#p; oliver stark

[meep-meep-richie]

We are spoiled so far🔥🥵

#so far so good #he looks 🔥🔥🔥 #oliver stark #911 #9-1-1 #911 fandom #p: oliver stark #911 actor #911 cast #actor post #actor photos #black and white

[texasbama]

Oliver originally posting that story with the song Fox tried to finesse, is SENDING ME😂😂😂😂😂

#yall H E L P😂😂😂😂 #oliver stark #911

[asumofwords]

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Smut, P in V intercourse, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise, creampie, angst, fighting.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Hello my babies, sorry for the like 2 hour delay, I've been crying after watching Atonement for the first time. I am unwell. I don't think I will ever be okay again lmao, I had to go watch Pride and Prejudice to make me feel better. Anyway, Enjoy ;) <3

Chapter 8: Boiling Point

Cregan ended up staying the night. Nothing sexually happened, but instead the man had held you against him the entire evening and whispered words of praise to you, assuring you that you were okay, and that things would be fine. 

When you woke the next morning, you had felt the need to apologise to Aemond, Cregan’s chat to you the night before still running laps in your mind. Aemond was not used to kindness, perhaps he didn’t know what to do with it, and if he wasn’t going to initiate the first steps, you might as well try. 

You didn’t want to have to spend the rest of your month in an awkward tension with the man you were living with. It was up to Aemond if he wanted to respond to the olive branch you would extend.

You snuck out of bed to leave the Stark man, still sleeping, hair half over his face, chest rising and falling heavily, behind you. You shut the door quietly with a click, eyes flitting up to find Aemond’s door still closed. 

Usually he was up by now. 

You moved to the kitchen, making yourself a cup of tea, and a black coffee for Aemond. You weren’t sure how he took it, if he liked sugar or not, but decided that at least the attempt was worth something. Perhaps even speaking his own language, the tea he made you in the mornings your own interpretation of his civility. You hoped that the gesture portrayed the same meaning to him as it did to you.

But it was better than nothing.

You trudged to his door, tea and coffee in hand, steam winding its way off the two of them as you kicked softly at the wood in a knocking manner with your toes. 

Knock Knock.

Silence was the only thing that you could hear from the other side of the door. 

You knocked again, knock knock knock, shifting on your feet as you felt awkward and uncertain of what to do. You craned your head to look down the hall; His keys were still in the bowl.

Aemond was definitely in his room. 

You tried to knock again, knock knock knock, watching the door knob expectantly, hoping to see it be turned and opened, but it didn’t. Taking it as a sign that he did not wish to be disturbed, you placed the mug of coffee on the floor in front of his door. You sighed in disappointment, but ultimately retreated into your room with your tail tucked between your legs. 

If he wanted to speak with you, he would. 

Cregan stirred in your bed, looking comically large in your sheets as he watched you enter, smiling at you sleepily. You put your tea on the bedside table, and crawled in beside him, his large palms pulling you against him almost immediately, tucking your head beneath his chin in habit. He yawned quietly and rubbed smoothing gestures up and down your back.

Your soft knocking must have woken him up. And yet, he did not exit his room.

You laid together in bed, drinking your tea as you strained your ears to hear if Aemond had exited his room, desperate to speak to him. You knew that he was in the wrong, that what he had said was inexcusable, but you had said some nasty things too, and after what Cregan told you the night before, it all made sense to you.

All his nastiness, bitterness, and sudden bouts of hot and cold all made sense, and with the added mystery of Alys, that was becoming less of a mystery to you now, you began to somewhat understand the man that was Aemond Targaryen. 

It was hard to not sympathise with him. Hard to not try and understand the way that he was. The way he acted in the ways he did. How he was cold and aloof, not daring to let anyone close to him, and biting at anyone he deemed a threat; getting too close for comfort.

When you finally exited your room, Cregan sleepily following after you, you had given up waiting for anything to happen, for the sight of silver white hair to appear at your open bedroom door, or noises from within alert you to his movements. You walked past Aemond’s closed door, the now cold cup of coffee still sitting in front of it, steam long gone from the top, and a brown film having settled at the surface. You frowned at it, but opted to leave it. 

You had tried, and it was proof of your effort.

Aemond could come to you when he was ready.

But after three days had passed, it seemed that Aemond was in fact not ready to talk to you, and had become more illusive than the Lochness Monster. You hadn’t seen his silver hair and mismatched eyes since that night, and a web of anxiety began to tug at your stomach again.

When you got home from work that day, you ran straight to the shower, frustration from Larys’ leering caused your shoulders to have tensed so terribly, that you felt an oncoming knot as you rode the train home. You stood under the shower for what could have been an hour, not caring if the hot water ran out, having it on the highest setting possibly, digging your knuckles into your trapezius to try and work out the stress. 

By the time you had felt marginally calmer, your skin had wrinkled and pruned, and you had exited, spending extra time moisturising your body and fixing your hair, dressing into some pyjamas before you steadying yourself to face the music, making a promise to yourself that you would talk to him, and stay up all night if you had to. 

Aemond would be better than Larys.

You hoped.

You cooked your dinner slowly, ears pricking to listen for the door and his return home, shifting occasionally to look over your shoulder in the hopes that he would appear silently in the lounge room as he sometimes did. 

Anxiety and apprehension ate away at you, the ball of nervousness growing larger and larger the longer you waited. That nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to leave it, to just bask in the awkwardness of it all, but the other part of you longed for a connection with him, and to at least try to get through to him.

By the time you finished cooking, and ate your dinner in silence, keeping the TV on mute so that you could hear him approaching or if he tried to sneak back into the apartment, you had begun to grow rapidly tired, fingers digging into the sore muscle of your shoulder to try keep you awake. 

It was nearing midnight when you finally heard the soft scraping of keys in the front door. You sat up straighter, turning your attention to the hallway as you listened to Aemond drop his keys into the bowl quietly and make his way down the hall.

His violet eye met yours and you watched breathlessly as he stilled, looking at you sitting straight and tall on the couch as you waited for him. And as you gazed at him, you felt your mouth go dry.

Aemond was in his black running shorts and running shoes, hair in a low and messy bun, the front of his hair slicked to his forehead from sweat. His silver chain was around his neck as it always was, glinting it the light of the room. 

But that was it.

That’s all Aemond wore.

Aemond was shirtless.

His stomach rippled as it tensed, porcelain skin glistening with sweat, a soft pink blush spreading across his chest and up his neck. A heat settled in your gut as you looked at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly from exertion.

The man blinked, abruptly turning his head away from you as he went straight to the kitchen, pulling down a glass of water quietly from the cupboard, filling it in the sink. The sound of the tap was loud in your ears.

You stood shakily, nervous and unsure of how to approach the conversation. Or even approach him. You didn’t know how he was going to react. What he was going to say or do. 

Would he reject you entirely? Turn nasty again? 

Or would he stare at you impassively and boredly?

You cleared your throat, stupid lump of anxiety stuck in the back of it as you stepped around the small coffee table and into the kitchen. Aemond’s back was still to you, shoulder blades moving as he drank, the bones of his ribs wrapped tightly with lean muscles, chest expanding with a deep inhale. 

“Hey, um. Can we talk?” You held your hands in front of your legs, turning your fingers against one another nervously. 

Gods, why did he make you so nervous? 

Aemond swallowed the water that was in his mouth, turning his head slightly to the side to indicate that he had heard you, though not audibly responding back, nor even moving to look at you, his back still to you as he moved to refill his glass again.

You opened your mouth to try again, to garner a reaction, a show that he was listening other than the slight tilt of his head like a parent who was disapproving of their child. But by the time you worked up the courage again to speak, the glass about half full, Aemond spoke.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Came his low response, almost drowned out by the sound of the running water.

Oh for fucks sake.

“I think there’s plenty to talk about, actually.” You argued softly.

You took a sighing breath and continued, Here goes nothing, “I think that we both owe each other an apology.”

Aemond turned off the tap with more force than what was needed, “What?”

You sighed, watching as he turned around to face you, brows narrowed as he looked down his nose at you. 

Was he surprised? Offended? 

Why was he looking at you as though he didn’t understand your intentions?

You swallowed, “About the other night. I think we both said some things that we didn’t mean.”

Aemond’s jaw ticked, but he did not respond. 

Why was he being like this?

You brushed your hair away from your face roughly, feeling small and vulnerable in front of him.

Desperate, His words rang in your ear.

“I think,” You licked your lips, not sure how to go forward, “I think that what happened was not okay. And what you said to me was not okay. But what I said to you, was definitely not right either.” Another deep breath, trying to stem the rambling confession.

Why was this so hard? 

“And I wanted to apologise for that. I shouldn’t have brought her up, and I definitely shouldn’t have implied that you were at fault in your relationship with her. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, it’s none of my business, and I regret saying what I did.” You nibbled at your lip anxiously, watching as the Targaryen’s mouth twitched.

Silence curled around the two of you, and the longer you waited, the more you realised perhaps he thought you wished to continue. That perhaps he was waiting for you to say moe, or those two words that you felt suddenly begrudged to do.

“I’m sorry, Aemond. I was disrespectful and rude, but I was hurting. That’s not an excuse, but I think it's a bit of an explanation. Or at least, I hope it is.” You parroted Cregan’s words.

Not an excuse, an explanation.

You stared at him for what felt like forever, watching as he breathed shallowly, leant back against the bench, fingers twitching over his glass of water. He took a sip, and then another, and you watched as you thought he was finding the words to say, as though he was thinking of different ways to apologise to you, but by the time the glass became half full it became more and more apparent that Aemond had no intentions to say anything.

No apology. 

No rebuttal. 

No thanks.

Nothing.

Anger began to simmer inside of you.

“Are you going to say anything?”

Silence. 

You shook your head sadly, pushing down the heat that rose in your chest, now was not the time to become angry, “I’m trying, Aemond. I’m really trying to be understanding, but you hurt me. You made me feel so used after what we did.” But the heat pushed its way through you; Shame, embarrassment, anger, “I don’t understand what I have done to warrant your anger. Please just tell me what I’ve done wrong so I can apologise and set things right. I don’t like this animosity between us, I don’t like feeling like I’m nothing in your eyes, that I’m lesser than or a nuisance.” You felt tears begin to build, “I don’t like feeling like I have to walk on eggshells in my own home, or that I have to worry about my roommates brother hating me. I don’t want Helaena to come home and have to deal with this mess.”

Aemond frowned deeply, setting down his glass on the kitchen bench, “I don’t hate you.”

Your brows cinched together in confusion, “Then why are you so cruel? You have been nothing but cold to me since you moved in. I’ve tried so hard to be nice, to-to include you in things I didn’t need to, but you give me nothing in return!”

Damn your anger. But you were wounded, and lashing out.

The silver haired man sucked his tongue loudly, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Want from you?” You were confused, “Aemond, I want you to treat me with some basic human decency, and maybe, if I’m really lucky, have you apologise for calling me desperate after we- what we did.”

Aemond’s eye dragged over your face, sliding down your chest to watch the way you heaved worked up breaths. And yet he still stayed silent, shifting on his feet uncomfortably as he looked down at you.

A wave of hurt crashed over your head, and you scoffed, “Unbelievable. I don’t know why I even bothered.” You spun on your heel, moving to make your way back to your room. To go hide. To not let him see the hurt or the shame that you felt. To curl into your sheets and just disappear.

You don’t know why you thought things could change, that he could be kinder. 

You felt like a fool.

Aemond’s arm shot out and grabbed your wrist pulling you back to him. You turned, other hand trying to pry his fingers off of your wrist, the long digits not budging. 

“If you would just wait a second, instead of storming off again.” He growled in annoyance.

You recoiled in his grip, “How much longer do you want me to embarrass myself as I wait for you to say two fucking words? It’s not that hard, Aemond.”

His eye narrowed, “This stuff doesn’t come easy to me, if you-“

“-Spoken like a true asshole. ‘Apologising isn’t something I ever do.’” You mocked his tone, “Let go of me, Aemond, I’m done. I’m not playing your little games anymore. You can fuck off for all I care.”

Aemond did not let go, “You think this is a game?”

“What else would it be?”

The Targaryen’s eye flicked back and forth on your face. Yet he said nothing.

Digging your fingers into his hand you tried to tug yourself from his grip angrily, “Let go of me.” You tried to pull your wrist away again, Aemond’s grip getting tighter, “I said-“

“-I’m sorry.” Aemond spoke quietly.

You stared at him angrily, hand dropping from his own that gripped your wrist. 

“For?”

Aemond’s lip twitched, “For being a dick.”

“All together now.” You encouraged him, staring up at him in anger.

A brow lifted on his face as he looked down at you, “Now look who’s being the dick. I’m trying to apologise to you.”

“Shit fucking apology.” You snapped.

Aemond ran a hand through the front of his hair, messed and slick tresses sticking up in different ways, and yet he still looked ruggish- NO, “I don’t know what you want from me, Y/n. I’m sorry, okay? You didn’t deserve that. I was a dick, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“You were. You were- sorry- are a fucking asshole who treats everyone around him like they’re beneath his designer shoe.”

“I don-“

“-‘I don’t’. You don’t know much do you?”

Aemond’s jaw ticked, “Look,” He all but growled, “I’m trying-“

“You’re not trying hard enough.”

You don’t know why you kept at it. You don’t know why you were provoking him, pushing him, not taking his shitty little apology and calling it a day, but it was just that. A shitty little apology, and it felt like there was no meaning behind the words nor promise of change. Like a chore he had been tasked to do.

He just made you so angry, all the damn time. His arrogance, his cock sure smirk, the way he even held himself. It was infuriating. Intoxicating. It-

No. Stop it.

The hand around your wrist tightened, and you watched as Aemond’s chest rose and fell sharply, cheek twitching. His face hardened as he looked down at you, and the tiny voice in the back of your brain screamed ‘Predator! Run!’ 

But you didn’t. 

“What else do you want me to do?” He said lowly, pushing himself off of the kitchen bench, his chest bumping into yours, “You want me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?”

You don’t know why you said it, you don’t know why your brain even reacted the way it did, but there was something about Aemond that made you want to push him. Made you want to see him react. 

And so you goaded him.

“Yes.”

The tall silver haired man pressed a tongue in his cheek, “You want me to react, don’t you? Such a brat.”

