandy and what she'd told him played on repeat in his head. Did you really have feelings for him? He had never dared hope that maybe one day you would feel the same way he did. 

He had been practising what he wanted to ask you all evening. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do if it transpired that you did feel the same. He supposed he would cross that bridge when he came to it. 

Tommy had agreed to watch Sarah for the evening so that he could come to speak to you. He wasn't sure how this was going to go but he had wanted the option to stay a little later if things went the way he hoped they might. 

Finally, as he had willed his heart to slow, your door swung open and grabbed his attention. He watched as you stepped outside slightly, looking at someone who was out of Joel's eyeline. You were smiling at them as you spoke, words that he could not hear from the cab of his car but you seemed to smile shyly at whoever you spoke them to. He hoped that youwouldn't notice his truck parked across the street as he watched you from the shadows. His stomach twisted when a man he didn't recognise stepped into view and leaned closer so he could place a kiss on your lips. 

A myriad of emotions flooded him at once. He felt a pang of despair fill him as he watched you say your farewells for this man, but it quickly morphed into anger as he watched the man get in his car and drive off. 

You hadn't bailed on him because you have feelings for him. You bailed because you wanted to focus on your new boy toy. You'd rather spend time with someone you barely know over him and his family. You had other priorities now. 

And Joel wasn't one of them. 

Next For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[youresodarkbabe]

down on all fours (90s au rockstar a. turner x reader)

smut.

warnings: overstimulation, praise, degradation (yes, both of them), aly has dacryphilia <3, dom!al, spit :)

word count: 2.1k

everyone thank @psychedelicrocker for telling me to write this instead of f1 alex again, also it's not v obviously 90s au whoopsies

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alex was fucked.

he had been trying to write one simple song for hours now, and nothing seemed to stick. either a lyric would be too complex for the tune or he'd dumb it down too much. there really was no in between.

in his defense, though, he was freshly free from the harsh confines of a world tour and had lost all semblance of sanity.

he kept pacing around his office until he realized something. through all of the fans and drugs and groupies, he remembered one thing that was a constant.

you.

you met alex at the new jersey show he did with his band and he was intrigued, to say the least. he brought you backstage and had his way with you, sure, but he wanted more. he needed it, or rather, you.

he got you tickets to their next show and told you to come if you could, and you did. you thoroughly enjoyed the show, just as much as you enjoyed the way he destroyed your cunt before it and the way he fucked you til you cried after. the cycle repeated, they'd finish a show, he'd give you tickets to the next one.

the boys hadn't really tried forming connections with the girls they took back to their hotel rooms because to them, it was just a one time thing, they were high and their girl of the night would be starstruck and it was a fun way to unwind post-show. alex had the same mindset for years. until you. you ruined him completely. as much as he adored tearing you apart with his cock, he obsessed over the way you'd laugh breathlessly after a good fuck. he knew he was gone the moment you kissed him, the way your lips felt against his— soft, gentle, caring— it changed him.

the feelings alex had towards you could be described in many ways. an obsession, a need, a want, a love.

he couldn't care less. as long as he had you.

he crumpled up the messy, inked sheet of paper in his hand and tosses it into the trash and runs over to his untouched suitcase and digs through it until he finds the note you gave him at the last show he'd perform before moving to the european leg of the tour. the note had your phone number along with your address and the words 'don't forget me' written with a heart.

he realizes that you only lived a few minutes down the road. he decides to take the risk and punches your number into his landline and holds the receiver up to his ear. you take your time to pick up, but he let it go, it was half past two anyways.

"um, hello?" your voice called out, almost instantly making the hairs on the back of his neck stand and his cock harden.

"hey, doll. been missin' you. been missin' your cunt, to be real specific. come over, i need my muse back." his voice is as sharp as it had always been, hearing it sending you into a frenzy. you were well and truly speechless, and he knew.

"i'll see you here, bunny."

you were still half asleep but the familiar warmth of alex's voice woke you up and you instantly got on your feet and began running around your room, scrambling around for anything to make yourself look more presentable for alex.

you quickly try fixing the mess that your hair was and apply a quick swipe of the red lipstick of yours that alex adored so much.

you threw on the first things you could find and decided you'd rather walk to his instead of driving, because all the thoughts you were thinking would not lead to a safe drive.

you showed up wearing his band's shirt and a leather jacket with spikes around the neck that almost resembled a collar.

he has to take a second to take all of you in.

he pulls you in by your waist and shuts the door behind you and gives your lips a quick peck.

