#they don't call you uncle egg for nothing

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (16/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece •female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, dirty talk, smut, the angst, murder, character death, miscarriage and the trauma associated with it, panic attack, mafia stuff, brutal violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn’t let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father’s mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra’s husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin’s brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

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She was pregnant.

Although, according to all moral and social norms, she should have been crying in despair, she was happy: touching her belly with her hand, she felt nothing but love for this little being that was slowly growing inside her.

The fruit of their warm, deep, sincere affection.

The knowledge that she was not alone helped her when it was time for her to meet the staff for whom she was to be responsible from now on. Aemond insisted on being with her, fearing for some reason for her and the baby, she, however, knew that this was something she had to do alone.

Their stares when she walked into the VIP room in which she had ordered the meeting told her everything – grown men and women who looked as if they had seen far too much in their lives watched her in disbelief.

She knew they thought with disapproval that she was just a little girl, a whore who had been given this place as a gift by their boss that she wouldn't know what to do with, pestering them with her stupid bullshit.

She sat down in one of the empty armchairs, a few people lit cigarettes and grunted, other than that, complete silence all around her.

"I know what you're thinking and you're right. The fact that I have taken over these premises is a form of security for me. In true, not only for me, but also for you. Aemond will stop the flow of drugs through these and two other places that used to belong to my father. I have no intention of changing managers or leadership, quite the contrary – I want to talk to you about what you need. I want this to be a clean, legitimate business that is profitable. No drastic changes." She said, looking at them expectantly, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.

A few people twisted in their seats, others looked at each other.

Silence.

Obviously they didn't trust her.

"Think whatever you want about me. It doesn't matter. Know, however, that my stepfather no longer threatens you, and Aemond will still protect this place. All I ask for is loyalty. If there is a problem with something, come to me with it, not to my uncle, or he will be furious. Now get back to work, I want to stay with the manager." She said calmly.

All but one man who could easily be her father got up from their seats and walked out, leaving them alone.

"This is not a toy you can just pick up and have." He said finally, firing up the lighter, leaning over the flame with his cigarette.

"I don't see it as a toy. We can all gain something if we accept each other. Would you rather keep wallowing in this shit and selling ecstasy to young kids? Don't you have children of your own?" She asked coolly, and the man snorted under his breath, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk.

"I do. Three. Two sons and a daughter. Each of them works here. The sons as security guards and the daughter behind the bar." He said dryly and she swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on her back.

Fuck.

Had she just insulted him?

"You let your own kids do drugs? Do you want them to be arrested with you if the police come by here, as part of family integration?" She asked, and he sighed heavily, taking a loud drag on his cigarette.

"I didn't say that." He replied, letting the smoke out through his mouth.

"And I don't want that either. Help me protect you." She insisted, and he looked at her finally, as if he had made up his mind.

"You're just like your father."

She exhaled loudly, in an involuntary reflex she'd been holding back for the last few hours touching her lower abdomen as soon as the car door closed behind her.

"And how was it? Everything okay?" Her uncle asked, immediately grasping her hand in his, looking at her expectantly, tense.

"They are difficult people. Difficult, but tired. They don't want problems. They get used to it." She said quietly, exhausted and sleepy.

She looked at him, a worry in his eyes but also a tenderness from which she felt warm in her heart.

"Take me home."

The road to the sea was getting terribly long, perhaps because once in a while she felt an unpleasant twinge in her stomach, indicative of what was about to happen.

"– no – no, stop the car, stop the car –" She muttered, and he immediately pulled over to the side of the road – she only managed to open the door before she vomited on the grass, panting heavily.

"– oh, baby – why don't you lie down in the back seat? – you'll be more comfortable –" She heard his voice, his broad hand stroking her back.

Ever since they'd found out they were going to be parents he'd been so tender, so good, so sweet.

Exactly like he had been back then.

"– okay –" She mumbled and swallowed hard, wiping her mouth with her handkerchief. She unbuckled her seatbelt, climbed out and opened the door in the back, laying down on both passenger seats, closing her eyes.

"– sleep, little one – I'll drive slowly – we're not in any hurry –" He said, looking at her in the rear view mirror, and she nodded.

She flinched when she felt the car finally stop – she heard someone open the door, the fresh air and his familiar hands enveloped her, lifting her up, and she clung to him like a small child. He carried her into the house, to a room that belonged to him, where they had set up their makeshift bedroom for the time of renovation.

She felt him lay her gently on the bed, taking his place beside her a moment later, embracing her from behind.

"– you're tiring your mummy terribly –" He whispered, stroking her belly with lazy, calm motions of his hand. "– you need to let her rest –"

She smiled, allowing herself to fall asleep again, this time in his embrace. Her uncle often addressed their child as if the baby could already understand him – he was making a connection this way, realising that he was really going to become a father.

He was involved in everything about preparing for the arrival of their child into the world – they decided to dedicate the room she slept in that summer holiday to their future offspring and repainted it together, sticking cute glow-in-the-dark stickers on the walls in the shape of various planets and stars.

With some things, they had to wait because they didn't know if the baby was going to be a boy or a girl.

"It cost me a lot of money, but I made it. I have written permission from the Archbishop. Rhaenys, we can marry." He said to her one morning, holding a piece of paper in front of him that was to change their lives.

A dispensation for a church wedding.

"We need witnesses." She muttered, gripping his hand in hers. Her uncle nodded, as if he knew she'd said it.

"I know, Helaena agreed. I didn't want to decide about another person for you." He said, and she smiled, feeling grateful.

He became more open, more affectionate, always thinking of her and her needs too.

She knew who she wanted by her side.

"I know I'm asking a lot and that I'm not entitled to it. I know your father will be furious if you say yes, but… you have always been close to my heart. You didn't judge me. I wish I had you with me on this day." She mouthed in a breaking voice, standing alone in the bathroom with her phone pressed to her ear, wiping her face wet with tears.

She heard Baela swallow hard, shocked by her words.

For a long moment, they were both silent.

"– I – God – I've always felt you were in pain – only now I know why and I'm sorry you've been alone with this for so long – I don't want you to not have your bridesmaid on your wedding day – just tell me when and where –" She muttered and she burst out into a quiet sob, feeling relieved.

"– forgive me – forgive me for being such a disgusting person –" She choked out, whooping, feeling that she had finally described herself truly.

She had fucked her own uncle and was going to have a baby with him.

She was sick.

Baela drew in a loud breath.

"– stop – if he was your own birth brother, it would be much, much worse – on the positive side, he's actually only half your uncle –" She said, and for some reason she burst out laughing.

God.

"– right – it's a good thing I didn't choose Jace –" She mumbled, and Baela snorted.

"– exactly – let's stick to that –" She said.

"– it would be funny if the police burst into the church and arrested us –" She sneered, fiddling with the soft towel hanging on the rack, imagining commandos with guns ordering them to fall to the ground.

"– for what? – for drug dealing or for incest? –" Baela scoffed, and she giggled under her breath.

"– for everything – the list of crimes is long –" She said with a smile, for some reason feeling lighter.

It was the first time she had ever talked to someone about it completely honestly.

She shuddered when she heard a loud knock on the door.

"Rhaenys? Are you all right?" She heard his concerned voice.

Ever since he had found her in the bath then, he had been afraid if she stayed in the bathroom too long.

"Yes. I'm talking to Baela. She agreed." She called out to him.

"That's great." He said with sincere relief, as if he was afraid she would suffer another disappointment and rejection from her family.

They hadn't planned to invite any guests to the event, have a dinner together or anything of the sort – they knew that most of their family felt there was nothing to celebrate, and for them, as it wasn't a state wedding, it only had symbolic significance.

Helaena helped her choose the right dress – she wanted to look special that day, because even though their nuptials were going to be bittersweet, she was, in the eyes of God, going to be his wife.

"– oh – look – this one is lovely –" Helaena hummed, taking from the rack a long, white gown with a cut-out back and lace at the neckline and the ends of the delicate, long sleeves.

"– you're right – it would match the flowers in my hair –" She said, in her perfect image of herself that day wishing she had daisies woven into her curls.

Helaena dropped her off in the car at a shop near their house and they said their goodbyes – she needed nothing so much as a walk and some fresh air, however, she wanted to cook them dinner too, knowing that her fiancé would be back late.

Since he had started telling her about his affairs, what he needed to do and where he needed to go, she felt calmer and his absence no longer frightened her so much.

Besides, he wasn't leaving her alone anymore, she thought, touching her stomach happily, looking curiously at the shelves full of different kinds of pasta, searching for the perfect one for spaghetti.

She shuddered, having the feeling that someone had rubbed against her by accident, but then she felt that person holding something against her back.

"Be quiet and leave the shop slowly." She heard a cold, unfamiliar voice behind her and froze, feeling her heart leap up into her throat, a cold sweat on her back.

She looked to the side, wondering if she should scream, if anyone would help her, not knowing if this man held a gun or a knife against her body.

"Don't try anything or I'll butcher you like a pig." He said, as if he was reading her mind, and she swallowed hard, feeling burning tears of terror under her eyelids, her body involuntarily began to tremble.

She simply moved towards the exit, and the man she was afraid to look at put his arm around her like he was her boyfriend, clamping his hand firmly on her waist to make sure she didn't try to escape.

As soon as they left she sprang up to throw herself into a run, but the man grabbed her waist and clamped his hand over her mouth – she bit him with a loud squeal, but he only hissed, not letting her go, hiding behind the wall of the shop, two other men got out of the car.

One of them, a blond man with a beard and blue eyes had a scars on his left cheek.

"– come on, what the fuck are you waiting for – faster –" Tyland Lannister growled, and the man who was clearly his bodyguard forced her to bow her head and forcibly shoved her into the back seat, closing the door behind her.

She burst out crying, curling up as Tyland sat down next to her and the two men took their seats in front, driving away with a squeal of tyres.

"– shut the fuck up – be a good girl and no harm will come to you – I need to clear up a few things with your uncle –" He said lightly – only when she looked at him did she notice that he held in his hand a gun pointed towards her.

She pressed her body against the car door, looking at him with big eyes and shook her head.

"– please – please let me out, I'm pregnant – I –" She mumbled out and squealed, leaning forward, feeling a sudden, penetrating pain in her lower abdomen, and then another and another.

She began to pant loudly in terror, and wailed as Tyland slapped the back of her head with an open palm.

"– stop pretending – I told you to fucking calm down, I won't do anything to you – I won't –" He muttered and fell silent, looking with her at the drop of blood that ran down her thigh from under her dress.

She covered her mouth with her hands and screamed loudly, falling into sheer hysteria, the man in front cursed, telling her to shut up, and Tyland just stared at her, his mouth wide open.

"– stop –" He muttered. "– fuck, God, stop, stop, stop –"

"– here? – boss, we're in the middle of a country road –"

"– STOP, I SAID –"

The car stopped at the side of the road with a screech of tyres in a way that made her hit her head on the seat in front of her – Tyland opened the door, grabbed her ankle and dragged her out of the car like an animal, leaving her on the grass, then got back inside.

The car drove off.

She just breathed, whooping with tears, looking at the grass around her and the tree trunks, feeling a horrible warm stickiness between her thighs, twitching all over, not having the strength or the will to get up.

After a while some other car stopped beside her, the people inside screamed in terror and got out, a woman who could have been her mother ran up to her and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Good God, I think they raped her."

No, she thought.

They took something much more precious from me.

She heard his loud, frightened breath as she lay in the hospital bed, the policemen standing beside her grunted at the sight of him.

"Are you her family?" Asked one of them.

"Y-yes, I'm her uncle. Good God, what happened?" He mumbled in a breaking voice.

"Your niece was found by a woman on a country road, thrown out of some car. She immediately informed us, suspecting that a rape had taken place, however, the cause of the bleeding was a sudden stress-induced miscarriage. The victim does not speak and does not want to say who did this to her. Could you please…"

The man did not finish as she heard him burst into a loud, mournful sob, felt the touch of his hands on her body, his face pressed into her hair, his broken, heavy breath.

Her eyebrows arched in pain, a single, lonely tear ran down her face.

Daemon had warned her.

The hours, the voices, the smells merged into one for her – she heard her uncle's voice, her mother's voice, she smelled their scent and touch, she heard their weeping and despair, but she herself felt like she was dreaming awake, feeling and experiencing nothing.

She felt herself awake when she heard another familiar voice.

"Did she say something?"

"No. She's silent. There's no contact with her. She's in shock." Her mother muttered, and Daemon embraced her, looking her straight in the eyes.

She felt something – she felt her heart hit harder in her chest, her eyebrows arched in misery, her breath caught in her throat.

"– baby – baby, please, say something to me –" She heard her uncle's whisper and only after a moment did she realise that he had been lying next to her on the bed all this time, that he had been stroking her head, that he had been looking at her, that he had been crying like a little baby.

"– get out for a while – leave us alone –" Daemon said – her uncle opened his mouth, furious, but she spoke up before he could say anything.

"– I want to talk to my dad –"

Everyone around her fell silent – Rhaenyra walked over to her brother and took his hand, explaining to him in a whisper that they would be back soon, that she was no longer in danger, that everything would be all right.

She felt herself quivering all over when Daemon took the chair and sat down beside her bed exactly as he had done then, after she had tried to take her own life.

She looked at him, into his bright, piercing eyes, and thought that this was what he was trying to protect her from.

"I wanted this child, dad. Very, very much." She muttered and closed her eyes, feeling the blissful emptiness she had surrounded herself with begin to crack, the pain that pierced her body, her heart so strong that she sobbed.

"I know." He replied.

"Is the baby…is the baby still inside me?" She choked out with difficulty, whooping with her own tears, feeling like she couldn't catch her breath.

"No. I'm very sorry, but no. It was too early, the baby was not yet formed. Nothing could be done." He said and she clamped her hands on her lower abdomen, thinking she felt like ripping out her uterus and other entrails because they were useless.

She was full and suddenly empty again.

She felt her father's hand on her arm, his fingers strong, his embrace giving her a sense of security.

"I have abandoned you. I chose my own pride. I knew he would want to take revenge on him. If I had given you my protection, it would never have happened. Forgive me." He said, and she closed her eyes, thinking that she wanted to become nothingness and disappear.

Despite Daemon continuing to speak to her, she fell into a state of half-sleep again, unable to think about it – her mind was repressing everything that had happened and waiting, although she didn't know what for.

What was she actually waiting for?

For her baby, she thought.

Little girl or little boy will be born in a few months.

No, she realised.

Not any more.

Tears ran down her face, but no sound came out of her mouth.

She saw him – her uncle stood in the doorway of her hospital room drenched in tears, trembling like a small child, just like she had been when she came into his room then, terrified of the darkness.

Darkness surrounded him, and he was frightened.

She didn't want him to be afraid.

He cried out loudly when she reached out her hand to him – she realised it was already dark around him when his body snuggled against hers, when he embraced her and kissed her cheek, when his face snuggled into her skin.

They lay, just breathing, holding hands – there was something comforting about that – in his silence. The fact that he knew there were no words of comfort, of justification, of absolution for them.

What did exist, however, were their bodies, warm and familiar, clinging to each other to find shelter.

She fell asleep, wrapped in his scent.

"I know you think this is my fault. That you will never forgive me." She heard his voice as if from a distance – she blinked, surprised to see that it was already daylight all around her, that her uncle was sitting beside her in a chair, looking at his hands.

Days flew by between her fingers.

How long had it been since that incident?

Since when had she been empty?

She pressed her lips together, feeling nothing but rage.

"I want Tyland Lannister." She hissed in a cold, shaking voice, and he looked at her in shock.

They stared at each other for a moment – his lower lip twitched when he suddenly realised what had happened, something in his gaze that had always frightened her, but now pleased her.

Aemond

Emptiness.

It seemed to him that he had simply gone through all the phases of grief – from despair, through denial, to a state of complete indifference.

His child, whom he had so desperately wanted, was no longer there.

He thought it would help to give the baby a funeral, even though they had nothing to bury – that's why they put the glowing stickers they had stuck on the walls of the room that was to belong to their child in a small box and buried it under a tree in the garden of their house.

She wanted the thing that would remind her of their loss to be close by, so that she could look at it every morning from her window.

It was an ordeal they lived through together, and although they suffered, they found relief in each other's arms.

She let him take her for the first time two weeks after it happened.

Lying in front of him in his embrace, she took his hand in hers and slowly guided it down under the material of her panties – she surprised him with this, because he was convinced that the vision of him touching her like this would be something disgusting to her – she, however, was wet.

He couldn't hide how much he missed her, and after a moment they were both naked from the waist down, fucking each other like animals with loud smacks of their hips, wanting nothing more than to feel fulfilled and relieved – the release he felt when he finally came inside her was like a revelation, her body hot and sweaty in his embrace, her little cunt pulsing on his erection, sucking his seed.

I'll give you another baby, he thought tenderly, kissing her long neck, not saying it out loud though, not wanting her to think he had already reconciled himself to their loss.

I will give you another baby, and then another and another.

We will be a big, happy family.

If he could say that anything good had come out of this awfully sad situation, it was that their families had begun to talk to each other again – Otto and Daemon couldn't forgive the murder of their grandchild, and Alicent, Rhaenyra, Jace and Baela had watched over his niece in his absence, looking after her.

Even Aegon asked him for a meeting, which was strange and downright comical. His brother put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him in a way from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

"We're going to catch that son of a bitch."

The only person who was afraid to meet them was Helaena, blaming herself for what had happened despite the fact that neither he nor his Rhaenys resented her.

"She said she wanted to go shopping. Your house and the beach was across the street. I-I had the security guards go and take her dress to your house. She wanted to take a walk, she insisted. I…"

"Stop. You are not the one who did this to her. No one is blaming you." He said calmly, staring dully ahead, sitting in his car, feeling that his heart, his skin, his body, his breath were cold.

I want Tyland Lannister.

He licked his lower lip when he spotted his silhouette in the distance, coming out of one of the clubs surrounded by a few of his thugs, surely for protection.

Jason helped his brother move to another city, hoping they would never find him.

But he was wrong.

"I have to go." He said and hung up, starting the engine, dialing another number.

He never thought that he'd talk to him of his own free will.

And yet.

"He just left."

He followed him for a few streets, driving a few cars behind him, feeling strangely calm and patient – he had the impression that there were no more tears he could cry or screams he could shout.

His persona had come full circle, becoming again exactly who he had been before she had called him that evening for the first time in eight years.

He smiled, seeing that they had realised that someone was following them, trying to change direction suddenly – as he had predicted, they had fallen straight into their trap, and hundreds of loud gunshots rang out around the corner.

He pulled over to the side of the road and stepped out of the car, watching as Daemon's men slaughtered Tyland's men one by one, surprised by the manhunt from both sides, unprepared for such a sudden, merciless attack.

"– please –" Tyland mumbled, crawling on the ground at Daemon's feet – his sister's husband held a baseball bat in his hand, all dirty from his blood.

He thought with amusement that Lannister's face looked like a squashed tomato.

Together with Daemon, he dragged him, moaning and crying, to the boot of his car, locking him in there, and together they set off without exchanging a word.

By the time they reached the house by the sea there was only an hour left until dawn – Tyland had passed out in the boot from a lack of oxygen, and a strong kick to the liver revived him, making him draw in air loudly and cough, spitting up blood.

"– no – no, no, no, no, please, no –" He whined as they began dragging him along the ground towards the door, leaving a trail of his blood on the ground behind them.

When they walked into the house they threw him to his knees in front of her – his Rhaenys looked at his hunched, pathetic figure sitting in front of him on the couch in a white dress he was seeing for the first time, a knife in her hand.

Was this supposed to be her wedding gown?

I have taken away your purity and innocence, he thought with pain, looking at her with adoration.

Kora was no longer there.

Only Persephone was left.

His Queen of the Hades.

He longed to lie down at her feet and simply abide.

"– I lost someting because of you –" She said and raised herself up, touching her lower abdomen. "– my baby didn't even manage to take their first breath –"

He closed his eyes, feeling the squeeze in his throat, the pain he felt in his heart unbearable.

"– I didn't know – I didn't know, I'm sorry, I didn't know –" Tyland mumbled, because of how swollen his face was his words were indistinct and difficult to understand.

Standing over him, in her white dress, with a knife in her hand and with her beautiful hair loose, she looked like a ghost.

Like Death.

"– you threw me out of the car like an animal – you left me to die and drove away –" She whispered, tears one after another rolling down her beautiful, tired, pale face.

She had waited so long for this.

For relief.

For justice.

But no more.

"– please – please –" He begged, and she took a step towards him and knelt before him, looking straight into his eyes.

"– let me, Rhaenys –" He muttered, not wanting her to burden herself with this, to dream nightmares like him, to suffer like him because of what she had done.

"– no – I want to feel the life drain out of him – as it did out of me, then –" She said, and the knife she held in her hand stabbed into his side like butter.

Tyland wailed, grabbing the hilt, but Daemon held him down, preventing him from moving – he saw her slide the blade out, a huge bloodstain spilling down his shirt, dripping down his leg straight onto the foil-lined floor.

"That's enough. I'll take care of the rest. Take a bath and burn everything." Daemon instructed, laying Tyland's barely alive body on the ground, his breathing shallow until his eyes went blank.

His soul had left his body.

"Come." He said to her, taking the knife from her palm, placing it on the floor. He nodded at Daemon and grabbed her hand, leading her upstairs to the bathroom where the bathtub was.

Her entire dress and hands were in blood.

