#thread; wrong brother

[journey-to-the-attic]

one thing i've noticed about obey me's story is that it generally delivers on big dramatic narrative moments, but often neglects the surrounding scenes and especially the fallout. there is of course, the oft-talked-about lesson 16, feat. mc's death that never gets brought up again, but then there's also s2's amnesia arc, which ends things with "mc has the ring so everything is completely fine forever"

om has a habit of doing this, where a realm-wide (or heck, universe-wide) problem is hand-waved away by the appearance of a convenient fix-it, which is usually either an object or just ~magic~ (magic as a plot device in om in general is handled poorly but that's a story for another day)

in some cases they just don't address the fallout at all. at least belphie talks about what he did in lesson 16 - but, see nb s2, wherein levi floods the entire devildom, submerging entire houses, and they don't bring it up again afterwards. as far as i remember too, belphie's mini-arc in this season wasn't really given room to breathe, either

but here's the main thing (spoilers for nb lessons 38 and 39)

i've just done these two lessons and in hindsight lucifer's mini-arc feels like a lot of missed potential

honestly they could have excluded diavolo entirely - his main purpose was to stall for time so that the brothers could show up. the moment where he kneels was cool (more on that moment later), but the way they've written him in means that the angels kinda. don't get to do anything? at all?

look - raphael has a gorgeous character moment at the end of 37 where he cries for the brothers' plight. like you don't understand this had so much potential!!! he didn't really do much in s1 (and might not have actually been himself??) so i was hoping this would be his chance to shine, but instead he's on the sidelines. simeon gets the most to do, and even then it's really not much. luke doesn't do anything, unless you count those blessings he and simeon give mc, but they don't really factor in at all??

what especially doesn't make sense about diavolo's role here is that lucifer turns on mc after they step in to protect him. this is meant to be a pay-off to diavolo's less savoury motivation for saving the brothers, revealed in his arc in nb s1, but all lucifer does is say it, get mad, then completely forgets about it once all is said and done

if that's all they were going to do with it, why bring it up at all? from a character standpoint, it makes more sense for mc to shield one of the angels - again, raphael this could've been your moment. (alternatively it could've been a call-back to the og s1 where mc shields luke in the underground tomb)

the appearance of the brothers was welcome, but at the same time i don't quite buy that they all got out of their respective predicaments completely fine. (also where did mephistopheles go??) lucifer also calms down very quickly, which is a great moment for the power of family, but at the same time i feel like he would've needed at least a few more dialogue boxes of him registering through his rage that his brothers were there. eh, this is more nitpicky than everything else

the brotherly moment was 10/10 though. love these guys <3

but i hated the final resolution so so much. sure, have god forgive him, whatever. but why would you end it all with a "papa loves you"???? if it had been raphael or simeon saying it, maybe i could get behind this as a symptom of the celestial realm's unhealthy society, but LUCIFER, whose greatest fear was revealed to be his father in s3 of the original story?

om has never made it seem like god's relationship with the angels was anything other than controlling and borderline abusive, and for some reason (if the poignant flashback is anything to go by) they've done a complete heel turn into "actually it's fine because he loves the angels". it could be read as representing how children often still cling to abusive/controlling parents, but i doubt it - especially coming from lucifer, who started a war and lost a sister in direct opposition to his father

and i get the whole deal with "lucifer was so beautiful as an angel" but it feels really disingenuous to the brothers' arc (about settling into the devildom and coming into their own as demons) to harp on about it. like, fuck that, have lucifer cast away the angel form, or at least have some pushback from him in the aftermath. have mc tell him "you're even more beautiful as a demon" or something

then in lesson 39 everything's back to normal. it's a very cute lesson and i had fun in the moment, but it feels off. there's no discussion of what happened, everyone's completely fine. there's got to be some psychological after-effects to all of that, no? for lucifer especially if not the brothers who got frozen as well???

though lucifer's dragon gift was very sweet. i can't stay mad at that old man

[runelocked]

❝ you passed out, i carried you here. ❞ — vanessa @hazardess , but she’s bitter about it

FEVERISH  MUTTERING  HAD  HAUNTED  HIM  ALL NIGHT,  ALL DAY,  AND  THE  LAST  MEMORY  HE  HAS  IS  LEAVING  THE  PIZZERIA,  still  shivering  uncontrollably  in  the  heat  of  the  sticky  summer  sun.  Head  aching,  angrily  waving  off  his  daughter’s  questions:  I’m  fine,  he  remembers  snapping,  more  of  a  groan  than  anything  else,  I  just  need  air.  Don’t  you  even think about. . .  

The  rest  is  a  sliding,  slippery  blur.  Despite  everything  he’s  done  and  the  lengths  he’s  gone  to,  it  seems  he’s  still  just  as  human  as  ever.

That’s  the  really  terrifying  part.

He  can  barely  even  face  lifting  his  head  from  the  makeshift  pillow  Vanessa  has  propped  under  him,  the  whole  world  tilting  precariously  on  an  axis  of  its  own  bearing.  But  he  does:  persists  in  rising,  his  pale  face  ghostly  and  off - color.  Even  trying  to  keep  his  daughter  in  focus  hurts.  She  blurs  in  front  of  him,  fades  in  and  out  between  the  little  girl  he’d  initially  doted  on  and  the  young  woman  he  knows  logically  that  she  is.  Is  this  his  fever - addled  brain  trying  to  offer  him  a  reprieve  from  the  disappointment  he  feels  his  daughter  has  become ?  –  Clumsily  reaches  out  for  her,  words  heavy  and  absent.

“ ‘S  a  good  girl,  Ness.  Always  so  helpful. ”  Her  father’s  right  hand  man,  through  and  through.  Remembers  getting  her  to  hold  his  tools  as  he’d  painstakingly  built  that  old  Spring - Bonnie  suit,  his  pride  and  joy;  remembers  more  recently  handing  her  his  knife  to  wash.  Clean  that  up  for  me.  We’ve  done  well  today.  Both  killers.  Nobody  suspects  him,  of  course  they  don’t.  Confident  words  and  faux  charming  smile  keeping  him  out  of  public  scrutiny,  the  loss  of  his  own  son  only  years  before  at  the  hands  of  his  daughter.  

He  smiles  that  same  smile  now,  but  it’s  pathetic.  Laden  with  the  sudden  realization  he  feels  helpless  for  the  first  time  in  a  long  time.  If  she’d  wanted  to  kill  him,  she  could  have.  Ended  it  all.  He  wouldn’t  have  even  known.  Maybe  that’s  why  he  addresses  her  now,  in  an  exhausted  facsimile  of  love  he’d  once  shown  her  as  a  young  child.  “ Help  me  stand.  [...]  How  long ‘s  it  been ? ”   How  long  has  he  been  lying  there,  human,  vulnerable ?  How  long  has  she  been  watching  over  him;  how  long  has  she  served  her  duty  to  him  loyally  today ?

[crossbackpoke-check]

Fixed point (mathematics) // The History of Perspective // "Point of Disappearance", Dennis Held // How the Hughes hockey family stays grounded // Fixed Point Photography-- // "Portrait of A.", Tung-Hui Hu // Mic'd Up | Hughes NHL 25 cover shoot // "Burnt Norton", T.S. Eliot // "Circuitry", Janine Joseph // Bruce Bennett // Nick Wass // from obedience [maybe one day, during a point in time], kari edwards // Bill Rapai // "Errand Upon Which We Came", Stephanie Strickland // Benchmark (surveying)

art kid luke hughes

[silversin]

TAG DUMP.

[ducknotinarow]

@aflockoffeathers | Continued from [here ]

When Karai returned after Casey's betrayal cause as much of a mess as one could expect she held nothing more than a blood stained black bandana. Baxtar looked it over and confirmed the blood on it was in fact Casey's. Karai spun quite the tale on what happened. It seemed to get the approval of all his men from how they all seemed buy that she tracked him down. Tricked him into thinking she was there to offer him help. Waited for his gaurd to drop, but she saw that Casey was just no longer with the foot anymore. Casey had set the turtles free before they could be used to lure out Yoshi. Oh he story was good who would doubt the heir of the clan who had done so much for it after all? Who wouldn't expect that she would handle the matter of a traitor she had many times before even. Expect this wasn't just some lowly foot solider who no longer could stomach the dedication to the clan. This was Casey and despite the constant bricking they traded over the years Saki knew. And he knew when she handed him proof of his death.

From the look in her eyes, the way she held her head and shoulders, how she was able to return without a hitch. She didn't kill Casey. Karai lacked any sign that would just scream that she had killed her brother in cold blood. Or even as a mercy. Saki knew his kids despite what they wanted to claim and Karai may hold a heaviness to her it wasn't because she had her brothers death on her conscience now. It was something else. He could tell there laid some glimmer of hope behind her gaze no matter how often he questioned her about what happened. Karai was smart she knew to stand her ground knew how to tell a convincing tale. He trained her well after all.

And that's why he knew it wasn't the truth. Even if it seemed possible. It was like Casey vanished after all he did keep a few selected foots solider on watch for Casey. But not even the times they trailed the turtles had they seen evidence of Casey with them. The only other tell? Raphael wasn't often with them at least for a time. One could reason it was because of mourning the loss but maybe it was paranoia Saki just felt it was something else. After sometime Raphael joined his brothers again. Nothing reported seemed to convey loss. He seemed a bit more reception to the foot though. More than his brothers were. Sometimes he left they saw the red turtle leave before. Unable to follow but they reported he left the city line.

Following his suspicious he just knew eventually one of them would make a mistake, one would slip up on this lie. And he wasn't even surprised it was Casey in the end who did it. Karai seemed a bit out of her sorts. The solider set track her got lucky. She made a call to someone panicked and worried because 'he suddenly came back asking to meet up.' Shredder could take a guess who she was relaying the information on and who he was. It wasn't much longer after when they found him. He long lost son Casey. Stood on the roof tops out in the open as if he had no care in the world not even thinking to risk what being seen might lead too. And sure death was the usual answer for leaving but? Saki had other plans in mind for his son.

Soldier's order to take restrain Casey as he walked over to his son. Eye's narrowed down to Casey. "I took you in, I gave you and your sister a home. I gave you a purpose." He states as he lets his blades slip from their hold as if he was going to use them on Casey. It was more a show and display if anything "Despite all your failures I gave you chance after chance because I saw at least some promise in you." He frames a look of disappointment. He let the sharp points of the blades stay in Casey view for a few moments longer. "Oh I could have just left the two of you there. But then where would you be? Eventually your sister and you would be torn apart at best by the time you were too old and still unable todo a thing for her. And despite that all? What did you do? act as if you knew better?" Saki says letting his gaze flicker to them.

"I warned you so much about Hamato Yoshi, hadn't I? all his lies claiming us brothers? Do you truly think anything creature he took in as son would differ?" Of course he was wrong, Raphael wasn't like that. If he could still love Casey? But what would that give Saki to gain here. "I should blame myself." he states lowering his blades. "I didn't warn you enough did I? I left you to make choices on your own and look what happened." Its the word choice that Shredder lays so heavily on when he spoke though. "That was the mistake here letting you think you had any choice at all. A choice to go behind my back, a choice in who you can claim a love for, a choice to leave it all behind." He goes to list all of the crimes Casey held here

"I suppose the option of choice was just too strong for you to handle on your own in the end." He looks to the ninja who had their grips on Casey and nodded for them to being him to his feet. "So we won't make that mistake again. I'll strip you of even the idea of getting a choice in anything this time around." He dose's explain what that means. "What you expected death when we met again?" he offers not surprised after all death was the only real way to leave.

"Death Casey would be your mercy." He threatens as he lets his glare bear heavily on to his son. "Why simply kill you when your not the only one who wronged me in all of this? and not when you can still sever me some purpose in the end." He suggests its not like he didn't have the ability after all and he sure even Casey can make guesses. "You are used to being made into an example after all. It seems Karai needs a lesson and Raphael. And since they found something to come to agree on it seems you still have some point in sticking around."

[joelsgu4tar]

JOEL MILLER FIC RECS

⇾ 18+ minors DNI, read at your own risk! ⇽

an appreciation to all my favourite writers out there you deserve all the love <3

Series

— Something To Fight For by @auteurdelabre | After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever...

— I Know Who You Are by @punkshort | A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long-term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.

— The One You Need by @loliwrites | When you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at arm’s length, your neighbour Joel finds his way into your life.

— By The Grit Of Sandpaper by @penvisions | An offhand comment from you inspires Joel to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed...

— I Wanna Be Your Lover by @shellshocklove | Miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor, you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

— If The Door Wasn't Shut by @heartpascal | months of travelling with Joel and Ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating.

— Stay In Bed by @psychedelic-ink | After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance.

— That's A Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic | When Tommy disappears in search of a better life with a promise to come back for you, his years of absence and the grief it leaves behind drives you and his brother closer together until the man you're sharing a bed and starting a family with is Joel Miller and not the one you always thought it would be.

One-Shots

— No Time To Die by @davosmymaster | The main difficulty of being Joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.

— White Lies by @poeticpascal | Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.

— Saying Thanks by @vivwritescrappythings | Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.

— Soft & Sweet by @cavillscurls | You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.

— Who We Are by @gracieheartspedro | Being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in eventually.

— Warm Me Up by @tightjeansjavi | While on patrol, you and Joel find yourselves caught in a treacherous snowstorm.

— Love In the Time Of Cordyceps by @sameheart-sameblood | When the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. Joel Miller makes that rule hard to stick to.

— Puppy Love by @absurdthirst | You always follow Joel Miller around, you've got his back. You're in love with him. Putting up with Tess's nickname of puppy dog, you don't realize that Joel feels for you until the end.

— Light The Flame by @yeollie-plz | Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?

— Best I Ever Had by @endlessthxxghts | Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

— Make A Move On Me by @freelancearsonist | You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodelling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

— Fire Walk by @motherofagony | A chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt.

— Cry Baby by @psychedelic-ink | bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in Jackson. As the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of Joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

[luveline]

oooh what about hotch's sister calling spencer to pick her up at the hospital after an accident or something because she doesn't want hotch to know since worry and go into protective big brother mode, but spencer tells him anyway and they both show up and lots of fluff ensues :)

adopted fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for panic attacks

You should call your brother. 

You think about it, even pull up his contact, he’s the first person you go to when you need help and he always has been, but lately Aaron has been so stressed you hesitate, clicking the text button by mistake. 

You read back his last message. 

I can feel myself being spread too thin but there’s nothing I can do to fix it, he’d text. I guess I’m frustrated. But how are you, working girl? New jobs are scary. I bet you’re doing better than you think already. Jack and I are super proud of you

You’d sent him a meagre response. You aren’t always sure what to say to him. Sincerity is easier in person, but even then, he can be terse and deflective; he looks after you and no one looks after him. 

You didn’t tell him about work, and you won’t tell him about now. You call Spencer instead. This is a good way to test the almost dating thing, right? 

He doesn’t answer. When you call again, he answers on the first ring. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“No. Are you busy?” 

“I’m not busy if you’re not okay. Two seconds.” There’s a pause where you assume he’s moving from one place to another, perhaps closing a book around his hand, or closing the lid on an early lunch. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m, uh, in hospital. I had a huge panic attack at work and I… thought I was having a heart attack, so I–” You’re so embarrassed your voice turns to a thread. “Sorry, I know it’s so stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid, that’s not stupid. How do you feel now?” 

“Like someone hit me really hard in the chest.” 

“Are you calmed down?” 

“Mostly.” You wince. “They want to talk to me about medications. Uh.” You clear your throat. “I want to go home.” 