You blinked. 

Fuck.

Aemond’s lip twitched as he watched you blanch, his head tilting to look down at you with his lone seeing eye. It sent shivers down your spine, and your core clenched instinctually around nothing. 

“You just keep being a bratty little bitch so that I be a dick to you, huh? Did you even want an apology? Or did you want me to put you in your place? Finish what we started?”

You opened your mouth to argue, to make a point that you did want that apology, but Aemond pulled you forward with his grip on your wrist, the other hand gripping the back of your neck, crashing his lips against yours. 

It was all teeth and desperation, nipping at each other, pulling at each others hair, hands gripping each other roughly. It was a culmination of the tension, the elastic band that had been stretched out, pulled so taut that it finally snapped back. 

Aemond tasted like smoke and water, tongue dipping into your mouth to taste you, holding his mouth against yours, groaning into your lips as he held you, the both of you fighting for dominance. You pulled at his bottom lip with your teeth sharply, pressing your body up against him.

Long fingers dipped under your sleep shirt, pulling it up and over your head, the top forgotten on the tiled kitchen floor, a chill spreading across your chest as you leant into him for warmth. Aemond’s hands skated up your sides, coming to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking teasingly over your nipples. You moaned into his mouth, nipples stiffening into peaks.

Aemond’s hands were so large you noted as he held you, and you mewled quietly into his mouth as his hands skated sideways, covering your ribs entirely as he spun you around, lifting you with little effort to sit you on the kitchen bench. 

The kiss was broken as you were lifted, his lips trailing down your neck to the valley of your breasts, pressing a teasing kiss to your sternum before moving to lap at a nipple with his tongue. Your hands flew to the back of his head, pressing him against you as you hissed, feeling his teeth graze over the stiffened peak. 

“Fuck.” You whined.

Aemond slotted himself between your thighs, your legs instinctually wrapping around him to bring him closer. You could feel his hard length against your inner thigh as he rolled his hips, swapping to the other breast to pay it the same attention as the other, whilst a hand slid down your body to cup your core softly. Your hips rolled into his hand, desperate for more, desperate to get the friction you so desperately needed. 

And yet he kept his hand still, just cupping you. 

Teasing you.

“Please.” You begged, rolling your hips again into his palm, grasping his wrist to try and move his hand to dip beneath your pyjama shorts. 

Aemond chuckled against your chest, moving away from the sensitive nipple with a flick of his tongue which sent your back arching into him, “So needy.”

You growled in annoyance, hands moving to the front of his pants, hoping that it would speed him along. As soon as your hand grazed his length, your eyes widened, looking down. 

He was big.

Really big.

“Oh.” You said quietly, blush erupting on your cheeks, looking down at the long and thick outline in his pants, “Fuck.”

Those sweatpants had done him a disservice.

Aemond looked down at you hungrily, pupil blown wide with lust and lips reddened from your kiss. His eye dropped down to where your gaze had fallen, one finger tracing up and down his length, a shiver running over his body. 

He grabbed your chin, crashing his lips to yours again as he ground into your palm, his hands coming to shimmy his pants down his hips, kicking them off, his cock slapping against his stomach, heavy with want. He toed his shoes and socks of next in a rush, pants falling from his mouth. Your palm gripped him tightly, moving from base to tip as he sighed into you. He was hot in your pam, long and girthy, with the tip wet with his arousal. 

As you gripped him you realised just how large the man was. It was always the skinny white boys that were equipped with cocks like this, you thought. So unsuspecting in their lean stature, but their missing body mass had to go somewhere you supposed. 

Aemond was no exception to the rule. 

Your hand could barely wrap around it.

You wondered briefly if it would even fit.

Aemond pulled backwards as you whined desperately at the loss of him, but the disappointment was short lived as his hands gripped your hips and ripped your shorts off in one swift movement before slotting himself back between your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the bench. His length lined up with your soaked core, rubbing his tip through your folds to gather the slick at your entrance. 

Aemond wasted no time, too impatient and pent up to wait or even prepare you, and so he pushed inside of you with one swift thrust. 

You had never felt so full in your life.

You moaned loudly, head thrown back as you felt the stretch of him, his length splitting you apart and filling you entirely. Each inch of him pressed deliciously against your walls as you breathed heavily, eyes dropping back to his face. 

Aemond stilled for one moment, a moment of mercy, to give you time to accommodate to his size, but that second of kindness was short lived, and the man gripped your hips bruisingly, pulling out slowly, so that you could feel every ridge and vein, before diving back into your centre with long and harsh rut.

You cried out loudly, hands gripping his shoulders as Aemond began to fuck into you at a brutal pace, not once slowing as his length bullied every inch of your walls. The kitchen was filled with the sound of his hips clapping against yours, the lewd slick wet of your folds and the moans and whines that dripped from your lips like honey. 

It was nothing like you had ever felt before. 

Where Cregan was large, Aemond was larger, longer in length that reached deeper and further than the other man, each thrust caused blooming pleasure to shoot up into your gut, warmth winding down your limbs. 

You gripped the back of Aemond’s head and pulled him down, biting at his lips and kissing him angrily, still all teeth and spite, pouring your frustration into him with every nip or press of your lips against his despite the pleasure he was bringing you.

One hand left your hip and gripped the back of your neck, fingers winding into the hair at the nape of your neck tightly, before squeezing the sides of your neck, little bits of pain sprinkling down your spine as he held you forcefully. 

Aemond broke away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he looked down to watch where you were joined. The entire length of his cock was slick with your arousal, pooling between your cheeks and the kitchen bench below, dripping down to his sack. 

You had never been so wet in your life. 

Oh Gods.

“Fuck, fuck.” You keened, hands gripping his shoulders so tightly you were sure it would bruise, nails digging into his skin, leaving tiny half moons in his flesh, as you felt the coil within wind embarrassingly quick.

Aemond grunted, “You gonna cum?”

You nodded your head shakily, motion stunted with his grip at the back of your neck.

“Good. Want to feel you cumming on my cock. Fuck.”

Your knuckles ached from how you were holding onto him, and with each sharp and fast thrust, Aemond’s tip bullied your g-spot, sparks of pleasure exploding behind your eyes, your release barrelling towards you so quickly it was just within reach.

“So fucking tight.” Aemond panted, “Such a perfect little pussy. Fuck, such a good girl.”

You sighed dreamily at the praise, walls gripping him tightly. 

Aemond hissed, “You like that, huh? You like being my good girl? Being such a good girl for daddy, taking his cock so well.” Aemond sucked in another hiss, “Look at you.”

Your bit your lip and hummed, eyes half hooded in lust as you tilted your hips forward towards him, your peak beginning to take over.

“There you go, good girl. Good girl, cum on my cock, come on. Fuck. So pretty.” He praised you, thrusts becoming more brutal, “You’re so fucking pretty, little pussy stretched out on my cock. Looking so fucking pretty like that.”

You moaned needle, whimpering as his length buried into you unforgivingly, “You like daddy’s cock, baby? Huh? Yeah you do.”

His words crashed over you, core fluttering around him as you dumbly nodded your head at him, small mewls and ‘yes’’ falling from your lips with ease. 

“Be a good girl and cum on daddy’s cock.” Fingers began to swirl on your bud, dragging you dangerously close to the edge, “Come on baby, I know you can do it, can feel you getting so tight.”

Your moans grew loudly, pants and sobs falling from your lips as Aemond continued to thrust into your soaked core, finger swirling roughly on you to drag you closer to climax, “Such a pretty dumb little baby, aren’t you? Want you to fucking soak me.” 

Pleasure exploded within you, winding up your body powerfully as you shook in his grip, Aemond’s hips stuttering slightly as he fucked you through your release, a long and high pitched moan being ripped from your chest. 

“Fuck, good girl. Cum on daddy’s cock. Fuck you feel so good, fuck.” Your walls clenched around him, feeling each drag of his length against your sensitive walls, “There you are, such a good baby, such a pretty little girl aren’t you?”

Aemond rutted into your heat furiously, chasing his own peak, pace becoming sloppier as his stomach tensed, muscles rippling up his chest and down his back, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” 

Aemond’s thrusts stuttered, “Where- Where-“

You blinked up at him, eyelids heavy, “Inside me. Please daddy.”

Aemond’s hips stuttered, “Fuck, gonna fill this pretty little pussy.” He thrust inside rapidly, prolonging your pleasure as breathless mewls were ripped out of you. 

Aemond bent over you, brows furrowing as his lips parted, panting as he reached his peak, a ragged moan falling from his lips as he pushed to his limit inside of you, warmth filling you as his thick ropes of his seed coated your walls. 

You breathed heavily beneath him, core clenching around his length in aftershocks as you felt him fill you up. Tingles spread through you as you both came down from your highs, your body feeling like it was floating. 

You gazed up at him through your lashes. Aemond’s head was tilted down, plump reddened lips slightly parted with his seeing eye shut. His long white lashes fluttering against his cheek as he breathed. 

Your chest clenched as you looked at him. 

Fuck. 

He is so pretty.

The pink of his tongue came out to wet is lips as he looked back up at you, a small smile winding on his face, “You ok?”

You nodded sluggishly, feeling the hand at the back of your neck loosen its grip, smoothing the muscle in soft circles that made your eyes slip shut. Aemond continued for a moment longer before moving his hand to the side of your face, brushing the hair that had fallen across your cheeks and forehead away from your face soothingly. 

You hummed quietly and leant your face in his palm, calloused fingers cupping your cheek as he moved to press a soft kiss against your lips. You squirmed under his touch, heat blooming inside of you again as your walls clamped down on him. Aemond chuckled into your mouth, pulling away to press another kiss on your cheek. 

“You did good, baby. So good.” He praised you, and you felt heat flood your cheeks as you looked at him, warmth spreading across your chest and want coursing through you. You smiled up at him shyly, keening, pressing a kiss into his palm. 

Large hands skated down your arms as you felt the buzz of your release, Aemond cock still twitching inside of you as your mind felt hazy. Aemond kneaded your ass in his hands as he pulled you closer to him, his length pressing snugly against your cervix. 

In one swift movement he lifted you up into his arms, a small squeak breaking from your lips as he turned your around and carried you to your bedroom, cock still nestled inside of you. Each step caused his tip to press into you, pleasure simmering through you. You shifted and wriggled in his hold the entire time. 

Aemond hissed as he opened your bedroom door, dragging his hips back to pull out of you. You immediately felt empty and whined at the loss, feeling a trickle of warmth escape your core and into the crux of your thighs. Aemond hushed you as he bent down, lowering you to the bed. 

A feeling of anxiety prickled in your chest as he stood to his full height. 

He was going to leave again. 

And then he was going to be an asshole to you once more. 

How could you be so stupid, how could-

“I'll be right back.” Aemond reassured you, bending down to press a kiss atop your head, leaving your room. 

You heard the linen closet open and close, and then the soft hum of water in the bathroom running. You waited anxiously, shifting on the bed as you felt a trickle of his cum and the warmth of your own release begin to leak from you.

Aemond returned to your room in no time, face cloth in hand. He made his way over to you slowly, looking down at you on the bed. “Lay back.” He said quietly, air of dominance still around him though softer this time.

You obeyed, and laid down against the plush of the pillows on your bed, feeling exhaustion begin to wind its way up inside of you. Limbs feeling like lead and body buzzing with the warmth fo your peak.

Aemond pressed the warm wet cloth between your thighs, cleaning you of your combined releases that lay sticky and slick to your inner thighs. He was careful to not press too hard, wary of your sensitivity, and once he was done, he chucked the cloth into your laundry basket, tucking you beneath the sheets.

He stood to leave the room, but your hand reached out to grab his wrist. You caught him just barely, fingers gathering the grip to hold him to you. His skin was warm, and he looked down at you slowly, the softness of his face gone, and the cool mask you had grown to know slipping in place.

“Stay.” You whispered into the dark of the room.

Aemond shifted, your thumb rubbing against his inner wrist softly, soothingly, trying to tempt him to hold you.

“I can’t.” Came his quiet response, so very quiet in the already still room, the sounds of the city having faded away.

“Why?”

His head ducked down, pressing a kiss against your hair line, “Shh. Rest.”

“But-“

“-Rest. You need to sleep.”

You swallowed thickly, the pit in your gut sinking further, but the way he was looking at you was uncertain. Like a skittish animal ready to take flight, as though he was reserving something within, and it all showed in his violet eye.

“You’ve been good, so good. Now get some sleep, you have work in the morning.”

You didn’t have it within you to fight him, to battle it or argue, and so with a nod of your head, you slid further beneath the sheets, releasing the grip on his hand. You watched as he turned to walk out of the room, hand from the wrist you had grabbed flexing outwardly before he shut the door quietly behind him.

-

When you woke that morning you had expected to see him, having woken up earlier than usual in the hopes of catching him before he moved to his instinctual and habitual run. But Aemond had woken far earlier that morning, and you had to tell yourself to not let your heart skip the way it did when you noticed his absence.

As you dressed and readied for work, and moved to the kitchen as you always did, there it was. 

Your steaming mug of tea. 

Ready to be drunk by you, and made by the man you still did not quite understand perfectly. 

It was as if every time he even let a brick of his walls down, he would put them back up, and install reinforcements. As though he struggled to let anyone in, or feared to. You had chalked it up to his upbringing with the strange dynamic that was the Hightower/Targaryen family, or perhaps there was more to what had happened with him and Alys.

The day went slowly as you had expected it to do, and by the time you had gotten home, Aemond was there, loose shirt and baggy pants, bent over the stove as he cooked dinner. His music, as usual, played loudly in the kitchen, what had surprised you however was the familiar tune of Lana Del Rey’s - Shades Of Cool playing through your speaker. 

Huh. 

You didn’t take him as a Lana fan.

You greeted him from behind cautiously, careful to not startle the man from running away from you again. He had turned slowly, as though he had anticipated your arrival, no doubt by the time you finished work and got home as per usual, creature of weekly habit you were, and had given you a small but kind smile.

You sidled up beside him as he cooked, and told him about your day, and he had told you bare footnotes about his. Aemond had apparently discovered a new bookstore that day, and you had made him promise to take you soon.

It was odd. 

The air around you was charged but neither of you acted upon it, or pointed out, the both of you all too eager to let it extend for the time that it was there. Aemond did not push you away, and you did not push him to anger.