"Come here, little one. Come, let's wash it all off. It's okay, honey." He whispered, hugging her close, sinking his hands into her soft, smooth curls, and she reciprocated the embrace, sighing, closing her eyes as if relieved.

"Thank you."

Again she lay in the bath red with blood, again she was pale, however this time he felt that the life was not escaping from her, but returning to her – with each passing minute her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide as if her mind had returned to reality.

"Is he dead?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, washing away with his hands any trace of what they had done from her beautiful, innocent body.

"He's no longer here. He's disappeared. He was just a monster from the wardrobe, nothing more, my love." He said quietly and she sighed, her hand touching his face.

"Do you still love me?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he looked at her, shocked.

"You are the love of my life. You need to rest. You are very tired. You haven't slept well in a long time. You're daydreaming." He replied, taking an unruly strand of hair from her face, her gaze warm and tender, meant only for him.

"Are you not disgusted with me? I've done something monstrous. I think I killed someone." She whispered, her eyes full of tears.

"– shhh –" He hushed her, pressing his forehead against hers, stroking her hair as if she were a small child. "– I forbid you to say such things – it will be our secret – mine, yours and your dad's – only we will know about it –"

"– about the monster from the wardrobe? –" She mumbled, and he nodded.

"– yes –"

Rhaenys

"– I'm scared, mummy – can I have my little lamp lit today too? –" Aemma muttered, but before she could answer her anything, she heard a voice from the bed above them, belonging to Visenya.

"– no, I can't sleep then –" Her older sister hissed, looking down at them, the bright curls she had inherited from her father in disarray.

"– I'm afraid of the monster from the television – the one from the horror movie that Aegon was watching –" Her daugther said in a breaking voice, and she furrowed her brow, shaking her head.

"– I told you this is not a film for small children –" She said sternly, and Aemma lowered her gaze on the verge of crying.

Vinseya groaned in frustration and climbed down the ladder, lying down under the duvet next to her little sister.

"– move along, coward – I'll kill any monster that disturbs my sleep –" Her daughter muttered, and she smiled and stood up, turning off the lamp.

"– good night –" She hummed and left, closing the door behind her.

She sighed, seeing the light on in his office, and moved lazily in that direction, finding him bent over documents. He glanced at her, then at the silhouette of her naked body hidden only beneath a soft silk bathrobe, and licked his lower lip with his tongue.

"– I'll come soon – give me a moment longer –"

"– talk to Aegon tomorrow – he mustn't let Aemma watch horror movies with himself because she is afraid afterwards – she's too little –" She said.

He shook his head, signing a few things.

"– I'll try, but you know him – he'll find a thousand excuses and explanations –" He grunted, and she laughed under her breath.

"– he resembles your brother –" She said amused, leaning her hip against the doorframe, and he snorted under his breath, the corner of his mouth lifted upwards.

"– indeed –" He said and looked up at her, his gaze again escaping down to her breasts and then even lower.

"Come here. Sit on the desk." He said, leaning back in his chair, and she obeyed his command with a smile, walking closer with a lazy step.

He stood up as soon as her buttocks touched the tabletop, spreading her thighs apart, making her have to reach back with her hand to catch her balance.

"– ah –" She gasped as his fingertips sank into her fleshy, warm womanhood, collecting her sticky wetness.

"– since when are you in this state? – hm? –" He hummed, pushing her closer to him with an impatient tug of his hand on her ass, the other digging warningly into her delicate skin, trailing it around her swollen clit.

"– since this morning – since I saw you come out wet and naked from the bathroom in our bedroom – I've needed you, and you haven't touched me –" She mewled regretfully, feeling her walls clench greedily around nothing, craving him inside her.

What he heard was enough for all his foreplay, and with her help he quickly undid the belt of his trousers, his breath heavy and hitched.

"– after all, I fucked you last night – I had to drive Aegon and Visenya to training – you could have joined me in the shower –" He exhaled, impatiently releasing his long, hard erection from his boxers.

She sighed and tilted her head back as, without even waiting for her response, he directed the head of his cock against her slit, opening her wide on his fat length, filling her with himself with one, lazy thrust.

"– uncle – o-oh, fuck, uncle, yes, yes, yes –" She cried out, resting her hands behind her back, letting the material of her bathrobe slide off her shoulders, revealing her breasts full of milk, bouncing each time his hips pounded against her buttocks.

"– God, be quiet – shhh, be good or I won't let you come – is that what you want? –" He breathed out and she bit her bottom lip with her teeth, looking up at him pleadingly, something in her gaze from which he began to slam into her like mad, himself struggling to restrain himself not to moan.

"– that's what I thought – you come to me – ah – begging with those big eyes for my cock – and then you can't even fucking behave –" He growled and sighed, feeling her struggling to stifle a sob of pleasure when another thrust against that same sweet spot made her fall apart in front of him, panting heavily along with him, the next few loud, sticky slaps of their bodies were enough for him to cum with a sigh of relief.

They knew each other's bodies all too well by now and, with amusement, found more and more that they had trouble holding back from coming too early.

It was just too pleasant.

"– I'm pregnant –" She whispered, and he blinked and looked at her, as if he needed a moment to start thinking soberly after such intense fulfilment.

"– what? – but –" He exhaled.

"– I'm sure – I went to the doctor today –"

"– you lied to me –" He said with irritation in his voice.

"– Criston drove me there – I told you I would go shopping with him and we did after the appointment – no lies –" She said with a smile, touching her belly affectionately.

Her husband sighed, placing his hand on hers, the expression on his face calm and gentle again.

"– it's the sixth – what a big family indeed –" He hummed, and she laughed, nodding her head.

"– yes, my love – another child to drive to training –" She said amused, and he kissed her forehead with tenderness, from which a pleasant warmth spread over her heart.

"– don't sit here too long –" She sighed, jumping off his desk as soon as he slid out of her.

"– I won't –"

On her way to their bedroom, she walked into their youngest child's room and smiled, covering her little son more tightly with the duvet. Aemon's leg immediately pushed the bedclothes off him with his mutter of displeasure, so she gave up and left him alone.

She froze, spotting a silhouette in the corner of the room, thinking it was a man, with bright eyes, blonde hair and a beard, but was relieved when, after a moment, she noticed that it was the only shadow cast by the wardrobe standing nearby.

When she walked into their bedroom, she immediately turned on the lamp by their bed and waited patiently for him to return.

She knew she wouldn't fall asleep anyway.

When she was alone in bed, she saw his face and her hands sticky with blood.

When she heard her uncle's footsteps, when his warm body finally lay down beside her and his lips placed a soft, sticky kiss on her neck, she turned off the light, his whisper next to her ear like the calm hum of the wind.

"– now I will let you moan as much as you wish –"

"– Aegon – don't let her swim out into the deep water – Daeron, Visenya keep an eye on her, after all you can see she can't swim well yet –" He shouted to their children the next day, lying in front of her on a towel on the beach, little Aemon, sitting next to them, was building a sandcastle, the hot sun burning their skin.

"– okay, Dad! –" She heard Daeron voice behind her, lying on her stomach in her black one-piece bathing suit with her back cut out, reading a book, her husband's doctoral thesis on an excavation he had run with her in one of the cities the year before.

"– what do you think? – it's the last time for corrections – I've read it hundreds of times and it already makes me want to vomit when I look at it –" He said disapprovingly, turning his gaze towards the sea again.

"– it's the best doctoral thesis I've ever read – really –" She said softly, turning the page, amazed at how effortlessly her husband wrote.

"– look, mummy – it's a fortress, and here's the moat – and there's a dragon on top –" Mumbled Aemon, forcing the Mighty Vhagar figurine that had once belonged to his father onto the top of the tower.

"– beautiful, darling – it looks like the real thing –" She said with warm approval, and Aemon smiled broadly, satisfied, busying himself with creating a bridge over the moat from sticks.

"– Aemma, don't swim so far away – how many times do I have to tell you? –" Her uncle called out, raising himself angrily on his elbow, and she sighed heavily, throwing him a look full of pity.

"– she has swimming sleeves that are full of air that will float her even if she stops moving her arms and legs – she won't drown –" She said, and her husband sighed heavily, looking anxiously towards their children playing in the water.

"– I prefer to be sure –" He muttered.

She looked at him tenderly for a moment, feeling nothing but warmth in her heart.

He was such a good father.

Such a good husband.

She knew that one day they would have to explain to their children why they only had a church wedding and were not married before the state.

But not yet.

"So let's make sure. We should swim with them." She said, extending her hand to him, and he looked at her, apparently recalling their conversation in his car then, many years ago, when he had described his fantasy to her.

He licked his lips with his tongue and grinned in a way she loved.

"Come."

______

Author's note: The child that Rhaenys lost was Viserys: I decided that this story, because it is so dark, could not end differently, and the decisions of the characters had to lead to tragedy sooner or later. Something dies in Rhaenys, but thanks to this she can finally fully join her husband in their Hades, crossing the border of innocence and naivety, maturing in a kind of cruel way. However, the rest of their children, who appeared in the original series, are born. After losing Viserys (in this version they did not know that it would be a boy), they decided that they wanted to have as many children as God would give them, since he took one away from them (in their eyes one too many). Visenya and Aegon will definitely become mafia bosses in the future, just like their father, lol. Their children have the same characters and looks like in the original series, which you can see here.

[steddiealltheway]

It's clear to Steve that Eddie is being led on, but Eddie will not accept it. So, it's intervention time. Not because Steve has a huge crush on him and is entirely jealous but... he needs Eddie to at least see that he can do better than this asshole.

He sits Eddie down and lays out the facts. "You met him in The Hideout bathroom when he put his tongue down your throat then proceeded to ignore you the rest of the night when you left the bathroom."

"It's different for gay men, Steve."

Steve presses on. "He calls you late at night when he knows that your uncle is gone just to get off and immediately hang up after."

"It's not like that..." Eddie says with a sigh.

"He doesn't know a single thing about you either! Has he tried to ask you on a date or anything?"

Eddie gives Steve a look and stands up crossing into his space. "And why do you care so much?"

Steve's heart beats a little faster as Eddie gets a little closer to the truth. "Because you deserve better."

Eddie snorts. "I think you're just jealous."

"What?" Oh shit. He knows about his crush.

He steps even closer, but Steve doesn't back down. Eddie explains, "I've finally got someone, and you can't stand that I beat you to it. The freak outsmarted the king."

Steve shakes his head and steps back, unsure of what the hell has gotten into Eddie. "You don't mean that."

"I do, Harrington," he states with venom in his tone.

Steve can feel himself tense up. If Eddie's going to be an asshole, he can be one too. "Have fun then, Munson." He shoulder-checks him as he makes his way to his stairs.

He hears footsteps behind him as Eddie follows. "I think I'll go to The Hideout tonight with Tom," he calls after Steve, further pushing it.

Steve stops in his tracks and turns around to face Eddie. "Maybe if you opened your eyes you'd see what was right in front of you."

Eddie leans in. "Yeah, I see Tom carrying me away into the damn sunset."

Steve shakes his head and laughs humorlessly. "You really don't get it, do you?"

The other boy just stares at him looking confused and then hurt. "Just because I'm some kind of freak doesn't mean that the only chance I have with a guy is some asshole who is using me, so stop trying to convince me of that."

Steve scoffs as Eddie walks to the door. "Eddie, you know I didn't mean that. Did you not hear the part where I said-" The door slams shut. "...that you deserve better..." Steve finishes then groans. He sits on the bottom stair step and puts his head in his hands.

He hopes more than anything that his gut is wrong and Tom is a good guy. But every instinct is telling Steve that he's not.

So, Steve makes a decision that he might regret. He grabs his keys and races to his car, making his way to The Hideout. He reasons with himself that he just wants to meet the guy himself to get a proper opinion of him. And maybe he won't have to use his bat in his trunk.

When he gets to the parking lot, he sees Eddie's van and parks next to it. Here goes nothing.

He immediately feels off when he enters the bar. He can't spot Eddie anywhere and almost wonders if he had mistaken the van outside for his. Then he remembers... making out in the bathroom.

He spots the bathroom door and sighs. This is definitely not something he wants to witness. He goes anyways.

He's surprised when the door swings open as he pushes on it. Gosh, they should at least be more subtle than this. Jam the door or put a heavy- Steve freezes when he hears the heavy breathing and unmistakable sound of kissing halting. Then, a stall door bursts open and a shorter man is shoving Steve against the wall.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in here?" The man asks. God, he smells like beer and a bit like rotten eggs. And he vaguely looks familiar.

"Using the bathroom?" Steve fires back.

"Steve?"

The guy, assumedly Tom, glances over his shoulder. "You know him?"

"Yeah," Eddie says looking pissed. "You can let him go, he's fine."

Tom lets go but whips around to Eddie. "He knows about us?"

Eddie nods.

Tom gets up in his space and sneers, "What part of don't tell anyone did you not understand?"

Then, it hits Steve. He recognizes Tom as one of his dad's younger work buddies. Has a wife and two young kids and... shit.

"Sorry," Eddie whispers.

Tom shoves him back into the wall. "You're fucking sorry? Is that all you have to say??"

Steve sees Eddie brace for a punch, and that's when he cuts in. "Tom Gardner, right?"

Tom jumps back, going pale. "How do you know my full name?"

Steve can't help but be a little bitchy. "Well, now you've helped me confirm it. How's your wife Ginger doing?"

Tom tries to stalk into his space saying, "Listen here you little piece of shit. I don't know how you-"

Steve cuts him off, "Threaten me or my friend again and I'll tell your whole family your little secret."

Tom walks closer. "You wouldn't dare."

Steve uses his height to his advantage and looks down at the man. "Try me."

Tom's eyes flicker between Steve's for a couple of seconds before he curses under his breath and runs out the door.

Steve barely has time to celebrate the small victory before Eddie is sliding down the wall with his head in his hands. Steve rushes over to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Eddie smacks it away. He looks up with watery eyes. "Why'd you do it?"

"I needed to meet the guy myself," Steve says, stomach rolling at the sight of Eddie so upset. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

"And are you happy?' Eddie asks, swiping at his eyes.

Steve stares down at him. "And why would I be?"

Eddie gestures to the door. "You got what you wanted. You can say 'I told you so,' but I kind of already knew he was an ass. Didn't know about the wife and kids though." He puts his head in his hands again. "How did you know about that?" He asks, muffled by his hands.

"Works with my dad," Steve answers. Eddie just hums. Steve sighs and sits on the floor next to Eddie scrunching his nose up at the disgusting bathroom floor. "That isn't what I wanted by the way. I wanted him to be a good guy, " Steve lies. He glances over at Eddie and pauses before confessing, "Actually, I didn't want him to be a good guy."

"What?" Eddie asks, heading coming up to angrily look at him.

"I didn't want him to be a good guy," Steve states again.

"And why's that?" Eddie asks. "Can't stand being the only single one?"

"That's part of the reason," Steve admits.

Eddie puts his hands on his knees and grunts as he stands up. "Glad to have solved the great mystery."

"Wait," Steve says before scrambling to stand. Luckily, Eddie stops. "Remember when I told you earlier that if you opened your eyes you'd see what was right in front of you?"

"No need to rub it in, Harrington."

Steve groans. "I was talking about me!" Steve practically yells. When Eddie turns to look at him with wide eyes he repeats, "I was talking about me."

Eddie looks him up and down. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Steve says walking toward Eddie, "That I'm entirely crazy about you, and I thought you knew until you started gushing about this Tom guy. You were right about me being jealous but for the wrong reason."

All Eddie says is, "Shit."

Steve nods in agreement.

Eddie looks down and fiddles with his rings. "I didn't mean what I said earlier. Like I said, deep down I knew but didn't want to admit it to myself or you, so I got a bit... defensive."

"A bit," Steve says with a laugh, stepping forward.

Eddie smiles bashfully. "I wish you would've said something sooner."

"Who says it's too late now?" Steve asks, taking another step forward.

"Really?" Eddie asks hopefully.

Steve smiles and almost leans in, but he remembers the door behind them. "Now, let me take you home before our first kiss ends up being in this disgusting bathroom and someone barges in."

"I'll also need some mouthwash or gum so I can erase any trace of Tom before I kiss you," Eddie says with a frown.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure to erase any trace and memory of him tonight," Steve says with a wink before holding open the door for Eddie.

"Jesus H. Christ. You're going to be the death of me."

Steve smiles. "I sincerely hope so."

[thebadboyfanclub]

You Will Pay (Harwin x Reader)

I wanted to write something a little more angry, as you guys know by now I love creating mad women and just portraying the emotions as borderline psychotic, so I hope you guys love this as much. Also please leave a comment it really helps me

The books and the maesters had very descriptive stories about the war of dragons, sisters, and brothers who went to war and detailed tales of the members and which side they resided with.

One particular story that a lot seemed to gloss over so carelessly was one of the most complicated ones, (y/n) Velaryon, the older sister of Laenor and Laena Velaryon, a comely girl and a fierce dragon rider as her egg hatched while she was in her cradle.

The maesters and fools describe her as a vicious woman, a power-hungry lady that cared for nothing but herself, but when had the maesters ever taken the time to look past their nose?

Aegon had bestowed her the title of the king's hand which caused a riot amongst the council, to force your grandsire to step down from his post, and for a woman at that, it was more than something Lord Otto could stomach, still (y/n) thrived as she meticulously plotted her vengeance against Rhaenyra.

“She took everything from me, my dignity, my love, my life, it is time for Rhaenyra to pay her debt to me”

She had confessed to Dowager Queen Alicent and her father whilst she sat next to Vaemond, urging her uncle to petition against Lucerys, some even wholeheartedly believe the Lady had gone rogue after she saw her uncle's head cut off, though she had to admit that being witness to her uncle calling Lucerys a bastard and breathing life to the shameful past (y/n)s late husband had forced her to a darker path.

How convenient would that have been? To blame the unquenchable thirst for revenge on that, no, her sulking ran deeper than that, like a venom slowly releasing droplets on (y/n) 's heart.

Despite it all (y/n) had proved to be more detail-oriented than any man, she had foreseen a plethora of moves from the blacks' side, (y/n) knew her father's mind and her mother's heart like the back of her hand, hiding in the shadows and observing for most of her adolescence was now (y/n)s strongest trait.

Seastar and (y/n) flew to the skies in numerous battles, (y/n) had been forced to face her mother, to go against her in battle whilst Seastar burned countless of Corlys’s ships, (y/n) watched her mother fall from the sky and inevitably to her death, she had wrapped her mother's body in cloth and send it back to her father in dragonstone, it was then that Corlys decided to join the green side, (y/n) was the only family he had left, he could not bare to lose her.

There was a time that (y/n) was not bitter, she was perceived to be as sweet as the fruit from the lands, back at a time when she wore a wonderful dress and was wed to Harwin strong, a glowing bride who smiled from ear to ear at her beloved lord husband, the couple danced the night away after the ceremony and the maids would gushed over their marriage.

(Y/n) gave birth to 5 children, 3 girls, and 2 boys, all of them inherited a wild mixture of their mother's and father's hair, albeit the common trait amongst them was their mother's eyes, a deep violet color that pierced through souls, the children were given devoted love and attention by both parents, Harwin had been an excellent example of a father figure to all of them, he never shied away from bouncing his youngest while the others ran around like a tornado.

He had even insisted on being there for all of their births, and as the first cry of each of them would be heard, Harwin would brush away the strands of hair from (y/n) 's sweaty face, plant a loving kiss on her forehead and then on her hand, smiling sheepishly she would nod at him basking the feeling of accomplishment and euphoria that a newborn would bring as it would curl on her arms.

One would think 5 children would be enough of a proof that there was at the very least attraction between the couple, though life has never been proven to go by a book.

“Laenor”

(Y/n) breathed out as she fell in her brother's arms in desperation, the death of their sister hit them hard and the macabre nature of her ceremony was similar to adding salt to an open wound, Laenor held her tight as he too suffered the pain of his twin being ripped out of life far too soon.

“Let us go for a walk, I wish to speak with you”

“Of course, I too yearn to get away from all the false empathy”

She hissed from between her teeth as the siblings held on to one another and step by step the ever-exhausting role of whatever title they carried washed away from the sounds of the ocean.

“As the eldest, I worry about you, brother”

“As the youngest, I worry for you, you remember her first breath, and now you are here as she took her last”

“It is not how nature intended, I was the one that had to cross over first, I guess Laena always had a Niche for sudden disappearances”

Laenor only scoffed, (y/n) was a woman who wore her heart on her sleeve for most of her life, still Laenor could detect that the burdens she carried were heavy, it was forcing her to bend her ever-defiant backbone and suffer in silence as the priding eyes of the court stood by her side, judging any beat of sweat or a wrong bat of an eyelash.

“Laena never cared for what nature intended nor any of the ton thought, she was a young maiden when she rode her dragon with him”

“I wanted to kill her, she was never dim-witted, quite the contrary I like to believe, why did she force herself to even breathe behind the shadow of… her?”

“I would venture to ask the same from you?”

“Of me?”

She was taken aback by the question, quite frankly she could not fathom what could Laenor possibly have intended by it. Puzzled she tilted her head to the side as her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes never leaving his as Laenor somewhat hunched, he looked uncomfortable and defeated.

“Come on (y/n) it is just me”

“I do not follow”

“You cannot point your finger at Laena when you suffer the same fate”

“Suffer? Have you been drinking your grief away?”

(Y/n) was evidently annoyed by Laenors riddles, naturally her mind went to just drunken sentences, Laenor shifted on his feet as he scoffed at her, his arrogance slowly burned out as he detected that (y/n) kept sturdy with her act.