"i've missed you, doll." he murmurs against your lips, "you always were my favourite from the lot."

he kisses you again, deeper this time, less sweetness and more desperation. teeth clashed, his slight stubble scratching your face, adding to the stimulation and making you hum into the kiss.

alex slips his hands from your waist to your ass, cupping the flesh and massaging it, also pushing your hips into his waist and grinding his cock into you. he pulls away, breathless.

"you know the drill. everythin' off, except that jacket. i expect you on all fours by the time i get to my room."

you open your mouth to retort but decide against it and tiptoe past him and run up to his bedroom. you get undressed and forget to put the jacket back on.

alex, still downstairs, fixed himself a drink and almost finished half of it before he was upstairs. his cock throbbing at the sight.

you were on all fours on his cozy, pristine bed, your back arched so perfectly.

"where's the jacket, doll?"

"'m sorry, al, i forgot."

alex discards his clothes slowly, leaving himself in his boxers. he crawls onto the bed and kneels in between your legs, his hands running up and down your back, pressing it into more of an arch.

"it's alright, angel," he presses a kiss to your soaked pussy from behind, "next time, hm?"

you grind against his face, trying to tell him what you need without irritating him. you hear him swear at himself before his tongue delves into your core, lapping at anything he can get. his fingers come to your front and play with your clit as he devours your dripping cunt. you feel that knot in your stomach threatening to snap as he pulls away, whining at him stopping so suddenly.

"al, please, i'm good, i need you, please—"

you moan excessively loudly when he pushes two fingers into your cunt with no prior warning, feeling your eyes rolling back into your head as his fingers thrust in and out of you, curling and hitting every spot you needed him to get to.

"what did i tell you about doubting me, sweet girl?", he asks sweetly as he spreads his fingers as far apart as he can, watching your hole gape as you scream out his name.

"never doubt you, al, never ever doubting you," you trail off as he continues his relentless movements.

alex suddenly stops all his movements, taking his hands away from you, licking his fingers clean.

"taste as good as you did the first time, doll, fuck, you're takin' me back."

alex's mind flickered back to tour, how despite you both considering your interactions as a rockstar and one of his groupies, there was something different. it wasn't just sex, at least, not to him. he constantly fantasized about taking you out, buying you anything you ever wanted and more, treating you the way you deserved.

but he wasn't sure if he deserved you at all.

he saw himself as a pathetic excuse of a man who thrives on the validation of strangers and crumbles with the slightest criticism, but that also led to him imagining how you'd comfort him in these moments of devastation.

but that wasn't important to him now, he couldn't care less.

"you ready?", he asks, finally freeing his cock, pumping it slightly while watching his pre-cum spill onto your ass and then aligning it with your aching pussy, running his tip through your folds.

"mm, yes, please, fuck—"

alex slides into you before you can finish speaking, your words turning into a choked moan. alex doesn't even hesitate and begins thrusting as fast as he can, jaw hanging open as your cunt squeezes him. his writer's block disappears, everything does. you're all he saw at that point and he didn't mind it at all.

you almost scream his name as he fucks into you with no hesitation, going as fast as he can.

"just as good as i remembered baby, god," alex groans as he runs his hands up your sides, grabbing onto your hair and tugging it so he has your back pressed against his chest. you actually scream this time, the stinging feeling of his cock stretching your cunt and the pure euphoria of the act being almost too much to handle. you throw your head back to rest on his shoulder as he keeps fucking into you, one of his hands slipping to your clit, playing with it as he littered your neck with kisses.

"takin' me like a champ, doll, so so good. perfect lil toy, aren't you? fuckin' soaked too."

his fervent thrusts get slower and sloppier as you squeeze around him. "fuck, al, 'm gonna cum, please," you beg mindlessly as he brings his other hand up to wrap around your throat, squeezing slightly as he nips at a spot under your ear.

"hm, not yet."

you whine in response, your moans getting louder and louder by the second.