You ate dinner together, watching television, the tension ripe with the elephant in the room, but neither one of you broached on the topic of what had happened the night before, or how the dynamic between the two of you had clearly shifted.

When dinner was over, you had helped him to pack the dishwasher and insisted on him sitting on the couch and to wait for you. You dug into the back of the freezer where your favourite ice cream tub sat, and pulled two large spoons from the drawer. 

“Here.” You handed him a spoon, sitting beside him on the couch, closer than usual, hips and thighs connected and a smile on your face. 

Aemond took the spoon and looked at the tub, watching as you took the lid off and chucked it on the coffee table in front of you, curling your legs up beneath you and offering him the first scoop. He scooped a generous spoon and dipped it into his mouth, humming as his tongue curled to lick the remainder of the icecream off of the spoon. You licked your lips subtly, shifting in your seat. 

Gods damn him. 

“It's good.” He mused, dipping another spoon in, “Probably one of my favourites.”

“Really?” Your heart raced in your chest, “Mine too. I have to hide it in the back of the fridge when Helaena gets high. She will demolish the whole tub in seconds if you blink.” You giggled at the memory of smoking with your best friend, going to shower, and coming back to her on the couch with an empty tub of ice cream.

“Sounds like Hel.” Aemond chuckled.

You leant against him for the remainder of the night, watching tv, tub of ice cream finished between the two of you, sticky spoons stuck against the coffee tables surface, forgotten. At one point his arm had lifted and tucked over your shoulder, pulling you further into his side.

Your heart raced at first, stomach doing flips, but soon you settled into it, head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, his scent curling around you warmly. It was nice to not be bickering, to see him let one of his many walls down for however long it would last. 

But as usual, nothing lasts forever. 

Because as you were tucked to his side, the softness of his fingers skating over your skin, you could not help but think of what this meant. 

What this was. 

What it would be.

With Cregan it was cut dry, there was no lingering feelings there anymore on either side, and it felt normal, comfortable, but your heart didn’t race if he held your hand, or kissed the side of your face, and it certainly didn’t race when he would cuddle up to watch a movie with you and Hel. 

With Cregan it was simple. But Aemond? That was something else. Your heart did race when he touched you, and right now, you prayed to the Gods that he couldn’t hear it beating like a drum in your chest.

But it wasn’t just the small touches, it was his proximity too. When he would reach over your head in the kitchen to grab something from the cupboard. When he would sit just that smidge closer to you on the couch. How he had been so near to you in the kitchen as you fought.

Because no matter what he did, whether he was being quiet, or brooding, or snarky, or his rarer and more fleeting moments of kindness, your heart would race. Your cheeks would heat and this warmth in your gut would settle heavily. And it was then that you knew you were fucked.

You didn’t know what to do, his hand on your arm, stroking up and down softly making your mind run a million miles an hour. 

Did you ask what this was?

What you were?

Surely he felt what you felt. It was different. It was more. There was more to this than something casual, more to this than some convenient fuck of your best friends brother. Because there was danger to this, a risk that you had both taken. There was things that you could both loose from this. Losses that mounted higher with each moment you sat together in silence.

You had only fucked once, almost twice if you counted the first time in the kitchen. So why did it already feel like something more?

Sitting in your questions, you felt Aemond shift, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your heart leapt into your throat. 

“It’s getting late. I’m going to go to bed.” He told you, removing his arm from you as he stood up. You watched him give you a controlled and small smile, clipped at the corners of his mouth, before he moved to walk away, disappearing down the hall and into his room with a click of his door. 

But it was the way that he smiled at you that settled an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. It felt like he was separating himself from you again. And so you went after him, jumping up from your seat to follow him down the hall, opening his door to see him already sitting on the edge of his bed head in his hands.

His face lifted, looking straight at you as you stood in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other. His head cocked to the side, brows slightly furrowing as you looked at him, gnawing at your lip as you fought for the words to say.

“Last night-“ You began, twisting your hands together at your front.

“-Was a mistake, I know.”

You blinked, swallowing dryly. 

What?

“A mistake?” You furrowed your brows.

Aemond’s mask slid back into place, cold gaze looking up are you as he spoke, “We shouldn’t have done that. You’re Helaena’s best friend. It was wrong of me.”

It felt as though he had slid a dagger between your ribs, “Why?”

“Because it’s not going to work out the way you think.”

He was pushing you away again.

“And what way do I think it will work out?” 

“That this will be more than what it was.”

You blanched, “What?” Irritation began to spoil in your gut. 

Why did he always do this? Why did he always get these reactions from you? 

“I can’t give you what you want.”

“Do you think I expect flowers and declarations of love after that?” The words felt bitter on your tongue, heart aching in your chest, battling the tears in your eyes, “I was under no illusion that it would be more.”

Aemond’s brows raised in a mocking way, lips pulled down into a frown, “Are you sure?”

Anger soared through you, “Fuck you, you arrogant prick.”

“See,” A long hand lazily flicked up at you, “You’re already hurt. I didn’t want this.”

Didn’t want this.

You sniffed, “It’s because you’re being a complete fucking asshole.”

The silver haired man pushed an irritated tongue into his cheek as he shifted on the bed, turning his entire body towards you and sneered, “And what do you want me to do? You knew who I was when you fucked me. Did you think you could get my cock wet and I would change? Be a better man? Be the man who Cregan can’t be for you?”

Your mouth gaped, shock spreading across your chest, “Don’t bring him into this. He has nothing to do with this.”

Aemond scoffed loudly, rolling his eye up to the ceiling, “You don’t think that your boy toy loves you? Have you seen the way he looks at you? You’re dragging him along for a ride whilst you fuck me on the side.”

“What me and Cregan do is none of your fucking business. And you’re the one to talk, what about Alys? Are you not dragging me along on the side?”

“Don’t.”

The air in the room went icy.

But the heat and anger inside pushed you forward, “So, what? You can bring up Cregan but I can’t bring up her? Tit for tat, Aemond.” You spat.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Anger exploded within, “And neither do you! You have been so incredibly rude to Cregan, who has given you nothing but the benefit of the doubt and kindness that you certainly don’t deserve. You know he even told me to be nicer to you. You?!” You watched as Aemond frowned, “You are the most judgemental man I have ever fucking met. You sulk in your room all day or on runs, take cheap shots at everyone around you when they even try to be nice to you, and make it almost impossible for anyone to like you.”

The sneer fell from Aemond’s lips, “I don’t need anyone to like me.”

You sighed, “That's your problem, Aemond! You’re isolating yourself for no other reason than that you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

You took a step towards him, watching as he looked you over warily, “Yes you are. You’re afraid to let anyone get close to you. What happened to you as a kid-“

“-What do you know about what happened to me?” The sneer was back.

Fuck.

“Nothing! That’s the point. You don’t let anyone in, but I’m trying to be your friend.”

“I don’t need friends.”

A pang of sadness spread across your chest, “Everyone needs friends.” You shook your head sadly, “Aemond, I���m not doing this with you again. I can’t keep doing this when all you do is push me away. It’s like fighting with a brick wall and it’s hurting me more than its being productive. I’m trying to be nice to you, I want to be your friend, Aemond. But if you don’t want to accept that people can be nice to you, that I can be nice to you, then that’s something you need to work through alone.”

Aemond’s back straightened on the bed, as though he was about to stand, but shook his head instead, pushing his hands into the mattress as though to keep him there, “You don’t really like me. You just want to fuck me to make Cregan jealous.”

You frowned, “Is that all you think this is?”

Silence.

Your chest clenched sadly.

You sighed, “Goodnight, Aemond. I really hope that you think about this before you go to sleep, because I can’t keep doing this with you.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Taglist:

@mrstargayen09 @iamavailablesstuff @malfoytargaryen @hogwarts1207 @diannnnsss @seni039 @qyburnsghost @anehkael @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @watercolorskyy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @toodlesxcuddles @kaelatargaryen @aemonds-fire @anitazut @melsunshine @persephonerinyes @hey-lucille @wintrr13@arcielee @hueanhdang @coffedraven @happinessinthebeing @zairishmya @hanula18 @lovejustlovelythings-blog @harryssunflxwer @spinachtz @bellaisasleep @aemshaircare @heavenly1927 @yentroucnagol @snh96 @thedamewithabook @hanula18 @sweethoneyblossom1 @siriusblackrunmeover17 @yentroucnagol @urmomsgirlfriend1 @carriellie @ipostwhtifeel@queenofshinigamis @toodlesxcuddles @the-common-cowgirl@ladymarg0t @deadgirlwalkingtaylorsversion @diiickbrainn @inkwingswrites @rawrxbexjealous @virtualsweetsqueen @adeliciouslysaltybitch @tsujifreya @boofy1998 @docmartinis @rabbit-reveries @bel-bottoms @padfooteyes

Bold is who I cannot tag

#aemond x reader #modern!aemond #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond #roommate!Au #roommates #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd modern au #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #Modern!Aemond x reader #new miniseries #asumofwords #aemond targaryen x y/n #the sublet a sum of words #the sublet #fanfic #hotdfanfic #aemondfanfic #aemond smut

[911bts]

#911 spoilers #911 abc #s7 #oliver stark

[irradiatedsnakes]

the Big TMA Furry List

this list with commentary/choice rationale below the cut :] i wrote a lot of thoughts down do please check it out.

jon: common raven

martin: tan jumping spider

sasha: southern flannel moth

not!sasha: red postman

tim: jackson's chameleon

melanie: eastern copperhead

georgie: triceratops horridus

basira: domestic cat (calico shorthair)

daisy: domestic dog (german shepherd)

elias: barn owl. jonah: eurasian eagle owl.

gerry: domestic dog (black doberman)

annabelle: white-booted racket-tail

jane: cabbage white

michael: spiny softshell turtle

helen: common hermit crab

oliver: black vulture

peter: risso's dolphin

mike: caelestiventus hanseni

jude: black kite

agnes: ???

nikola: stealing major's carousel horse

jared: american dog tick

breekon&hope: Hog and/or Bear. you get no more information

dekker: mouflon

gertrude: great tit

leitner: domestic cat (persian)

manuela: gray long-eared bat

rayner: olm

salesa: sea otter

simon: dodo

elaboration below !

jon: common raven

this was a choice i made before i even finished listening to the podcast back in 2020. jon's 1000% a bird to me, and the curious nature of corvids works well here. plus, i think a bird so universally ominous as a raven works perfectly as a horror protag :P i used to draw raven!jon with a couple troodon traits, mostly just cus it was fun, but i wanted to make my designs more grounded for this iteration. made them plantigrade, didn't get silly with body styles like i have with mp100 designs.

martin: tan jumping spider

if you've been here for a while you'll know that my furry martin has gone through about two million iterations. he started off as a european pine marten, to bold jumping spider, to chinese pangolin, to nine-banded armadillo, finally to nurse shark.

out of all of these the spider and the shark are my favorites. i wanted to go back to the jumping spider though- the design is really fun and i wasn't able to get the expressions right, but i'm more confident in my skills now and i'm having fun with the design. i may revisit nurse shark at some point. i switched from bold to tan jumper- i originally chose bold just cus they're my favorite jumper, but their stark black/white and iridescent aqua coloration just doens't work for martin. so, the tan jumper!

sasha: southern flannel moth

another old choice. species chosen because of a friend's fic, pharos by right (another i'm planning to reread now that i'm dipping my toes back into tma..)! southern flannel moths are poofy and orange, and their caterpillars are those super painful teddybear ones. i really like the design.

not!sasha: red postman

wanted to have her be another lepidopteran, and with all the many examples of mimicry among the group i thought red postman was a fun choice. doesn't look anything like a southern flannel moth, but that's sort of the point.

tim: jackson's chameleon

yet another choice from the oldtimes- most of the main characters are, i've mostly switched around the more secondary chars. first suggested, i believe, by @/ofdreamsanddoodles. i think there's something very fun about chameleons being basically a living mood ring & tim's Descent s1-3 showing physcially not just through the worm scars but through like, constant stress coloration during s3.

melanie: eastern copperhead

one of my favorite choices. i have a young copperhead specimen named after her. this one is quite vibes-based, but i do really like the copperhead as a viper that is not deadly. and i'm always a sucker for the "animal perceived as scary and violent that in actuality only strikes when under extreme stress" thing in furry assignments.

georgie: triceratops horridus

another favorite choice. visually, i really like how this works out, and trikes as a social and protective animal works well. she's literally got a shield on her face. horridus was chosen because i like the shape of the head and horns better than prorsus.

basira: domestic cat (calico shorthair)

got a little cat/dog thing going on for dasira. i like the inversion of the usual cat/dog dynamic with their unhealthy devotion instead, and visually it just works very well for them both.

daisy: domestic dog (german shepherd)

yeah i know this one's an exceedingly obvious choice.

elias: barn owl. jonah: eurasian eagle owl.

it's the institute logo! it's him! barn owl for elias specifically because of its very sleek look, designing him went fantastically. also, i can make the eagle owl's face disk work as a mimicry of ben meredith's muttonchops, which i think is a fun design bit to give to magnus.

gerry: domestic dog (black doberman)

certified gerryguy @/gerrydelano's choice. to quote a discord message from 3 years ago (sorry ron): "i feel like.........my INSTINCT is some kind of canine because like. the whole symbolism thing about being either an obedient or rabid dog. something something muzzled all your life. being a dangerous figure if people only see the silhouette but you just want scritches and nobody'll get close enough to you." black dog symbolism + breed which has ears cropped and tail docked, unecessarily molded for a Purpose which the dog has no say in

annabelle: white-booted racket-tail

sort of my original choice- she used to be part white-booted racket-tail, part anna's hummingbird. kept with the racket-tail cus it's fun and very cute. i've had a couple people express surprise that she wasn't a spider, but i think that's way too obvious. hummingbirds, though- they steal the webs of spiders to use as material to make their nests, but can sometimes become trapped in the webs and eaten by the spiders themselves. which is probably the metaphor-via-fursona-assignment i'm most proud of in this whole list

jane: cabbage white

the cabbage white is a butterfly whose caterpillars are routinely parasitized by the parasitoid wasp the white butterfly parasite. in case you're not familiar, parasitoid wasps lay their eggs on (usually) caterpillars, which hatch on the still-living caterpillar, devouring it from the inside before eventually emerging from the consumed husk of the host. also, i really liked the image of parasitoid wasp larvae emerging from an adult butterfly, rather than a caterpillar.