“You… do not know?”

“Know what?”

“About Harwin”

“For the love of everything holy spit it out”

“Harwin is fucking Rhaenyra!”

Laenor exclaimed as fast as his tongue allowed, (y/n) 's blood ran cold at a drop of a hat, her eyes widened as her breath halted right at her lungs, and all of a sudden the wind felt like pricks piercing her skin, then as Laenor waited for the curses and any type of reaction he was shocked to see (y/n) start from a soft giggle to a full-on belly laugh.

“(Y/n), sister”

Laenor went to wrap his arms around her but (y/n) dodged it away, continuing to laugh when her hands went to her knees, her body shook from the snickering and tears started to look in her eyes, escaping fast making her eyesight blurry and the draws of breath harder by the second.

“Please (y/n) say something”

“This is… perfect”

She managed to spit out in between her shrieks of laughter, Laenor took a step back out of fear as (y/n) hiccuped, the only way to describe this was that (y/n) was walking on a tight tightrope in between sadness and insanity, the anger began to coil on her insides as the sudden sensation of pain clawed on her heart. (Y/n) fell to her knees whilst tears made her eyesight blurry, Laenor felt helpless against her, as guilt was written on his face he worried if he had made the right choice, he had let her in the bliss of ignorance for far too long.

“I must, I must go”

“Where will you go?”

“To hell, most likely, but for now I will go to my lord husband, if you can call him that”

She mumbled mostly to herself as she struggled to get up, stumbling from time to time as she walked back to their chamber, some that happened upon her described the sight as a drunken pale ghost, a demeanor that was highest unexpected of her, she could never recall how she had mastered to walk back, she had guessed that the force of habit or the desperate urge for privacy forced her legs to move one after the other and to the door that with the last ounce of power she managed to push.

Her legs had given up as the door closed by itself and (y/n) fell on the floor, she merely switched sides so she could face the ceiling and waited for Harwin, she could have been waiting for hours but to her, the thoughts had wrapped their cloak around the aspect of time, tears had ran dry and her mouth was as dry as sand yet she refused to move.

Harwin had almost stumbled over her when he walked in, it took him a second to register what was happening, his lady wife laying on the floor consciously yet the air felt like something had happened, the obvious guess was the grief overcame her.

“My dear, do you need help?”

“Don’t touch me”

“(Y/n)-“

“How long?”

“Pardon?”

“How… long?”

Her voice was low yet a hint of poison dripped out of her dry lips, as her throat begged for water all she was concerned about was how the ceiling felt like it would clash on her, the part that scared her was that she secretly hoped it did but only if that meant Harwin would go down with her.

“What has happened?”

“That is supposed to be my question, what happened that made you weak in Rhaenyras arms?”

Harwin only blinked, his mouth slightly agape as he was caught off guard by the question and confrontation, he had played cat and mouse with her for years and now the cat had seemed to just give up after she figured out that a mouse was hiding from her.

“(Y/n)-“

Harwin made the mistake of taking a step closer to her, out of impulse (y/n) used her foot to trip him resulting in him falling next to her, Harwin could not react as fast as (y/n) 's blood thrust and he had only a mere second to stop her from landing the dagger that she had so comically gifted him from stabbing him, the loud grunt was heard all around the room when she mounted him and attempted to land the dagger on his chest.

“I will fucking kill you”

“Stop!”

“I will watch as you tucking die you filthy excuse of a man! Let me do this”

Her eyes were wide and unfocused, she spat all over him as she threatened him with her teeth gritting against each other, Harwin had to put actual pressure on her hand and hurt her as she yelled out of pain and let the dagger off her tight grip, however (y/n) was not ready to give up the fight, her hands found his neck and tighten around him as much as he could.

“I will do it to you, to her, to your bastards, I gave you everything! This is how you choose to repay me? You are a demon!”

Harwin's airway was severely restricted, it was the first time that he feared his lady wife, not only was he scared of her taking his life, but the scariest part was as Harwin withered away (y/n) seemed to have a ghost of a smile and a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

“You’re killing me” he managed to get out

“Good”

It sounded almost like a moan the way she spoke, (y/n) couldn’t even have the decency of hiding how much joy this brought her.

Harwin years of training went into defense and he pushed her off with so much might that (y/n) fell back on the floor with her back. Coughs escaped her and so did Harwin as they gasped for air, (y/n)/ back was on fire but nothing could match the shame and anger that shimmered in her heart

“You sick bastard”

She yelled frantically as she dragged herself with her elbows a few inches away before her arms gave out on her and collapsed back on the floor with coughs shaking her.

Such a tragic scene, a couple that had burned bright for all of the seven kingdoms to watch was now inflicting torture on one another, emotional, physical, one could argue generational given the fact that (y/n) could not stand the idea of her children being eclipsed by Rhaenyras bastards.

Both of them gasping for air on the floor as (y/n) supported herself with her arms to gain some distance from the wooden floor, all one could hear was their panting and the groans in between out of agony and pain, the sight of them would bring pity on both of them, as a couple that once found comfort in each other now brought them a breath away from death.

“This is not the way to discuss this”

“I had given you my life, I tore myself to give you children, a wife anyone would envy, a life full of whatever you wished and what did you do?”

“You know I love you”

The only response (y/n) considered to be right was a swift kick at his leg causing him to flinch and hiss in pain, Harwin had remained motionless on the floor as (y/n) struggled to raise herself and stand up, she had made it about halfway and was up on her knees when a pain as sharp Valyrian steel sliced her across her stomach.

“I will never forgive you for this”

“(Y/n)”

he called for her as sweet as he always did, a few hours ago she would have melted with a happy smile at the sound of him calling her name.

“Get out! OUT!”

She was crying a screaming at him, spit escaping her mouth, Harwin gazed at her with guilt written all over him, (y/n) had endured the worst, scenarios that would make anyone break and yet she had managed to stand strong, all for him to blow it down like a withering deck of cardamom

Harwin got up and shamefully walked away from her, leaving her to cry, what he did not know was that (y/n) was not just grieving their marriage, she was grieving a child, blood was trickling down her leg and the pain only worsened by the moment, she was so excited to call the babe Laena, after her late sister and now she lost that chance as well.

She did not want to tell him yet, maybe inside her, she knew it would not last, but how could Mother be so cruel to her? Take away the last offspring of her love that now was sniffed out like a candle in the wind, the very last memory of the blissful marriage she thought she had.

(Y/n) placed her hands on her stomach as she wept, images of them together kept on clouding her mind and judgment, one that persisted was the day they welcomed their first child.

(Y/n) had suffered at the hands of the maesters, men that could not fathom the idea of a woman knowing better than them even though it was her that split into two pieces to bring a son into the world.

Harwin hastily had burst through the doors at the first sound of that marvelous cry the babe had managed to spit out and fill the room with sighs of relief.

“Praise the Gods, you have a son”

“Out of my way”

Harwin had mumbled before he shoved away the maester making his heavy metal chain click against its charms before he kneeled before (y/n). She was sweaty though her skin was cold, her eyes could not seem to focus and moved at glacial speed, she had managed to make her thighs touch as she had probably collapsed after the labor, and her calves were one in the east and the other in the west.

“My beautiful, sweet (y/n)”

“Harwin, stay”

“Of course, you did so well”

“I’m tired”

Her voice was barely above a whisper and her heavy breathing made it harder for him to listen to her words, as a sign of comfort Harwin placed his hand on the top of her head and started to pet her ever so softly, a sheepish smile appeared on her lips, after such intense act his caress brought her such security that the pain seemed to leave her body.

“Is he alright?”

“Healthy and kicking my lady, would you like to hold him?”

“No, I can’t, Harwin”

She begged, (y/n) could not even get out of bed for days, her body was wounded severely and all she seemed to want to do was sleep, Harwin would often jest that (y/n) only did it to make up for the nights her belly kept her awake, he had stayed by her side, holding their son, making sure she sees him and even helped her to hold him once she had regained her strength.

Now look at them, Harwin kneeling behind the door of the bed chamber as she yelled and cried, (y/n) was pushed into madness, she plunged herself deeper in the sea of chaos and salt of unfairness ached the scratches on her heart, a babe ripped away from her too soon and her lord husband stripped from the shinning armor of honor.

“You will pay! All of you will pay!”

Requests are open!

[hehe-hoho-ohno]

Submas canon vs fanon

The entire time I have been in the Submas fandom I have seen a lot of confusion about what is canonical and what is a wide-spread fanon. Both in the sense of people thinking things were canon when they were not, and (more rarely) people thinking things were fanon when they were not. So I thought it might be useful to put together a little guide.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with using fanon. I use most of these headcannons in my own fics because I like them and canon is dumb anyway. (Note: pokemon is a huge sprawling mass and tends to contradict itself, and there have been changes across the various games/manga/anime)

All quotations are taken from bulbapidia.

Nimbasa Trio - FANON

Elesa has no connection to Ingo and Emmet besides living in the same place. There is one interaction between them in Pokemon Masters, and while they are on friendly terms they don't appear to be particularly close. Similarly, the idea that Ingo likes bad puns/Emmet does not stemmed from their fanon friendship with her.

Uncle Drayden - FANON

The only confirmed family Ingo and Emmet have are each other.

Cilan is a huge fan - CANON

Cilan is a fanboy of both of them in the anime.

Ingo is the older twin - CANON

In the original Japanese Emmet calls Ingo "nii-san" which means older brother.

"Do you have any siblings? I have an older brother, Ingo."

- Emmet, pokemon masters

Emmet's joltik hoard - FANON

Emmet's galvantula knows the move cross poison. This is an "egg move" which can only be learnt through pokemon breeding. Since it would take several tries to get this move it probably would have left Emmet with a lot of Joltik. In theory. We don't see Emmet with joltiks in canon.

Ingo's kitty smile - CANON

He smiles like that in the manga. (Admittedly, it's not as exaggerated as the full on :3 people sometimes draw him with.) He also briefly smiles in PLA, but less cat-like.

Ingo's perpetual frown is unintentional - CANON

"<player>! Someone just told me something that troubled me deeply! They said that compared to Emmet, I'm too stiff! But that's just a misunderstanding! I know I smile when I'm having fun! I'd even say that I'm quite proud of how expressive I am when I speak! What? You say you've never seen me smile? I-is that so..."

- Ingo, Pokemon Masters

They are both autistic - FANON

They are related to the twin heros - FANON

They share similar themes and motifs to the twin heros/Zekrom/Reshiram but that's it. They have no canon relationship.

Both of them are heavily coded as autistic. However, it's never been directly stated in the games that they are autistic and (to my knowledge) nobody at Game Freak/Nintendo has confirmed anything.

Ingo has a receding hairline - (debatably) CANON

He is drawn with one in the art book. Does the art book count as canon? Until something in the main games says otherwise, probably. (Though there is some argument to be had that it might be an unflattering haircut instead.)

Ingo arrived in Hisui via wormhole - FANON

"For my part, I simply found myself one day here in Hisui, a region whose name I'd never heard... All I could remember was my own name. I was still standing there in bafflement when the Pearl Clan came to my aid."

- Ingo, PLA. (However, the art book depicts the pearl clan finding him facedown on the ground, so take his standing claim with a grain of salt)

We still don't know how he got there. Similarly, it is quite common to show Ingo arriving during a blizzard/freezing to death and generally in poor health/injured/unconsciousness. But the way he recounts it sounds much more peaceful.

It'a also common to have Sneasler be the one to find him. The art book (of dubious canon) shows a human pearl clan member finding him, and Ingo's quote seems to confirm that. It's possible Sneasler was involved but she isn't mentioned.

Ingo got amnesia from hitting his head - FANON

We don't know how he got amnesia.

Ingo remembers Emmet as "the man in white" - FANON

"I'm starting to recall a man who looked... like me. We'd battle and discuss Pokémon, I think... The words "I like winning more than anything else" flashed through my mind just now..."

- Ingo, PLA, about Emmet

He makes no mention of remembering Emmet wearing white or smiling.

Ingo calls her "Lady Sneasler" - FANON

Ingo only calls her Sneasler, no Lady. In fact, nobody calls her or any of the ride pokemon Lord or Lady because...

The ride pokemon are noble pokemon - FANON

There are 10 blessed pokemon descended from the heros of old, and these pokemon are revered by the clans and have wardens. The blessed pokemon are divided into two groups, the rides and the nobles.

The ride pokemon are not called noble pokemon, and they do not get titles. Mai talks about "the great Wyrdeer" but does not call him lord or noble.

"This suggests that even Pokémon that are not nobles can become frenzied..."

- Kamado, PLA, about the ride pokemon Ursaluna seemingly becoming frenzied

Ingo lives in Sneasler's cave - FANON

We don't know where he lives.

Ingo became a Warden because Sneasler liked him - FANON

"I showed a natural affinity for taming Pokémon, which is why I eventually became a warden. But still I wonder what my true purpose is here..."

- Ingo, PLA

There is no further information about his wardenship. There is no information on what his relationship with Sneasler was prior to him becoming her warden.

Ingo likes having photos because of the amnesia - CANON

"Ah, photographs. I appreciate having physical keepsakes—less ephemeral than memories. Would you do me the honor of posing for a photo with me, <player>?"

- Ingo, PLA, at the Photography Studio

Ingo has been in Hisui for XX years - CANON

The art book uses the placeholder XX for the amount of time Ingo has been in Hisui. Some have taken the double digits to mean 10+, however the first digit could easily be a 0. So, we still don't know. Net 0 information.

Emmet must be taking Ingo vanishing badly - FANON

We have not heard from Emmet.

***

That's all for now! I'm sure I've missed or forgotten something, feel free to add stuff in the reblogs! I might edit the list later to add more if needed.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Ran over here as soon as i could!

Imagine Tan with his baby girl (4 years) and shes playing with his hair, putting clips and bows and ties in his hair or making tiny braids? Mum an Lem are trying not to laugh out loud when they see them, Lem asks his niece if she wants make-up which she finds a such a great idea! Mum has to stop Lemon. Tan trying his best not to upset his baby girl. And so on and so forth...

Have fun with it🍊❤️🫶���

this is the cutest!!! I forever love dad tan!! and with all dad tan stuff, mandy is his daughter (it’s like mandarin, another baby orange) thank you for requesting, hope you like it 💌

BOWS AND BRAIDS.

dad tangerine x fem!reader — fluff

word count. 532

Lemon and Tangerine often acted like they were twelve - the everlasting phase of wanting to annoy each other, joining them into adulthood. They were the others' biggest windup, and now Lemon was having the fun poking at Tan, knowing there was nothing he could do to retaliate. 

Uncle Lem had popped by to see you all - to spend time with his family during the week off. All gathered in the living room: you on the sofa beside Lemon, Mandy, your daughter, sitting on the coffee table with Tangerine cross-legged on the floor facing her. 

Mandy had her tiny hands in Tan's hair, placing accessories and ties in his curls - cutesy pink and purple clips attached in clumps around the front of his face, messily placed bows at the back of his head and knotted half-braids starting midway through his hair. It was admirable, really.

"Don't daddy look pretty," Lemon teases, crouching beside the coffee table to get closer to Mandy. "He'd make a pretty girl, won't he?"

"No," she shakes her head, shoving her finger into Tan's moustache. "He has a hairy face."

You resist the temptation to laugh, instead leaning closer, resting your elbow on your knee to cover your mouth. 

Lemon snickers before continuing, watching the displeased expression grow on his brother's face. "That's right. You should shave it off, Mands. Make him all pretty looking."

Your eyes widen. "No, no, absolutely not. We're not doing that."

"Boo, mummy. Mandy boo her," Lemon eggs your daughter on, lovingly brushing over her face.

"Why can't we shave him, mama?" Mandy asks, turning around to look at you, her face sweet and innocent. 

"It makes him look pretty. You know how it doesn't make him a pretty girl? Well, it's the same thing. He's not a pretty boy without it," you tease, looking over at Tan. Your words are harsh, but nothing like the soft, loving expression on your face. 

"Do I not get a say?" Tangerine adds, looking between you all with lightly furrowed brows. 

"No. You're a mannequin. Mannequins can't talk," Lemon pipes in, immediately dismissing his twin. "How about some make-up instead, Mand? That'll make him pretty."

"Yeah," she smiles, her grin wide and genuine. "Mama has some," she adds, climbing off the coffee table. 

"What a great idea," Lemon encourages, standing up to follow after his niece.

You look over to Tan, noticing the 'help me' face he is giving you - silently asking you to stop it.

"I think daddy's had enough for now, no? He looks so pretty, and you did such a good job," you pick your daughter up, placing her on your lap - kissing her cheek. 

"Mands," Tangerine calls, dragging out her name. "I just had the best idea," he looks between you and Lem knowingly, a small smile forming. "We should give Uncle Lem a makeover, too. Wouldn't that be fun?" 

She gasps, her face lit up in excitement, grinning as she climbs off your lap. Tangerine stands, following his daughter. 

"I'll help you, poppet. We'll get all your mum's make-up, yeah?" he chuckles, hitting his brother on the way out. "He's gonna look so pretty when we're done."

[keline11]

Missa and Tallulah day <tres

(A very loooooooooooong post)

Missa first day in the new island.

Missa: "Tallulah! little one! How are you? It's good to see you, mi niña. It's so ^nice that the first thing I see is you."

(^He said "lindo" that also means pretty <tres)

(Everytime tallulah's dads call her "mi niña" I melt <tres)

After Missa watched the new money sistem(?

Tallulah: "Don't worry apa, chayanne, papa phil and me are really poor"

Bbh was telling missa the places he could live in.

Tallulah: "In my house we also made you a little space apa :D"

Missa: "Thank you bbh but it seems like tallulah has a little space for me on her house so probably I'll be near to her"

Tallulah: "Well duh you're my apa :D of course we have a place for you"

Missa: "Thank you so much tallulah"

Bbh give him some iron and diamond.

Tallulah: "Apa you are already richer than papa phil, chayanne and me together"

Missa: "No no no this is ours, I'm not even going to use it, we're going to give this to philza so he can make better use of it than me, because I'm going to waste it I'm sure."

My boy was getting distracted colecting flowers for the house. <tres

He got jumpscared by a sheep.

Tallulah: "I'll protect you apa :D it doesn't matter if is a zombie or a sheep"

Missa: "Thank you so much tallulah, *To chat* my children, my dear children are going to be there to defend me, when I'm old, all wrinkled and old I won't be afaird of they taking me to a nursing home, because my little eggs are going to take me to eat ground vegetables.."

Chat: Skeletons grow old?

MIssa: "No, but those are details, I can pretend ok? I can pretend that I am an old man"

Tallulah: "That's the house of uncle cellbit, he is our neighbor"

Missa: *to chat* "I don't know, I was waiting for something more terrifying, look it has the hair dyed like an e-girl, you know?...wait Late?" (Late is a streamer that has his hair like that, half red half dark)

Tallulah: "welcome home :D"

Missa: "this place is beautiful"

Missa:*sees chayanne* "chayanne, my son"

Tallulah: "we are poor but our house is perfect for 4four"

Missa: "It's really beautiful, we don't need money when we have each other"

Tallulah: "this is your bed"

Missa: *gasp* "it's perfect, it has memory foam, it's like that ones that you can put an egg on the side- literaly! the kind where you put an egg on the side and nothing happens to it (to the egg)"

They went to get materials to do a painting, and they were attack by a skeleton and a zombie.

Tallulah: "are you ok?"

Missa: "I am- are YOU ok? you have arrows everywhere! you look like a porcupine!"

Tallulah: "I am really strong"

Missa: "Oh! I can see that! perfect! you are prepared for everything"

Let's look at the glow up of that drawing.

They showed their drawings. (I just remembered that day were missa and chayanne also draw something for philza...pipipippipi)

Tallulah: *about missa's* "It's so good"

Missa: *about tallulah's* "Its beautiful"

They went to the museum, tallulah explained when the atm was bugged and they could get infinite money.

Missa: "Tallulah I am going to tell you a story I used to be in a team, of people really talented and nice, they teach me to play, I didn't learn much, but that team was called "Vacio Legal", they were the best, they were what formed who I am, a disaster"

Tallulah: "Did you also steal money?"

Missa: "No, not necessary, but let's say that we were on the edge of the law. those were good times."

Tallulah: "Later you tell me about them"

Missa: "Sure, sure, there are a lot of stories I could tell you about them"

Tallulah gaslighting missa.

Tallulah: "apa you are giant, you didn't know that? :o"

Missa explained the context that he knew, the reference of the picture, but chat told im that there were 2 contexts so he say to not tell him, because metagaming.

Tallulah: "It's just that you are giant"

Missa: "...There is something hiden that I am not understanding, philza and I have the same high, I think"

Missa: "look at him(maximus) I would also marry, kiss and kill, at the same time- no just kidding, it's not true you didn't heard that, it's a joke tallulah! IT'S A JOKE!!!

Tallulah: "a poco si tilin" (really?...)

Missa: *Laughing* It's not true, it's not true, maximus is my friend, my bro... Everything romantic and nice that they have said has already gone to shit." (I don't know of who he was talking)

Talllulah: "yyyyyy I am going to tell my papa"

Missa: "DON'T TELL HIM! TALLULAH, IT'S NOT TRUE, IT WAS A JOKE, JOKE! BAZINGA! No! ok"

Outside the museum, missa got hiccups.