“Angel… I’m on my way, okay? I’ll get Hotch and–”

“You can’t tell him.” 

“What?” 

“Please, Spencer, he gets so worried, he’s worried enough. And if he finds out I had a panic attack he’ll try and make me take time off of work and that’s just another thing on his plate he didn’t ask for–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, “please don’t panic. You’ve had a hard morning, panicking again is really gonna hurt. Try and think about things that don’t wind you up, alright? Is there anything you need me to get?” 

“You don’t have to come.” 

“That’s why you called me, right? I’ll be there.” 

You can’t know that he says goodbye and ducks straight back into Hotch’s office, where he’d been, to tell on you. It’s not to hurt you and it isn’t because you told him not to —it’s two parts concern, and one part self preservation. Aaron needs to know and you need him with you, and he also can’t imagine things going well for himself if he kept the news of your stay a secret. The shovel talk plays in his mind. 

Aaron’s shovel talk being, You won’t do anything to hurt her, said simply, and with an impassive expression that bordered terrifying. Not overly unaffected, just casual. 

You’re laying in your hospital bed with your hands clasped across your stomach when Spencer arrives. He frowns at you in your bed, worse when he sees your smudged makeup and the chafed inside of your wrist where you’ve picked and squeezed at your own skin. Your panic has left a physical mark, your chest aching as you force yourself to sit, and it hurts doubly so when your brother lets himself in behind your nearly-boyfriend.

You don’t have it in you to complain. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says, reaching down to give you a quick hug as you sit. “I had to tell him.” 

 Aaron’s hug is similarly apologetic, though much longer. “You weren’t gonna tell me?” he asks quietly, his hand settling at the place between your shoulders. “How do you feel now?” 

“I’m fine, I– I really thought I was having a heart attack.” 

“That’s common,” Spencer says, “it’s the feeling of impending doom, thousands of people mistake anxiety for medical issues every week.” 

Aaron holds you by the shoulders. “It’s okay,” he says. “Was it a doctor that checked you out, or a nurse?” 

Aaron probes the name of your nurse from you and promises to be back soon. He seems to have gleaned that the quickest way to get information today won’t be from you. 

Spencer goes in for another hug when he leaves, and then, to your delight, a very quick kiss pressed to your cheek. He ducks away after that and sits on the side of your hospital bed, his knuckles gracing the outside of your thigh. “Thank you for calling me,” he says, smiling at you, and better when you smile back.

“Thanks for coming.” 

“Of course. I know how it feels, okay? If they want to talk about medication it’s a good thing, but everyone has moments like this.” 

“I can’t believe you told Aaron,” you say, giving a weak but playful glare.

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to. He loves you, he wants to know what’s hurting you, no matter how much stuff is on his plate.” 

You bite the inside of your lip, contemplative for a few slow seconds. “You think so?” you ask finally. 

The hair flicked under his ears wobbles as he nods. “Absolutely.” 

You lean forward to readjust his collar and tie. He’s wearing one of his cutesy waistcoats, dark grey over a light blue shirt. His tie has patterns you trace with your thumb, like fish scales. “Sorry, I know you were working,” you murmur. 

“I think my boss will forgive me.” 

You let your hands fall. Spencer, perhaps picking up on a hint you hadn’t meant to give, takes them both into one of his and squeezes reassuringly. 

“It’s harder than I thought,” you confide softly. 

“It’s an adjustment period. But maybe it’s not right for you, there. That’s what started it, right? Your job.” 

“I’m not sure. I don’t know. I get panicky about all sorts of stuff, but I’ve never had one this bad before. I was a miserable kid, you can ask Aaron, but I really thought I was better.” 

He rubs over your fingers with his thumb. “I think we all have stuff that messes us up. Doesn’t mean you’re not better. You don’t even really have to be better. And I… I am here for you, I promise. I know you have no reason to trust me with it yet, but I’ll listen whenever you need me to.” 

You think about kissing him. Spencer kisses like he’s suffocating and your air, it’s cliche and undeniably true. Whenever you kiss him it’s like a shock —he steals your breath, he can’t stop himself from grabbing your face, and any other time you’d love it, but right now you just need a peck. You’re hoping he can do those kinds of kisses too. 

“Will you kiss me?” you ask tentatively.

He gets the memo on gentleness. You shouldn’t be surprised, your very first kiss was tame, his hand running up your arm as he encourages you forward. Your eyes shutter closed at the feeling of his lips on yours, and the exhausting thrumming that’s lived beneath your skin since you woke up numbs to a more manageable ache. 

Spencer breaks away. He cups your cheek quickly, dropping it immediately when the door opens. 

You shuffle backward nonchalantly. 

Aaron gives you a sarcastic look. Really? it says. I wasn't born yesterday. 

“They want to give you a prescription for Paxil, honey, what do you think?” He turns his attention to Spencer reluctantly. “What’s her best option here?” 

“Paxil could be fine. They didn’t suggest a benzodiazepine? Paxil is an SSRIs, it slows down the rate of serotonin reuptake, basically increasing the effectiveness of your bodies natural serotonin, which could decrease the risk of another attack, but taking it won’t stop her from feeling like this,” —he frowns at your location— “very quickly. Ideally she should have a medication for general anxiety and the option for quicker relief if this happens again.” He smiles at you suddenly, nearly shyly. “If that’s what you want, that is.” 

“What are you thinking, honey?” Aaron asks you. 

You have the two of them here to look after you while you decide. You take Spencer’s hand gently, desperate for reassurance. “I’m not sure.” 

“It’s okay, we’ll work it out,” your brother promises. 

Spencer squeezes your hand. 

[mrsriddlenott]

~ JB’s Little Sister ~

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Warnings: smut, weed, creampie, breeding kink mentioned, a bit of spit kink but barely, hair pulling, kinda choking kink but barely. Barely proofread, plz point out mistakes.

{masterlist}

————

JJ knew it was wrong but he was absolutely obsessed with the youngest Routledge sibling. It really boiled over when you were both in high school, he absolutely loved having the excuse to be near you all day. He was a year older and knew John B would lose it if he found out it was more than jokes. But he was unashamed in his decade of flirting, so much so he genuinely thought he was gonna die when you left the island for your freshman year of college. And when you came back for summer it was like a dam broke in his mind, he couldn’t hold back.

“God I’ve missed you.” JJ groaned as he and John B ran to tug you into a hug, tripping over himself right in front of you before he could reach your arms, making you laugh and give your brother the first hug. He pops up immediately, tugging you back by your waist before you can follow your brother into the Chateau where the rest of your friends wait. “Get the fuck back here, I needa hug from my favorite girl.”

“I swear you missed me more than JB did.” You laugh jumping up, fully prepared for him to catch you and he does, unabashedly letting his palms rest on the exposed flesh at the base of your shorts as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Y’know it Mama.” His voice was deeper and laced in want, placing you back down onto your feet after squeezing you tightly. JJ lets his hands rub up your waste as you slide down his toned body before he steps back from you, wetting his lips, finally getting a good look at you after so long of only facetime. You lock your hands around his neck, smiling up at him in a way that would surely get you yelled at by John B had he seen.

“What would I do without you?” You ask, your smile wide as you look up to him. Finally allowing yourself to show him everything you wanted to for so long.

“Crash and burn of course,” He tugs you around under his arm, resting his toned bicep on your shoulder as he directs you into the Chateau for the first time since you left last fall. John B pops his head out the door watching you both as you approach him.

“What the hell is taking you so long?” He snaps, making you roll your eyes as you shove past him, begrudgingly letting JJ’s arm fall from your shoulders. As you finally step into your home you’re bombarded with hugs and welcomes, making your way into the center of the group, sitting in your regular spot in rotation right across from JJ’s. Something JB ensured as soon as he caught onto to your infatuation with his best friend. But after practically living on your own for an entire school year you were tired of your older brother taking control over your life. You had a plan, and you knew it would work.

“So what are you doing your first weekend back?”Kie asks, passing the joint they had rolled for your return your way as you try and ignore JJ’s burning gaze on you. You give yourself time to work out the best response as you take your hit, puffing on the joint again to fill your lungs a little extra before passing it off. You catch the way JJ’s adam’s apple bob’s, his eyes watching you blow the smoke past your lips as though he was in a trance.

“Well, don’t get mad but do you remember my ex, the one I broke it off with junior year?” You ask, plucking at a lose thread on your shorts, looking around at everyone but JJ’s reaction.

“That douchbag kook who was too old for you and didn’t deserve you?” John B asks sarcastically, “Yeah, how could I forget.” He rolls his eyes, puffing off the joint as you laugh at his annoyance. You let yourself steal a glimpse at JJ buying yourself time as the joint makes it’s rounds, catching the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. You smile to yourself, looking to the floor and feigning ignorance of his reaction.

“Yes, Tyler, he found out I was gonna be back for the summer and he asked me to get dinner later, I said I would but that it doesn’t necessarily mean we’re getting back together,” You shrug your shoulders as though it was nothing, watching JJ take his hit, his hard eyes remaining trained onto you with fire blazing behind them.

“Necessarily?!” Pope blurts out with a fake laugh, “Isn’t Tyler the asshole college dude me and JJ had to put in line a few years ago?” You feel yourself starting to laugh at Pope’s scoff of annoyance, remembering how he was always just as protective as your brother when it came to you starting to date.

“It doesn’t mean anything okay, it’s just for fun.” You shrug, ignoring the smirk Sarah sends your way as JJ begins to fume in his spot. You roll your eyes playfully away from her, smiling as she clearly picks up on what you were doing.

“That’s what you say when something definitely means something.” JJ pipes up, trying to stop his teeth from gritting together as your eyes avoid him again.

“I don’t know this guy but if he’s fun, I think you should have your fun,” Cleo states with a smile before standing and tugging Pope off with her. You shake your head, laughing as you fake a disgusted look in their direction.

“I will not be having that kind of fun.” You state, finally locking eyes with JJ, tilting your head slightly, challenging him to break eye contact first. His blown out pupils contrast against his ocean blue eyes as he holds your gaze only breaking it when John B stands up beside you.

“Yeah, right. Just don’t bring him back here, I can’t promise I’ll remain civil this time.” Your brother laughs at your dramatic eye roll, despite knowing he was only half joking. Your eyes meet Sarah’s, your eyebrows arching for a split second before she gets your request. You hold back a sigh at watching your plan fall perfectly into place, Sarah hopping off the couch she was occupying to tug at her boyfriends wrist.

“And what were you and Sarah going to be doing? Hm lemme think…” JJ finally laughs at your words, watching the way you jokingly tap your chin as the pair retreat into the Chateau towards John B’s bedroom. Sarah giggling, winking back at you over her shoulder, fully supporting you in your endeavors unlike your brother.

“And I think that would be my cue,” Kie says between laughs, shaking her head in mock disappointment, “I hope you two know what you’re doing.” She states in a sing song voice before slipping out the door and out of sight. You watch JJ’s confused face, his eyebrows furrowed adorably watching her leave, his lips trying to form a question as he mutters confusedly before she’s gone.

“Wanna come hotbox the Twinkie with me Jay?” You stretch out towards him, kicking his thigh softly, snapping his eyes back to yours. He caught the twinkle in your eyes, the slight tilt to your head and part of him already knew.

And with one decision, he ended up getting everything he wanted.