michael: spiny softshell turtle

for michael and helen, i wanted to choose animals which were, in some way, their own home. turtle is an obvious choice- and spiny softshells are a favorite of mine, and sufficiently strange-looking.

helen: common hermit crab

see previous entry. also please google "hermit crab without shell"

oliver: black vulture

bit of an obvious choice, but i adore vultures so i had to. black vulture chosen because i think the monochrome color scheme + straighter face work better than a turkey vulture for him

peter: risso's dolphin

i really like the idea of a cetacean for peter and the lukases as a whole, a famously social animal for the seemingly contradictory nature of this lonely-but-huge family, plus with so many cetaceans being endangered getting that lonely angle (risso's specifically are not, though, as peter is lonely through his own choice, not by circumstance).

mike: caelestiventus hanseni

it's a dimorphodont. he feels like a pterosaur to me, and i like the idea of a vast avatar as a usually short-flying arboreal species, for the unnaturality/contrast of it.

jude: black kite

black kites are one of the species of kites known to intentionally spread fires by picking up burning sticks to flush out prey.

agnes: ???

the only one i'm still undecided on. will update.

nikola: stealing major's carousel horse

i can't top that

jared: american dog tick

great choice from @/magnusarchivememes. Takes Your Blood And Gets So Big

breekon&hope: Hog and/or Bear. you get no more information

vaguely russian animals that are large and imposing but remain somewhat generic. which is the hog and which is the bear is not consistent.

dekker: mouflon

dekker has very much mammal vibes to me. the mouflon is a neat species of wild sheep. i think the noble, imposing but kind image of the ram works well for dekker as that sort of true-good hero figure, and mouflons in particular are very nice looking with good shapes. the statement giver in distant cousin describes dekker as "though he was slightly shorter than I was, it seemed like he towered over me." which i think this sheep works well with.

gertrude: great tit

i wanted all the main eye avatars as birds, just like how i give them all glasses. just a fun little treat for me. great tit was chosen for gertrude as a kind of classic british bird, and as tits in general are VERY fiesty despite their round and adorable appearance. i really like this image of a great tit posing with a dead mouse like it's a hunter with a trophy deer. the cheek markings also work really well to bring to mind the image of old person jowls.

leitner: domestic cat (persian)

vibes. also i like the idea of him as a spoiled domestic animal. if i remember correctly, this was also @/ofdreamsanddoodles' suggestion

manuela: gray long-eared bat

she's a bat. what's to say. WELL actually okay there's the perception of bats as blind but actually having quite good vision which i think meshes in a fun way with the dark, and the way manuela does her sciency stuff.

rayner: olm

i mean, yeah

salesa: sea otter

largely design-oriented, suitably scruffy. ocean animal with strong social bonds, it was a slam dunk soon as i thought of it.

simon: dodo

how couldn't i, come on.

#tma #furry tma #save

[sunspearesque]

Forbidden Fervor

Summary: Douse the fervor raging within, bestow upon me the forbidden release, frigid and honed, dripping with crimson... Let it carve through my dread as relentlessly as time erodes the vigor from an aged soul.

A/N: yo, idk what happened here.. i saw the inspo and we dove headfirst. i’m so very sure old man nasty spirit possessed me or something cause idk how i wrote this.. but yeah enjoy the filth i guess? lmfao.. also, i did use some of the famous lines from the show/books—specifically the scene where he stabby stab the pink little man at the brothel just because :3 the rest tho are the whispers of my little brain hehehoho

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Rating: E (18+ only)

Content: established relationship (marriage); canonical racism (against dornish people); threat of assault (nothing happens); we hate Lannisters in this house; protective!Oberyn; depiction of injury/attack; use of weapons (dagger); Wet and Wanting™️; primal urges, kinda sorta; a hint of possessive!Oberyn; inappropriate use of weapons; dagger riding (don’t look at me); unprotected p in v; creampie (the man has a breeding kink what can i say?); quoting mr. darcy

WC: 1.9K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

A grand retinue accompanied Prince Oberyn Martell and his wife Nala on their journey north to attend the wedding of Lord Stark's eldest son. The journey was replete with delightful surprises and, regrettably, some less pleasant ones. One of their travel days found them lodged in an inn nestled amidst the forested lands of the North. The weather was cold and crisp, the air dry and biting, causing Oberyn to grumble about the layers of clothing encasing his form. Nala found his discomfort amusing—this man is averse to decency.

As they were enjoying their meal in the inn, a trio of golden-haired men strode in, their disdainful expressions evident as they cast disparaging glances at the other patrons. Murmuring curses under their breath, they took a seat at a nearby table, much to the discomfort of those around them. Nala sensed the tension in the air, recognizing the unmistakable look of Lannisters. She knew all too well her husband's scorn for them. Desperate to diffuse the situation, she attempted to divert his attention away from them, whispering softly, “My love, look at me,” noticing his gaze fixed upon them with obvious contempt.

The Lannister men, oblivious to her attempt to diffuse the tension, noticed her caress on his thigh and exchanged mocking remarks amongst themselves. “Why does such beauty consort with that Dornish bastard?” one of them jeered, his laughter echoing loudly in the room. “This whore should try to get with a real cock... a Lannister one,” another added, patting his bulge and leering at her. “Just give him a shaved goat and an olive oil bottle and be done with it,” the third chimed in before all three joined in uproarious laughter.

Nala could feel the blood charring beneath her skin, her heart pounding in her ribcage as she dreaded her husband's reaction to the insults. She observed the vein running through his neck pulsating beneath his golden skin, indicating the rage boiling within him. Despite his efforts to conceal it, a smirk tinged with bitterness adorned his face, masking the fury that simmered beneath the surface.

With graceful poise, he rose from his seat, his hand drifting toward the dagger secured at his hip—a weapon fashioned in the likeness of two intertwined vipers; its smooth, golden surface gleaming in the dim light of the inn. Slowly and deliberately, he approached their table, his gaze locking onto the perpetrator who had called his wife a whore.

Oberyn's tongue clicked disapprovingly as he addressed the men, his tone dripping with mockery. “Do you know why the world despises a Lannister?” he quipped, his words laden with scorn. “You believe your wealth, your lions, and your gilded pride make you superior to all.” The Lannister men exchanged smug glances, sharing a condescending chuckle amongst themselves. One of the trio stealthily reached for his sword, attempting to draw it from its sheath without detection. Yet, unbeknownst to them, he noticed—he always does.

“May I tell you a secret?” Oberyn continued, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “You're not a golden lion. You're just a pink little man who is far too slow on the draw.” With a swift motion, he unsheathed his dagger and plunged it into the hand of the man who had insulted his wife, the same hand he had earlier used to pat his cock. Piercing between the carpals of that hand, it now lay on the table. The man let out a guttural wail, paralyzed in his place as the dagger twisted amidst flesh, bone, and veins.

“When I pull my blade, your friend starts bleeding,” Oberyn stated calmly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Quite a lot, I'm afraid. So many veins in the wrist.” He observed the man writhing in pain before turning his gaze back to the other Lannister. “He'll live if you get him help straight away,” he added mockingly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Decisions,” Oberyn remarked, his head tilting slightly as his gaze shifted to the bleeding man again. “And when you speak of a dornish princess—my wife—you will address her as ‘your highness,’” he continued, his tone carrying a dangerous edge. “Lest you wish for me to sever your tongue at its root.”

He withdrew his dagger from the man’s hand, the Dornish soldiers surrounding him, swords and spears at the ready. One of them addressed him, “What shall we do with them, Your Highness?”

“Nothing,” Oberyn replied calmly, wiping the blood from his dagger with the end of his shawl. "I reckon they've learned a lesson or two about manners from the Dornish, and I expect they'll find their own way out.” With a dismissive wave, he turned to walk toward Nala, who stood frozen with fear, wide-eyed, and breathing shakily.

“Apologies, my love,” he said tenderly, encircling his arms around her waist and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Nestling her gently in his embrace, as though she were the most delicate of blossoms.

Ever the viper; deadly, dangerous, unpredictable... and mine.

A familiar primal heat stirred within her, much to her chagrin as she cursed herself for succumbing to it.

Gods be good, this shouldn’t ignite a fire within me and make me crave him and the dagger he wielded in my defense.

She kissed him with fervor, her hands caressing his face, yearning to melt into him and merge with him completely. As they parted, both breathless, he chuckled softly. "I see you enjoyed that, princess?" he whispered, prompting a blush to bloom across her cheeks—was I too obvious?

He pulled out the chair for her to resume her place at the table, a gallant gesture amidst the chaos caused by the departing Lannisters, who left mutilated and humiliated.

Throughout the meal, Nala’s gaze remained fixed on Oberyn, her desire for him evident in her unwavering stare. Yet, her eyes also flickered occasionally to the dagger sheathed at his side, her longing palpable. Catching her subtle glances, Oberyn couldn't help but tease her with a smirk. “My love, you are eyeing that dagger as if it were your lover,” he quipped, his tone playful and suggestive.

She regarded him incredulously, her expression stern, before a laugh escaped her lips, unable to resist his irreverence. “What? People engage in all forms of pleasure,” he remarked casually, a hint of mischief in his tone. “I’d be curious to witness you attempting one of these forms, my love,” he added, raising an eyebrow, his smirk unyielding—the infamous smirk that both infuriated and delighted her.

“How in the Seven Hells would I engage in such forms, Oberyn?" she retorted, her tone a blend of amusement and exasperation, unsure whether to marvel at his wit or roll her eyes at his audacity.

He chuckled, unfazed, and resumed his meal, prompting her to shake her head in bemusement before following suit, both indulging in their food as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

—

As they retired to their chambers, the earlier unpleasant encounter and their playful banter lingered in her mind, unable to shake off the eagerness she felt for him.

Not surprisingly, he seemed equally consumed by their earlier conversation. Upon entering their room and securing the door behind them, he immediately closed the distance between them, kissing her hungrily. His hands roamed over her body, gripping her ass firmly, igniting a fire within her and causing desire to pool between her thighs.

Breaking away from their passionate embrace, he strode to the bed and plunged his dagger into the mattress, securing it firmly in place. Only the gleaming, serpent-shaped handle remained visible.

"What... what are you doing?" Nala inquired, perplexed by his actions.

“I long to see you mount it," he declared simply, taking a seat on the wooden chair facing the bed.

"Mount it how?" she questioned, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"Like you mount my cock every night," he replied with a crooked smile.

She stood in stunned silence, her thoughts swirling with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. The unexpected request from her husband both startled her and ignited a flicker of excitement deep within her. It was not uncommon for him to embrace unconventional pleasures, to seek out new experiences in their intimate moments together.

She offered a gentle smile before beginning to shed her dress, letting the fabric cascade down her form like water, revealing the delicate curve of her clavicle, the supple swell of her breasts and their hardened peaks, her glistening cunt between her thighs, before finally pooling at her feet.

His gaze lingered upon her with a hunger that seemed to devour her, as if he yearned to possess this beauty solely for himself, to adore… to pleasure and treasure... wholly and entirely his.

She moved with grace toward the bed, settling and facing him, her eyes fixed on the dagger embedded in the mattress before her. It was the very same dagger he wielded to protect her, a silent warning to any who dared to show her disrespect.

She lifted herself slightly before sinking into it, feeling the cold metal filling her searing flesh. Her eyes closed, lips parting as she relished the peculiar sensation, the ridges of the handle gliding against her inner walls, deliciously. It was unfamiliar yet pleasing, strangely fitting. She quickened her pace, with each rise and fall, soft moans escaping her lips and filling the room. Her breasts bounced with each movement, a testament to the pleasure coursing through her.

Oberyn watched her with an insatiable hunger, enchanted by her allure. She accepted his offerings eagerly, with devotion, her yearning unwavering as she sought to be filled with everything that was his. Whether his fingers, his cock, or even his dagger, she embraced it all, an extension of him in every way.

He felt the bulge in his breeches grow bigger, his cock throbbing painfully with desire, yearning to pierce that sweet cunt of hers, to fill her with his seed over and over again til it takes. He longed to hear her soft moans as he pushed her to the brink of bliss, feeling her warm, wet, and wanting in his embrace.

He freed his hardened cock, his hand beginning to caress it with slow, deliberate strokes, as she mounted his dagger with unyielding ardor, deriving her pleasure from it. Her gaze met his, lethal and luring, eyes that could have felled him had she not been his.

Her movements became erratic, her moans blending into strained whimpers. She slipped her hand down frantically to circle her soaked clit, driving her closer to her release. Collapsing onto the mattress, she murmured his name, her thighs trembling with pleasure.

Rising from his seat, he approached her, cradled her languid form, and moved her to the center of the bed, laying her on her back. He spread her thighs apart, watching her clenching sex seep her release, delicately. He nudged the head of his cock to her entrance. Her cunt sucked him in effortlessly, eliciting a soft whine from her lips as he filled her. He laid atop her, his weight offering a comforting warmth she had always longed for, drawing her closer to him before thrusting into her fervently.

Mine, my love, mine… all fucking mine, the Others take them all.

He nipped at the tender flesh of her breasts and shoulder, his warmth flooding her as he spilled his cum deep within her, his breath ragged.

After their heaving chests stilled, she gently raised her hand to brush the damp curls from his forehead, meeting his gaze. “I love you most ardently, my fierce viper,” she whispered.

#asoiaf #oberyn martell #oberyn martell fanfiction #pedrostories #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #oberyn nymeros martell #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell smut #house martell #dorne #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #aura’s fics

[mlmshipbracket]

Fourth MLM Ship Bracket Propaganda Submissions

Below you will find all of the submitted and approved ships for the Fourth MLM Ship Bracket Tournament along with the form to submit further propaganda at the bottom

This is another opportunity to submit propaganda for your favorite ships. Wether you were unable to submit propaganda for them in the initial form or you spot your favorite ship who has no propaganda submitted. Ships with a strikethrough have propaganda submitted, I will continue to update this post as propaganda is submitted. I will accept further propaganda for ships with already submitted propaganda but please prioritize those with out.

The goal is to have propaganda for all ships but I understand that may not be possible. Therefore I will be leaving the form open for a few weeks to see if we receive propaganda for at least half the ships.