Missa: "Tallulah did you know, fun fact about Missa Sinfonia: I have hiccups 90% of the time"

Tallula: "apa missa's lore :o"

Mobs attacking again.

Missa: "Tallulah, are you ok?" *tallulah says yes* "It's because you are really strong, you endure everything!"

Missa: *almost dying* "Tallulah i want to let you know that I always love you"*he doesn't die*"oh"

Missa: "BIRD... noo, tallulah can we take another one? i don't want to bother him"

More mobs attack.

Missa: "let's go home tallulah, I don't want to be here anymore tallulah, lets go home... no, no, no, why it sounds like you are dying? why? are you ok?"

Missa: *down at two hits* tell me you are not gonna die, please, please, you are not gona die, right?"

Missa: *now ok* "tallulah you are really strong and a good fighter, you are awesome"

At home

Tallulah: "Apa I have a gift for you before you go *gives him a Aster flower* I grabbed it because even though you are a skeleton, you are a sun/sunny with everyone and you shine a lot."

Missa: *Cries* Look tallulah, in the way here I was collecting flowers, but then I notice that all our house was packed with flowers, so it's one flower among many... this family is like a flower, there are many and many types but this one is the most beautiful"

Tallulah: "But this ones are yours so they are more beautiful"

Missa: *Crying* "tallullah I love you so much... I want the day I die, to be buried with these flowers... I can't die I am a skeleton, but I can bury myself the day I want and it is valid"

Tallulah: "JASADASJDSJ Don't say those things... You are not going to die :("

Missa: "No, don't worry, just like you I am inmortal, we are inmortals"

Tallulah: "Good nigth apa :D I liked seeing you and spending time with you <3 love you, see you soon :D"

Missa: "I love you too tallulah, see you soon then, my daughter, rest well and have sweet dreams"

END (8

[xzerosparrowx]

The Guitar

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Day #1 - Prompt: Firsts | Word Count: 861 | Rating: T | CW: Use of homophobic language/slurs | POV: Eddie | Tags: How Eddie Munson got his first guitar, Wayne Munson is Eddie's Dad, Allen Munson, First Christmas, Christmas special.

Eddie lays awake in bed, watching the weak winter morning sun cast its light across the unfamiliar room with tired eyes. He blinks back hot tears as he feels the chill around his ears, remembering the way Allen Munson pulled at his hair, the sound of the electric razor buzzing against his skin. 

Now he was here in his Uncle's trailer, a man he barely knows aside from the few times Al complained about him over the phone. 

“... Says I should stop stealing cars and get a proper job. Wayne doesn't fucking get it, man.”

“Why does he wanna look after that little queer?”

“... Just because he's got no kids, he wants to steal mine.” 

A soft little knock startles him, the shuffle of feet near his door. “Eddie, you awake?” Wayne calls out quietly, a nervous waver in his voice.

“Yea-yes, sir,” Eddie answers, sitting up but not making a move towards the door.

“I'm not- you don't have to call me that, Eddie. You can just call me Wayne,” Eddie hears him sigh, “I'm thinking of making pancakes or waffles, not sure which one you prefer. If you like something more savory for breakfast, I bought eggs and bacon as well.” Wayne rambles, and there is something sad and warm in Eddie’s chest, an old ache that he had now long been accustomed to that Wayne had stumbled upon and brought into sharp focus.

“I-I’m happy with whatever si- Uncle Wayne,” Eddie answers finally, getting up from bed and pulling on a pair of old sweats and a baby blue threadbare sweater. It’s large on his thin frame, a hand-me-down from Wayne, warm and comfortable. 

He hears his Uncle move away from the door and Eddie gathers his courage to step out of the room. A kaleidoscope of twinkling fairy lights meet him, the trailer lit in a beautiful array of colour and tinsel.

Oh yeah, it’s Christmas.

Wayne is standing in the kitchen, pouring a ladle of pancake mix on the hot griddle. Eddie rubs his eyes, forcing the tears away before standing near Wayne and watching him cook. 

“You know how to make pancakes?” his uncle asks, expertly flipping a pancake. Eddie shakes his head, the only time he ever got breakfast was if Al left him money for groceries, which was not often.   

Wayne pours another ladle in response, before handing the spatula to Eddie, “all you have to do is wait for the bubbles to show up. Once they pop, they’re ready to be flipped. See?” He says, pointing to the little bubbles in the pancake. 

Guided by Wayne, Eddie flips the pancake his uncle beaming down at him when it lands perfectly on it’s uncooked side, “I think we have Julia Childs in the trailer!” Wayne laughs and Eddie cannot help but join him, rolling his eyes good naturedly at his uncle. They continue like that, Wayne ladling the perfect amount of batter on to the griddle and Eddie flipping them with varying degrees of success. 

It’s the first time, since Eddie moved to the trailer a week ago, that living here feels normal. To realise that maybe Wayne is nothing like Al at all. They eat the pancakes in companionable silence, Eddie drowning his in maple syrup while Wayne sprinkles icing sugar and lemon.

“I have a present for you, go sit on the couch,” Wayne says, pushing his plate away and getting up before Eddie can think to protest. Eddie does as he’s told, feeling awkward and unsure again as he listens to Wayne move stuff around. 

“Alright, close your eyes!” Wayne calls and Eddie closes them, he fidgets with his hands, rubs his thumb over his fingers in a soothing back-and-forth. He hears Wayne place something on the coffee table and opens his eyes when Wayne gives him the ok. 

Oh.

Eddie stares at the old, black acoustic guitar in front of him, lovingly stored in its case. There are scratch marks here and there, the leather strap flaking in places, but it gleams under the lights as if it knows that it is a well-used and treasured thing. 

“I’m sorry it’s not a new guitar, but I don’t really use this old girl anymore, so I thought maybe I’ll hand her down to you,” Wayne offers sheepishly, wringing his hands nervously, thumb over his fingers. 

“How- How did you know I wanted one?”

“I remember hearing you ask Al for one,” Wayne says this like it’s natural that he would remember something so small about Eddie, and Eddie breathes through that sad and warm ache in his chest. 

“That was two years ago, Uncle Wayne,” he manages to choke out, he can feel his throat starting to thicken, tears beginning to well up and he watches his uncle trying to fight off his own emotions. 

“Well, you’re a good kid. You deserve something that’s just for you.”

His uncle's arms are strong and comforting when Eddie leaps towards him in a tight hug. Eddie does not remember the last time Al hugged him, but if he closes his eyes he can almost pretend that Wayne had always been his Dad. 

[midlandslady]

Today I have 2 things to discuss and it's all about Daemyra:

On the "Daemon groomed Rhaenyra." I can see where it comes from but it is such a lie. I cannot even hear these words anymore. Why did he groom her? Because he gave her a necklace when she was 14 and there was sexual tension in the scene? First, it's Matt Smith, he can have sexual tension with a rock. Second, the same could be said for Milly Alcock. Third. They are Targaryens! Daemon always wished that his grandmother had found a wife for him like Rhaenyra, a true Targaryen bride. And Rhaenyra grew up admiring his rebellious spirit, which was very similar to hers. In a way, it was like how Daenerys always expected to marry Viserys one day. This is their tradition: to find a pure Targaryen match. But nothing happened when she was 14 and I don't believe he thought of her in a sexual way back then at all! Rhaenyra, on the other hand, already had a crush on him by then. Then he returns from the Stepstones, she was 18-19 years old and about to be married to someone she didn't care for. She was a woman then and of course he desired her, she was everything he liked mixed with the fondness he always had for her. Was it that bad for him to have taken her to a brothel to clarify all the mysteries of lovemaking that she had no clue about? I think it was progressive of him, and very feminist to be honest. Did he plan to ruin her reputation so that he could marry her? Maybe yes, maybe not. Perhaps he just wanted to marry her. Or he simply wished to show her that there was nothing to be afraid of and that pleasure could exist within the marriage or out of it. Or maybe both things. But in my vision, he didn't plan it that far, he wasn't even aware of the intensity of his feelings for her until that moment in the brothel. And it scared him in a way that all plans flew his mind. The role of uncle and lover so twisted in his mind that he had to get away from her. The entire story would have been different if he hadn't but I wouldn't have had the same love for their romance. And then how can you say that he groomed her when she always had the upper hand when it came to him? He had the entire realm fooled by his lies of marrying Mysaria and having a child with her, he was ready to die facing Otto on that bridge and then she comes, she calls him out on his lies, and immediately his farse is gone, he surrenders the egg and leaves. She had such an influence over him that one might say he was the one being groomed XD Being older does not mean anything. And Rhaenyra was always stronger than him, more decisive, more sure of herself, and she always saw him exactly for what he was, with all his flaws. She was not naive or molded by him. To say so is very diminishing of her character and I hate it. And unlike the books, Daemon and Rhaenyra only got sexually involved when she was much older, already with 3 kids and lovers, and very experienced in the act of love. And again, it was her choice, he didn't pursue her, she did!

On the "Poor Rhaenyra, she was in love with an evil man her entire life and he doesn't care for her as much." Another huge lie. Daemon loves Rhaenyra so much more than she loves him and that is very evident. He needs her more than she needs him. Him wanting to admit that or not is another story but it is the truth. During their 10 years apart, Rhaenyra was miserable because she kept being humiliated by Alicent, she had "bastard" children and a husband who didn't support her as she wished. I can see why she was not happy. But Daemon? Daemon had a fantastic wife, who believed in him, loved him, and was fierce as him. She had all the qualities he loved. They had two legitimate daughters, they traveled the world together. Then why was he so defeated? As Laena said "He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, he spent his days in a library reading books about the Targaryen ancestry". And now people may say that he was sad because he didn't have the throne. Wrong. He had already lost the throne from the moment Viserys had other children, it didn't matter anymore. Or people will say that it is because he missed his brother. Also wrong, he had been away from his brother many times over, but it never stopped him from returning as he pleased. At Rhaenyra's wedding, he didn't even fight with Viserys, so he was not exiled. No, he stayed away for so long because he didn't trust himself if he saw Rhaenyra again. He was heartbroken because she was not in his life and appeared to be faring well without him, with 3 children and a stable relationship with Harwin. From the moment Viserys died, Rhaenyra distrusted him. Outside of their happy bubble, she doubted he would accept her as queen and would try to rule over her. She believes he was not there with her at the birth of Visenya because he was already mad planning his war. But was he? Or was he making sure that the people around them were loyal and would not stab them in their backs? At the funeral of Visenya, she was partially blaming him, she wouldn't even look at him and he was just there wanting to be part of her grief, their grief, but she wouldn't let him. At the war council table, he was proud of calling her his queen, his grace, he thought they would "rule together" and yet all the proposals he makes at that table are refuted coldly by her. And he is confused. In his mind he doesn't understand why she is pushing him away, why she is so explicitly ruling out everything he says. And then Luke dies and she disappears and he is angry at everyone. But mostly he is worried because she went alone and she is exposed to Vhagar and Aemond so he wants to take down Vhagar and the threat that she represents. Finally, when Rhaenyra returns he is so relieved and, despite his harsh words before that she was straying in her duties as queen, he doesn't say any of the sort. He simply asks if she found what she needed. This is such a nice touch. At the end, he just wants to console her but doesn't know how and she doesn't let him near. And being Daemon he reacts to this feeling of being pushed away and rejected with violence as the only way he knows how to deal with his emotions. When she says "I want Aemond" he immediately goes into action because if this is the only thing he can do for her, to comfort her, then he will. And it goes terribly wrong. Overall what I mean to say is: that before Daemon started calling himself king, before he started to feel that he was better suited to rule, Rhaenyra was already blaming him and distrusting him for what he hadn't thought of doing yet. Hence, despite all of his mistakes, and he makes a lot of them, loving Rhaenyra less has never been one of them.

[live-laugh-lenney]

No bc george would be soooooo insanely protective over his baby girl, please do a story about george being sooo protective over his little baby girl ❤️❤️

oh, absolutely!

george adores her.

and he never thought he'd love anyone as much as he loved yn... until his little girl came into the world, with a healthy set of lungs on her, in the early hours of a friday morning. he felt his heart double in size at the sight of his girlfriend holding their newborn baby, in a hospital bed on the midwifery floor of a hospital located in just outside of the centre of london, and it was a sight he never wanted to forget.

from the moment they brought her home, snoozing in her carseat and tucked beneath a blanket with her name stitched into the corner, he was careful with everything he did; from the way he held her, to the way he laid her to sleep in her cot, to the way he picked her up, to the way he fed her. he kept a watchful eye on everyone that held her to make sure they held her correctly, informing them when he wasn't happy with how her head wasn't being supported correctly or how they were being too loud around her, and he was always very weary about those wanting to get a peek at her when they were out in the city of london... he wanted to keep her safe, wanted her to be okay, and his dad instincts were in full swing as soon as they were allowed home with her.

so when she got to the age where she was walking and, just about, talking... he was even more watchful than ever. especially when her favourite people were over.

for her second birthday, they threw her a mini birthday party in their back garden. with food, drinks and enough toys and games to keep everyone entertained and happy, and the weather managed to hold out for them, making it the most perfect day to celebrate.

"please don't throw her around like last time," george warns arthur as he stood there with his hands held up in surrender, "and don't claim you can't remember a thing. she had a big egg on her head for over a week."

"that wasn't strictly my fault," arthur insists and george rolls his eyes, "it wasn't! honest."

"george, leave him alone, for goodness sake. i'm sure he's still a bit traumatised by what happened," yn states, rounding the corner with their little girl on her hip and watching as her face lit up from where arthur was standing in the entryway of their home, "who's that, sweet girl? is that uncle television?"

"i really need a new nickname," arthur says, reaching forward and taking the toddler from her mother's hip which allowed yn the chance to move around much more easily, taking the extra weight from her side, "hello, mini clarkey."

"everyone's already here, in the garden, grab a chair from the dining room because we don't have enough out there," george closes the door as the three of them make their way through the house, aromas of meat cooking as well as spices and the smell of a barbecue filling the air, "don't go mucking around on the bouncy castle with her, too. yn insisted we had it for her birthday but i'm not so sure."

"a bouncy castle? that's a nightmare waiting to happen with us lot in the garden," arthur cackles and yn smirks in his direction, "get a few drinks in us and we'll be having more fun than the birthday girl."

george disappears into the garden, leaving yn and arthur standing in the kitchen, the toddler on his hip playing with the collar of his shirt as she wriggled on his hip.

"just ignore him, he's just being protective over her. another year has flown by."

"i'm not called funcle for nothing," arthur laughs and digs his fingers into the little girl's side, laughing when she giggled back at him, "shall we go play in the garden?"

"food will be ready soon, don't wear her out too much otherwise she'll fall asleep in her dinner."

"like father, like daughter," arthur jokes and yn snickers at him, "if you need help, give me a shout." xx

[odusseus-xvi]

Doing a Summary of the French ccs' Lore (because we are forgotten)

(this last part is a joke don't take it too seriously)

Making a post with the lore we know about every French ccs for those who don't follow them religiously : (I might forget some things because I'm not an encyclopedia)

BAGHERA JONES :

Has said in the past she does see herself (her character) as human, like in the "Regret" animation but has also talked about "dying her feathers" instead of hair, and discussed with mike about not really having hair. Her species/lineage/anything you want to call it doesn't seem to be something set in stone.

When asked from where she comes from she answers Switzerland. It seems to have been accepted by Cucurucho. (also knows about The Shit Tower from the Team du Lundi server, though that might not be really lore accurate)

Doesn't seem to be interested in leaving the island itself, but is REALLY interested in freeing herself and the others from the Federation.

Considers BBH and Forever as her family alongside the rest of the french. Both Pomme and Dapper are her adopted kids.

Has both an underground Base and a Castle far north.

Dropped out of the election on her own accord, jumping from the top of her castle's highest tower.

(note : Please admins, cook something for her... She needs it... She tried for days to solve the book thingy, and Cellbit ended up having the last clues and doing it himself... Please I beg you...)

ETOILES :

Is a masked anthorpomorphic cucumber. No ambiguity about that.

When asked where he comes from, it alternates between France, and Far Away (if I remember well) (Was also part of the Team du Lundi server, but nothing confirms it is part of his canon lore).

What does seem to be conserved is his familiarity with all the french ccs : His close joke-flirting relationship with Antoine, his friendly banters with Baghera, his kind of disciple in redstone and create relationship with Aypierre, and his friendship with Kamet0.

Actually enjoying his time on the Island because of the challenges it offers him. Particularly enjoys showing the Federation and The Codes how they can do nothing against him. Considers himself a simple Warrior.

Has a cave a la BatCave but spends most of his time exploring and far away from it.

His favorite thing is bringing loot and stuff to the other residents.

Is freindly with everyone, and enjoys every egg, with particular admiration to Dapper.

(note : #EtoilesIsMyPresident)

AYPIERRE :

A simple human (note : a headcanon I like and that his community has kinda adopted is imagining him with Doc Ock style mechanical arms)

Comes from a random place in France he wrote kind of has a joke to Cucurucho. As for a potential server he could come from the guy is one of the oldest mc cc on the INTERNET. I could not tell you.

We don't really know his feelings on the island, but is portrayed as an opportunist and enjoyer of contracts. Absolutely willing to have deals with the Federation, though also interested in helping the others leave the island.

"n° 1 Gegg fan". Built a Gegg generator and is behind the Geggpocalypse of the election dinner.

Has a fun uncle/nephew relationship with Richarlyson, he revealed the Geggpocalypse to him before anyone else, and is building a winery to run with him.

Has a small house with multiple elevators and teleport pads leading to his huge Factory complex he will open to the public soon.

"I'm secretly building a machine.." before being cut off by Slime saying "WTF MAN THIS IS CRAZY".

(note : We don't know what that last part is about though most likely linked to the lore he's been brewing with the admins that is coming early August)

ANTOINE DANIEL :

We have no idea what he is, though might appears "human". "We all have multiple faces, Im just the only one showing them all". *about the face that was on his inside layer on his old skin* "I'd rather not talk about that, it's private."

Comes from France, though his reference to the Shit Tower into the new Shit Palace might mean he comes from the Team du Lundi server.

We don't know his feelings on the island, though distrustful of the Federation.

Lives in his Shit Palace that is currently unfinished, with the Moon and it's ring above. Has a secret room under called "La Fin du Monde (the end of the world)" with (old and not updated) thoughts about the residents of the island.

Is easily distrustful though trusts the french the most, and confides most of his secrets in Pomme.

Has a weird admiration/obession with Cucurucho.

(note : Come back antoine, I miss the kids...)

KAMET0 :

Ah ah ah ah... ah.

Etoiles did say he might come back at some point to do a cameo, tough not regularly.

(note : come back to the village Sasuke...)

[hyperfixation-symposium]

I will never be over the fuckin. Nightmare. God there's so much angst to it, and I am just such a big fan of how everyone has interpreted this situation.

Philza begging for Chayanne to come pick him up, to help him, not because he wants to kill the monster or because he's 100% sure it's safe for Chayanne. Because Tallulah is dying next to him, because he can't let her die, because he knows how strong his son is.

And then Chayanne goes down too, and he can only apologize, over and over to his son, for everything. For this island, for how it wants them dead. For failure, for his granddaughter.

And then everything is fine again.

The kids are back, and for the most part, unshaken. Chayanne promises to be a bit more careful but is still the protective uncle, still determined. Tallulah seems to almost shake off the event entirely, she has nothing but trust.

But Phil, Philza and the adults don't recover that easily. There's parts that still seem to burn, there's fear of every little thing in the dark. Even surrounded by friends, by a school, near his home, the darkness is foreboding. He stays in the light, calling the two closer, even while the other eggs and their parents are so close.

Look at the night sky, Philza. It was just a nightmare. You're safe, the kids are safe, and the stars are beautiful.

But when his friends see him flinch at their movements, linger just a bit closer to the lights, call the kids home just a bit sooner - what do you do when the nightmare seeps back into the real?

How do you help?

How can you be sure the stars are not just eyes staring back at you, their gazes still hungry?

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (4/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, drunk sex (with consent), incest obviously, smut, fingering, the angst, suicidal thoughts, description of cruel physical violence, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story. Song used in this chapter: Every Breath You Take by The Police

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Over the next few days, Daemon tried to get out of her what had happened and who had put the rape pill into her drink. To his fury, she lied that some guy she didn't know had done it, afraid of what would happen if her stepfather declared war on Larys Strong.

She figured this man wanted just that.

Chaos that he would be able to cash in on, using what was happening to destroy them.

"I do not comprehend you. From now on, I or your mother will be dropping you off and bringing you back from your classes at the University. No meeting friends or going out until you come to your senses." He communicated to her coldly and she replied nothing, not having the strength to stand up to him.

It wouldn't do any good anyway.

Although she should have been worried and terrified, she felt a strange kind of excitement and tension because her uncle, whom she hadn't seen for eight years, had really taken her out of there.

He had really helped her.

She closed her eyes, remembering the touch of his warm, broad hand on hers and his voice, so different from his childish one, deep and low.

Her heart beat harder at that memory, a pleasant, familiar warmth rippling through her lower abdomen.

She felt she had to write him something and after hours of thought she simply wrote the usual thank you. She couldn't stop the feeling of disappointment that spread through her body when he didn't write her back, even though she checked her phone once in a while.

For some reason, she had naively believed that something would now change between them, that she would regain contact with him, that his person would return to her life making her able to finally close this difficult chapter of her past.

However, he remained silent, exactly as he had done for eight years.