“You don’t even gotta ask Mama.” JJ responds excitedly, immediately hopping up in front of you as he reaches his ring clad hand down to take yours, “M’lady?”

~~~~

“Come on, he’ll never know I swear.” JJ begged, continuing the non-stop flirting he’d started from the second he began rolling a blunt for you both. Ever since you mentioned you had a date his “jokes” started to feel more and more serious, making your giddy excitement skyrocket as you slowly push yourself closer to him in your seat.

“John B would literally kill you if he found out,” you laugh, taking a puff off the blunt before passing it off to him again, “He doesn’t care that I’m in college now and more responsible than him, he’s overprotective.”

“Then I would die happy Baby,” He states, shrugging his shoulders as he hits the blunt blowing the smoke directly in your face from across him, “You know me, imma’ daredevil.”

“See you don’t even actually want me Jay, you just like the chase,” Your eyes meet his through the haze of smoke slowly filling the Twinkie, “You think it would be hot to sneak around.” You fill your voice with teasing interest, knowing he would pick up on the change in your tone immediately.

“It would be really hot yeah but you’re also one of my best friends.” His breathless voice takes you by surprise as he leans forward to hand you the blunt, letting his fingers brush yours for too long, catching your eyes again and forcing you to maintain eye contact. He does love a chase, but the excitement of finally hearing your interest after so long of getting the cold shoulder sends him reeling more than the desperation for your attention that John B denied him ever did.

“Which should discourage you Jay.” He watches the way your eyebrow raises with your tone, wetting his lips as his brain reminds him of the many times he watched you flirt at the Boneyard, taking charge and wrapping some poor sucker around your finger for the night. His heart started to race, a smile growing on his lips when he takes note of your tell.

You were finally flirting back.

“Well it doesnt, and I don’t care about no pogue on pogue anymore either Sweetheart, I do genuinely want you.” JJ tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth, watching your face and he can tell he’s finally got you, “And if John B kills me and dumps my body in the marsh so be it.”

JJ watched your lips wrap around the blunt sucking in your hit it, blue eyes bouncing from the smoke pouring past your lips to your eyes still locked onto him. “Wanna shot gun it Jay?” You blurt out, smiling teasingly as you push yourself impossibly closer to him on the bench in the back of the Twinkie. Loving the way his eyes found yours immediately, swallowing thickly while he nods.

“Yes, yes I do.” His hands found your waste as though it was second nature, pulling you into his lap where you rest your weight with a sigh. Your eyes stay locked in his gaze, taking a long drag to properly fill your mouth with the warm smoke. You watch JJ’s face intently before tugging his mouth up to yours by his stubbled chin. You ghost your lips against his, letting them touch each other just slightly while you pass him your hit. You lean back in his lap to watch as his eyes flutter shut, feeling the way his fingers grip your hips as he inhales the smoke you gave him.

“Y’like that Baby?” You ask and a moan vibrates through his body and into yours at the sound of the nickname, a smile subconsciously covering his face as his eyes stay closed. You take the opportunity to put out the smoking blunt in the ashtray behind you, letting your now free hands roam across his chest and shoulders as you pull yourself back to him.

“I think I’m dreamin’ Sweetness,” He sighs, his hands dancing up and down your waste, gripping at your flesh everywhere he stops. You giggle above him, wiggling your hips against the growing bulge in his shorts and sending a shiver through his body.

“You’re not Jay,” You whisper, resting your hands on his shoulders has his eyes flicker open to watch you, “Do you wanna kiss me?” Your voice comes out soft despite the confidence you feel, slightly rocking your hips against him as he nods desperately.

His hand rubs its way up your back, gripping the back of your neck and smashing your lips into his. The kiss is heated as soon as you touch, years of pent up feelings urge you both further, your lips fighting each other as you moan into his mouth. You graze your tongue against his bottom lip asking for entrance, making him groan into you gripping your lower waste harder, tugging you impossibly closer and shoving his tongue past your gasping lips. You laugh into the kiss, sighing as you grind into him feeling him entirely through his and your own shorts. The taste of his spit coating your tongue sending a wave of excitement through you, the puddle in your panties growing as you swirl your tongue against his, coating your mouth in his saliva.

JJ pulls back suddenly, his blown out eyes watching your face intently as you whine for him to come back. Your brows furrowing, your fingers tugging at his shirt collar desperate to have his taste on your lips again. “Jayy, come on.” You beg, bucking against his hard bulge again desperately.

“You’re not just doin’ this because the weed though, right?” He asks, his voice desperate and strained. You laugh, tugging him closer by his shoulders, grinding into his lap harder and tangling your fingers in his hair to tug on it hard.

“You are absolutely clueless JJ, I have been obsessed with you for years, why do you think JB hates us being alone together.” You drag your lips against his neck as you speak feeling the way he twitches against you, itching to finally get you the way he needed, “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of ridin’ you in this van.”

“I’ve thought about taking you in damn near every position, everywhere on this fucking island.” He responds, holding back a moan at the feeling of you pressing against him.

“Well, no one can stop you now because I say what you can and can’t do to me.” He growls as he smashes his lips back onto yours. Maneuvering your body so you laid under him across the bench of the van, one hand disappearing between your bodies, tugging at the button on your shorts to let his hand fall into them. He circles his finger slowly against your clothed clit, laughing as his eyes find yours again, your brows furrowing and your mouth falling open, “You’re so fucking wet.” He laughs out, his free hand drifting to wrap softly around your neck tugging you towards him again and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

He moans against your tongue as your hand falls to palm him through his shorts, making him pull back quickly, the clank of his belt coming undone so quickly sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes follow his movements entranced by him, watching as he tugs his shorts and boxers down together, letting himself spring free. His tip bounces against his lower abdomen making him hiss lightly, his hand falling to stroke himself slowly, thumbing his leaking tip as his free hand springs into action. He tugs your shorts and panties down in quick, smooth motions sighing heavily when he spreads your thighs to get a look at you. His hand speeds up at the sight of your glistening folds, groaning into his kiss bruised lip while you desperately wiggle your hips below him. His thumb moves subconsciously, pulling one of your sticky lips to the side and watching as they clap back together when he releases it, growling at the sight of how wet he can make you.

His eyes meet yours, groaning as he feels your hand replacing his on his cock. His fingertips ghost against your thighs slowly working their way up your body, catching on the tank top you wear to slowly pull it up your chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful Sweetheart, look at you, your nipples are all perky for me.” His tongue swipes against his lips before he dives into your chest, tugging your shirt off fully over your head and tossing it behind him before swirling his warm tongue against your hard nipple. Your fingers of your free hand get lost in his hair, tugging lightly as the other moves lower palming his tightening sack as he moves to suck your other nipple into his mouth. Groaning and moaning into your flesh, biting your nipple and making you whine underneath him.

“Please fuck me Jay, I wanna feel you inside me already.” JJ pushes himself up, his strong arms framing your face as he watches you, spit coating his lips and making them glisten. His brows furrow in pleasure as your hand picks up speed between your bodies, “Please Baby, I need you.” You emphasize your words with a squeeze of your fingers, slowly drifting your hand up ghosting your fingers against his tip and feeling him twitch in your palm before tugging your hand away. Quickly you drift your hand up his shirt, digging your nails into his chest and dragging them down his abdomen, marking him as he shudders above you. “Take your fucking shirt off and fuck me already JJ, or I swear you won-“

JJ pushes off of you immediately, pulling his shirt off over his head in a flash before falling back onto you. Holding his weight on his arm beside your head as his free hand falls to line himself up at your entrance. His fingers tangle in your hair at the side of your head, his lips capturing yours as his tip slowly slips into your drenched center, “You’re so fuckin’ needy, been waitin’ too long for this to not take it slow with you.” He gasps against your lips, breathing heavily as he slides into you slowly letting his hand drift up to wrap around your neck possessively, “I want you to feel every bit of me Baby.”

“It’s not like this is never gonna happen again Jay,” You moan, his cock stretching you out, sending your juices leaking past him and onto the blanket below you as he slowly penetrates you, “Unless you didn’t want t-“

“Shut the fuck up,” JJ growls, snapping his hips into you and cutting you off with a moan as he fills you completely, “I know you won’t be able to get enough of me after this, but don’t worry imma fuck you every chance you give me. I can feel you clenching around me already Gorgeous, so don’t play because I’m in charge now.”

He pulls out slowly, his eyes falling to watch his glistening skin as he slips out of you. His tip rests inside you while you pucker around him, desperately trying to suck him back into you. His bright blue excited eyes bounce to yours, your brows furrowed adorably, your teeth digging into your lip. He thrusts into you, filling you back up and forcing your mouth open with a moan. His hips start to rock against you, setting a slow but rough pace as he dips his head to catch your lips in a slow, passionate kiss matching the desperate thrusts of his hips against yours.

JJ’s thrusts speed up, dragging against your twitching walls and hitting your cervix each time. He twitches inside you as your tongue swirls around his, moaning in your mouth and letting his hand fall down your neck to your chest, stopping for only a second to squeeze at your breast before continuing his decent. You gasp into his mouth as his fingers find your clit again, circling over it and dropping his lips to kiss down your neck.

JJ speeds up his finger’s movement as his pace slows, trying to control himself. The feeling of your walls clenching around him, your slick sticking to him every time his balls slap against you pushing him dangerously close to the edge. Your hips move desperately trying to speed up your own release as JJ holds himself back. His teeth dig into the skin at the base of your neck groaning as your hands dance across his muscular back. Dipping low enough to grab at his ass before drifting their way back up, dragging your nails against his shoulders and making him shudder.

"Please Jay, faster," You gasp, clutching JJ's shoulders as he pounds into you slowly, letting your nails dig into his skin with each thrust. “Faster Jay I’m gonna cum,” You practically scream as his fingers rub into you impossibly faster, his hips digging into you deeper as he speeds up his thrusts again.

"You gotta be quiet Gorgeous, this thing ain't soundproof." He laughs, pushing himself above you, one hand resting beside your head, taking a second to glance out the fogged windows of the Twinkie before looking back to your closed eyes and furrowed brows. His eyes glance down your body, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly as you gush around him, slowing his fingers as you come undone below him. The band in your abdomen finally snaps, forcing you to arch into him, your nails digging down his back and leaving bright red marks behind. JJ pulls his hand from between you, sucking it into his mouth and moaning before letting it fall to your cheek, pushing your hair back as he attempts to maintain a steady pace, fucking you into oblivion as he watches your face contort in pleasure.

“Look at me.” His voice is laced in dominance, breathing heavily above you as he watches your eyes flicker open, staring up at him desperately. With a groan his mouth finds yours again, your moans mixing together while he pulls all the way out, slamming back into you and making you gasp into his mouth. Allowing his tongue to explore yours as his hips speed up even faster to a brutal pace, shaking the van with each thrust. You should be worried someone will see, but you’re too fucked out to care right now.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as his hand falls to steady himself on your hip looking for anything to grab onto, latching to reality. You tug at his hair aggressively as he bites your lip, locking your legs around his waste, whining out a moan into him as his cock hits deeper inside you making you pull his hair even harder subconsciously. Your whole body begins to twitch with overstimulation as JJ moans desperately above you, his hips stuttering and his breath shudders, “Do that again, now.”

You do as your told, moaning as his hips snap against you at an erratic, random pace when you do. “You gonna cum Jay?” You ask, your voice breathless and squeaky post orgasm.

“Mhmm, tryna convince myself I wanna pull out right now though Sweetheart.” His eyes squeeze shut, clenching his fingers onto your hip. His fingernails digging into your skin trying to control himself.

“No don’t, please don’t Jay,” you whine, locking your legs around him tighter, tugging him fully against you as he groans and moans into your neck. He whines loudly, pushing into you, his tip kissing against your cervix as you feel his hot cum paint your walls. He stills completely, dropping his weight onto you, his cock twitching inside of you as he empties himself into you.

“If I get you pregnant,” JJ huffs, pushing himself up on shaky arms to watch your face, “Your brother is definitely gonna kill me.”

“No he would never kill JJ Jr.” You laugh breathlessly, JJ’s eyes following the way your chest moves before dropping to look at where he sits inside of you. The ring of the creamy mixture of your releases at his base driving him absolutely insane, sending his head spinning with excitement.

“Fuck, I guess I have a breedin’ kink now,” He groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses against the warm flesh there, “Thanks for that Princess.”

JJ pushes off of you to watch as he pulls out, his intense eyes staring as your mixed release flows out of you and onto the seat below. You wiggle your hips teasingly with a tired smile before he snaps out of it. Shaking his head with a laugh as he bends over to tug his bandana free from his shorts, swiping it against your overstimulated clit as he cleans you of the sticky residue coating you.

You both redress in a comforting silence, both giggling together when you flip the blanket covering the bench of the Twinkie to the clean side. Your eyes meet his for a second too long, your shared laughter stopping slowing as he stares at you with soft eyes, his smile only growing as you lean into him. Your lips melt together in a soft, welcoming kiss before parting with a sigh. JJ’s hand falls to the ashtray sitting in the front of the van, relighting the half smoked blunt before passing it off to you. You sigh contently, smiling up at him happy that everything still feels so normal.

Once the Twinkie is filled with the scent of weed and not the evidence of your previous actives you slide the door open. The smoke falling out around you as you squint at the light change. JJ sits on the floor of the Twinkie with his legs hanging out the side door, looking at you as you stretch your arms and legs. You catch sight of John B as he emerges from the door of the Chateau, quickly walking his way towards you. You chuckle, thinking of how lucky you are he chose to come looking just after you and JJ both found your way out of the steaming van. You can feel John B’s suspicion seeping off of him like a palpable entity as he approaches, making you laugh and turn to JJ behind you. His eyes popping up off your ass and to your eyes quickly before noticing his best friend approaching over the yard behind you.

“What are you two doing?” Your brother snaps, eyeing you as you roll your eyes back to him.

“Jus’ smoking JB, I got bored waiting for you so Jay took care of me.” JJ holds back a laugh at your words, poking his tongue into his cheek while his eyes fall to the ground at his feet.

“I thought I said years ago I didn’t want you two smoking alone together.” John B states, suspicion laced in his voice and eyes. A look of disgust forming on his face when he eyes the Twinkie, seemingly looking for “clues” he will never find.

“And I distinctly remember telling you I can hang out with whoever I want. I’m an adult now, just like you, so untwist your panties.” His brows furrow in suspension once again, looking back to you desperately trying to decipher what the look in your eyes means. His gaze bouncing between you and his best friend, unsure if he should trust his gut or let it go.

“Is somthing going on with you two?” John B asks, his voice dropping to a whisper as if this was all a giant public scandal.

“Uh yeah, we’re friends.” You state with a dramatic roll of your eyes before slipping past your brother. You turn to catch JJ’s eyes over your shoulder, sending him a wink and watching him try to hide his smirk.

“Don’t you have a date to get ready for?” JB yells after your retreating form, not noticing the way JJ’s eyes lingered on you as well, eagerly awaiting your answer.

“Nope, I’m canceling, decided you were right, Tyler is a douchebag.” You don’t miss the proud smile JJ wears as you flit into the Chateau, ignoring the look your brother gives his best friend when he notices as well.

————

[sublimitymp3]

Do you, brother?

Pairing ✵ Aegon Targaryen/Younger sister!reader

Warnings ✵ Hotd season 2 spoilers, incest, swearing, smut (Dub-con, p in v, fingering, choking, slight breeding kink), mentions of death, mentions of child loss, descriptions of birth, and heavy themes

Word count ✵ 2.6k

Summary ✵ The death of your son leaves behind a shadow upon everything, and after an overwhelming funeral procession for him, your evasive brother finally comes to you in the night.

Jaehaerys

Your little boy. Jae-hae-rys. The syllables roll off your tongue in a smooth manner, as they always have done. Sweet Jaehaerys. The very thought of the name conjures memories in your mind of the day you labored him and his twin into the world, screaming and writhing in pain as you felt as though you were being torn apart at the seams. He was a small, splotchy babe, who exited you covered in blood and wailing and squirming in the maester's arms. But even through your delirium and searing pain, you knew then what love was.