Note: Please reach out to me if you spot any mistakes in character or fandom names, even if it is only formatting or spelling issues.

Monkey D. Luffy/Roronoa Zoro (One Piece)

Kyojuro Rengoku/Akaza (Demon Slayer)

Mikhail”Misha” [Heavy]/Dr. Ludwig [Medic] (Team Fortress 2)

Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas (Homestuck)

Chu Shuzhi/Guo Changcheng (Guardian, 2018)

Oliver Marks/James Farrow (If We Were Villains)

David Starsky/Kenneth "Hutch" Hutchinson (Starsky & Hutch)

Tinn/Gun (My School President)

Loki Odinson/Mobius M. Mobius (Loki)

Jaime Reyes/Bart Allen (DC Comics)

Levi Schmitt/Nico Kim (Grey's Anatomy)

Ren Amamiya or Akira Kurusu/Goro Akechi (Persona 5)

Wallace Price/ Hugo Freeman (Under the Whispering Door)

Daffy Duck/Bugs Bunny (Looney Toons)

Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan (Guardian, 2018)

Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim (SKAM)

Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton (Montague Siblings)

Nico di Angelo/Will Solace (Camp Half-Blood Chronicles)

Argos/Mr. Plant (The World of Mr. Plant)

Richard St Vier/Alec Campion (Swordspoint Universe)

Klaus Hargreeves/Dave Katz (The Umbrella Academy)

Woody/Buzz Lightyear (Toy Story)

Victor Lawson/Hap (In the Lives of Puppets

Charlie/Babe (Pit Babe The Series)

Fred/Shaggy (Scooby-Doo)

Simon Snow/Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Grimm-Pitch (Carry On)

Gaius Octavius/Jedediah Smith (Night at the Museum)

Sound/Win (My School President)

Pat/Pran (Bad Buddy)

Mike Wazowski/James "Sulley" P. Sullivan (Monsters, Inc.)

Nicholas “Nick” Bell/ Seth Gray (The Extraordinaries)

Evan 'Buck' Buckley/Edmundo 'Eddie' Diaz (9-1-1)

Sean/White (Not Me: The Series)

Vegas Theerapanyakun/Pete Saengtham (Kinnporsche: The Series)

Runaan/Ethari (The Dragon Prince)

Larry Daley/Ahkmenrah (Night at the Museum)

Tintin/Captain Archibald Haddock (Tintin comics)

Bai Lang/Jin Xun An (My Tooth Your Love)

Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin (The Man from U.N.C.L.E)

Wario/Waluigi (Mario franchise)

Peter Parker/Miguel O'Hará (Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse)

Steve Rogers/Anthony "Tony" Stark (Marvel Comics)

Dave Miller/Jack "Old sport" Kennedy (Dayshift at Freddy's)

Boston/Nick (Only Friends)

Kinn Theerapanyakun/Porsche Kittisawasd (Kinnporsche: The Series)

Satoru Gojo/Suguru Geto (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Craig Cuttlefish/Octavio Takowasa (Splatoon)

Tulio/Miguel (The Road to El Dorado)

Sun Wukong/Neptune Vasilias (RWBY)

Zachary Ezra Rawlins/Dorian (The Starless Sea)

Fox Mulder/Alex Krycek (The X-Files)

Thomas/Newt (The Maze Runner)

Fulgrim/Ferrus Manus (Warhammer 40k)

Kim Theerapanyakun/Porchay Kittisawasd (Kinnporsche: The Series)

Alec Lightwood/Magnus Bane (The Mortal Instruments)

Tan/Bun (Manner of Death)

Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi (RWBY)

Rhy Maresh/Alucard Emery (Shades of Magic)

Yashiro Isana/Kuroh Yatogami (K Project)

Jaskier/Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

Dustfinger/Mortimer "Mo" Folchart (Inkworld series)

Brandon/Sky (Winx Club)

Phineas Taylor “P. T.” Barnum/Phillip Carlyle (The Greatest Showman)

Alfred Hillinghead/Henry Ashe (Bodies TV Show)

Baal/Inanna (The Wicked + the Divine)

Timothy "Tim" Drake/Bernard Dowd (DC Comics)

Vash the Stampede/Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun Stampede)

Anthony Lockwood/Quill Kipps (Lockwood and Co)

Henry Winter/Francis Abernathy (The Secret History)

Crowley/Aziraphale (Good Omens)

Dainix/Falst (Aurora Comic)

Prince Rupert/Prince Amir (The Two Princes)

Finn/Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

Jean Luc Picard/Q (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

Will Stronghold/Warren Peace (Sky High)

Heart/Li Ming (Moonlight Chicken)

Wallace Wells/Todd Ingram (Scott Pilgrim Takes Off)

Sunai/Veyadi Lut (The Archive Undying)

Linus Baker/Arthur Parnassus (The House in the Cerulean Sea)

Aaron Slaughter/Jace Boucher (House of Slaughter)

Hercule Poirot/Captain Arthur Hastings (Hercule Poirot)

Phaya/Tharn (The Sign)

Hercules/Iolaus (Hercules: The Legendary Journeys)

Todd/Black (Not Me: The Series)

Julio "Rictor" Esteban Richter/Shatterstar (Marvel Comics)

Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu (Word of Honor)

Siffrin/Isabeau (In Stars and time)

Kendall Knight/Logan Mitchell (Big Time Rush TV Show)

Yuichiro Hiyakuya/Mikaela Hyakuya (Owari no Seraph/Seraph of the End)

Palm/Nuengdiao (Never Let Me Go)

Khatha/Dome (Midnight Museum)

Asterix/Obelix (Asterix Comics)

Bowser/Luigi (Mario Franchise)

Lucien "Luc" O'Donnell/Oliver Blackwood (London Calling)

Kazuki Kurusu/Rei Suwa (Buddy Daddies)

Benjamin “Ben” Tennyson/Kevin Ethan Levin (Ben 10: Alien Force)

Lumière/Cogsworth (Beauty and the Beast)

Damian Wayne/Jon Kent (DC Comics)

Spy/Dell Conagher [Engineer] (Team Fortress 2)

Shanks/Buggy (One Piece)

Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Ecks (Six of Crows)

Harold Finch/John Reese (Person of Interest)

Ulrich Stern/Odd Della Robbia (Code Lyoko)

Vincent Freeman/Jerome Morrow (Gattaca)

Eustass Kid/Killer (One Piece)

Christopher Hitchcock/Jalil Sherman (Everworld)

Frodo Baggins/Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings)

Edgin Darvis/Xenk Yendar (Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves)

#tumblr poll #tumblr bracket #mlm ship #mlm ship poll #mlm ship bracket #mlm ship bracket tournament #mlm ship bracket 2024 #mlm ship bracket tournament 2024 #fourth mlm ship tournament #propaganda #ship propaganda

[buddieisgoingcanon2024]

New Oliver interview

He talks about Buck co-parenting with Eddie.

#oliver stark #buddie

[sebbyomg]

oliver stark's poses at the photocalls (p.1) (p.3)

“just standing there”

#oliver stark #911 cast #oliverstarkedit #911castedit #*mygifs

[meep-meep-richie]

Oliver Stark

#that turtleneck #simply hot #yes please #oliver stark #911 cast #911 #9-1-1 #911 buck #actor post #p: oliver stark #actor photoshoot #actor #buck #british actors #evan buckley #ostark #tv actor #film actor

[queerxqueen]

QueerxQueen Intro & Navigation

N E W     P I N N E D     P O S T !

Jamie | she/they | 20s autistic queer writer, gifmaker, and nerd

[My Ao3] [Nonfandom Blog] [My Gifs] [Top Posts]

My askbox is always open for questions, thoughts, prompts for analysis or gifs or fics, though I won't promise to answer everything as every once in a while a bunch come in at once and I get overwhelmed!

My Fics

Fool Me Once - Stranger Things. Will Byers/Mike Wheeler. Teen. 33k words. No Upside Down AU where Will and Mike grew apart, and grow back together.

Of Starks and Osborns - Spiderman. Harry Osborn/Peter Parker. Explicit. 47k words. No superpowers AU where Peter is supposed to be Harry's rival but has always been something else.

the moth and the flame - Saltburn. Felix Catton/Oliver Quick. Explicit. 17k words. Felix survives, and sees the real Ollie. It doesn't scare him as much as it should.

Kill Your Darlings - Stranger Things. Will Byers/Mike Wheeler. Teen. WIP. Slasher horror AU where the party go for a weekend of fun in the mountains and find themselves hunted.

Stranger Things & Byler

Byler Analysis [Mine] [All] The Byler Big Bang (fic & art challenge) Scriptgate

Other Fandom Tags

While I sometimes focus on one fandom or another, this blog is ultimately unapologetically multifandom and spans 10+ years of my special interests.

Doctor Who Good Omens The Hunger Games Marvel (mostly Spiderman) The Last of Us Legend of Zelda Percy Jackson Saltburn Yellowjackets Many many more I'm not sorry...

#about me #pinned post #stranger things #byler #doctor who #good omens #hunger games #marvel #spiderman #tlou #zelda #queerxqueen #feel free to reblog lol #kinda saying I'm not Just an st blog bc im much more multifandom again #but i am still working on some byler analysis like dont worry i still be bylering

[suitte23]

♥️ 🗨️ 🔗 　 ︙

6,282 likes

suitte23 🪭 : please read before you interact. T___T

view all 192 comments

mashimallows: before you follow or interact.

i will be writing sfw and nsfw (angst/fluff/smut/dark content), so if you're a minor, please do not interact with the works that say +18, otherwise i'll block you.

not spoiler free for everything i write.

all nsfw writing will have a warning, so keep in mind when you click on keep reading and keep scrolling you're consenting to read and you're responsible for your own media consumption.

i don't have a post schedule, i just update when i feel like it, because i'm a very slow writer and procrastinator, so that means i'm not consistent, sometimes will be because lack or zero motivations and sometimes will be because i'm a student.

i really don't take requests, for the same thing mentioned above and i don't want to disappoint anybody, although i do accept suggestions.

like i said, english is not my first language, so feel free to (kindly) let me know if you see a grammatical mistake, because I often use a translator.

matetsu: who do i write for?

lowercase on purpose.

scream: amber freeman, billy loomis, chad meeks-martin, ethan landry/kirsch, stu macher.

supernatural: castiel novak, dean winchester, john winchester, sam winchester.

marvel: eddie brock, peter parker (tom h. & andrew g.), stephen strange, tony stark.

dc: barry allen (ezra miller), billy batson, bruce wayne (robert p. & patrick), harley quinn, jaime reyes. freddy freeman.

the maze runner: minho, newt, thomas.

avatar: jake sully, lo'ak sully, neteyam sully.

it: patrick hockstetter, bill denbrough, richie tozier.

the wizarding world:

golden era: cedric diggory, draco malfoy, fred weasley, george weasley, harry potter, lorenzo berkshire, mattheo riddle, neville longbottom, oliver wood, ron weasley, theodore nott.

marauders: james potter, regulus black, remus lupin, severus snape, sirius black.

fantastic beasts and where to find them: newt scamander.

stranger things: billy hargrove, eddie munson, mike wheeler, robin buckley, steve harrington.

the walking dead: carl grimes, daryl dixon, glenn rhee, negan, rick grimes, shane walsh.

the umbrella academy: diego hargreeves, klaus hargreeves, five hargreeves.

netieyam: what i will write?

miscellaneous: carlisle cullen, carlos de vil, edward cullen, emmett cullen, enoch o'connor, harry hook, jacob black, jacob portman, jasper hale, jay, lee eun-hyuk, rodrick heffley, zed necrodopolis.

fem! reader inserts only.

fluff & angst (mostly based on songs.)

smut (age gap, breeding, public sex, fingering, breath play, cum eating, corruption, dacryphilia, thigh riding and fucking, handjobs, p in v, anal, scissoring, cockwarming, size kink, daddy kink, degrading, gun and knife play, spitting, pet play, praising, somnophilia, male and female oral, dub-con and more...)

polyamory.

bupivacaina: what i won't write?

tropes: enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, roomies, fake dating, omegaverse, etc.

gn! + male! + nb! & dom! reader (i just don't know how to write it.)

sensitive content (dysphoria, dysmorphia, suicide, vomit, abortion, eating disorders, self harm.)

smut (age play, zoophilia, everything that contain minors in suggestive situations, child abuse, pegging, incest, bondage, non-con, fisting, monsterfucking, raceplay.)

other (scat, water sports, foot fetish, snuff, vore, pregnancy, mpreg or having kids in general and more...)

© suitte23 : please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works in this or any other platform ! 2024

#ᥩ ᪲ ´ ᩳ `）© suitte23 #🧭⠀๋ navigation ♡⃘ #important. #rules #guidelines

[just-here-for-the-moment]

So this is WEIRD... I was doing newspaper archive research for an entirely different project, and I stumbled upon this 1979 article about some of the problems on set of Goncharov.

I haven't been able to find anything else in the archives about this Sergey Gargiulo guy, I don't know what happened after this article, and despite mutiple in-depth searches, I can't find any obituary or anything for him from 1979 to 2010. He would have turned 100 in 2011, so there's no way he lived much longer than that, right?

The other thing is that I've looked and looked, but no one else has mentioned this kind of thing happening on the set. It appears that this guy was the only one who had these kinds of complaints? Was he silenced after this? Did anyone else speak up?

I've uploaded the text of the full article below. Sergey Gargiulo said that the only person he trusts in all of Hollywood is Lynda Carter @reallyndacarter and that if you want to know the truth about Goncharov, she's the only person he trusted.

Anyone else think this is just odd?

Full text of article:

Consultant breaks silence over problems on set of “Goncharov”

April 29, 1979

By Jolene Irsca, Staff Reporter

Brooklyn, NY - Sergey Lorenzo Ivanov Gargiulo sprawls in a cracked, olive-green leatherette recliner in his Brighton Beach home and lights his fifth White Owl cigar of the day.  His wheezing laughter, exuberant and joyful over the sounds of the game show on his television set, is a stark contrast to the grave subject matter that he has invited me here to discuss.  