She thought it would stay that way until it turned out that her grandfather was organising his sixtieth birthday party with pomp and her whole family was to attend.

"No." She heard Daemon's voice standing in the corridor, overhearing in silence their conversation which he was having with her mother in his office. "There's no way I'm shaking that whore's hand."

"Daemon. My father is dying. You can only show up for a little while and then lock yourself in a hotel room. None of us like it, but I don't want to say no to a man who may not be among the living tomorrow."

Although no one seemed to be happy about it, they were all going to travel there and with each day approaching the event, she was panicking more and more.

She was going to see him for the first time in eight years.

He had no Facebook, Instagram or any other social media accounts: she had no idea what kind of person he was now, what he looked like.

She was afraid that seeing him would make her feel disappointed, that something inside her would finally snap, that the thought that all was lost would make her fall into a state she would never get out of again.

In addition, no one but her knew about what Larys Strong had told her.

Otto Hightower had ordered the murder of your father.

How was she supposed to look that man in the eye?

How was she supposed to look her uncle in the eye knowing he worked for him?

Driving there in their big, black Mercedes she felt like she was about to throw up, her heart pounding like crazy, making her head spin.

"Are you all right? You're pale. I don't want to go there either." Said Jace, glancing at her over his shoulder from the front passenger seat.

Daemon, who had been driving while her mother, following behind them drove the other car, looked at her in the reflection of his mirror, throwing her a piercing, menacing look.

He knew she was hiding something, he could feel it, and the tension between them grew more and more.

When they arrived, they were all searched: no guns were allowed inside.

This was to give the guests some sort of sense of security.

As they walked into the great hall, she was overwhelmed on the one hand by how many people were there, but on the other she was glad to disappear into the crowd. She felt her heart stop for a moment when she spotted Aegon talking to his mother – his blonde hair was pulled back, his jacket carelessly thrown over his shirt, sunglasses on his head.

She spotted Viserys sitting next to him, she spotted Helaena, she even spotted Otto measuring her with a focused gaze, but she didn't see him anywhere.

She felt a wave of disappointment at the thought that he would not come.

As they sat in their seats, searching for their name cards, she felt she was on the verge of crying.

He won't come because of her.

He would never forgive her.

They were served starters and drink, the loud music and the conversations of the people around her made her feel like she was at a wedding, only the guests were individuals she wanted nothing to do with.

She saw how tense Daemon was, looking around the room impatiently, throwing Otto Higtower a warning glance once in a while.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that someone had entered the room and froze, recognising him instantly – he was looking at her, his healthy eye wide open, his nostrils quivering with each of his deep, anxious breaths.

She was taken aback by how tall he was, how drawn and sharply defined his jaw and nose were, his pale, long scar running from his eyebrow arch to his cheek.

He was dressed all in black, in a leather jacket and turtleneck tucked into belted trousers, his short hair, although visibly styled in a hurry, looked elegant.

She wanted to get up, to approach him, to thank him for everything he had done, but as she rose from her seat he immediately turned his head away, something akin to disgust flashed across his face, from which she felt a squeeze in her gut.

She watched, feeling like an idiot as he took his seat next to Aegon and turned tense, thinking that she needed to get out of this place as soon as possible.

She walked out into the garden and headed towards the pier, wanting to be alone – she felt like her heart was about to leap out of her chest, burning tears squeezed under her eyelids, wanting to run down her face.

He couldn't even look at her.

He just pretended not to see her.

She couldn't say why it hurt her so much, why she couldn't let him go when he wanted it so badly: she felt there were years of unsaid words between them, wrongs that had never been made up for.

There had been no apology or explanation from anyone's lips, nothing to help her get back on the right track.

She sat on the wooden platform, staring dully into the black surface of the water, thinking about how it looked in the starlight as if it were some disgusting, dark, dangerous thick mass.

She had a feeling that if she jumped into it she would be all sticky.

She shuddered as she heard someone's footsteps, convinced for some reason that it was Daemon who had come out after her, unable to bear sitting with all these people alone. As she turned over her shoulder she froze, noticing him and stood up quickly, terrified by his gaze, piercing and cold, his eye wide open.

Her heart pounded like mad, her breath heavy in her chest as she watched him pull a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket, his gaze fixed on her face.

"− what were you doing there? −" He asked finally.

She shuddered to hear that his voice was exactly like the one in her dream: cold, deep and low. She swallowed hard, overwhelmed by how close he stood to her, that he had come to her, that he smelled of some intense, masculine perfume.

"− what do you mean? −" She choked out with difficulty, unable to take her eyes off his face.

He took his time answering − he leaned with the cigarette between his full lips over the flame, its tip lit red and hissed as he took a drag.

"− what were you doing in that club −" He hummed. "− looking for a new experiences? −"

Something in the way he said it, mocking and amused, made her feel discomfort and pain in her chest. She furrowed her eyebrows, unsure of what she should answer to such a brazenly asked question, surprised by his directness.

His lips tightened in displeasure, something in his gaze changed – she had the impression that his iris had turned completely black as he puffed out smoke with his mouth, the smell of tobacco filling her lungs.

"− I don't like to ask twice −" He said coolly, making an unpleasant shiver pass along her back. She swallowed loudly feeling that her whole body tensed, ready to run away.

There was something about him that she feared, as if he wasn't fully human.

You don't even know what monsters lurk in the shadows.

"− I wanted to find out how my father died −" She said finally, wanting to see how he would react to her words.

To her surprise, he burst out laughing, however, it was a downright chilling sound that had nothing to do with genuine amusement. He tapped his finger on his cigarette, causing ash to fly to the ground.

"− and what did you find out? −"

She looked at him with big eyes feeling her heart in her throat, wondering if she should tell him, if she should confront him.

Will he kill her for what she says?

Will he hurt her family?

Despite the questions in her head, it seemed to her that her words had left her mouth without participation of her will.

"− that your grandfather killed him −"

He stared at her for a moment, surprised, his hand frozen in mid-motion to his mouth as he laughed again – this time it sounded like a low chuckle.

"− who told you that? − Larys Strong? − was he the one who dragged you there? −" He sneered making her feel a cold sweat run down her back.

How did he know?

Seeing the look on her face he grinned in a way from which she felt a shiver sweep through her − her breath caught in her throat as he took a few steps towards her, towering over her with an expression on his face from which she could read nothing, taking a drag on the remnants of his cigarette.

"− it was Larys who reported him − after the death of his father and brother, all the fortune fell to him − my grandfather just passively looked on −"

She felt as if he had stabbed her in the heart with his words − the real pain in her chest made her open her mouth wide, her eyes filled with tears of horror.

Larys had used her like a silly little girl.

He had planned everything.

"− did you know about this? −" She muttered, for some reason wanting to believe he had nothing to do with it.

The smile disappeared from his face, as if her question had frustrated him.

"− everyone knew −" He replied. "− he passed sentence on himself when he started talking with the police − his days were numbered anyway −"

His answer made her simply move ahead, bursting into a sudden, hysterical sob, as if everything she had held inside her for the past days, months, years, had poured out of her like a dark, viscous, thick wave that could not be stopped.

Everyone knew.

She sighed and squealed when she felt his wide hand clamp down aggressively on her arm like steel tongs, turning her violently back towards him, causing her pain. She tried to push him away, panting and whimpering, something about his movements, his brutality, the ache he was causing her gave her pleasure.

Some part of her felt she deserved it.

Some part of her wanted him to kill her, to strangle her with his own hands.

She sobbed when his hand tightened on her hot cheeks, wet and red from the tears that flowed down her face, forcing her to look at him − his wide-open eye seemed completely black to her, his lips parted in a heavy, drawn-out breath swollen with excitement and rage.

He was so obscenely close, watching her as if she were some pretty, interesting, expensive object, the smell of his perfume, his sweat and his cigarettes made her dizzy, everything around them seemed blurry to her.

"− don't you miss your favourite uncle anymore? − hm? −" He breathed out at last, his words on the verge of a hiss, his face so close that the tips of their noses rubbed against each other once in a while.

There was a kind of desperation and helplessness in what he was doing, in his words, in his gaze fixed lustfully on her lips, as if he wanted to bite her.

The person in front of her had killed the boy she loved and she knew it perfectly well.

"− I don't recognise you − God, I don't recognise you −" She mumbled at last, feeling the warm tears of grief run down her cheeks.

She closed her eyes, thinking that he could do whatever he wanted to her − strangle her or throw her in the water – she would let him do anything as long as she finally stopped feeling anything.

She squealed in pain as his fingers dug into her tender skin as hard as if he wanted to break her jaw − he took a loud breath through his mouth and shuddered as if something in her words had broken him.

"− good − because I don't fucking recognise myself either −" He hissed out in a trembling, dispassionate voice full of pain from which she felt hot in her heart.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips as his forehead pressed against hers, accepting at last that his brutality stemmed from a need for closeness, a need to take by force what he was sure she would never give him of her own free will.

Something in his words and in his gesture of despair made her hands, clenched until now on his jacket, rise higher, to his neck and to his face, running slowly over his jawline. He sighed and shuddered, feeling it, closing his eyes for a moment, the grip of his fingers on her cheeks easing.

She felt her nipples harden under the material of her dress, felt the space between her thighs swell and pulsate at the thought of what she wanted to do.

The moan that involuntarily escaped his throat when her fleshy, moist lips ran over his sounded sweet and innocent, the lick of his tongue that was his response made them cling to each other in a violent, loud, sticky kiss.

It had nothing to do with a gentle caress because it seemed to her that they were simply trying to devour each other − their hands clamped down on each other's bodies as if they wanted to merge into one, their slick tongues meeting again and again between their teeth, licking and teasing each other with loud clicks of their saliva, stripping this act of any sense of innocence.

They knew it was wrong and that's why they wanted it so badly, so when his fingers tightened on her plump buttocks, pressing her against the throbbing bulge in his trousers, she felt her sticky wetness run down her thigh, her hands clenched on his hair, letting him know he could take what he wanted.

"− it's your fault − it's your fault −" He panted into her mouth between deep, passionate, messy, hot kisses, his lips beneath hers swollen and wonderfully wet – he tasted of mint chewing gum and cigarettes, something forbidden, strange, terrifying.

He was a monster, and she wanted him to devour her.

There was no longer a lamp to light for her.

"− mghm −" She mumbled as she felt his hips begin to roll back and forth, rubbing deliberately against her lower abdomen, his tongue thrusting again and again deep into her throat, telling her that he could fuck her, he could destroy her, he could take everything from her, and she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen at the thought.

She wanted him to do this to her.

She wanted to know what it would be like to feel him there, deep inside her.

What it was like to have someone devour you with every thrust of his hips, every loud sigh of desire that was wrong in itself, what it was like to experience fulfilment on the brink of revelation.

"− are you sure you saw her here? −" She heard Daemon's voice and froze, pulling away from him instantly.

They looked at each other with big eyes, pale and terrified, panting hard and quivering as if they didn't recognise each other.

Oh God, oh God, oh my fucking God!

"− I'm here − I'm coming −" She called out in a trembling voice and ran towards them, towards the light, seeing the silhouettes of her step-father and her brother standing just inside the entrance where two evening lamps were lit.

Back to the light, back to the light, back to the light.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Daemon furrowed his brow as he looked at her, his gaze fleeing to the side, far away to the silhouette of her uncle standing in the distance.

"Did he do something to you?" He asked coldly.

"N-no. No, I just thanked him for what he did for me. Let's go inside." She lied, stepping back into the hall, struck immediately by the loud music, Every Breath You Take was playing all around her, dancing pairs of businessmen, gangsters and drug dealers made her feel like she was about to vomit.

Oh, can't you see You belong to me? How my poor heart aches With every step you take?

"Mum, excuse me, will you show me what room I'm going to sleep in? I feel bad." She muttered with difficulty feeling like she was suffocating, her heart pounding like mad.

His tongue deep in her throat, his heavy breath smelling of cigarettes and mint, his swollen lips pressed against hers as if he had been dreaming of this moment for years.

This is your fault.

Rhaenyra stroked her shoulder, worried, and rose from her seat.

"Are you sure? There will be birthday cake and wishing soon." She said softly, but she shook her head, the words of the song echoing around her had her on the verge of crying.

Since you've gone, I've been lost without a trace I dream at night, I can only see your face I look around, but it's you I can't replace I feel so cold, and I long for your embrace I keep crying, baby, baby please

"I can't make it." She whispered.

She and her mother went to get her backpack with her things from their car, and then they walked to the hotel part of the manor − the lady at the reception gave them the right key, and her mother escorted her to her room wanting to make sure she could manage.

"Do you need anything? Shall I give you some pills for a stomach ache?" She asked, but she shook her head quickly, opening the door with her card.

"No, thank you. And I'm sorry. Have a good night."

"Don't apologise, my love. Sleep well."

As she closed the door behind her she turned on the light and saw that her room was tiny: it contained a small toilet, and beyond that a single bed, a desk with one chair and a wardrobe for clothes.

She pulled off her dress, washed her face and teeth, then changed into her pyjamas, which were really just an oversized white T-shirt and panties. The night was warm, so she turned off the light and opened the window, lying down in bed.

She tried not to think about what had happened, about how wonderfully he had kissed, about how she had never felt with any boy she had dated what she had felt with him, after years of separation.

She thought she was broken, that she was attracted to something that would help her destroy herself.

Even though her whole body screamed for her to relieve herself with her hand, to sink her own fingers into her warm folds, leaking with desire, she decided that she would not do it, that she would keep the remnants of her dignity before herself.

She fell asleep only hours later from exhaustion, dreaming of him, of him coming to her, of him taking the pillow in his hands, only to press it to her face.

She shuddered, terrified, seeing only darkness around her, hearing some noise. Only after a moment did she realise that someone was knocking on her door.

"− Rhaenys − fuck −" She heard his unclear mumble indicating that he was barely conscious and drunk. Her shoulders lifted in some subconscious defensive gesture, her lips parted in a terrified, accelerated breath.

Oh no, oh, God, no, no, no, no.

She heard a rustling and a thump, as if someone had fallen over, her hands clenched into a fist on the fabric of her duvet.

"− I want to go to sleep −" He muttered so that she barely heard him. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling that his words, his request, what he subconsciously wanted was tearing at her heart.

He wanted to return to that moment, to fall asleep beside her as he had then.

It frightened her how well she understood him.

She stood up on trembling legs, feeling that they were as soft as cotton wool, and walked quietly to the door, pressing the handle slowly. She looked uncertainly out into the corridor, afraid of what she would see – his silhouette sat on the floor leaning against the wall, his head bowed, a nearly empty bottle of whisky in his hand.

He was not coping.

"Come." She whispered.

He shuddered and lifted his gaze to her, his stare soft and dishevelled. He muttered something under his breath, trying to get up, but fell over, collapsing to his knees, his bottle falling out of his hand, spilling its contents on the floor.

"− fuck −" He growled, wanting to reach for it and pick it up.

"− no − leave it − come inside −" She mumbled quietly, afraid someone would hear or see them.

His body was heavy and numb, making her help him up with great difficulty − he had to grab onto the frame of her door and lean against the wall to keep from falling over, and after a moment he slumped down on her bed, sighing heavily.

She closed the door behind him, swallowing loudly, and walked slowly towards him. He only flinched when she untied his shoes and pulled them off his feet, but furrowed his brow, displeased when she tried to pull his leather jacket off him.

"− you'll be too hot −" She muttered, slipping it off his shoulders but unable to pull it from behind his back, which was crushing the material. She squealed, surprised, placing her hands on his chest for balance as he drew her down with a sudden, sharp movement, causing her to fall against his body.

"− come here − God, you smell so good −" He exhaled making her moist insides pulsate greedily around nothing, a pleasant, tickling sensation filled her lower abdomen as his fingers ran through her hair in a gesture she might call affectionate.

He forced her to bend over so that her body clung to his − his thighs parted so that she could feel what was happening to him, how hard he was because of her proximity, while his lips clung to hers with a loud, messy click.

He smelled of alcohol, the taste of whisky melting on her tongue with each of his wet, hot, hungry licks − his hands slid from her neck down her back to her buttocks, slipping under her panties, his fingers digging into the soft texture of her skin.

"− tell me to leave −" He gasped out. "− tell me to stop −"

She moaned softly into his moist lips, knowing that she should do it.

But she didn't.

She felt his erection pulsate hard beneath her as she let the motions of his hands guide her body, rubbing against the bulge between his thighs, her weeping cunt all hot and swollen with desire, leaking with longing.

How could she let him do this?

How could it be so pleasurable?

She got the answer to her questions when his fingers slid deeper between her legs − she squirmed in his mouth, simultaneously terrified and delighted when the tips of his fingers found her hot, throbbing slit, slowly teasing her opening.

"− shhh − easy now −" He whispered in such a way that she felt a tickling shudder run through her lips, nipples and insides making her wetness begin to drip onto his hand, the circular motions of his fingers pressing wonderfully into her sticky folds began to be accompanied by the quiet clicks of her moisture.

She moaned into his mouth like a helpless little child − he hushed her as if he wanted to soothe and calm her, one hand placing on her head, combing his fingers through her hair, the other teasing her puffy little bud, once in a while running over her entrance, making wonderful waves of heat flow again and again through their bodies.

Their kisses became deep and lazy as they concentrated on the movements of their hips, rocking them so that they brushed against each other.

She shuddered and squirmed, shocked when she felt the tip of his middle finger sink between her fleshy walls, soaking wet with desire, sliding in and out of her with the sticky sound of her moisture, making her hips roll back and forth, coming out to meet him.

"− uncle − we can't − we can't, we can't, we can't −" She mumbled out, feeling his tongue thrust deep between her mouth with his sigh of pleasure, repeating the movements of his finger between her lips, her hands roaming over his cheeks and hair, stroking him tenderly as if she loved him.

As if she loved him.

"− we can − we will − we need to prepare you properly − shhh −" He gasped softly, making her body arch in a spasm of pleasure, a helpless, girlish moan ripped from her throat as his finger sank fully into the hot, soft structure of her throbbing cunt.

"− please − it's wrong − God, it's so wrong −" She whimpered, feeling tears of terror begin to run down her cheeks, her hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck, her hips falling and rising on his finger, seeking fulfilment.

They both knew it wasn't enough.

"− shhh − I know, baby − I will take care of you − I got you −" He whispered as his free hand from her head slid down between their bodies, undoing his belt and the button of his trousers − she cried out loudly as she felt him slide them down along with his boxers, his fingers slick with her wetness pushing the material of her panties aside, directing her swollen, pulsing slit at the head of his cock.

"− please, Aemond, please −" She mewled, trying to pull away at the same time and spreading her legs wider, involuntarily allowing him to open her wide on his thick, long erection.

"− let me − I need you −" He exhaled, tilting his head back only to look again a moment later at their bodies, at what he was doing to her, at the way he was forcing himself deep into his niece's body.

The experience was wonderfully painful and pleasurable, as if something that had remained empty had at last been filled, as if she was at last whole, as if his body had always been part of hers.

Her walls offered him only apparent resistance, clenching against him in delight, his quiet, helpless moans were evidence of how good it felt.

She let him sink into her fully, sitting up on top of him, placing her hands on his chest, surrendering − she tilted her head back as his hips with deep, sure thrusts began to slam his cock into her body, his fingers clenched on her soft buttocks.

"− I − ah − mghmmm − G-God −" She mumbled out, bursting into sobs, parting her lips wide, leaning lower, letting him rub her with each stab where she needed it − her silky walls began to throb around his erection, soaking him wet, their breaths heavy and hitched, full of helplessness and vulnerability.

She felt strangely full, with each movement of his hips deep inside her body realising what they were doing and how sickeningly pleasurable it was.

"− thaaat's it − that's my girl − fuck, so good −" He exhaled, drifting off completely into the world of his fantasies, with steady, deep pushes building their way to fulfilment.

She thought in disbelief, panting heavily, that the experience of feeling him inside her was something almost spiritual, a revelation of sorts, her body rocking to the rhythm of his thrusts without involving her will.

What they were doing seemed both animalistic and natural to her, as if it was obvious that it had to end this way.

"− just a little more − please, just a little more − let me cum inside, baby −" He mumbled softly, his hands spreading her buttocks apart, allowing him to sink deeper into her fleshy core − she leaned over him and kissed him, their tongues colliding, licking each other in the most ungodly, perverted, lewd way imaginable.

"− A-Aemond − Aemond-Aemond-Aemond − ah! −" She whined into his mouth as he wove his hand into her hair and sank her face into his neck, feeling her warm moisture run down his thighs − her moans and cries of delight were muffled by his skin as her cunt squeezed and sucked him deep inside her in a stunning, overpowering orgasm that shook her body like a wonderful, hot, tickling wave.

She heard him sigh loudly and tilt his head back, clamping his fingers on her flesh, his body convulsing several times as if he had suffered some kind of attack when his hot seed filled her insides at last.

"− God − oh my fucking God −" He gasped out, panting heavily along with her, their hips moving for a moment more in a subconscious desire to prolong this feeling full of relief and warmth.

"− oh, baby −" He whispered, stroking her head and buttocks as if she were a small child.

For some reason unfathomable to her, she was not indebted to him, stroking his torso, neck and jaw, snuggled into him as she had been then, many years ago, feeling at peace, feeling safe, feeling good.

She felt his hand slide from her ass under his back, slipping his leather jacket out from under them, with which he covered their hips. His hand returned immediately to her soft buttock, as if he liked the feel of her silky skin under his hand, his soft manhood pulsing gently deep inside her.