"good girl, keep waiting for me, perfect lil slut," alex mutters as he slows down slightly, leaving small kisses of appreciation on your cheek as tears well in your eyes. he notices this and you can feel him twitch inside you as you tighten around him once more, unable to hold back any longer.

you scream out his name as your back arches against his chest, one of your hands flying to grasp at the back of his hair, pulling as you shake and moan until your voice is completely hoarse.

alex stills after you stop shaking and gives you a few seconds to compose yourself.

"you enjoy that? filthy fuckin' whore."

he pulls out of you roughly and flips you onto your back, almost instantly pushing his cock back into your sore cunt.

tears stream down your face as he bottoms out, you're desperate for him to stop and give your ruined pussy a break but at the same time, you can't stop yourself from wrapping your legs around his waist and trying to get him even closer. you dig your nails into alex's back as he pounds into you relentlessly, the sting of your nails scratching along his back making him hiss and go even faster.

alex's hands push your legs even further apart and he lifts them up onto his shoulders, his eyes fixated on the way he could see the outline of his cock filling you up.

"fuck, doll, you're gonna let me fill you up, aren't you? you gonna take it for me, baby?"

alex moves your hair out of your face as you nod pathetically, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he dips his head down to take your nipple into his mouth and slows his thrusts to synchronize with tongue swirling around it, humming softly. he pulls off and latches onto your neck, his teeth clamping down slightly as he picks up his pace again, making you see stars as he fucks his cum as deep into you as possible.

alex collapses onto your chest, breathing heavily. he waits for a while before pulling out and looking at your ruined cunt, smiling as he sees the mixture of your cum and his seeping out of you.

"perfect, bunny, so gorgeous."

two of his fingers circle your aching hole once more and he pushes them into you until they only part of them he can see are his knuckles. he scissors his fingers and spits directly into you, pulling his fingers back out only to scoop up everything and push it back into you, he keeps playing with you like this until he's satisfied enough. he pulls his fingers out and taps on your lips with them and you open your mouth, sucking on them until they're clean.

"good girl, you did so well for me tonight."

he presses a gentle kiss to the space between your tits and moves upwards, leaving a kiss on your collarbone, your jaw, your cheek and finally kissing your lips.

kissing you feels liberating to him, it doesn't feel forced or purely driven by his need to fuck you. but there is something wrong.

"we can't keep doing this."

alex rested his chin on your chest and looked up at you as he spoke.

"we need to do this the right way, doll. i wanna take you out, do all that shit. let me have you, princess, please."

you open your mouth to respond but your voice barely comes out which makes you him laugh as you hide your face in his shoulder. he soothingly rubs your stomach as the laughter dies out and the silence takes over the room, alex doesn't feel awkward the way he normally would and his heart only feels lighter as he sees you nod with that smile he'd grown to adore.

"can't fuckin' wait."

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this one's been in the drafts for ages im ngl

[lionneee]

Aemond and Alys

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: p in v, an*al, smut, taking of sexual themes, toxic relationship, domestic abuse, dubcon, Alys.•

Modern!Aemond x Modern!Alys

“If you weren’t that much of a freak, I would actually spend some time with you.” Alys shouts at him.

It was rare to see Alys shouting, or angry at all. She was always composed, calm.

Aemond knew she was the perfect woman in appearance. Just in that. In three years of relationship with her, he had been able to be happy only the first month. Maybe.

She approached him first, he was out in a club with his brother, Aegon. He only agreed to come just to make him shut up after his complaints that he never had fun in his life.

Aegon was dancing, trying to approach any kind of human being, as he was sitting at the bar, sipping his water, annoyed. He saw Alys get closer, her makeup perfect, her dark brown eyes fixed on him, her long lashes only intensifying her gaze, her red stained lips curved in a flirtatious smile, as she came closer swaying her hips. She was wearing a dark green dress, with a low cleavage and its skirt long to her knees. Her curves were perfectly accentuated, Aemond was just enchanted. it was obvious she was older, but after a first glance at her, he didn’t care. She was beautiful, perfect. Aemond felt his cock twitch at her sight. He groaned and went back to look at his glass of water, when he felt Alys’s hand on his thigh.

“Hey, pretty boy.”

She had been his first experience with everything. She taught him how to treat a woman in bed, she changed his way of dressing, he told him to grow his hair. She made him a man, that’s what she always said. She basically made him move to her house. She was sweet, caring, and present. He wanted her to meet his parents, he wanted her to be part of his life forever. She always refused to be a bigger part of his life, she said it was too soon. Aemond knew it, he did, but he just loved her. She was his first love, his first kiss. The first person to actually appreciate him despite the ugly scar on his face.