As the sixth anniversary of the film “Goncharov” (1973) approaches, Gargiulo feels that it is finally time to tell his story.  His own clock may be running out, says Gargiulo, after he received a diagnosis of esophageal cancer last autumn.  Despite the seriousness of the illness, Gargiulo, who is turning 68 next week, doubts the veracity of the one-year timeline that his doctors have given him.

“The doctors don’t know what the f— they’re talking about, the f—ing morons,” Gargiulo spits around the cigar bitten between his bright white teeth.  “I’m still gonna be alive in forty f—ing years… but it does make you think.  It makes you think.”

Gargiulo’s haste, he says, stems from the urge to seek justice and right severe wrongs, a moral code that seems highly ironic, coming as it does from a man who describes himself as a “Russian-Italian thug, a cazzato svolach from way back,” as he so colorfully puts it.  

“[Martin] Scorsese knows what happened,” Gargiulo rumbles in his deep,  Brooklyn-by-way-of-Odesa-with-a-semester-abroad-in-Naples accent.  “That motherf—er knows exactly what happened.  And he knows that I know he knows, and I’m not gonna let that figlio de puttana, that suka blyat stronzo motherf—er off the hook.”

So what, in Gargiulo’s opinion, actually happened?

In order to answer that question, we must travel back to Naples, Italy to August of 1972, when “Goncharov” began filming in the San Giovanni a Teduccio neighborhood.  

Because of his unique Russian-Italian background, Gargiulo was hired as a cultural consultant on the set of the film, directed by fresh auteur Scorsese.  “Goncharov” was just Scorsese’s third full-length feature film (shot between “Boxcar Bertha” and his critically acclaimed “Mean Streets”), and written by Matteo JWHJ 0715, who is widely regarded as a genius for his award-winning body of work since 1967, including three consecutive Academy Awards for Best Screenplay, and two Best Screenplay awards at the Cannes Film Festival.  (A notorious recluse who refuses to grant interviews or even show up to accept awards, Matteo JWHJ 0715 declined our request to be interviewed for this article.)

Gargiulo’s expertise in bridging the hardened worlds of the Neapolitan Camorra and the Russian Bratva, combined with his culinary skills (Gargiulo opened the Michelin-starred restaurant Risotto e Rassolnik in Naples in 1960, and has won acclaim for such Russo-Italian fusion dishes as polpi alla luciana pelmeni and pizza kholodets) meant that he was uniquely positioned to advise Scorsese on the intricacies of “Goncharov,” the sprawling saga of a Russian-born discotheque owner (played by Robert de Niro) who travels to Naples and becomes embroiled in mafia activity.

The offer of a cushy consultancy, and the opportunity to have a hand in the creation of the film hooked Gargiulo right away.  He also hoped that the film would heighten visibility and positive representation for vorami v zakone and mafiosi alike, and show the world that there was more to those groups than just organized crime.

“I was getting a little worn down, I’m getting older, and I thought taking a short break from the restaurant grind might be a nice little vacanza, you know? Plus when I met with Scorsese, he was very complimentary, very professional.  I was expecting a well-run production.”

But when he arrived on set, Gargiulo says, he was taken aback at the lack of safety measures, including the fact that Scorsese allowed actual Italian and Russian gang members to portray minor characters and to interact with the Hollywood stars freely both on-set and off.

“You can’t have those guys, those prestupniki mixing with the f—ing actors, you know? I mean, you can’t mix good guys with hard motherf—ers like that.  They cannot be trusted.”

I ask Gargiulo to elaborate.

“I saw minchiata like you wouldn’t believe.  Near the start of the shoot, John [Cazale] and this Russian guy, this big motherf—er from the Kapotnya district in Moscow, Alexei, they were rehearsing the ice pick stabbing scene.  And John refused to use the stunt icepick, he wanted to use a real one.”

Upon seeing the look of shock on my face, Gargiulo nods at me, his eyes wide.  “You heard me.  I told Scorsese not to let John do that, but he said there was no way John could hurt the guy, that they were gonna film it from a certain angle so that it only looked like John was stabbing Alexei.  And then what do you know? We had to call the cazzo emergency services because Alexei almost lost his eye for real.”

Gargiulo shakes his head in disbelief.  “He was a sniper for the Bratva, a real up-and-comer.  Alexei almost lost his livelihood over John’s negligence… coglione, kozyol.”

When asked to provide additional examples of issues on the set of “Goncharov,” tears come to Gargiulo’s eyes, and he has to take a few moments to collect himself before continuing.  

“One day, right after we broke for the afternoon, I caught Cybill Shepherd teaching two of the little Napolitano guys how to stab someone in the lungs from behind so they couldn’t scream.  I saw red, I’m telling you.  Those guys were innocent little ragazzi, little foot soldiers.  All they knew how to do was run drugs and pickpocket, and here she was corrupting the f— outta them.  I reported that to Scorsese right away.  But…” Gargiulo trails off, and I prompt him to continue when he’s ready.  

“Scorsese said it wasn’t a problem,” Gargiulo growls, wiping his eyes.  “He said that I misunderstood, or that she was just rehearsing with them… but she didn’t have a scene like that in the movie, so what the f— was she doing? Ty che, blyad, you know?”

Gargiulo says that these two incidents (along with four mysterious crew deaths, accusations of embezzlement, Robert de Niro’s refusal to break character for the entire five-month shoot, and rumors of Scorsese’s crippling gelato addiction) paint a picture of a production that was out of control from the beginning.  

“We deserve answers,” says Gargiulo.  “Those of us who were harmed, those of us in the Russian and Italian mobster communities who were injured at the hands of those hardened Hollywood f—ers, we deserve some justice.  The whole shoot was a f—ing razvaluha from the very beginning.  Those movie guys should never have been allowed to step foot in Naples, piz’duk bastardi.”

When asked if anyone can back up his claims, Gargiulo smiles, looking peaceful for the first time since I stepped foot into his home.  

“There’s only one person I would trust in all of Hollywood, one perfetta, dorogoy, immacolata cherub in the whole entire production who knows what the hell went down.�� You want to know what really happened? Ask Lynda Carter.”

And with that, Gargiulo excuses himself for his afternoon nap, and ushers me out the door.  

***

Mr.  Gargiulo declined to be photographed for this article, citing privacy concerns.  

#goncharov #goncharov 1973 #goncharov the lost interview #sergey lorenzo ivanov gargiulo #goncharov consultant breaks silence over problems on set #consultant breaks silence over problems on set of goncharov #sergey gargiulo #martin scorsese goncharov #matteo jwhj 0715 #lynda carter and goncharov #1979 goncharov interview #unreality

[silentxxsoul]

the "oliver 'misha collins' stark and aisha feeding us and all the bts/stills/promos and the EDDIE IS GOING UP THE LADDER of it all" 6b reaction dump:

i am not ready in the slightest for tonight

like not even a smidge

i thought i was

but then the chris photos dropped and like

I might need a round on an aed device because gd the way it's got my mind S P I R A L I N G

intubated? with his SON beside him? after his literal husband sprinted up a LADDER after him?

i cant wait to see the acting tonight yall

between the coma of it and the buckleys back in town and maddie and chim and the new house and the undercover May!!!

Theres so much potential this half of the season and I'm so fucking hypeeeeed

Also I'm like, 99% certain the lightning thing happens towards the end based of KR's comments, so I wouldn't be surprised at all if we leave off with a shot of the ambulance doors closing

which

v v dramatic

but kinda worth it tbh

Buck being gentle with them 🥺

I keep forgetting how gross this show is why do I keep trying to eat during it

Wait Albert and their dad is this episode too?! YESSSSS

I'm in love with that kitchen 😍

the look on Buck's face at the 'Evan', not once but TWICE

BABY JEE OMGGGGGGG 😭

Man I'm so hoping for a family drama night where Madney goes to bat for each other pls pls pls

Ohhhhhh thats what the baseball and glove emoji was for - his bio dad has been playing ball with him huh

Talia Hale out here murdering people hmmm

Bobby you'll figure it out - I believe in you babes

Seeking his dad's approval over the chili🥲

LEARNING THE SECRET INGREDIENT

Ooooh look at that detective work with May I see you

No no Chim is right it is unnatural - something is hella sus with the Buckley parents

that crash was hella dramatic

There's so much going on rn holy shit theres a missing baby and a crushed dude and gasoline and screaming like wtf is going

Wait, twice with Buck and kids????? This means something...

Was the emoji graph of it going up up meant to be the ejection?!!!!

Listen Bobby begging the baby to breathe with Buck in the shot is just foreshadowing for me to absolutely lose it okay

Buck why would you bring that up now lmao

Oh this is going to end so fucking poorly with his parents

theres going to be a conversation

wait

WHAT?!

THIS HAS TO BE A COMA DREAM THEYRE TOO NICE

And Phillip is going to bat for Chimney ?!

COMA. DREAM.

Denny come clean bud, this is not good

"If Daniel lived?"

COMA DREAM I SWEAR TO YOU like it FITS

It's too perfectly coincidental for foreshadowing

like Phillip and Margaret don't just do a complete 180 like it was nothing

and maddie saying how weird it was and chim saying how weird it was - that's buck's subconscious trying to clue him in

AND! If not - its a great alternate 6B opener.... that I will never write to completion, but just know it lives in my head and my heart

Guys its almost time!!!!!!

oh fuck Chim's going to be so guilty about this isn't he

HE'S GOING UP THE LADDER OH MY GOD

EDDIE SCREAMING FOR HIM AND TRYING TO PULL HIM UP

"COME HERE KID"

SOBBING

NO PULSE?!

I KNEW BUT I DIDN'T KNOW

EDDIE HAS TO DRIVE HIM OHMIGOD

BUCKS HELMET GOT LEFT BEHIND WHAT DOES IT MEAN

NEXT WEEK IS GOING TO RUIN ME MORE?!!!!

#911 spoilers #911 fox #this is going to be so incoherent i can feel it #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #that is all

[underburningstars]

Starker au in the 1930'ish where tony is a army soldier who writes letters for his lover, Peter until the war is over

Anon sorry it took me a while. Your request was really great and I got a bit enthusiastic with it.

Instead of using 1930s I used 1940s so that I could include the WWII aspects. I hope you don't mind. Enjoy!

This is also a prompt fill up for the 'Bakery' square of SFSummerBingo22 @starkerfestivals

also on ao3

CARD AT THE BOTTOM

sometimes

we love

in fingertip touch...

and it's

just as close as

we can get

♡

May 03, 1941

The bakery had good business today. That's why Peter had missed his lunch and had been standing without a break for more than an hour. He's starving and his feet hurt like crazy. All he wants now is to eat and rest.

He was just about to start eating his bagel when a young man walks in. If Peter hadn't been so tired he'd be in awe of how beautiful the man is. But right now, he doesn't. He gets up to serve the customer.

"Oh, you don't have to get up. Please take your food. I'll help myself." The man starts looking around but Peter doesn't sit. He can speak from personal experience that people don't like it when someone doesn't trail after them around. The man turns around and, "Please, I insist. I know what I'm looking for. You don't need to trouble yourself." Peter begrudgingly sits down and starts eating.

The man doesn't look much older than Peter. By his clothes, he seems to be from an upper class family. Now that Peter has food in his stomach, he notices how utterly breathtaking the man his. He has a tanned olive skin, red full lips, honey brown eyes and extremely soft looking brown hair. He also has a nice voice, nor too pitched nor too deep.

Peter realizes he's staring when the man lifts an eyebrow at him. He quickly looks away, cheeks flaming. He goes to the front desk and prepares his receipt. He looks at the type of bread and feel curious.

"Rose bread. For someone special?" Peter ask, not being able to help his curiosity.

The man looks at him with a smirk, that makes Peter burn under his shirt. "Yeah. For my mother. It's her birthday and she loves this bread. I heard the ones here are the best."

"Well, you heard right." Peter says with a proud smile.

"Is that the reason behind the name? 'Buns and Roses Bakery'" The man tilts his head a bit to the side. Cute.

"Partly." Peter explains, "It's also because my aunt loves buns and roses the most and my uncle wanted to name the shop for her."

"That's a lovely thing to do. I'm Tony, by the way. Tony Stark." The man - Tony - introduces himself.

"Stark? As in from Stark Repairs?"

"Yep." Tony says popping the 'p'. "One and only. Good to know that we're famous."

"Of course you are. Everyone knows about your repair shop. They say you are a miracle worker." Peter had always been interested in fixing up things, especially machines. So he feels himself get excited meeting the young, genius mechanic.

"Not a miracle worker, just a hard worker. And you never told me your name beautiful." Tony leans closer to Peter, placing his elbows on the desk

Peter's face burns bright red, both at the nickname and the proximity. "Oh...ri-right. I'm-I'm Peter." Peter stammers. "Peter Parker."

"Pretty name for a pretty face, huh." Whatever blush had gone down from Peter's face rises with full force at the praise.

"It's-um-0.25 dollars Mr. Stark" Peter places the packed up bread on the desk.

"Oh yes. Here you go." Tony hands him the money and takes the bread. "And please call me Tony. See you soon, beautiful." He calls over his shoulder as he gets out, leaving behind a blushing, sputtering Peter.

May 07, 1941

Peter indeed saw Tony soon. Right after four days, Peter was in the market shopping for groceries when he saw Tony, drinking coffee from one of the stores.

He was wearing a overall, both skin and outfit marred with grease. He must've been here from work, Peter thought. Suddenly, Tony looked up, eyes widening when he saw Peter. Then the older boy sent him a beaming smile and ran towards him. "Told'ya, didn't I? I'll see you soon."

"Technically, I saw you first, Mr. Stark." Peter retorted, laughing when Tony scrunched his nose.

"What's with all the 'Mr. Stark'? I told you call me Tony." Tony was looking at Peter with his big eyes, waiting for Peter to say it.

"Tony." Peter repeated, shaking his head at his childish behavior. "Happy?"

"Oh, very." Tony was about to say something when someone called him from behind, a black man wearing the same overall. Tony looked at him apologetically, "That's my cue to go."

Peter tried not to but he felt a twinge of disappointment as Tony was leaving so early. "Yeah, okay. Goodbye." The look on Tony's face told him that he hadn't done a good job at hiding his feelings.

Tony looked around a bit to see if anyone was looking at them, when he saw no one was, he leaned closer to Peter's ear and whispered, "See you soon, beautiful." Despite himself, Peter felt himself smile after Tony's retreating body. Peter spent the whole day smiling.