He was a precocious boy, eager to learn and to explore the world. "He has the makings of a very fine king," you recall your grandfather telling you once. The thought of Jaehaerys on that throne made your stomach feel uneasy, and the words loomed over you, lingering in the back of your mind and refusing to leave.

Even now it still lingers.

The once dreadful notion has been reduced to a silly daydream, for Jaehaerys will never be king. He will never grow, never explore the world, never ride his dragon, and you will never cradle him in your arms again.

It feels wrong to carry on. It feels wrong to do much of anything with the knowledge that your sweet Jaehaerys will exist only in memory now. Your mother tries to console you, to hug you in her cold arms, but you do not want her now. After all, what does she know about losing a child? The funeral procession your grandfather insisted on felt even more wrong than anything else.

Your son, the martyr.

Hundreds of the smallfolk clambered over each other to catch a glimpse of your little boy, and you. Your tears bought their sympathy and a new resentment for Rhaenyra, but it mattered little to you. They had sewn his head back on, you saw. It was an ugly sight, where black thread met severed skin.

Jaehaerys

How you longed to climb over to the cart carrying his body just so you could hold your boy one last time, but your mother's steadying and sobering grip on your knee kept you from doing so. "Deepest sympathies, my queen!" "Curse Rhaenyra!" "We love you, our queen!" Their shouts of support felt more like a ringing in your ear than anything. You didn't want this. You only wanted everything to be quiet.

You had a headache and felt nothing but exhaustion, and you couldn't even bring yourself to weep any longer. It was as if you were wrung dry. You cursed under your breath at the seemingly endless flights of stairs in the Red Keep, for all you wanted to do was to go and lay in bed. But then you saw him. First, you saw his hair, hair much like yours, only it was messily cropped short. Next was his eyes, violet in color and mirrors of your own. The scowl upon his handsome face, well, you didn't care for it, but you couldn't pry your eyes away. You found yourselves gawking at each other on the stairwell, and only then did you remember how much Jaehaerys looked like Aegon.

"Your grace, I-" Is all you can say before Aegon quickly turns away from you and hurries down the steps. You stand there, watching as the head of silver hair swiftly disappears from your line of sight. You snap your mouth close, pressing your lips into a firm line and continuing up the stairs. 'Foolish girl, when has he ever confronted anything in his life?' you cannot help but think.

You don't see your husband for around two weeks. Fleeting glimpses in the hallways, mentions of him from your mother, and murmurs about the king from the courtiers are all you have of him during that time.

As you prepare yourself for bed, you try to banish all thoughts of him from your mind to get some semblance of much-needed sleep. The nights seemed so long and torturous now, and yet you hardly could find sleep no matter what you did. Tonight was the first night in what seemed like centuries that you finally felt tired, and you wasted no time settling into bed to drift into a slumber.

You dream odd things, nonsensical things you'll forget when you wake, mostly. And even more odd, you begin to dream of Aegon. Of his strangely soft hands on you, of him pushing your nightdress up to your hips, and of him maneuvering you onto your back. It feels real, but you know it isn't. He won't come near you, no, not now. But even your mind begins to suggest otherwise.

With an irritated whine, you feel yourself being pulled from your sleep. It is only when you open your eyes to curse at what you assumed was a maid disturbing you, that your assumptions are quickly proven wrong.

Aegon is on top of you, staring unblinkingly into your eyes. Salty, hot tears drip from him onto your face, and his hand clamps down over your mouth before you can question him. You must make a face unwittingly, for he begins to speak,

"Shh, shh, it's alright, it's just me...just me," Aegon soothes, and you smell the wine on his warm breath. He's drunk. Or at the very least near drunk. "I-I am sorry, sorry for you, sorry for our boy. Oh, my poor son," his words are ever so slightly slurred, and he retracts himself to sit on the edge of the bed and weep in his drunken stupor.

You sit up, a bit startled to discover your nightgown bunched up by your hips. Your smallclothes were even pulled down a bit, but not fully. You realize now what he was attempting to do, and you can only sit in a tense silence with him. "He was my son too, you know," he mumbles like a petulant child, once he catches a glimpse of your resentful face.

"I grieve him just as much as you, mayhaps even more. He was my heir, my only heir," his words linger in the stagnant air, not sitting well with you. His gaze unnerves you even more, staring at you expectantly. The implications in his voice are clear to you; he means to beget another heir.

"Take another wife then, I am tired," The brazen words escape you (before you can think) in a whisper, and you lay back down, wasting no time to turn your back to him. "I don't want to again, I can't again. No more, Aegon." and you close your eyes, letting your tears roll down the side of the face.

You refuse to subject yourself to it all over again. To the aches, the uncomfortable swell of your belly, and the terrible pain birth brought. You know what it will all end in. It's a deep knowledge that has burrowed itself between your bones, embedded itself in your brain, and wrapped around your heart.

The Stranger will come for you all, surely.

The bed dips again as he shifts himself closer to you, and he grabs your shoulder in a bruising grip to turn you onto your back. His face gets so close to yours that the tip of his nose nudges your own, and you feel his warm breath fanning against your lips.

"I wasn't asking what you thought of it. You're my wife, my little sister. You were born for me to have. A king needs an heir, surely you understand that? You're not a stupid girl," he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, mockingly, almost.

He manages to wedge himself between your thighs, and you feel his wandering fingers pull down your smallclothes. "Aegon-" "Don't say a word, don't say a damn thing," he interrupts, irritated by your unwilling mood. "Wouldn't it be nice to have another little babe to rock in your arms? Hm? We'll make more, yes? Enough to fill this fucking castle," Aegon grunts, pushing his fingers past your folds. A whine involuntarily escapes you at the invasive feeling, and even more so as he pumps his fingers in and out.

In and out, in and out, in and out.

You feel your body give into his ministrations and get wet. 'Betrayal,' you think. A pleased hum escapes from him as you leak onto his fingers, and you feel your cheeks burn with shame. This isn't right. No, no after what has happened.

"You weep down here too, did you know, sweet sister?" He mumbles, pulling his fingers out of you just to drag them along your dripping folds. A shiver runs up your spine at his actions, forcing you to bite your tongue to muffle any noises. You don't want him to hear you. You don't want to give him that satisfaction.

He fully retracts his fingers, and you know what is next. He undresses himself quickly, untying his breeches and tunic with a practiced speed before pulling your nightdress off of you, leaving you vulnerable and cold. He chuckles at your little shivers and the way you wrap your arms around yourself protectively. "Shh, do not worry, you'll be warm soon enough," he laughs as if this is a lighthearted moment between two lovers. Your stomach churns slightly.

"You're so beautiful, you know. I've never thought otherwise. So pretty like this, all for me," he whispers against the shell of your ear as he lines himself up with your cunt.

The burning stretch of the intrusion is what you feel first. It has been long since he bedded you, and your body had forgotten the feel of him. "F-Fuck, how are you so tight? Like you're trying to squeeze me to death," he groans against your neck, before suckling bruises into your soft skin. He bottoms out completely, and you feel his tip brushing against your sweet spot.

It's overwhelming for you. It's too much. You close your eyes and let your mind drift to happier days. Days long before you called Aegon husband, days when you would play with your sister by your mother's skirts. Days when the most daunting task was getting out of bed or letting the maids bathe you. It almost brings a smile to your face. Almost.

Your blissful daydreams and nostalgia are interrupted by Aegon gently slapping your cheek repeatedly, rudely reminding you of where you are now. "Hey, hello, where are you? Look at me, for fucks sake," he grumbles, slowing his thrusts you only now are noticing. He grips your face in his hands, forcing you to stare into his familiar violet eyes.

It's cruel to have to stare into your own eyes while this happens, you think.

"Don't do that again. Think of me," he whispers against your lips, his voice a bit shaky and heavy with lust. "Only me, and this."

His thrusts resume, and his lips are soon pressed against yours. He kisses you with a greedy, bruising force as if he's trying to devour you whole.

"Messy girl," he muses as he wipes drool off your chin with his thumb, and the action is oddly tender to you. The tip of his cock keeps brushing against your sweet spot, making your mind turn to mush and your legs turn to jelly.

You hate how Aegon has this talent to make your resolve slip with only a few touches and kisses. You could be upset with him for weeks on end, and yet all he had to do was hold you down and you'd soon forget whatever grievance you held against him.

"A-Aegon, brother, please-" you whine, even more so as he maneuvers your knees to press against your chest. He holds you down like this and the new angle allows him to push further into you. The sound of skin against skin reverberates in your chambers around you as he drives into you at a faster pace.

"Stay still, stay still. Quit squirming, don't you trust me, sweet girl?" He huffed, still irked by your light resistance. His hand reaches back down to your weeping cunt, and his thumb rubs gentle circles into your bud. The added stimulation makes you cry out with overwhelming pleasure, and you feel like your very bones are gyrating.

"There we go," he smirks, dragging out his words. He's found the combination that makes you fall apart around him and he finds it satisfying. "You like that, don't you? 'Course you do, sweet girl. You were made for me, made to take my cock and bear my children. You were born to be mine. Nothing more, nothing less," He groans, his own peak beginning to build up.

His words ignite a fire in your belly, and it feels so wrong. His words are mocking, demeaning even, and on any other given day and situation you'd have retorted and isolated yourself from him until you calmed down. But this night was not simply any other night. His words and his movements bring you closer and closer to the edge, and the coil in your belly tightens up as it prepares to snap.

"Aegon, gods, keep going, please don't stop-" you moan, lost now in the bliss of it all. You selfishly buck your hips against his, desperate for your own impending release.

"I got you, pretty girl. Go on, let go for me, sweet sister," and with his words, the tightly wound coil in you snaps. It is a white-hot pleasure that wracks through your body, and you feel as though you are floating.

You come to when you feel Aegon increasing the pace of his already rough thrusts. He is close, you can tell. You have no strength to tell him to pull out, to beg him not to finish inside. He's fucked you too good for that. Maybe that was his plan after all, you think.

"F-Fuck, I'm so close, sweetling. I'll fill you up, make sure you're nice and full with my seed. In nine moons time, we'll have another little boy, hm? Another silver-haired beauty," he pants, before his grip that still pushes your knees against your chest tightens. He brings one hand to squeeze around your throat, and you feel his fingers dig into the sides of your neck. There will be a bruise there in the morning, no doubt.

His movements are rough and fast as he chases his release, and soon, his steady pace falters and his hips stutter to a halt. "Gods be good," he moans, slumping over to bury his face into the crook of your neck. Spurts of his warm and sticky seed coat your velvety walls, a familiar feeling. Surely you will be with child by the next month.

Exhaustion is what you feel. Exhaustion, and a pang of sadness in your heart. Another babe you will have to labor into the world, another pawn in this war. Another victim of this needless bloodshed, as brother and sister tear each other apart.

Aegon gently kisses your lips, rubbing your stomach with his hand, no doubt imagining you are pregnant already. "I love you, I really do." He whispers, holding you close and breaking you from those thoughts of impending doom.

Violet eyes meet violet eyes, and you gaze upon his features that are not dissimilar to your own. The very same blood that runs through you, runs through him. The same blood that ran through your son, you think. You do not know what to make of his drunken declaration, and it is like your body speaks for you then;

"Do you, brother?"

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[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 2

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel’s shadows liked to spoil his mate rotten.

Not that Azriel could find anything wrong with that.

She deserved more for putting up with him. 

More than new tea from the Dawn Court and her favourite chocolate covered, wafer thin cookies from a small bakery near the Sidra…more than the occasional embroidery thread they snuck her…More than whatever animal he went to go hunt, to cover his bed in even more furs just for her. 

He nearly had enough Sable furs to have a blanket made for her for Winter Solstice…

Azriel also had half a mind to go sneak in her office later that day. 

Just as a treat for not killing either of his brothers. For being civil. 

Rhys had come over for sparring, unnannounced. 

Azriel had hoped to have some peace and quiet today, but it seemed like Rhys had other plans. 

Currently Cassian and Rhys were wrestling with less sense than they had had when they were just kids, and Azriel was cleaning his weapons, watching from the sidelines.

Azriel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of his brothers roughhousing. It was typical of them to turn a simple sparring session into some kind of ridiculous competition. He focused on sharpening his knives, trying to ignore their antics.

"You know, we could also actually train properly," he called out, his tone dry. "Instead of wrestling like a bunch of children."

Cassian looked up from his grappling with Rhys, grinning. "Oh, come on Az. Don't be such a stick in the mud. Loosen up, have a little fun for once."

Azriel's expression remained impassive. "I'm perfectly capable of having fun, Cassian. But I prefer to do so without rolling around in the dirt like a wild animal."

Rhysand chuckled, standing up and clapping Cassian on the back. "It's good to let loose every now and then, Az. You should try it sometime. It might make your brooding sessions a little less depressing."

Azriel just grunted in response, not willing to engage in a verbal sparring match with Rhys. He continued to clean his weapons, hoping that the training session would end soon so he could escape his brothers' teasing.

“When did you even come home yesterday?” Cassian asked him.

Azriel looked up from his work, his expression neutral. "Around 11," he said simply.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Rhys pointed out. “You were missed.”

He highly doubted that.

And maybe he had made that mission in Dawn just a little while longer, so that he knew that dinner would be over and when he came home, he wouldn’t need to be alone.

Azriel just shrugged. "I was busy," he said, offering no further explanation. He knew his brothers were just trying to rile him up, and he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

*Are you still pissed of at me?* Rhys asked him mentally with a sigh. *I get it. But you don’t need to avoid everybody else, just because…*

*I’m not avoiding anyone,* Azriel replied, his mental voice tight. *I’m simply choosing to spend my time how I see fit.*

“I was busy,” he repeated aloud.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "You're always busy, Az. You know, there's such thing as taking a break once in a while. Spending time with your family."

Or he could spent time with his mate. He could spent time with his mate, who let him brush her hair and even braid it …who pressed kisses to his horrible scarred hands and smiled at him. 

If it was a choice between Irena or a family dinner where he didn’t want to stay longer than an hour or two, because he was still too fucking pissed off at Rhys…the choice was easy. 

“Or is there a special somebody?” Cassian teased him.

Azriel glowered at him. "It’s none of your business." He went back to working on his weapons, his expression tense.

*You can’t keep panting after Elain for the rest of your life,* Rhys said mentally. *Look, I know I didn’t…I am sorry. But she’s happy with Lucien and…*

*Don’t worry, I’ll go to a pleasure hall and pay for it if I want to fuck somebody,* Azriel shot back viciously.

Or his own hand would suffice. More than suffice, especially if…especially if Irena had let him kiss her the evening before…sometimes he waited until she disappeared into her room, and he buried his face in the pillows that smelled like her, fisted his cock and rutted like an untried boy for seconds before he came all over himself. 

It was still better than any other sex he ever had had before.

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. "It sounds like you need to get laid," he said, chuckling. "Maybe that'll help with your bad mood."

Azriel shot him a glare. "Mind your own business, Cassian. My love life is none of your concern."

Rhysand gave him a sympathetic look. *We just want you to be happy, Az. You deserve happiness.*

“Ohhh, touchy,” Cassian said with a snort.

Azriel just gritted his teeth, his temper rising. "Cassian, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear to the Mother, I’ll shut it for you."

Cassian just grinned at him. "Come on, Az. I’m just teasing you. Lighten up."

Azriel's grip on his weapons tightened. "I don't like your teasing, Cassian. And I certainly don't appreciate you making assumptions about my personal life.”

Mostly he just wanted his brothers to leave him the hell alone.

And then...then before he could say another thing...he felt the shaking.

And then the sound came. An eardrum shattering explosion, the very foundation of the House of Wind shaking. It was terrifying him.

Irena was down there in her office. Nesta was in there. 

He was moving before he was even thinking. 

*Merrill's office, Master!* the shadows screeched.

Azriel was already running.

Cassian hot on his heels, so was Rhys.

Azriel was faster, heaving shadows around his limbs as he rocketed down the spiral stairs of the House of Wind.