Aemond’s mother's concerns grew with time, and having Aegon helping him out did not reassure her.

Then, he really met Alys. 

Alys who goes out even if he doesn’t want to, Alys who disappear for a whole day, Alys that only comes to him for sex.

Alys who manipulated him.

Tonight was just one of the same shitty arguments they kept having. Alys went out, to dance, she said, but Aemond knew. He knew. He didn’t have the proof but he was sure, and he hated it. She hated that she had gone off to someone else when he was waiting for her in her house. He hated her. He was addicted to her, he loved her. He hated her.

He quickly walked to her, as she stepped out of her heels, Grabbing her wrist tightly, and tugging her towards him. He had grown over the years. He was taller than her, when she was not wearing heels. She stumbled and almost fell at his harsh movement.

“What the hell do yo-” She was angry, her face was getting wrinkles around her eyes.

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t you dare speak to me like this.” He growls, his face close to hers. She chuckled. She fucking chuckled at his face. Amused by his anger.

“Oh, you think you are such a big, grown man, don't you?” She laughed. “You are-” 

He squeezed her cheek in his hand before she could finish her sentence. Before she could fuck his mind even more. He was tired. He was angry. He felt humiliated.

“Are you stupid or what? Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Whore.” He let go of her wrist and he threw her away by the grip he had on her face. Alys stumbled and looked at him confused. He never spoke to her like that. He never raised a hand on her, not even slightly, if it was not for sex. He never used that tone with her. All Aemond knew was that he was angry. So fucking angry.

“What do you think you are doing?” He warned him, but this time, he was the one to almost laugh. He walked towards her as she kept stepping back, She looked almost… afraid? Aemond didn’t even know she could be afraid of something. She was always sure of everything. He liked this. He liked it a lot. He smirked as he grabbed her by her neck, forcing her to follow his lead, as he brought her into her bedroom.

“You’ve been using me for months now. For years probably. Now I get it. You’re only good to fuck.” He pushed her back as he let go of her neck. She slapped him soon after. It wasn’t the first time Alys hit him. He never reacted to it, usually just stepping back and leaving. This will not be the case.

“You son of a bitch. You should be grateful for what I gave you. You should lick my feet for even having had sex with you, especially because of your ugly fa-” Again, Alys couldn’t finish her phrase. Aemond already had his hand back on her neck as he kept squeezing, tighter and tighter. Alys’s looks at him, her face slowly turning red as she looks at him in disbelief as she keeps clawing at his arm and kicking her legs. He stayed like this just a second more, then he threw her on the bed, as she gasped for air, he took her ankles pulling her back at him and raised her skirt.

“Wha- Aemond!? What do you-” He grabbed her silk chemise and ripped it open, making pop up all the buttons, as he stared at her big breast in her nice lingerie. He puts his hand on her breast, massaging it aggressively.

“Is this what you like, uh? Who’s the fucking freak, whore?” He slapped her breast. He remembered every disgusting thing she liked, every little detail she had told him. He knew he liked this, he knew she liked those disgusting things she was doing to her. He wanted to throw up. She whimpered and she dig her perfectly manicured nails in his arm as he grasped his breast again.

“Aemond, I’m gonna fucking kill you!” She screamed but he just laughed. He laughed at how fake Alys was. Now, with her lipstik ruined and her hair messy, she looked more like… a witch. 

“You won’t. You know why?” Aemond unzipped his pants, tugging them down along with his boxers just enough to take out his cock and give it a few pumps. “Because you’re a fucking whore. You’d do anything for a promise of another fuck with me.” He growled as he grabbed her thighs and pulled her even closer, shoving her panties to the side. “Because no one-” He aligned his cock as Alys kept trying to squirm away from him on the bed, but he managed to thrust inside, in one single motion till the end. She moaned, she was wet. She fucking liked this. “-Knows how to treat you-” He started trusting hard and rough, basically using her body as he fucking wanted. He slapped her hips and he harshly pulled her hair, making her lean her head back. “-better than I do, uh?” He slapped her face. “You’re a fucking slut. Nothing more.” She moaned out loud as she clenched her hands on the covers beside her head.