May 25, 1941

The next meeting took a while. Peter was looking for new culinary items for the bakery when someone sneaked behind him and whispered into his ear, "Hello, beautiful." causing Peter to startle and turn around.

"Tony!" Peter exclaimed, hitting him lightly in his shoulder. "You startled me."

"Sorry, sorry." Tony laughed, not sounding sorry at all. "It's been so long. I got excited when I saw you from outside."

"Mhm. It's the third we've met accidentally. They say if you meet accidentally three times then it's fate." Peter, for once, tries to tease Tony instead of being the blushing mess.

But Tony gives him a small but sincere smile, eyes fond. "Maybe it is fate." Tony says, completely serious. Peter’s eyes go wide hearing his words, breath getting stuck in his chest.

Tony steps forward towards Peter, for the first time looking hesitant and nervous. "On the 29th. Are you-are you free on that day?"

"Ye-yeah." Peter clears his throat. "Yeah I am. Why?"

"Maybe...um-we could go out? Y'know. It's-it's my birthday. And we're friends, right? So, we could...maybe watch a movie? Hm?" Peter can clearly see how nervous Tony is. And rightfully so. If the wrong person hears something like this, it could ruin his life. Even get him killed.

But Peter isn't like that. There's nothing Peter would like more than to go out with Tony. "Yeah, okay. We could-we could go out. And watch a movie. Sounds nice."

Tony beams, nodding his head eagerly. "Yeah can't wait."

"Can't wait." Peter agrees.

May 29th, 1941

Peter has nothing to wear. He and Tony decided to meet outside the bakery and to reach there on time he has to leave to house in an hour but he has no idea what's he gonna wear. Whatever he picks out looks horrible. Accepting defeat he moves to his last resort

"Aunt May I need your help." Thankfully she's home today as uncle Ben decided to take care of the bakery.

"Oh, does someone have a date tonight?" she teases.

"N-no. It's not like that. Just a friend, really." Peter has never told anyone about how he likes boys more than he will ever like girls. Aunt May and Uncle Ben mean the world to him, so he doesn't think he could handle it if they start hating him.

"You try to dress up this hard to meet just a friend?" She raises a brow in question.

"Yes." Peter deadpans. She laughs but let's it go. In the end they decide on a brown button down shirt with beige trousers and jacket.

In the end Peter is only five minutes late. When he reaches the designated place, he sees Tony lean on the wall of an alley beside the bakery. He's wearing a white dress shirt with dark grey trousers with suspenders and jacket of the same color. Looking at him makes Peter's breath hitch.

As he approaches the older man, he starts feeling self-conscious about his clothing. He has half a mind to run away but then Tony stops him and sends him a beaming smile as Peter stands in front of him.

"Hello, beautiful. Look at you. And here I thought you couldn't get anymore gorgeous." Peter blushes at the comment and directs a shy smile towards the older boy.

"You look very good too." Peter replies. "As always." He mumbles, quieter.

"Hm? What was that?"

"Oh, ah, nothing." Peter responded and changed the subject. "Why are you standing here instead of in front of the bakery?"

"Oh, you're uncle's there. So I thought perhaps I shouldn't stand there. In case he minded seeing us together." Tony explained.

"Yeah. You did good. They, well, don't know...about me. No one does."

"No one? That's-none of your friends? I can't imagine keeping so much to myself." Tony frowns, troubled.

"Well, I'm scared of how they'll react. What if they hate me? What if lose everyone? Thoughts like these keep me from telling them. What about you? Who did you tell?" Peter asks.

"There's a Rhodey, the one you saw in the market that day." Peter nods. "And also Pepper. Another friend of mine. Some other people know too." They start walking side by side to the cinema as they talk.

"How did they react? When you told them."

"Shocked? Yeah, mostly shocked at the news. But not repulsed. I have known both Rhodey and Pepper from before I could walk. They've watched me to so much worse than like a guy in a way I'm not supposed to." Peter hums, thinking about it. And then he remembers the Irish coffee macaroons he made for Tony.

"Oh, these are for you." Peter hands then over to Tony. "Happy birthday."

"That...wasn't necessary. But I'll enjoy them. Thank you." Tony opens the box slightly to peak inside. "Mmm, smells like coffee. I love coffee!"

"I'm glad. It's a dish I'm really proud of." They both stop walking and smile at each other. Tony averts his eyes first. Looking at the cinema hall in front of them.

"Let's go inside. Or we'll miss our show."

They watch a science fiction movie called 'Buck Rogers' that has both of the scrunching their noses that the scientific inaccuracies. They criticize the movie the whole time and go out, laughing together. At least the soda and the huge tub of popcorn was nice.

"I don't know if I'm annoyed about that movie or happy that now I finally found someone who can criticize with me." Tony says cheerfully.

"Why, you don't do that with your friends?"

"Oh no. They glare at me for weeks saying I ruin movies for them. Now they don't even watch movies with me anymore. Especially, science based ones." To answers. "Hey, are you hungry? We could get some food and then ice cream."

"I could eat. Do you have any place in mind? We have to pick the place carefully."

"I do know a place. It's a restaurant run by a couple I know. It's fairly private too." Peter easily agrees to the suggestion.

The restaurant is small but cozy. There are seven tables, each of them placed in a way that the people inside can't be seen. They take a corner seat and a middle aged woman approaches them. "Anthony dear. It's been so long."

"I saw you two weeks ago Anna." The women - Anna - clicks her tongue in disapproval.

"You and Edwin both keep saying the same thing. With a troublemaker like you, two weeks is too much. Who knows what kind of nonsense you'll manage to get yourself into." Peter looks at the scene with a smile on his face.

"Anna" Tony whines. "Stop scolding me. I bring you new customers and this is how you repay me."

At that Anna turns her face to look at Peter and gives him a motherly smile. "Oh I'm so sorry dear. I should've greeted you first. I'm Anna Jarvis. Co-owner of this place."

"Hello. I'm Peter Parker. I'm a friend of Tony's. Nice to meet you, ma'am." Peter introduces himself.

"You must be quite a special friend if Anthony here is spending his birthday with you." Saying that she looks at Tony with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Right, Anthony."

"Of course." Tony directs Anna one of the fakest smile Peter has ever seen. "Would you please kindly bring us your special pasta. I promised Peter food."

"Oh, of course honey." Then she leaves towards the table, humming a cheerful tune under her breath.

Tony looks at him sheepishly, "Sorry, she's a bit -"

"Lovely." Peter cuts him. "She's lovely."

Tony smile and nods, agreeing. "Yeah she is."

"She knows about you." Peter points out.

"She's actually the first person I ever told. Or more like, she told me." Tony laughs a bit, shaking his head. "She and my mother are best friends. So she always visited us often. When I was thirteen, I was having difficulties understanding myself. About who I was.

Then one day she comes to me and tells me that even though the world isn't knowledgeable enough to accept it yet, no form of love is wrong." Tony explained."It was such a huge moment for me, but them mama came and ruined it by saying that there is love that isn't acceptable and the name is incest." Peter bursts out laughing at that.

"You seem to have a wonderful family. If you don't mind me asking, what about you father?"

"He died when I was very young. I don't remember him all that much." Tony waves his hand a bit as if dismissing the matter. "From what I've heard from people, he'd be a shit father. At least he left us quite the fortune."

"My parents are dead too."

"Pete." The nickname makes Peter smile a little. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"It's nothing bad. They died in a car crash. I was maybe 5 years old back then. I don't remember them much too."

"Guess we have that in common."

"We have a lot in common Tony." Peter laughed.

"That's true." Just then Anna brings their food. Two plates of pasta with mouth watering smell and a glass of wine. She tells them to enjoy and leaves.

The pasta tasted even better than it smelled. Conversation came easy between them. They talked about everything and nothing. Childhood memories, embarrassing situations, what books they like. Peter can't remember the last time he connected so well with someone.

After that they went to the park and got ice cream. They walked side by side, hands sometimes grazing. "Next time, let's go to Coney Island." Tony spoke up. At the prospect of there being a next time, Peter's heart started beating faster.

Not trusting himself to speak now, he just nodded eagerly with a smile. Looking at his eagerness Tony chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Coming Friday?"

This time Peter answered with a blinding smile and an enthusiastic "Okay!"

They both walked to the alley the met in, shuffling around, still reluctant to say goodbye. Then Peter worked up some courage to raise to his tiptoes and kiss Tony's cheek. A lovely blush turned his ears red.

Peter snickered slightly, happy to be able to make Tony blush. "Goodbye, Tony."

"Goodbye, beautiful."

June 02, 1941

As promised, they went to Coney island next time. It's been really long since Peter last came here. It just seems to get more and more colorful.

They ate cotton candies, over priced food, enjoyed the rides. Tony even won him a teddy bear.

At the end of the day, they again stopped to the alley. But this time Tony pulled him inside and kissed him. They used the darkness to their benefit and locked their lips in a passionate kiss.

After breaking the kiss Tony leaned his forehead against Peter's and whispered, "Five days from now my mom's visiting a cousin of hers. Wanna come over?"

Peter could only nod breathlessly.

June 07, 1941

It was the first time someone touched Peter like that and he loved every second of it.

June 23, 1941

They went to the beach. It was completely empty and so they got a little courageous and kissed during the sunset, out in the open.

Peter also found out that he's allergic to seaweed.

July 13, 1941

Aunt May and Uncle Ben went to a one week tour, leaving the house to Peter. When Tony comes inside, the first thing he does is suck him off against the door.

Later, much later, after they're done with dinner and washing dishes he bends Peter over the table.

August 04, 1941

Ned tells him that he doesn't spend much time with them anymore. Michelle agrees. Peter never meant to avoid his friends. But whatever he has with Tony is still new and fragile and by focusing too much on that, he ignored his friends.

He promises that it'll never happen again. He makes more time for his friends and his uncle and aunt too. It's nice.

August 10, 1941

He celebrates his birthday once at home with his uncle, aunt, Ned and Michelle. They cook all kinds of food, bake cake and decorate the house. In the middle of all the chaos Peter manages to pack some of the food separately.

Later, after everyone's asleep he sneaks out of the house and goes to the bakery. He sees Tony sitting outside, slightly hunched to protect himself from the wind. "Tony! Come'on, let's go inside." Peter pulls the shutter up and shuts it down again after they're inside.

Now from the safety of prying eyes, Tony immediately hugs Peter to his chest. "Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I missed you so much."

"Missed you too, Tony." Peter's voice is muffled from being pressed to Tony's chest. They play music on the radio, eat, dance, drink and kiss the night away.

August 24, 1941

Peter meets Rhodey and Pepper. Just after talking for fifteen minutes Peter can understand that they are the reason Tony has been alive for the last 27 years.

They are as good as Tony said. Right after he introduced Peter, they take him with them as one of their own.

December 10, 1941

There's a war going on around them. The world was in a war for long and now America has joined it too. Tony's troubled by it. More troubled than he wants Peter to know. But Peter can see it on his face. How his brow creases when he reads the newspaper, how he tenses when he heard about bombing somewhere.

Tony hates the fact that there are people dying and there's nothing he can do. Peter hates that he can't do anything about Tony's troubles.

December 31, 1941

Peter wanted to tell his friends about him and Tony today. Tony has met them all. Aunt May and Uncle Ben too. But they all think that Tony's a new friend of Peter and that's it.

He's still not ready to tell his family but he wants to tell his friends. Wants them to know what Tony means to him. He wanted to tell them during new year. For it to be symbolic or whatever but now that the time has come he feels himself feeling anxious.

"Okay, Peter. I don't care how much fun you're having pacing like that but it snot fun for me. What is it? Tell us." Michelle snaps at him.

"Me and Tony are together." Peter blurts out and instantly pales.

"Yeah we know." Michelle says nonchalantly. "Right?" she looks at Ned who nods.

"What? You knew. Since when?"

"Since you introduced him to us. It was kinda obvious." Ned states.

"It was extremely obvious. Even your uncle and aunt know." Michelle retorts. Then she softens her tone. "We love you Peter and if Tony makes you happy then we're okay with it. Your happiness matters the most." Peter loves them all so much.

May 03, 1942

It's been a year since he and Tony met. They make a rose bread in Tony's place with Maria sitting in the porch, reading.

July 07, 1942

Even though Aunt May and Uncle Ben know about him , Peter wants to introduce them officially.

Tony’s a nervous wreck. Nevermind the fact that they've both met Tony several times and adore him enough to rival Peter.

He wants to tease him. Get the revenge for how much Tony teased him for being nervous before meeting Maria. But Peter decided to be the better man. Holds Tony's hand and squeezes, reassuring.

Tony nods at him, a determined glint on his lovely eyes and they enter through the door.

October 31, 1942

Right after meeting Aunt May, Maria and Anna had formed a wonderful (and dangerous) friendship. So today they were doing some 'only girls' thing where they eat, watch movies and shop.

That means Peter and Tony got to have the whole house for themselves after a long time and they use it extremely well. At the end of the day, Peter is searing with pleasure, overwhelmed with the feel of Tony's hands and mouth all over his body bringing out orgasms out of him in ways Peter didn't know was possible.

In return, Peter touches him too. Holding him close, not even letting air pass between their bodies. That's how they spend their Halloween.

February 06, 1943

When Tony tells Peter that he wants to enlist in the military, Peter can't say that he's surprised.

February 20, 1943

They spend the day before Tony's dispatch without talking about it at all. Tony brings out his 1937 Jaguar SS 100 3.5-Liter Roadster, which Peter can't decide is absolutely gorgeous or ridiculous looking.

He takes them to one of his properties where they have a picnic, kiss and sleep together. Both literally and figuratively. Then they do to a drive in movie theater where they watch 'The Spider Women' less and kiss more.

Tony stops in front of Peter's home and brings their lips together one last time. He presses their foreheads together and whispers, "I love you Peter." It sounds too much like a goodbye for Peter to be happy hearing it.

"No, no. You can't say it now. Say it again after you come back and-and then I'll answer."

"Okay, okay honey." Tony gives him a heartbreaking smile and Peter gets out of the car barely holding back his tears. Just before he closes the door Tony mutters a quiet little "Goodbye beautiful." Peter doesn't answer him. Instead he runs inside.