Level Two, Straight to the right. Clearly...Clearly the epicenter of the blast. Of the explosion…of whatever had happened.

He pushed as hard as he could, legs burning as he hurtled down the hallway to Merrill's office.

He wasn't the only one. "Merrill!" He could hear Gwyn's shrill voice screaming, coming to a stop in a hallway of what had once been Merrill's office but now was just...

It was a mass of wood and rubble.

He barely slowed down, scrambling into action. Gwyn was already digging through it, so where Nesta and Emerie. Cassian landed behind him, immediately moving some of the debris.

His shadows swarmed as he and the others quickly dug at the rubble. Looking, desperately looking.

He moved another piece of rubble out of the way...a piece of blue cloths. The same blue cloth that he knew covered Irena's body, the scent of poppies clinging to her...Without a thought, he grasped and then dragged, a hoarse shout that was her, that was her...

He felt as if he were choking, as if he were drowning as he dragged out her body. Bloody, bruised, broken but still...still there was a faint flicker, a faint, thready heartbeat.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he tried to pick up on her heart. There was barely a flicker. Too fast, too faint, she was barely holding on. Barely hanging by a thread.

There was blood pooling on her abdomen, dying the blue dress she wore bright scarlet red, He put pressure on that wound immediately, leaning on her with nearly all his weight, his fingers slick with blood. "Damn it, stay with me, love," he demanded sharply.

Azriel felt like he could barely breath. Like he was falling, tumbling down as he tried to will her to stay with him. Stay. Stay. Stay. Please stay. Stay...

Rhys was there suddenly, checking her pulse. "Breathing is erratic. She's in shock," he told Azriel with a grimace. "Mor is getting Madja..."

"Az..." her voice was so weak, but he turned to see dark brown eyes watching him, brows furrowing.

"Just keep breathing, Love," he told her, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

He could barely hear what was going on around him. It was as if he were in a bubble, a world of just himself and her and the desperate beat of her heart under his fingers.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"There is nothing you need to apologise for her, Irena," he promised her sharply. "Absolutely nothing."

Irena's eyes drifted shut. Azriel felt like something was dying inside him as her heartbeat fluttered against his fingertips. His world was collapsing, shattering into pieces as her breath stuttered.

"Stay. Just stay..." he was barely aware of what he was saying, his eyes frantically searching hers. She had to stay. He would do anything to keep her here. Anything.

"I am still owing you that flight," he told her. She hadn't let him take her flying yet. They had snuck away in the library...in the rooftop garden...in her office. But he had never gotten to take her flying. He had never gotten to take her out into Velaris. They had never had a date at a fancy restaurant, had never gone to see the symphony. There were thousands of things that he hadn't yet gotten to do with his mate, because they had all the time in the world.

Irena just stared at him, her eyes pleading, as her heartbeat slowed, fluttering weaker and weaker. Azriel felt a sharp pain in his chest as fear clawed at his spine. "Just hold on a little longer, love," he whispered. "Please."

And then there Madja. Thank the cauldron. There she was.

Azriel could barely manage to let go of her, his mind consumed with the singular thought of Irena's laboured, erratic heartbeat as he moved back. Madja immediately set to work.

He lunged for her head, lunged to pull it on his lap, to touch her with blood slick fingertips, her normally rosy red lips pale, her skin even whiter than usual.

"Hurts," she whispered, as Madja set to work, barking orders.

"I know, I know, love," he whispered, touching her cheek with his fingertips as Madja got to work.

His eyes searched hers as he murmured those words over and over, as if he could somehow hold her in this world through sheer force of will alone.

"We haven't had enough time," he whispered desperately, leaning his forehead against hers.

She was slipping away. He could feel it. Feel her slipping, feel her heartbeat slow. Feel the thread that tethered her to this world fray, fray, fray...

No. He couldn't lose her. Would not let her leave him. He had waited far too long for her. Far, far too long to let her slip through his fingers.

"Stay with me," he pleaded. "Please stay with me."

But her eyes were slipping shut, her head lolling to the side. He gently patted her cheek, trying to urge her back to consciousness, but he didn't think he was even really aware of what he was doing, where he was. The world had boiled down to a desperate litany, in his head. Stay...stay...please...don't you dare...

“I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight,” he told her fiercely.

He needed her to know that he would be there to be furious with her if she dared to die, that she couldn't die. Couldn't. That she had to stay. Had to keep fighting. There were too many things ahead of them...a wedding to plan, children to have, years and years of life to live.

“Az,” she breathed his name, her eyes not even open anymore.

“Open your eyes, Irena,” he demanded. “Look at me, love,”

Her eyes finally fluttered open at his command. It was barely more than a slither of brown, but he latched onto it, taking it for what it was. A chance. A moment to get through to her.

He wasn't sure what he was saying, but the words spilled forth from him, a litany, a desperate prayer. "Please," he breathed, "don't go...don't you dare..."

He was dimly aware that the others had gathered, but he didn't dare look away. Didn't dare look away from her as he cradled her head, trying to pour all of his prayers into those words. All of his hope and desperation.

"You can't go." A statement. An order. An absolute certainty in his voice. "I will not let you go."

He wouldn't. Would never, ever let her go. Would drag her back from the Cauldron's grasp with bloodied and broken hands if thats what had to be.

She didn't speak. Didn't need to. He could read her answer in her eyes, the determination in those brown eyes as she tried so, so hard to stay.

It was as if she were holding on for him, because he had asked her to. Because it was him there with her. Like she would fight until her last breath because he told her too. He didn't deserve this beautiful creature, who was willing to fight for him, willing to live for him.

It was something primal, something desperate, something fierce as he whispered those words over and over, like a prayer. "Fight. Fight. Fight."

And she listened. She did. He could feel her hold on, just barely grasp hold of that tether that kept her in this world. Just barely keep her eyes open.

Just look at him.

And she did, those dark eyes unfocused but open, staring up at him, watching him. Trying so, so hard. It nearly made his heart stop in the most terrible way that she was struggling for him.

And he was so proud of her. Of the way she was fighting like she was. Of the way she was grasping, hanging on to life like she was.

The seconds stretched too thin, feeling like eternities and only the slightest of moments. But her eyes were open, if only barely. She hadn't given up. Hadn't let go.

He was dimly aware of the others, Gwyn hovering with a worried expression, Madja murmuring quiet instructions to the others, Rhys kneeling not far away. But he barely glanced at them, barely dared to take his eyes off Irena.

He was certain that if he looked away, if he let this tenuous thread sever, that she would die. That as long as he kept her here, she wouldn't slip, wouldn't let go.

He had one hand on her cheek, her skin still clammy and pale, as her eyes slipped open and shut. But everytime, they would find his face. His eyes, like he was the only thing tethering her to the world. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her barely holding on, only that last sliver of determination keeping her here.

"Please," he pleaded, whispering those words like a prayer, like he would be praying to a vengeful god. Those moments felt like eternities, stretching on and on with only his desperate whispers. "Please..."

The world felt so still, so silent as if the world was holding its breath. Azriel's eyes locked on Irena, silently begging her, asking her to please, please...

Live, live live... he whispered those words over and over, a desperate plea to the Mother, the Cauldron, to anyone who would listen. To Irena, the only person in the entire world who truly mattered in that moment.

Her eyes were growing glassy, slipping closed only to jerk open again. Stay he demanded. Keep looking at me. Please.

She tried. Mother, she tried. Her eyes drifted to him, the smallest hint of life, of a spark there in those dark brown eyes.

He hardly dared to breathe, hardly dared to move. Afraid that any wrong move could tip her over the edge, could pull her into that chasm of non-existence that she was desperately clinging too.

He felt something pricking at his eyes, felt something in his chest cracking, breaking at the sheer intensity of emotions thrumming through him. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her like this, so pale, barely holding on, barely conscious...

“Alright,” Madja said quietly. “Good girl. You were so very brave.”

"Will...will she be alright?" He asked, voice hoarse.

He didn't let his eyes drift from Irena's face, her half lidded eyes staring at him. It filled him with such an intense pang of relief and fear at the same time. Relief, because she was alive...and fear, because they had been so close to losing her.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Madja warned. "But she'll make it. She lost a lot of blood. It will take some time to get her vitals stable again."

He felt like he could breathe for the first time. It was almost dizzying, the sheer, intense relief that flooded through him. Irena was here. Irena would live. It filled his veins with an almost drug like euphoria, that made him light headed, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He barely managed to keep that feeling in, the pure euphoria from showing as he smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes finally dragging away from Irena's face to look at Madja. "Just...thank you."

He looked back at Irena, taking in her face. Alive. Still alive. Still here with him, not gone. The tension seeped from his shoulders, a strange sort of exhaustion taking over. As if all the adrenaline that had fueled him, the fear, was slowly draining out of him like water.

“Merrill,” Irena whispered, her voice near silent.

Azriel felt his fingers brush her cheek, just the gentlest touch as he tried to keep it together. It had been too close. Too, too close. He couldn't stop the overwhelming feelings flowing through him of elation and fear as he looked down at her as he looked down at her, alive. Alive and breathing and whispering soft words. "Shhh," he whispered softly. "Save your strength. Don't strain yourself."

He looked up finding Cassians gaze who just shook his head. Merrill was dead.

Azriel couldn't quite process that information, not in that moment. His eyes were still drawn to Irena, still unable to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. His fingers brushed her cheek again, just the faintest touch as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. "Rest," he instructed softly. "I'll be right there.” He promised.

“Being here to her room,” Madja said quietly.

“My room,” he corrected.

The priestesses dormitory was locked from males. If he even tried to get in there it would’ve end well for him. And he wouldn’t leave her side.

“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply.

“Gwyn,” Rhys said quietly.Azriel didn't even acknowledge Gwyn's words, didn't have the energy. All he could focus on was the way Irena's eyes had drifted shut, the steady rise and fall of her chest. She would be alright. She was going to be alright. She was alive. Right now, in that moment, thats all that mattered.

“Az, how long have the two of you…” Cassian asked hesitantly.

Azriel just shrugged, his hand resting on Irena's hair, smoothing back from her face. “Two years. She’s my mate,” he said flatly as he gathered her up. 

“Mate,” she rasped. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he agreed softly.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Seventeen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader - AO3 - 4K words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. PTSD, references and descriptions of domestic violence , grooming, manipulation, pregnancy. Simon's back story. Trauma. Bun opens up a bit more. Domesticity, feelings of anxiety, self doubt. Simon is a nervous dad. Emotional confessions.

“It’s Beth.” Simon wipes the countertop, chasing little dirty fingerprints with a wet cloth, before fixing a hesitant set of eyes on yours.

“That’s pretty… I like it.” There’s something odd about his expression, something haunted almost, a deep, dark well filled to the brim with rancid, stagnant water. You sense it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

He motions to the chair and slides your mug into your waiting hands. “Sit.”

“Simon?”

“It was my sister in law’s name. My brother’s wife.” Was. Your throat goes dry, muscles tensing.

“Was?” He pulls your fingers into his, cradled in the palm of his hand, thumb rubbing circles into your skin, over and over on a loop. A mechanism of comfort, connection. A thread stitch into the fabric between your heart and his.

“They died, sweetheart. My family… I lost them.” Grief, a shared experience you know now, froths in the pit of your heart. You tremble, he holds you steady, though it should be the other way around.

“What… what happened?” He sighs, dragging your palm to his lips.

“Let’s sit down on the couch.”

He holds you as he talks, diaphragm rumbling against your ear. You’re laid on his chest, unable to see his face, watch his expressions, but for this, you don’t feel the urge to dissect each one.

You’re content against him. Listening. Mourning.

There’s a swath of silence afterwards, and then he clears his throat. “So, I was dead. Dead until I met Johnny, I think. And then everything changed.” Johnny’s words from weeks and weeks ago make more sense, Simon’s actions and reactions rapidly gaining clarity. “When we found you, I saw it, the look in your eyes. It was the same one that used to haunt my mother’s.”

“You saved her.” He burrows his face in your neck and shakes his head.

“I did what I could to piece them back together. Helped get Tommy clean and on his feet, got rid of the old man for good, but the damage… the way she suffered, it was irreversible. The best I could do was be there as much as often as possible.” You comb through his hair, short strands of silk like Penny’s, and hold him close. “I promised myself, when I met Johnny, when we fell in love, I’d do better by my own family. For him, and then by Penny. And now you. Promised I wouldn’t become him.” Your heart clenches, squeezing in on itself. “Violence may have been a part of my job, but it wasn’t a part of me.” His fingers dance along your spine until they reach your chin, tilting you back to meet his gaze. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You whisper, leaning into his touch. He doesn’t need to ask for your trust, he already has it.

“Johnny thinks I’ve got a bit of a savior complex now, but I want you to know… that’s not what this is, bunny.”

“I know,” you clear your throat, fighting through the thick of emotion building there, accumulating in heaps, “I know that.”  

“But we do need to talk about him, you know that?” Darkness creeps along the wispy, dream-like cocoon the two of you built on the couch, and you push it away, try to banish it, basking in the comfort of his arms instead.

“I can’t, I… right now it feels like I’m in a dream where nothing hurts and nothing can scare me or hurt me, and I don’t-“

“You’re not in a dream, bunny. That’s your reality. This is real. Nothing can, or will, hurt you, scare you. No one will ever touch you again.”

“I need more time. Please.” Simon sighs, but doesn’t push, and the two of you lay there, together, suspended in comforting silence. For another moment, your world is a dream. A safe, beautiful dream, where happy endings are real, where love stretches on for eternity, unconditional, limitless, unbreakable.

You’re so different now, stark changes shocking to the girl you once knew, the one who doubled back on her routes to and from work, the one that walked everywhere with her hackles up. Little pieces of black rot now turned a blinding white, a brilliant beam seeking to shine on the whole of your life.

It’s a dream.

One you won’t easily surrender.

“I was really young.” It comes during a lapse in conversation, practically a blurt, an interruption pushing heat to your cheeks. Expelled from your mind, your body without choice, cracks appearing in the preservation that you’ve so defiantly clung to. You have to tell them, eventually. You have to break it all apart, let them see. Johnny’s mouth opens, and Simon’s hand darts to his wrist faster than a snake could strike, a clear signal. Don’t speak. “Obviously now, looking back on it, I realize I was groomed, or I guess, easily influenced. He was older, and I graduated early, started college early. I was in my second year when I turned eighteen. My mom,” the lump in your throat nearly chokes you until you swallow it down, “my mom busted her ass for me. I went to college on scholarships and her hard work.” Metal clanks against ceramic, forks settling on the edges of plates. “Anyway, everyone always thought I was a know-it-all and pretty awkward. We weren’t officially like, together right away but it was pretty serious from the day I met him. Eventually… he started to change me. Change my goals. He even manipulated my career path.”

“What did you go to school for?” Simon asks casually, head tilted.

“Bioscience. I wanted to be a doctor, so I thought it would transition well for med school. Thought I could become a surgeon.” You were a girl then; you know that now. Naïve, misguided by a hand that sought to control you, not love you as you hoped. It’s embarrassing, baring this, showing these broken bits and pieces to them, shattered shards of a mirror never glued back together.

“What happened?”

“He did.” Johnny squeezes your hand. “Made it to pre-med but ended up leaving and starting a nursing program instead. It’s what he wanted, and by then, I couldn’t say no.”

“But ye didnae want it, to be a nurse.”

“No. I didn’t. I love my job now, of course, and I’m happy in it, but originally, I wanted something else. He tricked me, in all honesty. Showed me something that wasn’t real, reeled me in, and then revealed his true colors.” You shudder. “The first time… the first time it happened, I shook it off, forgave him. I-“ the memory is still so strong, it stuns you. The blood from your busted lip is fresh on your tongue, sting on the side of your face turning to a blooming ache.

“Bunny?” Johnny’s grip moves to your elbow, strong, but not too tight. An anchor. You shake your head.

“Sorry.”

“Ye’re alright, ye can stop if-“

“No, I… I want to share these things with you. It feels like I’m supposed to, like you should know me… like this.”

“We already know you, sweetheart. Don’t push yourself.” Simon’s tone is serious, and you nod.