She didn't mind.

"− sleep − don't worry − I want this baby −" He muttered and she swallowed hard, smiling involuntarily, wondering if he even understood what he was saying to her.

I want this baby.

His drunken alter ego was ready to become a father if it turned out that she became pregnant.

She sighed quietly and closed her eyes, focusing only on his scent, on his heart pounding hard beneath her breasts, on his broad hands embracing her body.

She thought, feeling a strange lightness in her heart, that she hadn't felt this wonderful in eight years.

[mammalsofaction]

Those Moments When We Didn't Get Along

Rating: G

Relationship: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus

Add tags: Human Perry, mute Perry, POV Outsider, the whole Flynn-Fletcher family, set during the breakup scene from About Time.

A/N: The lore behind Perry and Lawrence's relationship is in compliance with the Human Perry Lore post I've made a while back here. Perry's sister, Lawrence's ex-wife, was named Evelyn, AKA Agent Eve the Echidna. (Get it, egg laying mammals native to Australia?)

Now read it on Ao3!

---

"Perry?" Lawrence calls out, knocking on his door. The room is dark, unlit, but the answering churr is unmistakable. He sounds...

"Are you alright, dear boy?" This time, an indecipherable grunt. "Linda sent me up to tell you dinner's ready. May I come in?"

When he hears no response, which is as good of an answer on its own, he pushes the door to let himself inside, and instinctively reaches for the light switch.

Perry's face down on the bed, still partly dressed in his teal work clothes. He doesn't flinch.

"My word, old boy, what's happened?" Lawrence demands, mildly alarmed. Perry bats his hands away when he plops himself down next to him on the mattress, shoving at his shoulder, but he does it without twisting himself around. "Don't be like that, let me look at you. Perry. What's gotten into you?"

Then he hears it. The unmistakable sniffle.

Lawrence gapes. "Have you just broken up with someone?"

It was an educated guess, but the way Perry leaps up to slap at his face all but confirms it. Lawrence supposed he had said it too loudly considering the kind of household they're in. He could swear Candace's hearing could be supersonic sometimes. "We didn't even know you were dating anybody," Lawrence chides, half despairing. Perry tries to plop back down into bed, and Lawrence doesn't let him. Going so far as to physically set himself between Perry and the miserably crumpled mattress so his foster-cum-brother-in-law was throwing himself into his embrace instead.

Lawrence pats Perry's back, commiserating. Perry's buried his face in the crook of Lawrence's throat. He hadn't gotten more than a glance at Perry's face, but what he's seen has practically torn his heart apart; nothing but swollen eyes and visible tear tracks. "What happened?" He asks again, helplessly. "Will you tell me?"

Lawrence half-expects being ignored. Both of them knew that Lawrence knew, at least partially, the hidden truth of Perry's career, but it wasn't from anything Perry ever tells him in person. There are some unmistakeable aspects of himself that he still clamps down on, and Lawrence would never presume to push.

So he's taken by surprise when Perry shrugs, noncommittal, then raises his hands to sign; Think I just got cheated on.

"You what?"  Lawrence hisses.

It's fine, I don't-

"No, Perry." Lawrence fumes emphatically, and the teak haired man stops short in surprise. "It is very clearly not fine."

Lawrence-

It's too late. Lawrence had already gotten to his feet, hands on his hips in a way that Candace had once told him made him look his own age, in a derogatory manner. He isn't thinking about that now, though. Now all he is is vibrating at an visible frequency of second-hand outrage. Dinner first, Lawrence thinks to himself. Then he will...he will drive out, and get Perry some ice cream so they can. Can stew and Perry will eat his heart out and they can cry and rage all about this....this no-good heartbreaking bedswerving cad.

This he tells to Perry, who responds by simply burying his face back into his pillow so he could continue wallowing. Lawrence feels generous enough to let him, but he leaves the lights on as he stomps his way downstairs, where the family was happily eating dinner before they see the look on Lawrence's face.

"Dad?" Phineas asked innocently. "What happened? Where's Uncle Perry?"

"I'm afraid Uncle Perry will not be joining us for dinner tonight, boys, and will unfortunately be out of commission until spoken otherwise."

"Out of commission?" The boy gasped dramatically, kneeling on his chair. Candace and Linda had both curiously put their spoons down. "He's sick?" Phineas concludes in dismay. Ferb blinks, shocked.

"Of a sort." Lawrence answers grimly.

"Of a sort?" Candace grunts. "What kind of answer is that? He's either sick or he isn't." Her tone was haughty, skeptical, but Lawrence could hear the concern in her inflection from a mile away. Candace loved pretending she cared less than she truthfully did.

When Lawrence feels the tug on his sleeve, he turns to see Linda, who had a carefully concealed look of concern. A single flick of her eyes in the direction of Perry's room was all she needed to communicate her offer; Dinner?

Lawrence nods, then points to the car keys, hanging by the front door.

Her brow furrows further in concern, but they both know that it wasn't the right time to properly ask. She turns to back to the kids instead. "Honey, why don't you help me make a plate of dinner, and Candace can send it up to Uncle Perry?"

"I want to help send it up!"

"There shouldn't be too many people in Uncle Perry's room, dear, he might have a headache."

"Me and Ferb will be really quiet, please please please please please-,"

Lawrence leaves them to it, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of Linda's temple and ruffling Ferb's hair as he makes his way out. He feels the boy's gaze follow him all the way to the door, but doesn't realize he's being followed until he turns around to shut the door behind him.

Ferb blinks expectantly.

"Oh, go inside, my boy, it's chilly! I'll just be a moment."

The boy responds by pulling a pair of mittens, and his purple bobblehead hat from his deep pockets, blinking again once he shrugs them on.

There was no talking Ferb out of something he's clearly made his mind about. Lawrence sighs, taking his hand as they walk to the garage.

"Alright," Lawrence concedes. "But promise we'll keep this between you and me, alright?"

Lawrence doesn't doubt he will. Ferb blinks eagerly in compliance.

-----

Lawrence figures the boy's figured it out, on their way home from the supermarket, cradling a chilly tub of Perry's favourite ice cream between his legs on the ride home and nothing else. He had snuck a couple packets of antibiotics and fever patches into the basket while they were out shopping, and Lawrence had awkwardly put each one of them back.

When Lawrence returns the sachet of night-time tea they both know Perry favours when he's actually sick, the boy had turned to him with such a deeply knowing look Lawrence felt busted for something he hadn't even been trying to hide, much less of any sort of trouble. The boy said nothing. He didn't have to. He reached for nothing else (save for a packet of gum from the side of the register of both his and Phineas' favourite brand) and remained perfectly well behaved for the rest of the trip.

"Now Ferb," Lawrence says warily, as they start pulling into their street. "You will have to promise me to keep this between us, not even to Phineas if he hasn't figured it out yet. Your uncle is the private sort, and I can't imagine he will want his dirty laundry waved all across town in the state that he's in. He's feeling vulnerable, you understand?"

Ferb nods firmly. Lawrence stretches out his pinky.

"Promise?"

Ferb takes it, and they shake on it like men.

"Good boy." Lawrence says proudly, once again ruffling his hair, and pulls into the driveway of the house.

Ferb rushes inside to put the tub in the freezer (Lawrence hears Phineas happy greeting from the kitchen, "Oh, there you are, Ferb." ) and Linda comes forward to take his jacket, welcoming him home with a gentle kiss. "Welcome home, stud. Found everything he needed?"

"As far as we know. Did you get to talk to him?" 

"He's not in a chatty mood. Though Candace squirreled a thing or two out of him; think she figured out faster than I did."

"She's always got a good head on her shoulders." Lawrence concedes, unsurprised.

"When need be." Linda agrees, before her facade drops and he spies a glimpse of regret. "I didn't even know he was dating someone."

Much less it was anything this serious. Goes unspoken. "I'm inclined to think it's deliberate. Not that we didn't have our suspicions."

"Did he say anything to you?"

Lawrence hesitates. "Not much." He hedges, unconvincingly, from the look of his wife's face. He sighs, and triple checks that the children had dispersed their own ways out of earshot.

"He did say," Lawrence begins carefully. "That there was some matter of. Infidelity involved."

Linda gasped. "Oh, that poor man."

"Not particularly forthcoming beyond the statement."

"Do you think it's one of his...co-workers?"

Lawrence glanced at Linda with a raised brow, but she seems firm with her line of questioning. She's one step further removed from any personal knowledge of Perry's life choices, and occupation-but Lawrence could hide from her as well as blood from gauze. She knew everything he did of Perry's career, which was never much at all. Enough to go by. Enough to reassure her it wouldn't harm their children.

Lawrence had never even considered this, but now that he was, it made a terrifying amount of sense. "I'm obligated to think it might be." He acquiesced. "Might be more complicated than your run of the mill splitting sob story."

Linda hums in agreement, before tactfully changing gears. "I'll reheat your dinner. Did you get him rocky road?"

"Mint chocolate."

"Oh my."

"I'm afraid we'll have to pull out all the stops this time around."

"Maybe I'll pull out my cake pan."

-----

In the days that follow, Perry remains inconsolable.

He's mostly taken to stuffing his face in chips and junk food in front of the TV, half watching re-runs, but for a couple of hours each day the children manage to convince him to participate in their backyard projects, and Candace even manages to coax him to come with her on a trip to the mall. Perry had come home laughing, with a new pair of jeans and flip flops, raving for some obscure chinese martial arts movie they had watched together. The joviality didn't stay, but it was still such a relief to see.

On a pleasantly windy Thursday night, while they've set up a fire and a couple of beers for a Men's Night In in the backyard, Perry nudges his shoulder to tell him, lightly, that he's thinking of quitting.

Lawrence inhales his drink down the wrong tube, and practically coughs his lungs out. Perry thumps him helpfully on the back, and politely refuses to comment.

"Perry," Lawrence gasps, when he's gotten his breath back. "Perry, that's-,"

That's good, he wants to say. But was it really? Bias aside...

That's odd, seemed a bit more truthful, but what kind of response would that be? Nothing at all.

"Are you really?" Is what he ends up saying, more baffled than he meant to put out. Perry shrugs, avoiding his gaze. A moment passes as he takes a sip, and running his thumb around the circumference of the tap.

Maybe not really. Perry admits. Just. I'm getting on in years, maybe I'm not fit for any of the fieldwork I used to do in my twenties. Maybe train some recruits, let someone new take my place.

This was the longest, most honest conversation they've had surrounding Perry's career. Even compared to the one surrounding Evelyn's death, almost a decade ago now.

He knows Perry enjoys fieldwork. It's been largely implied he prodigiously excels in it. So had Evelyn. He had never begrudged her for it, not even till her very end.

Lawrence wonders what changed. He doesn't have to for very long.

The honesty in the air makes him bold, almost uncharacteristically so. "This partner of yours," he starts, careful, careful. "Who was he? To you?"

Perry smiles, a small, bitter thing.

He was everything.

------

Then one day, Perry comes home and he's...better.

Not a 180, but it's. Close. A noticeably stark difference than how he had been last night that it even puts Phineas off, but only for a moment. Mostly he was just ecstatic.

"Uncle Perry's better!" The boy cheers and giggled, dangled beneath Perry's pit like a sack of fresh loam. Ferb's hanging from the back of his shoulders, kicking happily and trying to pull himself up. The man doesn't seem to notice, or mind, the pain. "He's better! He's better! Candace look!"

Ferb manages to haul himself up to sit and wrap his legs around Perry's shoulders, and Perry grunts, reaching back to help him establish balance as he drops a wiggly Phineas back on his feet to reach his mother, chopping lentils in the kitchen.

"Perry? Oh!" Linda says, surprised as Perry swoops in to plant a kiss on her cheek. She giggles, and pinches his. "Welcome home, you blasted rouge. Are you going to help me with dinner?"

Perry responds by taking over chopping duties, pulling the board closer to himself and stealing away her knife to commence vegetable slicing duties. His speed, and the nonchalance that accompanies it-despite the heavy burden around his shoulders, swinging his legs- was almost terrifying, but Linda barely notices. She's reaching for her phone by the cooking stove, sending her husband a red alert. Perry was whistling.

"I gather you had a pretty good day at work, huh?" She muses, half-serious.

He gives her a cheeky one-shouldered shrug, eyes rolling up. His smile dimples. Maybe.

She's practically burning with curiousity, but knows that now wasn't the time to ask. "Well, I'm making braised chicken. Why don't you help me with the asparagus? Ferb, sweetie, you want to get down and help me with seasoning the chicken breast?"

"Oh, but mom!! Asparagus makes Ferb farts so stinky!" Phineas complains.

"It also makes your farts stinky, mister. Now go help Perry pre-heat the oven."

-----

After dinner, Lawrence drops by again. In contrast to the state of things when the trouble began, his room is well-lit, and instead of resting, Perry's at his desk with his reading glasses, and a stack of documents he folds and puts away, out of sight, before he lets Lawrence in with a warm chitter.

As if the last few days never happened at all.

Lawrence has been witness to something like this a few times before, but it never gets any less off-putting, to realize he was so distant from the heat of things -the state, the conflict- and being privy only to the resolution.

Perry had been cheated on, by a man who meant everything. And now?

"Just wanted to check on how things were going." He says, closing the door behind him. "The kids were telling me you're feeling a lot better."

Perry, confoundingly, began to blush, looking down at his pen, rolled and fidgeted between his fingers. I am, he tells Lawrence. Wish I could say it was a huge misunderstanding, even if it was, a little bit. We just never put it into words, what we were, and I think it never occurred to us how much it would hurt, for him to have done what he did.

Perry put down his pen, picked it back up again, uses it to scratch the back of his nape as he looks at Lawrence a little bashfully. Then he puts the pen back down. It surprised me too, that I took to it as bad as I did. What we had was something...special. I didn't realize...

Lawrence looked at him intensely, arms crossed. When he determines Perry had nothing else to say, he asked -what he knew to be- the most important question of all. "And did he apologize?"

Perry smiles. It dimples. This time, it's directed at Lawrence himself, instead of a special man in the distant mind. He did. Perry signs.

"And he meant it?"

As much as he could.

"Well," Lawrence proclaims brusquely. He's trying to sound stern, but the undeniable lovesick smile on Perry was contagious. "So long as he doesn't do it again...,"

Oh, Perry signs ominously. He won't.

Lawrence finally lets himself smile, echoing the childish joy on his brother-in-law's face. "Well," he chuckles. "Then I suppose that's all that matters, doesn't it?"

Perry concedes with an affectionate roll of his eyes, but when Lawrence comes forward to hug him, he returns it right back tenfold.

Thank you, he signs meaningfully.

"You're family, Perry." Lawrence replies, with a shake of his head. "What slights you is a slight to all of us, and your joy is ours. Family sticks together."

It's an old catchphrase of a woman long gone, beyond what's left of her in both their hearts, and Perry tears up. Though he plays it off with a dismissive sniffle, and a bump of their shoulders.

You can be just as insufferable as she was. He signs, more affectionately than he wants to pretend to be. His tone shifts, grows bashful again.

Lawrence, he signs. Slow, hesitant. Do you think....if things ever....and I brought him over to meet...would you...like...?

The implications of Perry's broken up request was as strong as a punch to his gut, and Lawrence fears he might have lost his cool in his eagerness. "Of course we will!" He restrains himself to a stage whisper. He fears he would wake the neighbourhood in excitement, otherwise. "Perry, of course we will. I'll...we'll be honoured, my boy."

He means it too, and Perry could tell. His smile was blinding, and his blush had spread brighter than his skin tone, all across the bridge of his nose. You have to be cool about it. He makes Lawrence promise.

"Oh, totally." Lawrence reassures him. He's putting it on a little bit, on account of it making Perry laugh. "Chill. 100 percent-o. Call me liquid nitrogen the fact that I am lighter than air. I am pre-emptively cooling a block of ice. Call me Fro-zone the way I'm-,"

Get out, Perry demands. Barely. He's also doubled over in laughter. Oh my god, just get out before you make me regret this.

"Getting out!" Lawrence complies with a salute, and dashes out the room. He can still hear Perry chuckling as he closes the door behind him. His cheeks ache from his grin. All better, indeed.

Flushed with triumph and good tidings, he embarks on a mission to find his wife and share the wonderful news.

[t3a-tan]

How would human Oliver react to finding a borrower James?

I'm happy with this one ^^

---

Oliver lived a fairly quiet life. He worked as a child psychologist throughout the week. On Thursdays he ordered a takeaway and would finish his leftovers on Friday, on Saturdays he went to the library to check out and return books, he tended to his garden every couple of days, and on Sundays he mowed some of his elderly neighbors' lawns.

Most mornings he had toast or cereal. Every other Sunday he had a full English. On Fridays he went out for a cream tea— scones with jam and clotted cream were his favorite after all. On Tuesdays he gave some jars of handmade jam around the neighbourhood, and sometimes a few extra treats if he made them.

He went to a local sandwich shop for lunch every day other than on weekends, where he always ordered the same egg salad sandwich. He always got cheese and onion crisps, always had a medium coffee, always sat in the same seat by the window.

He had a routine and he stuck to it.

To his coworkers he was known as a good worker; polite, well-received, compassionate. He wasn't friends with anyone though.

This didn't upset him in the slightest. He liked his quiet life, and whenever he got close to others they ultimately ended up discovering his past, rumours would spread, and then everyone would treat him differently again.

He had gotten used to the usual pitying looks when he was younger after he became an orphan— then the disturbed looks when he wasn't fazed by the loss at all. That passed. Now people presumed he had grieved already so it wasn't so difficult.

But then his cousins went missing.

Just a few months before he received his doctorate he got a call— an awful horrible and truly terrible call. It informed him that his uncle and aunt, his guardians, had been shot dead, and his two younger cousins had gone missing.

He graduated the year after instead.

But now he lived a quiet life. A quiet life, waiting, hoping to receive another call telling him his cousins were found alive. Rumours had initially spread saying he was responsible and even though he had been cleared by the police every time, people still talked about it.

So things were fine like this. Quiet. Sometimes a bit lonely, but nothing Oliver couldn't handle. He stuck to his routine and that was that.

Well… That was that until as he began pouring cereal into his bowl of milk, a tiny man fell out along with it. Oliver froze, staring down at the man in a mixture of shock, disbelief, and pure confusion. The man in turn, after right himself, stared straight back at him.

"...uhm… Hello there..?" Oliver wasn't sure why exactly there was a tiny man sitting in his bowl of shreddies soaked in milk, but he was sure that there was a tiny man there. As baffling as it was, it was better than a rat falling out.

Was this some form of mutated rodent? No. They looked entirely human all aside from their incredibly diminutive size. Oliver began cycling through every myth and fairytale he had read that might give him something else to go off of… though perhaps this was just a shrunken man..?

He received no response to his greeting— aside from a frightened look. That's fair, Oliver thought, I imagine it must be rather disorienting to fall out of a cereal box at half past six in the morning.

"Hmm…"

To remedy that fact, Oliver first considered picking the tiny man up with his fingers to get him out of the bowl…but on second thought, he wanted to avoid getting his fingers covered in milk. Instead he picked up his spoon, very carefully bringing it towards the man in order to scoop him out onto a dishcloth or something— though he stopped the moment he heard the tiny man cry out.

"Don't eat me..! Jesus—" The man exclaimed, splashing about in the bowl to get away from his spoon. Oliver shut his eyes for a moment as a few drops of milk splashed onto the lenses of his glasses. Opening his eyes again, Oliver's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Eat you? Why on Earth would I do such an awful thing..?" Oliver took off his glasses, wiping them off on his shirt and reminding himself to clean them properly later. Placing them back on his face, Oliver found himself looking down at the clearly shaken little man once more, taking note of the fear that was apparent in their expression and body language.

He waved the spoon slightly to bring the man's attention onto it again.

"I only intended to get you out of the bowl and onto a dry surface, as I'm sure it's not particularly comfortable steeping in milk and soggy cereal." He placed the spoon back down. "I suppose I should have asked permission beforehand though… My apologies. Do you require assistance?"

The tiny man went from looking horrified to seeming completely lost— Oliver wasn't sure why… he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary had he? He was working on not overcomplicating everything he said but it was hard when he was simply talking in the same way he thought.

"I-I…no?" It was spoken more as a question, but Oliver respected it nonetheless, putting his spoon down and moving away from the bowl. He opened his dishes cupboard, taking out a new bowl and pouring milk into it once again. He looked into the cereal box first this time before pouring shreddies into the bowl of milk just to make sure this wasn't a repeat incident.

He looked towards his previous bowl, seeing that the man had yet to move. Somewhat confused, Oliver walked back over, setting his new breakfast down onto the countertop just beside it before pulling up a stool, not yet sitting.

"Although you may do as you wish, I would prefer to clean that bowl and put it away sooner rather than later. Are you sure you don't need any help at all?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. That seemed to snap the tiny man out of his frozen state as they quickly scrambled into action and pulled themself out of the bowl, dripping milk all over the counter.

Satisfied, Oliver picked up the bowl, draining the milk into the sink before dumping the soggy shreddies into the bin. As much as he didn't like waste he didn't plan on eating a breakfast someone had been sitting in. He grabbed a paper towel before walking back over, offering it to the man.

They stumbled back away from his hand, but Oliver didn't falter— he even offered a reassuring smile.

"I'll clean the counter after so don't worry about making a mess. You may leave— though I suggest drying off first. Feel free, also, to wash off in the sink." He waited patiently, observing how hesitant the tiny man was to accept the towel. After thirty seconds had passed and the man had made no progress, Oliver tilted his head, pulling away slightly.