“Fuck- Just- ah - Just like that, baby- Yes!” Aemond sped up his thrusts even more, grabbing her ass and lifting her waist from the bed, as he kept moving her like a sex toy. He didn’t care anymore, he was so tired, so angry and he felt just a stupid for even believing her all this time. He wasted years of his life, when she was just using him, using his feelings for her own pleasure. He gripped her ass tighter and he slapped her repeatedly, until his own head was burning. She just kept moaning, trying to move to meet her his thrusts.

“You’re disgusting. A useless woman, no more than a fucking sex toy.” He felt his feelings for her die, everything just turned into anger. He kept just thrusting harder, faster, chasing his relief. He closed his eye and tried to exclude everything from her. Her sounds, her smell, her voice. He groaned as he kept moving his cock in and out, he looked down at what he was doing to her, but he could still see her face. He pulled out, making her whine for her loss, and he turned her on her stomach. He took his cock in his hand, moving the tip from her entrance to her back.

“What are you waiting for? I thought you said you’re a man.” She mocked him with that spiteful tone of hers.

“You never know when to shut that fucking mouth, do you?” He growled, as he kept looking down at his cock and her ass.

“I’ll make you shut up.” He spat on his cock, and he started to force his cock inside that puckered hole of hers.

“What- Aemond! Wha- AH!” She cried out loud, trying to escape him, grabbing the covers of the bed to crawl away, but he was stronger than her, and he kept her still as he kept forcing his cock in her ass. He almost moaned at how much she was tight. She kept whining and crying out.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” He growled. He leant forward and pushed her head down as he forced his cock completely inside. He let out a grunt of satisfaction as he leaned back up, as he slowly started thrusting, keeping up the pace just as long as he wouldn’t be able to go faster.

“Aem-Aemond- fuck - careful, it hurts…” She cries out with grunts of struggling. He doesn’t listen, he doesn’t want to hear her again, he wants to fucking destroy her. He starts speeding up, feeling his orgasm close, and he just let himself go, fucking her uncontrollably, like a hungry beast, as she keep whining louder. Then he finally cummed. He groaned out loud and filled her ass with his seed. She didn’t cum but he didn’t care. Not this time. He just wanted to get out of there and forget all about her. He takes a deep breath and pulls out, going into the bathroom to wash himself. When he went back outside to her bedroom, she was still laying there.

“I’ve packed. We’re done.”

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts

[prosperdemeter2]

begging for more rewrite snippets/drops/chapters/anything 😭

Your wish is my command

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Eddie smiled coyly, and it was such an obnoxiously attractive look on him that Buck had a feeling that, so long as he was looking at him like that, all of his unfounded insecurity would dissipate completely. "Maybe." Eddie shut the refrigerator, placed his cup of water squarely on the table, and leaned on his forearms until he was just a bit closer. "Depends on your answer." "I'm going to have to check with my fiance," Eddie's eyes lit up with his smile widening. "I don't think he'd be okay with it." "He might be able to be persuaded." Christopher gagged. "Stop it." He ordered them lightly. As though he didn't really care one way or another, but felt like the protest was necessary. "You want to come with?" Buck posed, half turning in his seat to look at the boy. Christopher pondered it, smaking his lips like Ali while he did, before shrugging lightly. "Okay." He agreed. "Can we get Pepa flowers? For her birthday?" "Her birthday is in March, kiddo." "So?" "So it's June." Eddie said slowly. Christopher blinked. "So?" Eddie shrugged in Buck’s direction. What can you do with this kid? His expression asked. And it was going to be a good day, no matter what Buck’s headache said. They deserved it. They deserved the world. He'd buy Christopher whatever flowers he wanted, no excuses needed. "I think it's almost Athena’s birthday." Buck remembered something from Bobby talking about it. "If you want to pick some out for her too." Christopher, with his heart of gold, beamed at the prospect. "Do you know what her favorite kind is?" "We can ask Michael." "Not her husband?" Eddie asked with a confused, and awfully amused, wrinkle of his forehead. "Bobby asks him every time." Buck shrugged. "And Michael asks May." Wow, Eddie mouthed.

But, really, the update would have been out so much sooner, but my computer deleted literally everything and it turns out writing nonstop for like a year... isn't a great idea 😂 it's coming! Annoyingly slow but coming!