“It’s embarrassing, looking back on it and realizing how bad it was, how bad I let it get. How I let him cut me off from everyone, change my career, squash me like a bug.” You laugh, but it’s empty.

“Ye did nothin’ wrong,” Johnny’s lips press together, muscles in his jaw straining, “was never yer fault.” You don’t answer, just trace the woodgrain of the table, texture moving beneath your fingers. The conversation is draining you, leeching light away like a horizon swallowing the last of the sun.

“He’s rich. Like, fuck you money rich. Rich like make problems go away rich, and his job…” your head shakes again. It’s the most you’ve ever said, heavy buried secrets finally dug up, resurrected, the truth trembles through your bones. “He has resources. Has chased me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I know you’ve said you’re not really sure, but did he ever tell you what his job entails?”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.” Johnny shifts in his seat, antsy, and you shrug. “He kept that part of his life very, very private. There was even a room in the house that was always locked.” Your head is heavy, lead upon your shoulders, and Johnny tucks his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“I know this is hard bun, but ye’re so brave for us. Lettin’ us know ye this way. I’m proud of ye.” He murmurs, lips to your forehead, and you fully relax, wrapping around his middle.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, eyes closing, and he rubs your back.

“Let’s get ye to bed then.”

“Your child is too big for me to carry!” You announce, hand on your hip, little backpack straps looped around your arm. Simon closes the door behind you, chuckling, and Penny plops onto the floor. She goes to a nursery day program now a few days a week, something that was a contentious subject in the house for far too long, opinions and arguments ping ponging over your head until the decision was finally made.

“It’s not safe.”

“Ye cannae keep ‘er locked up here forever, love.”

“Why not?” Simon bounced Penny against his chest, unimpressed look on both their faces, so alike you almost busted out laughing.

“Because she’s a child. She needs to be w’other children, not just us.” Johnny brings his free hand to his lips, squeezing Simon’s wrist. “I know ye’re scared.” Simon’s not the only one who’s scared, you thought. Phillip lurked at the edge of your mind, worry that he might find Penny plagued you, even though they both assured that wasn’t their main concern.

“She’s too little.”

“Simon. We agreed on this,” Johnny gives him a sharp look, “do yer research, find the best one. Ye know this needs to happen, for her. She needs to make friends, learn how to interact with kids her own age. Ye know this.”

“Fine.”

“She cannae be, not m’wee lamb.”

“She is.” You rub your shoulder. “Sheesh.” Penny’s stomach gurgles at your feet, and Simon grimaces.

“There’s a bug goin’ around the kids, teacher told me today.”

“Not surprising. Nurseries are little petri dishes.” You straighten your back, rolling your shoulder, and wince.

“Hurts?” Simon’s thumb digs into the soft spot there, and your lashes flutter.

“Maybe ye need a hot bath,” Johnny suggests, and Simon ushers the two of you up the stairs.

“I’ve got Pen. Go relax.”

“This is nice.” Johnny soaps your back, lavender and vanilla steam swirling around in the bathroom as you lean against him, his chest to your back.

“Aye.” The cloth drags across your chest, teasing your nipples, and you revel in his touch, soaking in every second he gives you, the brush of his cheek against yours, his lips on your neck. “Like havin’ ye all to myself sometimes.” You blink.

“Does it bother you? When we’re not all together?”

“No. Ye have a relationship wit’ me, and wit’ Simon, and we have a relationship all together. No one is the same. I like it.”

“Me too.” You settle again, loose and tender in the bath, soaped hands running up and down your back, kneading your shoulders, releasing the tension coiled in your bones. You groan.

“Feel good then?”

“Yeah.” He presses a hand over your heart with a deep breath, before he takes another.

And then one more.

“What’s wro-“

“I love ye bun. Wholly. Think ‘ve loved ye since the day I opened my eyes to ye leaning over the bed in hospital.” You turn, twisting to face him, and he dabs your nose with his thumb. “I dinnae have any expectations of ye, or yer feelings, but I had to be honest. I had to tell ye.” The confession fights its way forward, begging to be let out, to be freed.

Tell him. Tell him the truth. Tell him you love them, that they’re your light, that they’ve chased the darkness away and replaced it with the sun.

You can’t.

Instead, you rest your forehead against his, syncing your breathing, sharing the moment, holding onto him so tight in case he slips away.

“I can’t say it.” You whisper, and he nods. “But that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’m just… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“An’ that’s okay. I’ll wait, I’ll wait for ye as long as ye need.” There’s no pressure, no demands, just Johnny and his arms, his understanding and patience, his love.

You blink back tears and crash your lips to his. “Thank you.”

Your stomach is what wakes you.  

Something it in is burning, tossing bile around, the sensation strong enough your lips curl, and you try to draw a deep breath through your nose.

You wriggle, trying to pull free from where you’re tangled up in Simon and Johnny, carefully and slow, hoping to avoid waking them though you know even in their dreams, they sleep with one eye open.

 Still, you manage to make it to the bathroom before feet are padding across the carpet on your heels.

You sink to your knees in front of the toilet, stomach bubbling, sending the scorching remnants of dinner up your throat.

The door clicks open. “No, get out. I don’t want you to see-“ you gag again, tap turning on at the sink, a cold washcloth folding over your neck.

“Shhh,” Simon murmurs, rubbing your back, “get it all out.”

“Oh god,” another wave swells, and your muscles tense, body expelling bits of bile and not much else.

“That’s the way, good girl.”

“This is gross.” You gasp. “You should go back to bed.”

“I’ve seen way worse than you puking, sweetheart.”

“She alright?” Johnny half yells from the bedroom and you groan. The guilt of him having to maneuver himself out of bed, still not one hundred percent healthy, still not back to full strength, draws a shiver from your spine.

“I’m fine, don’t come in here!” Your stomach pitches, fingers tightening against your thighs, but nothing comes up, again and again, until everything settles and you’re breathing deeply, steady, back straight.

“Let’s get you some water.” There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s going to do what he wants to do when it comes to taking care of you, you know that now. It’s painfully clear as he tries to help you drink from the glass, and then puts toothpaste on your toothbrush.

“I’m fine.” You assure weakly, but he only watches you, concerned.

“Think it’s the nursery bug?”

“Probably.” You sag, energy drained completely, and he steadies you, cupping your cheek. His touch is cool, and you lean into it, savoring the reprieve it brings against your throbbing temples.

“Want to go back to bed?”

“What if I throw up again?” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll jus’ clean it up.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You glance up at the timid mouse of a nurse, brand new, fingers clutched around a tablet like she’s drowning and it’s her life vest.

“What’s up?”

“Can you… can you look at these orders for me?” She looks terrified, and it tells you everything you need to know. She’s probably caught a mistake.

Baby nurses begin their careers in a delicate position. They’re overwhelmed, fresh off a whirlwind of orientation, overloaded with policy and procedure, and depending on their preceptor, either somewhat prepared or completely lost. Pitting a baby nurse against a provider, even a first-year resident, is like sending a lamb in to confront a lion. The result is usually tears.

She hands you the tablet and you spot it immediately. Incorrect dosage.

“Good catch.” You reassure, coaxing a small smile, and she nods.

“What do I do?”

“We go find the provider and clarify the dosage.” You’re not going to leave it up to her, alone, hang her out to dry and probably get run over by whatever moron ordered it in the first place, who happens to be-

Marshall.

Your eyes couldn’t roll any harder. “The pharmacy is also very on top of seeing errors like this, but it’s good you’ve noticed too, for the patient and yourself. Liability for things like this can be very tricky.” She nods again, trailing behind you, brand new squeaky sneakers echoing your own steps.

You can’t stop the sigh that escapes you when you find him, leaned up against a wall, arms crossed, smirking, cocking his head at your companion. “What’s up?”

“Can you take a look at this for me?” You purposefully zoom in on the meds tab, practically painting a bullseye around his error. He scoffs, defensive immediately, dismissive, before he takes a closer look, jaw clenched.

“That’s my mistake.” You blink. Marshall rarely ever takes responsibility so gracefully. Your eyebrow lifts.

“Care to fix it?”

“Of course.” His agreement is punctuated with a smile, though it’s off kilter.

“You can go,” you nod to the nurse, “good job.” Her eyes dart between you and Marshall, and without another word, scampers off.

“She’s new?” His usual interest in new nurses is less enthusiastic than ever.

You hate Marshall. He’s a scumbag. But he’s also been your coworker since day one, and you can’t help yourself. “What’s up with you?”  

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never owned up to a mistake that quickly, and you didn’t even make some smart-ass remark. Or berate her. Or give me an attitude.” He winces.

“It’s nothing.” But it doesn’t seem like nothing. It seems like something is wrong, like he’s sad, or depressed, and try as you might, your bleeding heart can’t walk away.

“What’s wrong.” You phrase a statement, a demand, instead of a question, and he blows a frustrated breath.

“It’s… I’m seeing someone.” Your eyes go wide.

“Who?” Please don’t say a nurse, please don’t say a nurse, please-

“Anna. From radiology.”

“Oh my god. The cupcake girl?” Anna was a fan favorite. Not only was she kind, but she was also quick with her reads, and baked cupcakes for the entire floor almost once a month. As far as radiologists go, she was better than most.

“Yeah.”

“Okay…”

“I really like her but… she’s always been aware of my reputation and is trying to take it slow. Too slow.” You could lecture him with a million reasons why she’s in the right, but it doesn’t seem like he’s got the resolve to handle it.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s dragging her feet. Doesn’t want to hang out more than once a week, rarely stays the night. I’ve been to her place a handful of times, but that’s it.”

“How long has it been?”

“Two months.” You laugh.

“That’s it?”

“It’s a long time for me!” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Two months is no time at all. Have you discussed the… reluctance with her?” He seems uneasy, and for the first time, you’re not sure if you enjoy watching him squirm.

“Yeah. She says she’s happy, but isn’t trying to jump into anything,” his air quotes carry a whiff of the condescending asshole you know too well. This conversation couldn’t be timelier, and you think back to what you told Johnny the other night.

“Just because she’s taking it slow doesn’t mean her feelings for you aren’t there. You have to respect that. If she’s still putting up with you after two months, I’d bet she’s just being cautious. Getting hurt sucks.” He nods thoughtfully. “Give her the time she’s asking for, and don’t give up.”

Don’t give up.

The sentiment twists a knife lodged deep in your heart. Is that what will happen to you? Will they give up? Get tired of waiting for you to spill all your secrets, get tired of waiting for you to take the final step? To tell them you love them?

Get tired of waiting for you to let them use your real name?

“I didn’t expect her, didn’t expect to feel this way.” The mask comes down, revealing a hopelessly lovesick heart, the depth of it shining in his eyes.

“I don’t think anyone ever does expect it. That’s the surprising thing about love, I guess.” You sway, a palm pressed to the wall as your hand flattens over your stomach.

“You alright?” Marshall’s voice is far away as you breathe through your nose, trying to fend off the nausea tightening your throat.

“Sorry, I’ve been a bit under the weather. Think I’ve got a bug or something.” Your stomach roils in warning, and you barely grit out an apology before dashing away.

Just in time to toss your breakfast up in the toilet.

“I’m fine.”

“I heard you in the toilet. You didn’t sound fine, and you shouldn’t be working if you’re sick.” Your manager shakes her head like she’s disappointed, and you glare. You both know if you had called this morning talking about a stomach bug, she would have told you to suck it up unless you were actively vomiting.

“Look around. Do you see an excess of nurses on the floor?”

“We’ll manage. Or call someone in.” You shake your head.

“We’re already way past policy ratios.” You bite your tongue when safe nearly slips out, not wanting to piss her off. That’s the union’s job.

“At least go sit down or something. Take a break. Come back in twenty minutes and let me know how you feel.”

Your closet is cozy, and for once during the day, unoccupied. The nausea has subsided, for now, and you shoot a text to the guys, asking about Penny. If you feel like this, you can’t imagine how she feels.

You curl up and imagine you’re home instead, maybe in bed with a sleeve of crackers and some soda, warm chest at your back, a hand stroking over your hip. Maybe you’d have some soup, maybe the three of you would watch a movie after Pen went down for bed. You start to drift in the domestic fantasy, sleeping curling itself like a blanket over your shoulders, until you’re startled by the vibration of your phone, foot kicking forward in a jolt against a shelf.

A box falls to the floor.

HCG strips.

You stare at it for a long time, numbers and dates and weeks mashing together, calculations getting lost in the fray.

You’re not…

No.

Ridiculous. Not even possible. You’re on the pill. Religiously.

You have the nursery bug that Pen brought home. Get a grip.

Still…

You use the fifth-floor bathroom, one of the only single occupant toilets in the whole damn hospital, nausea now coming from a completely different source.

The timer on your phone is incredibly slow, or maybe it’s just time itself, the world turning in slow motion, every second elongated into turbulent silence, too many thoughts, too many feelings, too much of everything to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Panic.

Sadness.

Grief.

It’s grief that is the strongest. Grief for something that Phillip stole, mourning for something that was once so close, so real, and then gone in an instant.

If you close your eyes, you can still feel his boot in your stomach. The press of a steel toe, jammed beneath your ribs, wild, deranged eyes staring down at you in a rage.

But-

Buried so, so far beneath the crushing weight of it all, there is a bright little pocket of sunshine. A small little sliver of light, beams of hope stretching for the sky, warmth spilling over until your hands tremble with the conflict warring inside you.

Nothing has changed, but everything could.

The timer goes off with a shrill chime, and you lean over the sink to where the small strip sits on top of a cup.

A bold pink line.

And then another, more faint, but certainly there. A simple equation, one plus one equals two. Simple math.

Tangible. Present.

Pregnant.

[p0orbaby]

Forgive Me, Father, for I Have Sinned

summary: two horny idiots risking eternal damnation for a quickie

warnings: SMUT 18+, sex in a church, yup, you read that right

a/n: loosely based on this request

word count: 2.6k

-

“This is so wrong,” you breathe, the words practically dissolving into Leah’s mouth as she presses you against the back wall of the church hall. The stone feels frigid through your dress, even in the sweltering summer heat; it’s that old kind of cold that sticks around in centuries-old buildings, regardless of what’s happening outside. The whole place smells faintly of damp wood and incense, a mix of candle wax and lingering prayers that seems completely at odds with what’s going on right now.

“Yeah?” Leah murmurs, with that infuriatingly calm tone, as though you’re having a conversation about the weather instead of whatever this is. Her hands are already hiking your dress up higher, bunching the fabric around your hips, her fingers deftly working with the same quiet confidence she shows in on the pitch—calculated, precise. “Seems like you’re coping just fine”

You catch yourself almost laughing, but it comes out as a choked breath instead. Somewhere in the background, the distant murmur of the christening service continues, the priest’s voice droning on in a sort of meditative monotone that feels strangely far away. It’s all “bless this child” and “holy sacrament,” while you’re up against the cold stone, your knickers soon to be halfway down your thighs. You think about how the acoustics in churches are supposed to be excellent, but all you can hear is the maddening thud of your pulse in your ears and the occasional scrape of Leah’s teeth grazing your neck.

It occurs to you that maybe you should care more about the fact that you’re technically still within earshot of Leah’s great-uncle reading from the New Testament, or that her mum is seated just a few rows away with her eyes shut in reverent concentration, her face an expression of serene grace. Leah’s brother is the godfather, you think, or at least, you’re pretty sure that’s what she said in the car on the way here, when you were barely listening because you’d just spotted a stray thread hanging from the cuff of her shirt and were fixated on the way it danced back and forth as she gestured.

Leah’s fingers hook under your jaw, pulling you back to her with just the right amount of force—gentle, but insistent, like she’s read your mind and knows you’re distracted. “You’re thinking,” she says, her voice barely a murmur against your lips. “Stop doing that”

You glance around, a half-hearted attempt at convincing yourself that no one’s actually going to walk in, that the ancient, creaking door isn’t about to swing open and reveal this scene to some poor, unsuspecting churchgoer who’d only stepped out for a breath of fresh air. The kind of person who’d probably drop dead on the spot just from the shock, like a character in one of those Victorian novels who faints whenever someone mentions anything vaguely improper. You almost want to giggle at the thought, but Leah’s hand slips lower and that faint urge is replaced by a much more urgent kind of distraction.

“I’m serious,” you whisper, though you’re not even sure why. It’s not like Leah doesn’t know the situation is mental—she’s the one who pulled you into this alcove in the first place, after all. You’re not entirely convinced it wasn’t premeditated, either. There’s a flicker of memory—Leah’s hand on your thigh during the ceremony, her fingers tracing idle patterns just above your knee as if to say, this isn’t the place, but let’s see how far we can push it. The way she’d glanced at you, eyes gleaming with a glint of amusement that suggested she was already considering how scandalised everyone would be if you just vanished for a few minutes.