"Are you afraid of me..?" He asked, not offended in the slightest. Hardly even surprised either— considering the size difference it would just be instinctual to fear him, but he thought he was at least being calm and gentle enough to dissipate that slightly. The man met his eyes— his were brown. A nice deep shade of it, Oliver noted.

Although he sensed that they had a response hanging on the edge of their tongue, Oliver didn't get to hear it as they suddenly ran off. Although startled, Oliver didn't make any attempts to stop them, watching with some interest as they opened up a hidden entrance into the walls and quickly hid away inside.

Oliver stayed silent for a few moments after, processing the events that had just happened.

"..my name is Oliver, by the way."

[xenon-demon]

giving you the side of me that i don't let show

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Rating: G | 5k words | Tags: established relationship, autistic Steve Harrington, autistic & ADHD Eddie Munson, the consequences of autistic overstimulation, set in one of those nebulous “everyone lives except vecna and jason” post-s4 AUs, so much fluff, mentions of Robin/Vickie. Title comes from Sloppy Seconds by Watsky.

Because at this time, Eddie knows it has to be his boyfriend; Family Video closes at midnight on Saturday nights. Factor in the time it takes Steve to close up shop and then drive over to the trailer, and there you have- wait. It definitely doesn’t take an hour and half for Steve to get home after work – even if Saturday is their busiest night. Eddie is suddenly struck by the realization that it’s one of those nights. or; Steve has a grueling night at work, and has nothing left in his tank at the end of it. Eddie helps him out.

[READ ON AO3]

Eddie’s so wrapped up in trying to find what the next chord should be in the song he’s writing that he almost doesn’t hear the trailer door opening.

Thankfully, the thing is worn in enough at this point that the hinges squeal like a pig every time someone comes in or out. Some government pay out they got; Eddie’s been scarred for life both physically and mentally (and he lost a nipple – a fucking nipple), and all he and Uncle Wayne got in return was a nearly identical replacement trailer with a door that doesn’t even last a year. Sometimes, Eddie’s grateful for how closely the new trailer resembles his old one. It’s familiar, homey and comforting in a way an upgrade never could’ve been. Most of the time, however, he’s just mad he couldn’t swindle the government into giving him a mansion. Apparently not being arrested for murders he didn’t commit and getting a place to live (plus an admittedly hefty nest egg, but Eddie doesn’t like to give the feds any credit) was enough that he should quit while he’s ahead – thanks, Uncle Wayne.

As much as he whines about their new trailer, the squeaky door does come in handy sometimes. Times like tonight, mainly, where Eddie has a few seconds of forewarning before someone just enters his bedroom. It’s not that he doesn’t want Uncle Wayne or Steve in his space – and it’s always one or the other, they’re the only other people with keys to the trailer – it’s just nice to have the heads up. It gives him a moment or two to prepare.

Time to prepare, and on nights like tonight, time to frantically find his alarm clock from wherever it’s ended up in his room and check the time. Eddie’s had one too many run-ins with Uncle Wayne where he’s gotten lost in his own world and still been up when his uncle finally came home from work. He knows it’s not really an issue – especially not now that he’s finally graduated from that shithole penitentiary masquerading as a high school – but he still feels a prickle of shame every time.

This time, however, his alarm clock says it’s only 1:27 AM. What’s more, Eddie didn’t even have to get up and look for it, as it was actually on his nightstand this time. Sure, Eddie had to move a bunch of papers from his campaign planning and a magazine or two he’d haphazardly dumped there to be able to see the display, but it was actually on the nightstand. Where it belongs. Eddie’s really winning in the game of life tonight.

His winning streak only continues as he hears the shuffle of footsteps and the squeak of the trailer door closing behind Steve. Because at this time, Eddie knows it has to be his boyfriend; Family Video closes at midnight on Saturday nights. Factor in the time it takes Steve to close up shop and then drive over to the trailer, and there you have– wait.

It definitely doesn’t take an hour and half for Steve to get home after work – even if Saturday is one of their busiest nights.

Eddie is suddenly struck by the realization that it’s one of those nights.

“Stevie? Sweetheart?” Eddie calls out. He stands up, gingerly stepping over the notebook and loose pages scattered around his feet so he doesn’t crush them. He’s got probably three half-songs’ worth of chords and tentative lyrics in there somewhere, he doesn’t want to lose them. By the time he’s done that, put his guitar down, and quickly scooped all his papers into a rough pile he can sort through later, Steve’s entered his bedroom.

He doesn’t even spare Eddie a glance before immediately collapsing face-first onto his mattress.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie coos, coming over to sit next to Steve on the bed. Steve makes a noise in acknowledgement, although it’s heavily muffled by the mattress. “Stevie, can I touch you?” Eddie gets another muffled noise in response to that, but this one sounds distinctly like an uh-huh. Taking that for confirmation – this is not Eddie’s first rodeo with nights like these, after all – he reaches out and rubs a firm hand up and down Steve’s back.

Steve sighs contentedly at the contact, some of the tension slowly leeching out of his muscles. They sit like that for a few moments, Eddie half massaging him and half just letting him know he’s there, before Steve says something else. He says it directly into the mattress, just like before, so Eddie doesn’t understand a single word of it.

“Wanna try that again, sweetheart?”

Steve lets out an enormous sigh, and then turns his head to the side to face Eddie. “Wan’ you to lie on me,” he says, and it still comes out a bit slurred. Whether it’s from the way Steve’s cheek is smushed into the mattress, or talking is just a bridge too far for his baby right now, Eddie doesn’t know and frankly, does not care.

“Sure thing. You want your work clothes off first?”

“Just the vest.” Steve’s eyes are shut, and there’s a faint crease between his brows. It’s adorable, and Eddie knows he’s going to do something stupid like bite Steve if he keeps looking at his gorgeous face, so he quickly busies himself with removing Steve’s work vest. It only takes the gentlest of encouragement for Steve to move his arms as needed, Eddie trying his best to take off the vest without making Steve feel unnecessarily constricted. As he does so, he hears Steve taking some deep breaths in and out, and he smiles. 

That’s one of the things they both find helpful, when they get overwhelmed like this; taking a moment to just breathe, as deep as they can. Slowly, in and out, and leaning into the feeling of their chest expanding with each breath in. It’s grounding – and plus, it’s harder to freak out about feeling so overwhelmed your teeth hurt when you’re forcing yourself not to hyperventilate. Eddie knows, though, that he and Steve have very different levels of success on that front.

Now that Steve’s vest is gone – and Eddie’s just flung it somewhere across the room, deciding it’s Future Eddie’s problem – it’s time for what his darling boyfriend actually asked for.

“You ready, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, and gets a positive-sounding mmhmm in response. Without further ado, Eddie swings a leg over Steve to straddle him, then lowers himself down until they’re lying flush, Steve’s back to Eddie’s chest. Eddie lets all of his body weight press down on Steve, and he’s positioned himself just right so he can tilt his head up a little and reach the nape of Steve’s neck. He presses a kiss there, soft and sweet, and hears – feels, really – Steve’s contented sigh underneath him.

“Let me know when you’re ready to move, baby,” Eddie whispers, before tilting his head to the side to rest between Steve’s shoulder blades. They stay there like that, breathing in the same air, as the stress of Steve’s day slowly melts away.

Eddie was so stressed the first time Steve asked for this. He was terrified he was going to be too heavy, or he’d lean on a sore spot of Steve’s, or his bad leg would play up and he wouldn’t be able to get up the very moment Steve asked him to. But then Steve had looked at him, with those big hazel eyes Eddie is absolutely weak to, and said please, Eds?

Naturally, Eddie went with it. It’s not like he had any option not to, okay?

Besides, after the second time Steve asked Eddie to lie on top of him like this, they had a conversation about what exactly the appeal is. Eddie didn’t ask to be judgemental, he was genuinely curious; in Eddie’s mind, wouldn’t the feeling of being contained make you more overwhelmed, not less? Steve had explained it as not feeling like being contained at all – to him, when he’s trapped in his own head, being tethered to reality like that feels like freedom. Something about the pressure, the warmth, the feeling of Eddie breathing on top of him and doing his little fidgets and taps with his hands and feet – it grounds him. It puts Steve back into his body when he feels like his head’s full of static, or he’s looking at the world through six feet of water.

That’s the other thing they both get sometimes. Sometimes, when it’s been a long day, or a lot has happened, or they’ve had to talk to one too many strange people in too short a time period, something in them just… shuts down. For the most part, Steve and Eddie have different things that set them off in this way; for Eddie, unexpected change is a big one. It’s one thing if he knows there are no concrete plans in place, or if he’s been warned that something might happen or change with very little notice. But if he’s made a definite plan to do something, or that something will happen a certain way, only for it to suddenly change? No dice.

Funny he should say that, actually – one time, he nearly canceled a session of Hellfire because they had to relocate at the last minute. Normally their sessions take place in the drama room, thanks to Eddie having a surprisingly decent relationship with the Hawkins High drama teacher, Ms Williams. This one time, however, a rehearsal for the senior play was rescheduled so that it clashed with Hellfire, and at such short notice that they didn’t hear about it until Eddie waltzed into the drama room fifteen minutes before the session was set to start. Thankfully, Gareth managed to find an empty classroom, so after a short delay to move everything in there Eddie was able to run the game as planned. He was, however, off his game for most of the session. Even worse, he felt decidedly off for a considerable time afterwards. The feeling didn’t really go away until after their next session of Hellfire, when they were back in the drama room where they belonged.

So yeah. Eddie can’t handle sudden change, big deal.

Steve can, for the most part; he's a lot more adaptable. No, Steve's weakness is people.

It took Eddie a while to realize it, and even then, he didn't truly understand until after they'd started dating. After all, how could the former King of Hawkins High possibly find socializing difficult? Eddie remembers all those bitter glances he used to shoot King Steve's way, jealous of how effortlessly he commanded the court of public opinion – not that he'd ever admit to it. But then Steve fell from grace, underwent more character growth than Eddie thought one man was capable of, and now Eddie knows the truth: uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. (Eddie is forever in debt to his freshman year English teacher for pointing him in the direction of the battered copy of the Complete Works of Shakespeare in Hawkins Public Library. If only poor Mr Collins knew Eddie was only interested so he could use it as inspiration for D&D campaigns.)

Steve is absolutely charismatic; he knows how to tell people exactly what they want to hear, or make them feel special in a way that keeps them coming back for more. The catch is it's an intentional act. It's a mask that Steve used to be terrified he could never take off, as he mournfully confessed to Eddie one night while sharing a joint in the trailer. As it turns out, Steve just needed better friends; with Robin, with the kids, with Eddie, he finds it so easy to just be himself. He doesn't have to censor himself or fret over what image he's presenting to the world, and can instead relax and actually enjoy the company. Steve's joked around with Eddie before that it's actually kind of good for their relationship that Steve used to have to try so hard – now he knows how to flirt without even consciously thinking about it. What Steve doesn't know is that he could go into graphic detail about the shape of his toenails and Eddie would still be listening with hearts in his eyes.

Unfortunately, Family Video is one place where Steve has to put the mask back on. It is a customer service job after all, and while Steve and Robin often say that Keith would rather die than actually do his job as a manager, Steve really doesn't want to get fired. Keith doesn’t have the same endless patience for Steve that he does for Robin, much to Steve’s eternal frustration. Eddie has borne witness to many of the nightmare customers Steve has to wrangle, and it’s even become something of a game to them at this point. Steve tries to show Eddie how he feels inside without the customer noticing, and Eddie tries desperately not to laugh when Steve meets his gaze with the most dead-eyed expression imaginable.

That's probably what's bothering Steve tonight, actually; one too many annoying customers expecting him to grin and bear it while they chew him out about something meaningless, with the added nuisance of not having Eddie or Robin around to take the edge off. Normally Steve and Robin work Saturday nights together, but Robin called out early for a movie night with Vickie. They’re choosing to refer to it as “calling out early” and not “skipping the majority of your shift” because it sounds better, and what Keith doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

Eddie went in to say hi like he normally does, but he was earlier than usual tonight. He waltzed in just after six o’clock to bring Steve some dinner – none for Robin, who was planning to eat with Vickie – and then shoot the shit with them for almost an hour before leaving with Robin to take her on her date-she-won’t-admit-is-a-date. He did ask Steve if he wanted Eddie to come back later before he left, and Steve said no, and Eddie kind of made a mental plan to come back anyway but then he got caught up trying to noodle out some new songs and lost track of time–

“Eddie.”

The sound of Steve's voice brings Eddie back to reality. Lifting his head, Eddie finds he can’t really see Steve’s face from this angle, so he readjusts himself and props himself up on his elbows to actually look at Steve. Steve's head is still turned to the side, so Eddie can only see half his face, but he definitely can see the way Steve's eyebrow arches up when he meets Eddie's gaze.

“What's up, sweetheart?” Eddie has a feeling he already knows the answer.

“You know that's the third time I tried getting your attention?”

“Well obviously I didn't, otherwise I would've responded the first time,” Eddie replies, but there's no bite to it. It brings a soft smile to Steve's face, more fond than anything else. When Steve doesn't respond, Eddie continues, “But seriously, what's up? Want me to get off?”

“Not tonight, honey, I have a headache,” Steve replies, shooting Eddie a lazy wink. Eddie rolls his eyes in faux-exasperation – as if he wouldn't make the exact same joke, were the roles reversed – and goes to nudge Steve in the shoulder. With the way Eddie's still lying on him, however, it just makes the two of them rock gently side-to-side on Eddie's mattress. Steve giggles a little at the movement before saying, “You can move now, if you want to. I feel better.”

“Yeah? Wanna talk about why you felt weird in the first place?” Eddie slides off Steve's back and onto the bed next to him as he speaks. He shuffles around until he's lying on his side, noting Steve has done the same and they're now facing each other. All Eddie would have to do to kiss Steve is lean in a few inches, so he does. Why deny himself one of life’s greatest pleasures? It's a very quick and chaste kiss, just a peck really, but Steve lets out a contented hum all the same.

“Of course I’m going to tell you about the annoying people I had to deal with tonight. Just not right now,” Steve says, eyes half-lidded as he looks at Eddie. In another context it could almost be sultry, but the clear bone-deep exhaustion clinging to Steve makes it clear he's fighting to stay awake. Eddie reaches over to cup Steve's cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a slow, repetitive pattern. Steve's eyes slowly drift closed with each pass of Eddie's thumb.

“Yeah, you're about to fall asleep on me, aren't you Stevie? You get stuck in the car on the way home?” Steve gives a soft noise of affirmation, with a twitch of his head that could be a nod if he had more energy.

That happens sometimes, when Steve is really out of it or at the end of a particularly draining day. He'll get in his car to drive home and just... not be able to make himself get out of the car once he gets there. The only people who know about this problem of his are Eddie and Robin, and that's only because they've each witnessed him doing it. In Eddie's case, it was back when they were still friends, that simmering tension hanging between them like a wild animal neither of them wanted to spook. He was waiting for Steve to come over after work, only to realize Steve was late and must be taking longer than expected to close up shop – so why not just go to Family Video and keep him company? When Eddie stepped out of his trailer, however, he saw Steve's BMW parked out the front, Steve sitting inside with head down and resting on the wheel.

They talked about it, but not until some time later, when Steve was no longer embarrassed about Eddie seeing him like that. In Steve's words, sometimes getting himself moving takes more energy than he can muster up at the end of a long day. It's worse when his parents are in town, the thought of going inside and interacting with them sapping the strength from his bones, but mostly it's just the act of getting himself out of the car and inside that's too much to think about some days. On those days, he just stays in the car until he can bring himself to move.

Steve makes do on those days; he has his tapes, and he's even started keeping a book or a couple magazines in his car, which he swaps out when he's finished with them. Eddie's not a huge fan of it, especially when it's cold out or when Steve's doing it out the front of Eddie's trailer – Steve's house is isolated enough that people won't see him just sitting there in his car. The trailer park is a different story.

Still, it's not like Eddie doesn't have his own share of less-than-ideal habits and coping strategies. He doesn’t actually mind that Steve does this sometimes, he just wants him to be safe. Besides, Eddie would rather have a rematch with the bats than make Steve feel like he can't talk to him about his bad days or like he’s being judged for the struggles he has sometimes.

Hearing that Steve's breathing is starting to even out, Eddie jostles his shoulder slightly. Steve frowns, and Eddie feels like the worst person ever for disturbing him when he looked so blissfully calm and peaceful, but he can't let Steve fall asleep in his jeans.

“Stevie,” Eddie says, drawing the syllables out in a sing-song tone, “We've got to get your pants off.”

“Told you I had a headache,” Steve grumbles, not opening his eyes. He does, however, start undoing his jeans, before rolling onto his back and lifting his hips to pull them off. He then takes his polo shirt off as well, both items ending up on the floor just like the Family Video vest did.

“Can I have some sweatpants, please?” Ah, Stevie. Steve Harrington has a way of making even the most benign statement sound bitchy if he wants to, and Eddie fucking adores him for it. Grinning to himself, Eddie roots around in the pile of clean (but unfolded) clothes on top of his dresser. Successfully locating a pair of gray sweatpants, Eddie turns back to Steve and gets on one knee next to the bed, holding the pants aloft and bowing his head as he does so.

“My liege's pants,” Eddie intones, pulling out a regal-sounding character voice to fit the moment. He hears a snort from Steve, so Eddie lifts his head to see Steve's shoulders shaking from the effort of holding in his laughter. Eddie smiles and gently throws the sweatpants at Steve's torso, enjoying the way Steve yelps slightly in surprise when the pants hit him.

As Steve maneuvers himself to put the sweatpants on, Eddie asks, “Can I get you anything before you depart this conscious plane? Water? Something to eat?” Eddie can see Steve thinking about it as he finishes putting the pants on, but he doesn't respond until he's wearing them properly and has made himself comfortable in Eddie's bed again.

“Water would be nice. I want to brush my teeth, but fuck going to the bathroom,” Steve says, cutting himself off at the end of the sentence with a yawn. He even does the old-man stretch with his arms bent as he does it.

Eddie is so gone for this man, it's ridiculous.

“Okay, water and a way of bringing the bathroom to you, got it. I'll be right back.” Eddie starts to head for the kitchen, but stops short in the doorway of his bedroom. He turns back to point a finger at Steve and says, “Don't fall asleep before I get back.”

“No promises,” says Steve, closing his eyes and making a deliberate show of wriggling around on the mattress to get more comfortable.

“I meant it Stevie! If you're asleep when I get back, I'm pouring water on you!” Eddie calls back as he turns and heads to the kitchen, hearing Steve's laughter behind him.

In the kitchen, Eddie puts his plan into action. He grabs two mugs and fills the larger one up with water before making a detour into the bathroom. He grabs Steve's yellow toothbrush and puts some toothpaste on the bristles before running it under the tap to wet it. While in the bathroom, Eddie's eyes land on the washcloth hanging up in the shower. He could dampen that and take it in if Steve wants to wash his face or something... Eddie could do it for him, even. Making his mind up, Eddie puts Steve's toothbrush in the empty mug before grabbing the washcloth and turning the bathroom tap on. He waits a minute for the water to run warm, and once it's reached a suitable temperature Eddie drenches the washcloth before ringing it out a couple of times. Once it's suitably damp, Eddie turns the tap off and drapes the washcloth over his arm, so he can have both hands free for the mugs.

Eddie's very thankful he left his bedroom door open, as he can just walk right in even though his hands are full. He's even more thankful that Steve is still awake, as he'd feel terrible waking Steve up, even if it was to give him what he asked for. Steve is now sitting up in bed cross-legged, watching Eddie as he approaches. His expression turns curious when he clocks what Eddie's holding.

“Here is your water,” Eddie says, placing the full mug and washcloth down on the bedside table. He then hands Steve the other mug with his toothbrush in it and says, “And here is your hand-delivered substitute bathroom. Plus I brought a cloth, in case you wanted to wash your face or something.”

“Okay?” Steve says, although it comes out more as a question, as he takes the mug from Eddie.

Seeing his confusion, Eddie elaborates with, “I figured since you don't want to get up, you could just brush your teeth here and spit into the cup when you're done. I'll wash it in the morning. I don't know, it might be stupid, but-”

“It's not stupid,” Steve says, interrupting Eddie as he starts to ramble. “It's actually really thoughtful of you. Thanks, Eds.” Steve smiles at him then, sweet and love-struck, and it feels like the sun is shining directly on Eddie's face.

Steve starts brushing his teeth, so Eddie takes the time to get changed himself. He's still in his jeans and t-shirt from his trip to Family Video earlier, so he ditches those and puts on an old Hawkins High gym shirt over his boxers. Normally he'd never be seen dead in such a garment, but this isn't any old gym shirt; this is Steve's old gym shirt. The joy of knowing he's wearing his boyfriend's shirt far outweighs any moral reservations Eddie may have about sleeping in Hawkins High sports merchandise.

By the time he's finished changing, Steve is spitting into the empty mug and swapping it for the washcloth next to the bed. He also drops his toothbrush into the formerly-empty mug, bristles-end first. Smart, Eddie thinks to himself, that way he doesn't get toothpaste foam on the handle. Steve gives his face a quick once-over with the washcloth, making a pleased noise when it touches his face. Eddie wants to think he's pleasantly surprised at how the warmth feels on his face, but maybe Steve's just enjoying the feeling of being clean. 