He rushes to his room ignoring Aunt May's calls and shuts the door. He slides down against it, hugging his legs close to his chest he let's the tears fall.

March 01, 1943

A few days later, Rhodey follows Tony because of course he does.

Before Tony left, they promised each other to write letters. It hurt to do, reminding Peter of everything that's missing yet he does it. Because it's something they both need.

March 24, 1943

After almost five weeks he receives Tony's first letter.

Hey beautiful,

I'm writing this on the bus. We're going towards California now. It feels a bit nostalgic to be here. I don't have time for sightseeing though, as we are going to deploy from San Francisco. I don't know how long I'll be there. A few weeks maybe.

I keep thinking about you. About our last day together. How perfect it was, how perfect you were. Laughing, dancing. You look the most beautiful when you're happy.

I miss you so much. Your lovely eyes, pink lips, soft skin, silky hair. I miss everything about you. I need to go now. And I know it'll hurt but please write to darling. I'll wait for your letter.

Forever yours,

AES.

March 25, 1943

Dear Tony,

Trying to write a letter I have realized that I have no talent for it. There are so many things that I want to talk about but now my mind is blank. You're the who's good with words, not me.

I miss you. That I can say. I miss you so much that it hurts. I actually started writing letters right after the day you left. But writing these I discovered that I can never be the one to send the first letter. I'm sorry honey. I'm really sorry but I can't. I can't bear the thought of sending a letter but never getting a response.

I can promise you with everything that I will always reply to your letters. No matter what happens you'll get a reply from me. I'll be waiting for you to come home to me safe and sound soldier. Take care.

Truly yours,

PBP.

April 12, 1943

Hey beautiful, Pretty sure you didn't get my first letter yet. But I had a dream about you yesterday and just needed to write to you. I actually dream about you a lot. But this particular dream was special. It was about the day we first met. You looked so beautiful that day. I think I knew the moment my eyes fell on you that you were the one. You mean so much to darling. Wish I could show you it all. Forever yours, AES.

April 13, 1943

Dear Tony, I'm happy to know that you dream about me. I dream about you too. Though I don't know how to feel about you finding tired and starving me beautiful, I appreciate the sentiment. It was the same for me, by the way. The moment you called me beautiful, I knew you were the one. Yours truly, PBP.

May 22, 1943

Hello beautiful, I got your letter. Thank you for writing to me. And it's okay you don't have to write first. Just reply to my letters and that's all I ask for. I'm in the 107th division. All the other guys with me are really good people. Our Captain is just the tiniest bit of stuck up. But other than that we get along good enough. He and Barnes - another guy here - they're both from Brooklyn. Childhood best friends. Watching them makes me miss Rhodey. And speaking of Rhodey, I'm ninety-nine percent sure that Barnes has a male lover called Sam in the air force. He's with Rhodey. But it's not like I can downright ask him. So I keep my thoughts to myself. Miss you honey. Take care please. Forever yours, AES.

May 23, 1943

Dear Tony, Happy early Birthday, honey. And for the love of God, keep you suspicions to yourself. I don't even want to think about what would happen if you're wrong about him. Take care of yourself. When you come back I don't want a single pound of weight loss. And I don't know if she told you but Maria had flu a few days ago. The fever has broken down but she's still a bit week. I'm staying with her for a while. Yours truly, PBP.

June 18, 1943

Hello beautiful, Mama absolutely did not tell me about her fever. She'd day she didn't want to worry me but she not telling ne things is more worrying. Thank you for staying with her. And I think losing a few pounds is inevitable, my dear. But I swear I'll try my best. Forever yours, AES.

June 19, 1943

Dear Tony, Your mother is a very special person to me too. So no need to thank me for taking care of her. She had me make he five different types of pastries as an apology for telling - rattling to you, in her words - about her illness. I'm any other circumstances, I'd never trust you with you own health. But since I don't have any other option now, I'll reluctantly trust you to take care of yourself. Yours truly, PBP.

June 30, 1943

Hey beautiful, I know I'm writing this letter even before I got the your reply for my previous one. But it's an emergency. Things aren't in the best condition here. So I won't be able to write to you for a while. Honey, I don't know if I'll ever be able to write to you again. Things are bad sweetie. Really, really bad. I'm going to the front lines and I don't know if I'll come back. So, if a military messenger comes to my mama with bad news, please take care of her. Also, even if it hurts and is difficult, I'd like you to move on darling. Find a nice guy. Someone who'd cherish you like you deserve to be. Please take care of yourself. Forever yours, AES.

Reading Tony's letter makes Peter's hands tremble. Tears are streaming down his face uncontrollably. His body is shaking with the force of his violent sobs.

He is vaguely aware of someone taking the letter from his hands. Someone is saying something to him. Maybe Aunt May. But he doesn't know. He doesn't know anything beyond the fact that Tony might not come home to him.

He presses his face into the crook of Aunt May's neck and cries until he passes out.

November 21, 1943

Even after five months, there's no news of Tony or the 107th division as a whole. His name is not among the martyred soldiers and no military messenger comes to Maria with bad news.

Even Rhodey doesn't know anything because apparently they were some specially trained division only engaging in extremely secretive missions. Peter doesn't know what else to do.

He had turned into a living corpse while waiting for any news about Tony. But waiting was all Peter could do, so he did.

January 17, 1944

Hello Beautiful, It's been a while, right? I actually have no idea what to say to you. I want to say I'm sorry an I am. I'm really, really sorry. I know I worried you and I wish I could promise that it wouldn't happen again but I can't. There are full possibilities of this happening again. Darling, when you read this letter know that I thought of you with every single breath I took. And I'll always do that. Forever yours, AES.

After reading Tony's letter, Peter felt like he could finally breathe. After months and months of torturous waiting, he could feel some relief.

He didn't waste any time and started writing a letter.

Dear Tony, After long seven months I could finally breathe today. My mind isn't processing much more than the fact that you are alive. I have been waiting to hear this for so long that now it all feels surreal. You are okay right? Please, please be okay Tony. You need to come home to me, my soldier. Stay with me. I don't know what I'd do without you. And about your last letter, you're my only one Tony. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't adore anyone more than I adore you. And no one can make me feel as cherished as you. So don't you dare say things like that ever again. Yours truly, PBP.

When Peter tells everyone the news, expectedly, Maris cries and unexpectedly, Pepper cries too.

March 13, 1944

Hey beautiful, I'm so sorry dear. I'm sorry that you're hurting. That I kept you waiting for so long. I'm really sorry. I'm mostly okay. No serious injuries just a few scars. The most damage is the seven inch sewing marks on my chest. A bomb blew up right in front of me. It was scary. Baton says I'm like a cockroach who'd survive anything. He's an asshole but he's probably right. And you're my only one too baby. That's why I would never want you to be stuck in the past. But okay, darling. I'll come home to you and we won't talk about that anymore. Take care. Forever yours, AES.

March 14, 1944

Dear Tony, A seven inch sewing mark? A bomb? What are you talking about? How is this okay? This is nowhere near okay. Are you kidding me? This is outrageous. In one sentence you're telling me you're fine or whatever and then you tell me about a bomb blowing up in front of you. Give me some good news darling. Something to quell my heart. Yours truly, PBP.

April 09, 1944

Hello Beautiful, You're my lucky charm y'know. You asked for a good news and IT'S here! I'm promoted. Military promotion during war means someone died and I'm taking their place. But. PROMOTION!!! I'm really happy. You're happy too, right? I did a little victory dance when I was alone in my tent. It's your turn now. Shake that sweet little ass of yours for me, honey. I'm getting paid much more now. See. Taking a bomb in the chest isn't that bad. We can save the money and live in the suburbs. We can build a house with white pocket fence. We can expand the bakery and repair shop there. I'd be our safe haven. I want that with you. Please wait for me. I'll give you everything you ask for. Forever yours, AES.

April 10, 1944

Dear Tony, We're going to ignore your bomb comment and never talking about it until you're home. I'm really happy to hear about the promotion sweetie. Just do y'know, I did dance for you. A white picket fence house in the suburbs seems like a pipe dream to me. Can we really have that? Us. Together. Sounds too good to be true. But if we do have that then let's get pets too darling. A few dogs and cats. Does that seem good? The life you talked about. I want that. And I want that with you. So quickly come home to me soldier. Truly Yours, PBP.

May 17, 1944

Hey Beautiful, It's been three years now since we met. Three years ago I went to the bakery and felt my heart sing. And was lucky enough to have you feel the same. I promise you dear, that we'll have a white picket fence house in the suburbs. It won't be a pipe dream. And pets sound real nice darling. I like big dogs more than the smaller. So you better get prepared to have them tackle you to the ground all day. Honey I wanted to tell you that you shouldn't reply to this letter. Our division is shifting to somewhere else. It's nothing dangerous like last time. Promise. But apparently the postal there is horrible. So it might take some time to send a letter again. Wait for your soldier, yeah? Forever Yours, AES.

Peter read Tony's letter with a small smile. Time to go back to the waiting game, he thought.

August 13, 1944

It wasn't until three months, that Peter got Tony's next letter.

Hey Beautiful, Missed me. I missed you a lot. Happy Birthday, by the way. I wanted this letter to reach you by your birthday so I sent it a long while ago. Did it reach you on time. I hope it did. About the stupid shit Clint says. Bucky trying to throttle him at least once everyday. Steve looking like he has given up on them. These are our little joys during war. I want you to meet them. You'd like them, a lot. When we all come home. I can introduce you. I'll tell them you're my best friend. Maybe I'll tell Steve and Bucky about us. Told you about Bucky and his air force guy remember. They'll be okay with us. Wait for me yeah? Forever Yours, AES.

August 14, 1944

Dear Tony, You seemed so sad on your last letter. Is everything alright? I hope you're doing well. I received your letter three days after my birthday. It was the best gift for me. I miss you so much honey. When you come home you can introduce me to them all. I'd love to meet them. It doesn't what tell them about me. I know what I mean to you and that's enough for me. Waiting for you soldier. Truly Yours, PBP.

September 27, 1944

Hello Beautiful, Did I seem sad in my letter? I didn't realize. I just miss you so much. I haven't seen your face in so long. I feel like when I come home you'll not recognize me anymore. I don't think I'll be able to bear that. Wait for me darling. Please wait for me. Forever Yours, AES.

September 28, 1944

Dear Tony, Don't ever think like that. Ever. No matter what the war does to you, you're Tony. My Tony. My only one. Nothing will ever change that. What I feel for you goes beyond this war and all the others that will come. I'm waiting for my soldier to come home. And when he does I'll never let him go again. I'll cling to you so much you'll get sick of me. Truly Yours, PBP.

November 19, 1944

Hey Beautiful, Thank you for your last letter. I really needed that. It's just that I don't have many things that matter. I have my mama, my friends, the repair shop and you. That's all. And I'm scared to lose them. I want to fight because if me fighting means at least one less person dying then it's worth it. But I miss you so much, sweetheart. These days I have a recurring dream. Well it's more a nightmare, actually. It always starts with me being in a dark cage and then suddenly a missile flies towards me and I think that I'm gonna die. I'd die and break all my promises to you. But then I wake up in my room and run to the bakery but it's not there. You're not there. I hate it so much. I just wanna hold you now. Forever Yours, AES.

November 20, 1944

Dear Tony, Listen to me very carefully. You're are gonna be okay. You're a brave man who is fighting for to save the lives of people he doesn't know. You're gonna fight and live and when you come home I'll be in the bakery waiting for you, sitting on the same chair. I'll always be there for my dear. Always. Truly Yours, PBP.

March 24, 1945

Hey Beautiful, I know this letter is very late. But the place I was in for the past three months had no postal service. It was supposed to be a quick rescue mission but it turned out to be more complicated than that. I should've warned you. I'm sorry. Sorry if I worried you. I read your last letter. I don't know what I'd do without you. You make me wanna be a better man. I'll fight and I'll fight to be alive too. Then we'll meet again in the bakery. Forever Yours, AES.

March 25, 1945

Dear Tony, You scared me to death you idiot. How could you do that? I hadn't heard from you for so long. You didn't even warn me. Please. Please don't ever do that again. Please honey. Please. Truly Yours, PBP.

May 08, 1945

Everyone's saying that the war is over. That Germany has surrendered. But Peter can't believe it. The war had been going on for so long. Tony had been gone for so long and now it's over. Just like that.

November 13, 1945

After the war ended, all soldiers slowly started coming home. Streets started filling with men again. Some families were reunited with their sons, husbands and fathers. Some mourned the loss of them.

Peter was sitting in the bakery. Like he did every single day. He sat in the same chair, looking at the door, waiting for his soldier to come. He enters the bakery at five o'clock in the morning and leaves as 12 o'clock night.

Pepper says he's being self-destructive. She's probably right. But Peter doesn't care. The only thing he cares about is Tony coming home.

Today is just another day of waiting. It's three o'clock in the afternoon. Way past lunch time. Peter is sitting on the chair re-reading 'The Hobbit' when the bell chimes indicating someone's entry. Peter closes the book and stands to greet the customer he hears a voice he hadn't heard in forever.

"Hello beautiful." He feels his heart clench, a lump forming in his throat and eyes stinging. He can't speak, he can't even breathe. He just keeps looking at the man in front of him. Just as gorgeous as the day they met.

Finally after what feels like an eternity he runs towards Tony and jumps on him, legs circling around his waist, hands around his shoulders and face nuzzled in the crook of his neck. "I love you." Peter sobs. "I love you. I love you so much."

Tony holds him close and tight. Peter feels his shirt dampening with Tony's tears. "I love you too my darling. I love you so so much."

His soldier is home.

"The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again."

- Charles Dickens

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The Incredible Hulk vol 1 434 (1995) . Over the Edge Crossover . Funeral Story . Written by Peter David Penciled by Justiniano (Josue Rivera) Inked by Al Milgrom Colors by Glynis Oliver Lettered by Richard Starkings Edited by Bobbie Chase . Nick Fury was dead and the Hulk (among many others) attended his funeral... . See more relevant content here: #marvelman901nickfury #marvelman901overtheedge #marvelman901hulk #marvelman901howlingcommandoes #marvelman901xmen #marvelman901avengers #marvelman901drstrange . #hulk #avengers #overtheedge #nickfury #funeral #90s #xmen #daredevil #drstrange #wolverine https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm4zR5dM-jg/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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