“This is your cousin’s christening,” you hiss, as if stating the obvious is going to somehow ground the situation in reality. But Leah’s lips are on yours again, and you’re suddenly very aware of the way her hand slides down your back, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your knickers in a way that makes your knees wobble.

“Distant cousin,” she corrects, voice muffled against your neck. “Barely know him”

“It’s a baby,” you shoot back, though you’re already arching into her touch, your voice catching on the last word as her fingers find their mark. “Not sure how well anyone knows him”

“Exactly,” she says, like that settles it, as if committing some vaguely sacrilegious act in the back of a church is completely justified because the baby in question probably won’t remember this day beyond the dozens of poorly framed photos on the mantelpiece twenty years from now.

Your head falls back against the stone wall with a dull thud, the kind of sound that suggests ancient masonry, the type of historical significance that’s more suited to solemn reflection than whatever obscene thoughts are currently racing through your mind. You find yourself half-listening to the priest’s voice drifting in from the main hall, the rhythmic lilt of, “We commend this child to your care,” and you think about how ironic it would be if God really was watching right now. There’s a brief flash of Catholic guilt that flares up somewhere in your chest, though you aren’t even Catholic, and it’s quickly extinguished by the scrape of Leah’s teeth against your earlobe.

“Thought you didn’t believe in all that,” she whispers, her breath warm against your ear.

“I don’t,” you manage to reply, though your voice is strangled and you’re not entirely sure if you believe yourself. “It’s just… bad form, isn’t it?”

Leah lets out a quiet, breathy laugh—so close you can feel the vibration against your skin. “Well, you’ve never been big on good form,” she says, and it’s impossible to argue because she’s right and you both know it.

She’s always known how to push your buttons, ever since the night you first met—a benefit gala, of all places. You remember standing there in some ridiculously overpriced dress, holding a glass of champagne you didn’t really want, staring at a painting you didn’t really understand while Leah’s voice, smooth and confident, drifted over your shoulder with some cutting remark about modern art. “I’m pretty sure my dead nan could’ve done better than that,” she’d said, and you’d laughed, not because it was particularly funny, but because there was something about her nonchalance, the way she didn’t even pretend to be impressed, that made you feel instantly at ease.

The ease didn’t last, of course. There was that night in Paris—somewhere between the hotel bar and the Eiffel Tower, where you’d argued over directions and ended up wandering aimlessly along the Seine, half-drunk and clutching onto each other for warmth. You’d made up in a dark alleyway, pressed against a café’s shuttered doors, and you remember thinking then, as you do now, that Leah had a knack for getting you into situations that were entirely inappropriate and yet felt ridiculously right at the time.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath now, half in frustration, half in something else entirely, your fingers curling into the fabric of Leah’s half open shirt, tugging it harder as she shifts closer.

“That’s the spirit,” she murmurs back, and there’s that smirk again, the one that makes you want to throttle her and kiss her in equal measure.

For a split second, you wonder if anyone’s noticed your absence. The baby’s mother—Leah’s aunt, or second cousin, or something equally convoluted—had been so preoccupied making sure the godparents were holding the child correctly that you doubt she even noticed the two of you slip out. The priest’s voice carries on, something about being welcomed into the flock, and you’re almost tempted to peek around the corner to see if Leah’s mum has adopted that expression she gets when she’s half-listening to anything vaguely religious—eyes closed, hands clasped together in front of her, the picture of devout piety. You’ve only ever seen her like that at weddings, christenings, and funerals, and you briefly wonder if she’s ever actually questioned any of it, or if it’s just habit by now.

“What would your mum say if she knew?” you ask, though your voice is breathless, barely more than a murmur.

“Probably something about needing to go to confession,” Leah replies, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, her fingers tightening around your thigh. “Or at least light a candle”

The laugh that escapes you is entirely involuntary, echoing faintly against the high ceiling, and you quickly slap a hand over your mouth, your eyes wide as though you’ve just been caught breaking some sacred vow. Leah’s grin widens as she leans in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and you feel the warmth of her breath against your skin, as though she’s branding you with it.

It’s insane, really. The whole situation is insane. There’s a plaque on the wall above you, some inscription dedicated to a saint you’ve never heard of, and you wonder if people are meant to kneel here to pray or if this spot is usually reserved for flower arrangements during weddings. You picture the church bustling with activity—weddings, funerals, christenings—the whole spectrum of life’s milestones, and here you are, using it as a makeshift boudoir. It’s enough to make you think about eternity and sin and all the other things people pretend not to care about but secretly obsess over in the middle of the night. You imagine explaining this to someone—anyone, really—and the look on their face. “We couldn’t help ourselves,” you’d say, as though that’s a reasonable excuse for dry-humping your girlfriend in the shadow of a marble saint.

Leah’s hand slips under the hem of your skirt, her touch gentle and yet completely assured, fingers tracing the line of your thigh with maddening deliberateness. Her fingertips are cool against your heated skin, and the contrast sends a jolt through you—a reminder that this is happening here, now, in a church where every whisper echoes like a confession. Her fingers slide higher, brushing against the damp lace of your knickers, and the way she smirks as she feels how wet you are only makes the whole thing more obscene.

The distant hum of the priest’s voice is a low murmur, as if he’s conducting a prayer in the background of your own private, silent worship. Leah’s touch is reverent in a different way—her fingers slipping beneath the fabric, tracing slow, teasing circles that make your hips twitch involuntarily. It’s a game she plays sometimes, just to see how far she can push you before you break; her thumb grazing over your clit with just enough pressure to make you gasp, but not nearly enough to satisfy.

You bite down on your lip, trying to stifle the soft whimper that escapes you as her fingers dip lower, stroking along your slick folds with an infuriating patience. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your neck as she whispers, “We could get caught, you know.” There’s a wicked glint in her eye, like she’s daring you to care, like she wants you to make her stop just so she can ignore you and do it anyway.

The idea of someone stumbling across you both in this state—your skirt hiked up, knickers pulled aside, Leah’s fingers deep inside you—is scandalous in a way that only makes you wetter. You can’t help but glance towards the arched door, half-expecting to hear it creak open at any moment. But no one’s there, just the faint rustle of hymn books and the distant shuffle of feet, the sound of polite society carrying on obliviously while you’re being shamelessly fingered behind an ancient stone pillar.

Leah’s free hand grips your waist, pulling your hips towards her with a firmness that makes your breath hitch, as if she’s grounding you in this very moment—her fingers curling inside you, her thumb finally pressing against your clit in a rhythm that’s far too sinful for this setting. “Look at you,” she breathes, her voice a soft tease, as though she’s amused by just how quickly you’ve unravelled. “Anyone would think you’ve got no self-control”

You would glare at her if you weren’t already clutching her shoulders to steady yourself, your head tilting back against the wall as a quiet moan escapes you. The pressure builds with each deliberate thrust of her fingers, the slick heat pooling between your thighs making it impossible to think about anything but the lewd wet sounds of her hand working you over. There’s a heat spreading through your chest, a kind of wild desperation that feels almost holy in its intensity. It’s like being on the edge of a fever dream, where nothing exists but the maddening insistence of her touch and the electric pull of release just out of reach.

“Shh,” Leah whispers, though her voice is laced with a kind of arrogant amusement, as if she knows full well you’re not capable of being quiet right now. “You’re going to give us away”

Your nails dig into the fabric of her dress as her thumb keeps circling your clit with a precise, unyielding pressure, and you swear you hear the creak of a pew somewhere in the background, the faint shift of footsteps as someone else moves within the church. The thought that anyone could be wandering towards the back at this very moment only makes your pulse quicken, your body tightening around Leah’s fingers as she pushes deeper, curling them in a way that makes your whole world collapse inward.

“Fuck—” The word slips out before you can stop it, and you’re not sure if it’s a prayer or a curse. Probably both. Your hips grind against her hand, chasing the friction, desperate to come undone in a way that feels almost defiant in this sacred space. Leah’s lips curve into a slow, smug grin against your skin, her breath hot and ragged as she watches you unravel beneath her touch.

“You’re close,” she murmurs, her voice low and throaty. “Aren’t you?”

You nod—there’s no point in pretending otherwise—your hands sliding up to bury themselves in her hair, tugging her closer until her lips are a breath away from yours. You kiss her then, hard and hungry, swallowing the sounds you can’t keep contained, your thighs trembling as she drives you closer to the edge. The faint taste of her lip balm lingers on your tongue, that familiar cherry sweetness that always reminds you of her bedroom, and the first time you kissed her, with one hand in her hair and the other fumbling with the hem of her shirt.

The climax hits you suddenly, like the shuddering crash of a hymn’s last note echoing through the church. Your whole body goes taut, your breath catching in your throat as Leah’s fingers work you through the wave of pleasure, coaxing out every last tremor as you gasp into her mouth. For a second, the world is nothing but a blur of sensation—hot and electric and thoroughly blasphemous.

Leah’s hand slows, her fingers slipping out of you with a final, lingering caress that feels like both an ending and a promise. You’re still catching your breath when she leans in close again, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, her lips curved in that maddeningly smug way.

“Still think this is wrong?” she asks, and there’s a softness in her eyes, an intimacy that lingers despite the scandal of it all.

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands still tangled in her hair as you look up at her. “Completely,” you murmur, your voice breathless but certain, and you know she’s right when she smiles at you like that, because this might be wrong, but it’s the kind of wrong that feels so damn right.

[harrysmimi]

Finally Your Husband

Synopsis: YN and Harry tie the knots together in an intimate and private ceremony in Italy and they get to hear an amazing news.

Series Master list | More of My Work

YN was nervous.

She was on brink of having a breakdown. Everything was turning out to be so perfect yet everyone was giving her a big hard time.

The way her grandma wasn't attending was a cherry on top for her but her parents were attending. The way it was the people who loved and respected her boundaries and parents giving her a hard time taunting her every little choice. A few of her cousins were attending too, and most of them YN hated. It was just amazing and hell on earth at the same time. They were Harry's Italian villa where he proposed to her.

One of her cousin got drunk and almost tore his scrotum while dancing during one of the pre-wedding ceremonies. Niall was a real helper driving him to the nearest hospital. And two of her other cousins threw a fit of fight when they found out they were wearing the same outfit.

The pre wedding ceremonies were lowkey too. It was a whole week long spiel and a half.

"I don't know why I am nervous!" She whined on the phone with her soon to be husband, her eye welled up with tears. She was all ready and they were just fifteen minutes away from being married.

There was going to be two ceremonies back to back and long night of partying.

"Baby." Harry cooed, "just fifteen minutes okay?"

While he tried his best to assure her everything is going to be fine, it wasn't putting her at ease. Her life was about to change for good.

Just a few years ago she wasn't even interested in seeing anyone (she in fact hated the idea) and now here she is about to marry the love of her life. Everything between fear and pure ecstasy was just running in rounds in her head.

Harry was just two stories down from where she was but she couldn't go see him. YN was having a breakdown. She was nervous thinking what possibly could go wrong as everything has been so smooth sailing.

On the other hand, Harry was nervous indeed but he could manage himself. He had just gotten into his suit as he was done with his hair.

He got a call from Brielle, stating he need to go see his wife (soon-to-be) now. She was having a breakdown. He had quickly put on his coat and headed to where his wife-to-be was.

"Oh my god!" He whispered to himself as he saw her sitting there on the edge of the bed all ready and dolled up, she took his breath away. Even though she was crying. "Angel, you look breath taking!"

She was wearing a white lehenga, and covered in gorgeous jwellery, a soft makeup look with a bold lip.

And that made her son too. "I broke this." She showed him the chain he got her for one of her birthdays and she wanted to wear it as it was so special. It wasn't going to be visible with all the jewelry she was wearing, but still she'd know she is wearing it.

"Hey, it's alright my love." He cooed as he sat next to her. "It's alright. We can get that fixed."

"I wanted to wear it." She managed to whisper between her sobs. "You gave it to me on my birthday."

"I know, but-" he was cut off when YN's brother's wife, Jasmine came in with a sewing box.

"I knew this was going to be handy- oh Harry?" She was quite surprised. "I am sorry, I should have knocked but she is crying."

"No, it's fine." Harry assured her.

"Look we are going to fix it okay for now?" She took YN's necklace. Soon after her mother walked in as well. She helped Jasmine fix the necklace. They just tied the broken ends with a piece of things thread. It wasn't a permanent solution but it was going to work for now. "Come here let me put this on." Jasmine even put it on for her and even attempted to fix her makeup too.

Harry watched the way her mum looked at her. They both looked exactly the same he figured. He just wished she would have spoken with her then, he could tell she wanted to. She had tears in her eyes seeing her daughter as a bride. It just broke his heart a little.

"I will come and get you in a while. And Harry you probably have to be there in a few minutes too." Jasmine informed both, soon her and YN's mum left.

"Hey, you good?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I am sorry." She mumbled, "I think I'm about to get my period. I don't know why I am crying so much."

"Don't say that." He pulled her in for a hug, "you don't have to say that. It's a big day, and it's okay to feel this way."

"This is so overwhelming." She mumbled against his chest.

"I know, but it'll be alright. I'm right here with you, yeah?"

It had just been five minutes Harry had to go out as the ceremony would begin. First it was the traditional Indian way. And then it was Niall officiating their wedding. Everything went as smoothly as possible. Soon YN realised she was panicking for nothing everything was just perfect.

They both cried twice as she walked down the aisle twice.

"You may kiss your bride, Harold." Niall announced as he stepped away.

Harry was quick to pull his wife in as he picked her lips gently before he got her in a bear hug. YN wrapped her arms around him

Her husband has been by her side for the entire day. It was time for their first dance.

"I can't believe we are married now." She said they both swayed to the soft music playing.

Harry leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Mhmm. I am finally your husband."

"Yeah? I am your wife now." She couldn't help but smile sheepishly at him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He got flustered seeing her watch him with love heart eyes.

"Can you kiss me?" She asked.

"You know I will." With that he pressed his lips on hers, not shying away that her parents and brother are present there like they used to. She's his woman now and he is her man. "I love you so much!"

"I love you so much!" She reciprocated.

The rest of the night was flawless. Niall and Zayn got drunk off their arse as they danced to Gasolina for the fifth time. The food was amazing.

"You're not going to have anything to drink?" YN asked her husband.

"No, I am done. Had a glass of wine." He shared as he pulled her closer to his side as he watched his former band mates dance like idiots. "Want to stay present." He pressed a kiss on her head.

"Awh!" She cooed.

"Come on guys!" Gemma pulled them both to the dance floor, she was halfway hammered too there. They had a very fun night.

Harry was still on the dance floor as YN retrieved back feeling tired as her adrenaline started to wear off slowly but surely. Her husband wasn't drunk but he was having fun like his friends if not more.

Soon people started leaving to go back to their accommodations and it was just the close family left there to clean up a bit before everyone headed back. As it was Harry's (now theirs) villa all the bride and groom had to do was walking up the stairs to their bedroom.

It was all decorated with pretty candles and flowers. "Oh see the mood is already set for us." Harry announced as he hugged his wife from behind. "To be honest, this wasn't needed I had my eye on you since this morning." He had been worked up all night, actually all day. She looked absolutely dead drop gorgeous in that dress and she is wife now. That all together new feeling.

YN was quick to turn around in his arms. "Yeah?"

"Mhmm." He nodded and pecked her lips gently.

"This is going to be a big hassle to get out of." She reminded him that she is wearing a Lehenga with hundreds if not thousands of pins holding it together.

"Don't worry we have all the time in the world." He assured her as his hand went up her back behind her Chunni as he tugged onto the string of her blouse.