Once he's finished, he swaps the washcloth out for the mug of water and takes a long drink from it. Eddie can't help but stare at the way Steve's throat bobs each time he swallows, especially as Steve starts to tip his head back as the mug becomes emptier and emptier. This really is not the time, Steve is about two minutes away from falling asleep, and he's got the day off tomorrow so they can have as much sex as they want then-

Eddie is brought back to reality at the sound of Steve putting the now-empty mug back down on the table with a thud. His eyes flick up to look at Steve's face, and- oh. Steve's already looking at him, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

“Tomorrow,” Steve says, eyes darting down to Eddie's lips momentarily, “I promise.”

“Cool,” Eddie says dumbly. He quickly follows it up with, “I mean, yeah, that sounds great, Stevie, looking forward to it.” Steve raises an eyebrow at that. Jesus, he could at least try not to look like he's holding back laughter, the bastard.

“I should hope so,” Steve says, before lying back down in bed and making himself comfortable. Fighting valiantly against the blush on his face, Eddie takes a moment to turn off his bedroom lamp. He's so glad he has an excuse to hide his face from Steve right now.

Now the room is illuminated only by the moonlight from Eddie’s bedroom window, Eddie hops into bed beside Steve and pulls the blanket up and over both of them from the foot of the bed. As soon as he's done that, however, Steve forcibly maneuvers him into the position he wants; Eddie lying on his back, with Steve lying across him and using his chest as a pillow. Eddie made a half-joke once, a long time ago, about how that can't be very comfortable with all his scarring. The look on Steve's face and the wounded tone of his voice when he disagreed made Eddie immediately decide to never make a joke like that again.

After a few moments of readjusting to get themselves comfortable, Eddie leans down to place a kiss on the crown of Steve's head.

“Goodnight, Stevie. Hope you feel better in the morning.”

“'night, Teddy,” and oh, Steve's tired if he's bringing out that nickname. Eddie feels a sloppy kiss to his chest and a muffled, “Love you so much.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Eddie replies, and he really does feel like the luckiest person on Earth. He's forever grateful that he gets to see this side of Steve, that he gets to be the one who helps him when he’s struggling, the safe haven where Steve can recover after the world has been too much for him. Eddie had always wondered what romantic love felt like growing up, but now that he’s with Steve, he finds there’s no one right answer to that question; the way he loves Steve is constantly changing, growing stronger and deeper every day.

“Hey, Eds?” Steve says, drawing Eddie's attention back to him. Eddie makes a noise of acknowledgement, so Steve continues, “Remind me tomorrow to tell you who rented a bunch of things from our adult section tonight.”

“Oh?” Eddie whispers back. “Were they particularly scandalous pornos? Or- wait, was it someone we know?”

“Yep,” Steve says, “it was your favorite person in all of Hawkins.” Eddie frowns at that, genuinely unsure who Steve could be referring to. There's quite a few people in Hawkins Eddie doesn't get along with, but less so now that he's finally graduated; or at least, less that he has to interact with on a regular basis. After racking his brains for a minute, Eddie throws out the first reasonable guess he can think of.

“Officer Callahan?” 

Steve snorts.

“No.”

“Officer Powell, then.” Eddie's got his eyes closed now, letting the conversation wash over him. As interested as he is in whatever gossip Steve has, he knows they're not going to unpack it properly until tomorrow.

“It wasn't a cop, Eds.”

“Well then you're going to have to give me a hint, because I'm coming up blank, baby.” Eddie can feel the way Steve smirks against his chest at his words.

“It was Mrs O'Donnell.”

Eddie's eyes shoot open.

“What?” There's no response from Steve. Eddie groans, screwing his eyes up and rubbing the bridge of his nose with the hand that's not busy holding Steve against his body. “Stevie, baby, you can't just do this to me. You can't just drop that bombshell on me and refuse to elaborate.”

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Steve says, voice lilting in a way that proves he knows exactly what he's doing.

That bastard.

Eddie loves him more than life itself.

Tagging some people who might want to see this: @sailing-through-hawkins @stobinesque @scarcrossdlvrs @ghostlytimelord @steves-strapcollection @inairbinad @patchworkgargoyle

[ohtobeleah]

Can we see the reader opening up a little more to Rooster in ToE please Leah. Obsessed with this series.

I don’t know if anyone will noticed but I’ve been binging Shameless again and it’s sneaking into all my recent fics. Here’s the Masterlist for previous chapters.

Warnings Ahead: Mentions of domestic abuse, sexual assault.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Of course on your day off it would be raining. The weather had been nothing but pristine throughout the working week–but as you laid in bed, completely encapsulated by Bradley Bradshaw– you could hear the gentle sound of raindrops pattering against the window.

After spending half the night learning how to wrap all sorts of presents for your daughter with Rooster, you’d snuck into Jake's bedroom as quietly as you possibly could and fished out a pair of sweatpants for him to borrow. It almost felt like you were a teenager again, sneaking a boy up into your room. Only there was no sex and your daughter slept soundly in her own bed in the corner of the room.

“Holy shit–” Off with the fairies, you hadn’t noticed when Bradley had woken up. But as he stirred you felt his hold on your tighten, pulling you in and closer to his chest. Kissing your forehead gently as he extinguished a deep sigh of content. “You look so beautiful, never seen you like this before.” There had been a definenate boundary shift with Bradley last night, he’d never stayed the night before. Sure you'd wanted to ask a handful of times but something about last night, how he was so invested in helping you wrap presents before neatly placing them under the Christmas tree just made your heart grow a little bigger for Bradley Bradshaw. Plus, he’d managed a seamlessly flawless pick-up when you'd asked him to step in to pick up your daughter from daycare. He hadn’t even hesitated.

“Beautiful huh?” You cooed as you let your fingers trace his jaw. “I don't know about that–”

“The most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure of getting to know.” You never thought you could fall in love with an octave change before, but as Bradley stirred–his muscle flexing whenever he shifted in the early morning light cracking through the shades covering the window, you feel a little harder. His voice was deep and gruff and oh so perfectly mesmerising, like his own version of a siren song. “What's that smell?” Rooster sniffed out the smell wafting from underneath the bedroom door. “Maple syrup?”

“It's Saturday morning, Jake does breakfast on Saturday mornings.” It was weird when you first moved in, getting used to having someone cook for you almost religiously as a sign of affection. Acts of service was a love language Jake Seresin spoke fluently. Every Saturday, a slew of eggs, bacon, hash browns, oats and whatever seasonal fruit was available would be on the dining table before you had a chance to protest. “He’s probably down there cooking up a feast–”

“He doesn't know I stayed the night though, does he?” You shook your head no as you beamed up at Bradley, pushing yourself up as you checked to see if Dot had woken up yet.

“Nope, but I'd be surprised if he hasn't spotted the Bronco still in the drive.” Rooster couldn't take his eyes off your ass as you called down to the end of the bed, the grey Naval Academy shirt you wore to bed just barely ghosted your cheeks. His eyebrows frowned for a split second at the appearance of what seemed to be a poorly healed burn—a brand of some sort. The type that you give the cattle to mark them before sale or whenever they go into a boarding yard.

“Hi bubba.” Oddette was just coming to, her sleep drunk face was one of your favourites. Hoisting her up onto your hip, Bradley couldn't help but to drink in the sight of you, he was in love–no doubt about it. “I bet uncle Jakey has some oats ready for you huh?” The little girl, the spitting version of you with her curly locks and her big eyes caught the sight of Bradley as he sucked her thumb into her mouth. “Can you say morning to Rooster baby girl?”

Bradley took that as his sign to get up and out of bed, throwing the covers off as he let his legs hang off the edge of the bed as he stretched his arms out for your daughter. Without a single second of hesitation, you handed her over, falling in love with the way Dot mimicked the way Braldey reached out for her, reaching out for him to take her into his arms. Strong and muscular.

“Good morning miss Dot, you are just as beautiful as your mother in the morning huh?” As you watched Bradley bond with your daughter, you couldn't help but to think he liked you out of focus. Not understanding just how complicated a relationship with you would honestly be, how much baggage came along with you. He’d argue until his dying breath he liked you in the moment and with everything that came with you, a package deal. “The mark on your ass? That something I should be concerned about?”

“Oh—“ Not really sure how to answer that you just paused for a moment. “It’s nothing, well—it’s something but nothing to be concerned about anymore.” Lies. You constantly worried about him, if he’d show up in the middle of the night to get his revenge on you for leaving or if he’d one day decided he wanted custody of Odette. It was a constant state of existential crisis that you lived in–allowing Bradley Bradshaw into your life just made it all the more bearable even if you'd consider it to be a selfish act. He deserved a non battered woman. Period.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say that’s a cattle brand?” Bradley wasn’t trying to pry but as he held your daughter on his hip he tilted your chin up a little more to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to tell me, but whatever you’ve been through you’re safe here—you know that right?” He was being genuine, there was no push to tell but the door had been left wide open for you if you wanted to.

“I know, but the more I tell you the bigger the chance is you’ll hightail it in the opposite direction and I just know that I wouldn’t be able to handle that.” The way you said it made you sound so vulnerable, always the first to deny anything was really there between you and Bradley. Always the one who pushed away first, slowed down the pace if things were moving too quickly. Rooster was more than happy to take the passenger's seat while you held onto the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turned white at the pressure, but the way you said you wouldn't be able to handle it if he decided he couldn't hack it made his heart shatter in his chest.

Bradley had always been an action speak louder than words kinda guy, deciding that diving into the deep end to kiss you was the best response to the fact you were adamant you weren't good enough for him. Your daughter was quick to giggle as she felt squashed between the pair of you, Bradley was expertly balancing her against his hip with one arm as he held the back of your head with the other. Lips melding with yours as the sound of rain pouring outside filled the silence.

“There’s nothing on this planet that could make me turn my back on you.” Fuck he was being genuine as all hell wasn’t he? Once again, you felt like you could open up just the slightest bit–Braldey had dumped you out of your box, sifting through all your puzzle pieces trying to get a look at the bigger picture. Who were you really and what led you to him?

“My ex—I was, we were uh.” It was still hard to say it, you hated saying it–it had never been sex or love with Jaidyn. It was always something more sinister. Bradley got the gist of what you were trying to explain, he nodded in agreement just so you could keep going. Only if you wanted to. “I tried to run that morning, but he’d caught me, dragged me back in and had been laying into me for the better half of the day.” The tears were noticeable, but you kept going. “Decided that he needed to remind me just who I belonged to I guess.” Wiping away the tears that fell down your cheeks you sighed and braved a smile. “He had a very twisted view on the blurred boundary of pleasure and pain, when I gave him what he wanted he branded me at the same time.”

“You aren’t anyone’s property Y/n, no his, not anyone’s.” Rage. That's all that you could see written across Rooster’s face. From the way he clenched his jaw to the way his hand had wandered down to hover over your ass, fingertips softly dancing across the raised skin that had healed poorly without any real medical intervention.

“I found out I was pregnant three weeks later–a rose amongst a sea of thorns.” A knock against your bedroom door interrupted the moment of vulnerability you were having, Bradley was sure he saw in real time your shutters go down as you shook yourself back into reality.

“Are you joining me for breakfast?” Jake shouted from the otherside. “Or is it just gonna be me?”

“Coming!” You replied as your eyes never left Roosters. “Please don't tell anyone, Jake doesn't even know how bad it got sometimes, he knows most of it–but I didn't have the heart to tell him the father of my daughter banded me when he made me orgasm.” Even if it was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to listen to, Rooster nodded in solidarity, leaning in to kiss your cheek as he readjusted your daughter on his other hip.

“Anything you ever tell me in full confidence, I won't ever repeat to anyone gorgeous.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Much to your own surprise, Jake hadnt noticed the Bronco still sitting in the driveway. He’d been too busy cooking up a feast–way more food then needed for two and a half people. Dot would eat maybe a few spoonfuls of oats, some squished blueberries and a small cup of juice. Why on god's green earth Jake insisted on massive Saturday breakfast you'd never understand, but you enjoyed the food always.

“Morning sleepy head!” Jake beamed as he crouched to scoop up your daughter who'd come pattering his way with a cheeky smile and a loud chuckle. “Did your mamma sleep in? Did she? I think she did and–” As Jake looked up he saw Rooster standing shirtless behind you with a grin plastered on his face. His hand lingered on your hip as he drew you closer to his side. “Hang on a damn minute are those my sweat pants?”

“Thought you'd be able to tell by the way my ankles are hanging out the bottom?” Rooster teased as he sauntered over into the kitchen. “You need help shorty or have you got this covered?”

“Nope, uh uh, i'm not gonna be baratted in my own home!” Jake placed Dot gently onto the tiles and she was off running–her dollhouse had been calling her name. “You stayed the night?”

“Sure did.” Rooster said it in a way that had you fighting off a smile. He was sweet you'd give him that. “I’m making coffee, you want one?” he asked before you sent him a soft nod.”

“Please, two sugars.” Jake was still staring at you, like you owed him an explanation as to your overnight visitor. “It was late by the time we finished wrapping all the presents alright, get off my dick.”

“Did you guys wrap all those gifts?”

“Sure did, even wrapped a couple with a nice little bow for you Hangman–” Bradley had his back turned to you and Jake as he made his coffee alongside yours. Jake just looked at the back of his wingman's head for far too long before turning back to you as you shrugged your shoulders, pretending you had no idea what Rooster was talking about. “And I'm kinda hurt, you've clearly been holding out on the team man, no invite to Saturday breakfast feast before?”

“I dont cook for strays–” Jake teased as he went back to flipping his pancakes. The bacon was almost done, sizzling away in the pan on the stovetop as you picked fresh strawberries from the bowl of cut up fruit.

“That's exactly what you've been doing though?” You mumbled through a mouthful of food before chucking to yourself. Bradley was once again at your side as he handed you the mug of coffee, tailored just the way you liked it. “Can you wrangle Dot? Gotta get her in her highchair for breakfast.”

“Yes ma'am.” Without a second of hesitation Bradley was off, darting around the corner into the living room. Out of sight out of mind for a mere ten seconds before he was racing back around the corner with your daughter throwing over his shoulder in a fit of laughter. “One Odette Dolan ready and reporting for duty Fe.”

“Wooster!--” Odette couldn't have contained her joy if she tried, her hair was flopping around as Braldey swung her around. “Wooster!!”

“Jesus Chris I’m gonna be sick.” Jake sighed as he stacked the final pancake onto the plate. “Rooster, man—you’re killing me.”

“What? She's gonna be a pilot isn't she? May as well start getting used to G-forces now.” her cheeks had caught a little air as Bradley continued spinning her around in a fit of giggles. Two peas in a pod the pair of them were. It just melted your heart.

“Faster Wooster faster!” Dot was riding a high of energy, her enthusiasm this early in the morning only matching bradleys as he handed you his coffee mug and decided taking off around the house with her on his shoulders was the most appropriate thing to do.

“Lieutenant Dot Dolan requesting permission from green range to enter point alpha” It was hard not to laugh as Dot held on for what looked like dear life, her legs strung over Braldeys shoulders as she held onto his hair. His hands on her knees securing her. “Permission granted, let's turn and burn baby!”

“Turn and Burn!” Dot repeated as Bradley raced around the kitchen, dodging both you and Jake and just looked at the pair of them like they were crazy.

“I’m losing my place at her favourite aren’t I?” This is what Saturday mornings should have been like for your daughter always, surrounded by those who loved her unconditionally. Who wanted to protect her always and fill her mind with core memories she’d remember forever. It hadn’t been though. “If I lose my spot to Rooster I’ll be pissed Fe—“ Jake took a bite of the bit of bacon he snatched off the plate. You were too busy making up Dots breakfast to even send him an eye roll.

“You’re the one who meddled, don’t forget that.”

“I didn’t think it would lead to Bradshaw sleepovers so soon! I haven’t prepared for this!” All you did was sigh, chuckling softly before you noticed the caller ID lightning up Jake's phone on the countertop. You couldn’t contain the groan that escaped. “Jake, what the fuck is Frank calling you for?”

“Huh?” Jake’s eyes landed on his phone and that’s when he sighed in annoyance as well. “Shit—“ He didn’t hesitate to pick it up though, just as Rooster and Dot were coming in for landing. “What do you want, Frank?”

“Who’s Frank?” It was a question you normally wouldn’t have answered, but as Bradley placed Dot into her high chair you turned your attention his way briefly as Jake placed his phone on speaker.

“My dad—“

“Have you seen my daughter around recently?” You hadn’t heard your fathers voice in just shy of a year. He only ever called when he needed money, an addict through and through. He’d never been around and when he was it was always chaotic.

“No Frank I haven’t, fuck off Frank.” You sent Jake a look as if to say watch his cuss words around Dot, covering her ears as you gritted your teeth. “Sorry—“ He mouthed with a soft grin. “Y/n doesn’t come around anymore, haven’t seen her since—“

“Jacob, if you're lying to me I’ll be thoroughly upset.” You had changed your number when you’d run to Jake for safety, uprooting your life and leaving with only a few personal items you could fit in a bag. Dots birth certificate, important documents. “It’s Christmas time! I’m trying to rally the family together for a good old Y/l/n shindig.” If you had rolled your eyes any harder, they would have popped out of your head.

“Is Jacob his real name?” Bradley felt like he’d just unlocked Pandora’s box when you nodded quietly in response, fist bumping the air as he bit his bottom lip in excitement. “Holy shit so many endless possibilities—“

“I highly doubt any of your children want anything to do with you, Frank.” It was as if Jake had been through this a million times before, Rooster couldn’t help but to wonder how many times your father had called him looking for you over the years. “But I haven’t seen Y/n in a few years now—so you’re shit outta luck and outta cash.”

“He doesn’t call you?” Squishing blueberries between your fingertips before you aeroplaned them into Dot's mouth was probably one of the most domestic things Bradley had ever seen you do.

“Doesn’t have my new number, kinda wanna keep it that way.” The pair of you were being careful to keep your voices low while Jake entertained your estranged father. “He’s a junkie, only ever calls when he needs something—“

“Well if she’s not with you where the hell is she? Jaidyn said she took off in the middle of the night a few months ago! And if she’s not with you what if she’s dead in a ditch somewhere?” You couldn’t hold back the scoff that escaped. Frank had never cared before, this time was no different. He wasn’t concerned about your wellbeing, just about his atm.

“Honestly that ditch would probably be a safer place for her to be then with that dickhead.” Jake seethed as he started becoming increasingly more irritated, running his hand down his face as Bradley leaned over the counter to snatch a piece of bacon. “Bye Frank—I can’t help you, don’t call me.”

“Jacob wa—!” He’d hung up before your father could get another word in.

“Hey so your dad’s looking for you” Jake teased as if you hadn’t been sitting there the entire time. “Should call him, thinks you’re dead.”

“Thanks shit for brains I’ll log that away on my not to do list shall I?” Dot coughing on a mouthful of her oats had you turning all your attention back to her. “Oh, careful sweetheart, can’t have you choking huh.”

“Franks a piece of work Bradshaw, don’t ever let that piece of shit near these two if he ever comes sniffing around.” For a moment there the lovable brother act Jake had been fronting for the last few weeks had faded and something a little more serious had tested its ugly head. The protective best friend had come to the party—Bradley hadn’t seen this look in Hakes eyes since the night he’d first met you. “He’s a deadbeat.”

“Noted.”

“More mumma, pwease?” Odette cooed as she tried to take the spoon from your hand, you let her with careful guidance. Watching her like a Hawk as she took a spoonful to her mouth.

“I remember this one time we were living out of car, uncle Nick had kicked us out and we couldn’t find anyone else to take us in.” Your eyes never left your daughter as Jake and Bradley both listened intently. Both leaning on the island bench as they picked bits and pieces. “My older brother’s were sleeping at friends' places but me and my younger sisters, the twins—got stuck trying to sleep in the backseat when Frank pulled over in the middle of the night.” Looking up you saw the faces of two of the most influential men in your life staring back at you like you were some damsel in distress. You were, but still, it didn’t leave a good taste behind in your mouth when all you’d ever know was the opposite of love.

“He told me to take the girls and sit on the curb and he’d be right back—I think I was seven at the time, few hours later and we’re still sitting on the sidewalk, Lila’s head was burning up and she’s hysterical.” Bradley felt like he couldn’t breathe listening to you open up about your childhood. He wanted to call your father back right now just to tell him off. “I didn’t know what to do—so I ran down the street, Lila under one arm and Georgia under the other trying to flag down help.” It honestly felt like a lifetime ago but at the same time you could still smell the snow in the air and hear Lila’s painful screams. “It would’ve been easier scorning crack then a ride to the clinic—but I finally made it on foot, they said Lila had a fever of one hundred and four and that if I hadn’t brought her in, who would’ve known what had happened in a few more hours.”

“Y/n—“ Bradley reached out to grip your hand, you held his back a little tighter, pressing your lips together to stop your bottom lip from quivering.

“I didn’t find Frank till a few days later, first thing he asked me? How much money I had on me.” You looked at Bradley as he took in everything you had just told him. “I wish I could say that was the only time too but it was only the beginning—“

“I think deadbeats an understatement Jacob.” You couldn’t help but to smile, Jake just groaned as he stood up, slapping Bradley across the back of the head. “Not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again you hear me?” Soft lips were pressing against your forehead before Rooster was turning around to point a stirn finger at Jake who’d backed off slightly. “Hit me again, see what happens pal.”

“You’re wearing my pants in my house! I’ll hit you all I goddamn want.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

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