On a serious note, he did help her get out of the heavy outfit. They had a great laugh as it kept tugging on one thing or another. YN finally got out of the lehenga. He was also just in his trousers by now.

"You were wearing sweat pants underneath that the white day?" Harry giggled.

"Yes! And I was still cold." She pouted as she took off her bangles as she was sat on the bathroom counter.

"Awh, my baby!" He cooed, "let's hand this up, yeah?" He nicely hung up the fit on the designated hanger carefully and hung it over the bathroom door. "Now where were we." He went back to her, stepping between her legs.

"Where were we?" She placed the last of the bangles she took off in their designated box as she looked up at him.

"I'd rather show you." With his arms wrapped around her waist he picked her back and walked back to their bed. She laughed feeling his fingers dig into her side tickling her. He gently placed her on the bed as hovered over her pressing his mouth to hers. His hands wandered on her back to unhook her blouse she still had on. "This okay?"

"Yes." She nodded, her hands on his hips as he helped her out of the blouse that's when she noticed the bulge. She was quick to unbuckle his belt and get rid of his pants.

"No let me do the work now." He stopped her, reaching down to the waist band of her sweats and sliding them down with her panties. He got down on his knees as his lips left a trail of soft and eager kisses down her neck to her stomach to her inner thighs. YN let out a soft moan as she felt his mouth on her, his tongue teasing her bud.

Soon enough she was pulling him back to her, he was quick to press his mouth on hers. Her juices are still on his mouth as he pushes his tongue in her mouth, flawlessly dominating over their very heated moment.

"I want your cock in me now." She demanded, propping herself up on her elbows.

He chuckled softly as he undid his trousers and took off his boxers. "Very demanding, aren't we?" He was back on top of her. He lines his tip against her weeping hole as he pushes inside her with ease. "Can never get over the feeling of your pussy on my cock, baby!" He groans softly with his forehead on hers.

YN just let out a soft moan holding onto his shoulders. "Want it to be soft this time." She whispered.

"Mhmmm." He agrees moaning as he could feel her walls pulsing around him.

"Fuck! Right there!" She gasped feeling his cock plunging in her softly yet firmly.

"Yeah, you like it baby?" He looked at her before pecking her lips, earning a nod of satisfaction from her. "That's it baby, lay back and relax. Gonna take care of my wife!"

YN laid back on bed. Harry was quick enough to grab the pillow for her before she rested her head back, not forgetting to keep on with his slow and firm thrusts. Dipping his head down he latched his mouth on her hardened nipple, whilst his hand was busy kneading the other making her back arch.

"Oh yes!" She moaned softly again, gasping for air as she floated away in pleasure.

"Oh yes baby, you gonna cum?" He looked at her again.

"Yeah. I want you to cum in me." She requested. This isn't the first time.

"Yeah? You want me to cum in you baby?" He said getting his hand down to rub her clit making her jolt in surprise.

"Yes please!" She sighed.

"Yeah, almost there baby, urgh!" He thrusts were getting harder and harder as he couldn't hold it back, feeling her pulsing harder around him. Soon he was releasing his load in her pussy with the last few thrusts. "Fuck that was amazing!" He chuckled, still inside her.

"Yeah." She pulled him down for a kiss. "I love you so much Harry!"

"I love you so much!" He kissed again. Rolling over he pulled her in closer. "We are finally married."

"Mhmm." She nodded, looking at him with tired yet love-heart eyes. "We're married now, I can't wait to grow old with you!"

"Yeah? I promise I will love you even after we're seventy." He mumbled softly against her forehead before pressing another kiss on her skin. It was a joke as they danced to Thinking Out Loud by Ed, making her giggling.

"Oh you better!" She warned him.

"You know I will, baby!" He pushes back to look at her, "do you want to get cleaned up and go to sleep?"

"Mhmm." She nodded.

Harry was quick enough to help her get cleaned and helped her get into one of his t-shirts before they were off to bed.

.......................................................................

Harry woke up feeling super hot for some reason, he back was all sweaty as YN slept closer to him, her face buried in his back.

"Baby?" Harry carefully turned around and moved closer to her wife who was still asleep but shivering and burning up. That was enough to get him out of sleep in an instance. "Baby, you alright?"

"Hmmm?" She sounded.

"You're burning up my love." He whispered.

"Yeah I am cold. I just want to sleep." She mumbled. The worst thing about her was how she managed to sleep through fever.

"Let's go see a doctor first, yeah?" He suggested, "you can sleep when we get back."

"Can we go later?" She mumbled again, pulling the blanket over her mouth and curling up even more.

"Babe, come on now. You're burning up." He insisted, "I promise we'll make it as quick as possible, yeah?"

"I- fine we'll-." She ran off to the toilet and started throwing up.

"Oh no." Harry mumbled as he rushed to her and held her hair back and rubbed her back. "It's alright sweetheart. We'll go see a doctor."

Harry was quick to drive her to the nearest hospital, they were asked to wait luckily there was no rush there and they got in without an appointment. The doctor did a basic physical exam.

"Have you eaten anything recently which might upset your stomach?" The doctor asked as he documented in his computer.

"No, I have been eating healthy for our wedding." YN explained.

"Oh congratulations!" The doctor smiled, "don't worry we'll look into it. Have you tried taking a pregnancy test?"

"Not recently." YN shrugged, suddenly feeling anxious as she looked at her husband. "But I'd be open to one if we can do it here."

"Sure." The doctor nodded. "We'll also get the blood work done if necessary too."

"Yeah. Thank you." YN nodded.

Soon enough a nurse guided the couple to a room where YN can take the pregnancy test in privacy. She was nervous and she was already crying.

"It's okay baby." Harry tried his best to calm her down as they waited for the longest five minutes. "What does it say?"

"It's positive." She started sobbing.

"Oh my god!" He was quick to pull her in the tightest hug ever.

"We're going to be Mummy and Papa!" She mumbled as she sobbed.

"Yeah!" Harry rocked her side to side in excitement.

That was the happiest moment of YN's life there but she was still burning up with fever. Doctor gave her some mild medicines to take and advised her to rest as much as she can.

That's exactly what Harry made her do. He drove her back home to their Villa. Made her feel all comfy as he fixed her a quick meal.

They postponed their honeymoon until YN feels better and is fit to travel and spend their time in and resting and taking in the news.

......................................................................

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @onlyangelrihana @supersanelyromantic @haarrrys @originalsoulcollector @lomlhstyles @im-an-overthinker @tenaciousperfectionunknown @stilesissaved @allthelovehes @sunshinemoonsposts @harryssky1 @sofia-faustina @stylesfever @reputationolivia @kittenhere

[starogeorgina]

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

Paring: Jacaerys Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut

1.01

“His heart beats for blood. Blood and fire.”

Jacaerys stares at his betrothed from across the room, watching as she mumbles to herself while flicking through the same book he’s seen her read many times, her heavy-looking eyes often fixated on the same page for a long period of time. He was informed the library and Sept were the only places she would visit outside her private chambers since Aemond killed his brother.

The last time Jace’s family were all together, in King’s landing, King Viserys declared his youngest daughter and eldest grandson were to be wed, with the intention of mending the rift between House Targaryen once and for all.

But that wasn’t what happened.

His betrothed was visibly happy and very vocal about how excited she was to start planning the wedding with his mother. Then his grandsire died, his mother’s throne was usurped, and his unborn sister died. Since returning from Winterfell Jacaerys, the princess hasn’t even glanced in his direction; she was avoiding him, which stung. Jace had never felt so alone; he always had Lucerys by his side before. Perhaps the princess was hiding herself away out of fear of being treated badly for what her brothers, mother, and grandsire had done to his family.

Not that he thought of her any differently; if anything, the young prince pitted her.

Jacaerys watches her for a few moments longer then decides it’s best to leave the princess be; no point in disturbing someone who is seeking isolation.

—

You stop making alterations to the tunic you were embroidering when you hear the door to the chambers you were currently occupying being opened; without looking back, you know who it is. When the footsteps don’t go any further than the doorway, you start threading the needle again.

Every corner you turn, you feel dark eyes burning a hole into you. Nothing that you could say would undo the pain inflicted already. Your mind begins to wonder again, and you don’t notice Jace moving until he’s sitting next to you at the wooden desk. He was looking directly at you, but you avoided meeting his gaze.

“My Prince.”

He takes a sharp intake of breath, “I hold no ill will towards you.”

The funeral for Lucerys was held earlier that day, just before the sun began to set. You watched from afar as Rhaenyra crumpled to pieces, and the rest of her family sobbed, mourning the loss of such a sweet boy. It would have been wrong for you to join them when someone you cared for dearly caused them so much pain.

“How can you not? My twin is the reason you won’t get to see Luke again.”

Jacaerys says nothing to your response. What could he say? You sit in silence, watching Jace’s finger trace over the outline of a dragon on the tunic. “It’s unfinished; it was meant to be a gift for after the wedding.”

A small smile pulls on his lips. “It’s Vermax.”

Regardless of the awful things that had happened, you wanted to remain on Dragonstone but doubted you’d be able to stay long. You were nothing but a reminder of what Aemond had done.

“What’s on your mind?”

You finally looked up and met his eyes, which are glossy from holding back tears. In comparison, your own issues seem minuscule, but you share what’s bothering you anyway. “I don’t want to go back home.”

“This is your home.”

“I’m afraid.”

Giving you a sympathetic look, Jace uses the pad of his thumb to rub circles on the back of your hand. Comforting touches weren’t something you were familiar with, but you liked the warmth coming from his hand.

“You’re safe inside these walls. I won’t let anybody come in here and hurt you.”

“I’m afraid of Dae—”

You’re cut off when there’s a knock at the door and Rhaenyra’s handmaiden, Elinda, walks into the room. You expected Jace to remove his thumb, but instead he squeezed your hand.

Elinda greets you both, “Princess, the queen wishes to speak with you.”

—

Staring into Rhaenyra's eyes was like staring down a dragon. Her fury was evident the moment you entered her quarters; you had seen Daemon storming in the opposite direction and presumed he had something to do with the queen's foul mood. You were thankful when she went to stand by the window.

“I believe my son was in your bedchamber when I sent for you. Is that correct?”

“No, I mean—“ you begin to stumble over your words. “Yes, he was there, Prince Jacaerys came to speak with me.”

“Nothing that could have waited until the morrow, I’m sure.”

Her expression was hard to read. Although she didn’t say anything else, you felt the need to explain further. “I told him I didn’t want to go back to King's Landing, and he told me this was my home. He said, I'm safe here.”

“Why would you believe any differently?”

“Nowhere is safe.”

Rhaenyra uncrosses her arms, her expression softening. “Nobody under my rule will harm you, but I must share this with you.”

Elinda hands you a scroll. Confused, you take it from her, “I don’t understand why someone would write to me.”

You open it nervously and read it. Your lips parted slightly; Rhaenyra asks what it says, but you’re unable to answer her. Elinda looks at it and lets out a small gasp, “It’s from Aegon. He’s demanding the princess return to King’s Landing at once.”

You take the scroll and toss it into the fireplace. “It may have my brother’s signature, but that is my grandsire and mother talking.”

“Elinda, leave us for a moment.” Rhaenyra lets out a frustrated sigh. When it’s just the two of you, she asks, “Do you wish to stay here, on Dragonstone?”

“Yes,” you say, taking a step towards her. “I understand if you want me to leave, but please don’t make me go back to them.”

Seeing the desperation in your eyes, she nods. “We may not be close, but you are my youngest sister. I know you are innocent.”

“I miss Helaena and her sweet children.” You begin to sob, “I was so quick to leave with you for Dragonstone that I never went and saw father before I left. I never said goodbye to him.”

“Neither of us knew what would happen.” Rhaenyra caresses your cheek in a motherly manner. “Jacaerys is right, you are safe here.”

—

Dragonstone was much darker and colder than what you were used to; your hair always feels damp even when it’s dry. You found the sounds of waves crashing around the island comforting.

But not as comforting as being held by Jacaerys.

You expected the prince to have returned to his own quarters, but he was waiting on you to return. You were sitting on the edge of the table with your legs dangling over the edge, Jacaerys forehead pressed against your own while he held you close.

The both of you were lonely, hurt, and scared.

“Won’t you get in trouble for being here so late?”

“We will be married soon,” Jacaerys says, stepping back. “Will we share a room when we are married?”

“I was told that women only lay with their husbands for a couple of nights a month, but everyone who I know who does it seems unhappy. Would you want us to always share a bedchamber?”

“Yes.”

Smiling, you peck him on the lips. “Sorry, that was inappropriate of me.”

“It’s okay.” He closes his eyes. “I hope the war ends soon so my mother can sit on her throne, and you can be my wife.”

You chuckle slightly. “As happy as I am to be your wife, I’m scared for our wedding night. My mother told me sex is painful for a woman.”

“It’s not always.”

“Wait, have you...” You don’t finish the question; the thought of him bedding someone else made you feel sick.

“No, but my stepfather is Daemon Targaryen,” he chuckles. “He always told me it was important for everyone involved to feel pleasure.”

“I was just told to grip the sheets while waiting for it to be over and that only men feel good.”

Jace’s lips ghost your own, his breath warm on your face. “Have you ever felt pleasure before?”

“Yes… kind of, have you.”

Jacaerys cheeks flush red as he nods.

“I touched myself once, but I didn’t put my fingers inside.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a sin for a woman to touch themselves for desire. I went to the sept immediately afterwards and didn’t do it again.”

“Sweet girl,” Jace kisses your cheek. “I’ll never touch you anymore than you want me to.”

You hug again, but this time Jace’s head is pressed against the side of your neck. You still like that in a comfortable silence until you feel him lightly kissing your neck. He pauses waiting for your reaction; a moan slips from your mouth, and you tighten your grip, going around Jace’s back, encouraging him. “Do it again, please.”

Jacaerys starts kissing up your neck until he reaches your jawline. Lifting his head, your noses brush together, “Can I make you feel good now?”

You take Jacaerys hand and guide it underneath your skirts, helping him find the sensitive spot that brings you such pleasure.

“Oh fuck!”

Jace shushes you with a kiss, “We need to be quiet.”

You hold onto his shoulders tightly as he rubs circles on your clit until you climax.

Smiling Jacaerys kisses you again, “It’s late; we should get some rest; the morrow will come soon enough.”

“Can you stay a little longer?”

He takes your hand and helps you off the table. “Yes, but I’ll need to go before the handmaidens come in the morning.”

[bitchlessdino]

"like i can" (m)

a/n: maybe ill fix it up with a banner after but for now i just need yall to see the vision

w.c. 1.6k

warning: fratboy!chan x older working adult fem!reader dynamic, ex's younger brother, mommy kink, switch!chan, a lot of dirty talk, unprotected sex, possessive chan, oral (giving and rec), praise kink, exchanging cum, probably grammar mistakes

Tagging @the-boy-meets-evil @dirtysvthoughts @okiedokrie @kwanisms @highvern @whipped-for-kpop-fics @wonustars @sluttyminghao for those who was there that helped me or brain rotted me ily and hopefully I didn’t miss anyone

You swore off men. Anyone with a dick would be off limits. Especially Lee men. After your last relationship, dick truly fucked up any potential future relationship for you.

So why the fuck were you on your knees? You had no excuse being there, no excuse for sucking dry your ex-boyfriend’s younger brother. No matter how hot and sweaty he looks after coming home from the gym. You were just there to drop off his asshole brother’s things. And maybe have that lemonade he was offering. And surely lemonade is not code for a mouth full of frat boy dick like when you were in college.

Yet somehow.

“Shit…this is so…wrong…” As Lee Chan fought you off with his words, his hands decidedly thread through your hair, locking his soft kind eyes with you as your lips wrapped around his cock and slobbering over his length that was a surprisingly pleasant size.

“He’s gonna fucking hate me,” he whined, only for his hips to softly piston in your mouth.

Your moans vibrated against his skin, sending waves of nerves throughout his body. Chan was irrevocably enthralled by you and always has been when his brother introduced you to his family for the first time, but never in all his years did he imagine he’d have you in such a position. In any position really.

The corner of your lips stretched to your ears, licking a long  thick stripe up his shaft before cradling his cock against your face. “Do you want to stop, pretty boy?”

His lips parted to speak only to close back up, pressing them into a firm line before another moan escaped through them as you kissed his bulging veins. The whites of his nails piercing the leather of the couch he was pinned against as his eyes fell shut, muttering a mantra of apologies for his older brother missing in action.

“You’re such a good boy to worry about your brother. He’s so lucky to have you,” you complimented as you stroked him around a clenched fist.

Chan shook his head, a remorseful frown on his face. “Definitely not a good enough one,” he managed to mutter.

“But look, you’re letting your brother’s ex girlfriend suck your cock but all you can think about how he’d feel. You’re such a good boy.” Your nails claw down his bare torso, from his heaving pectoral to to his clenched abdomen. Someone above put a test in front of him and he was failing. “And too good of a brother.”

He swallowed a lump down your throat, feet glued to the ground, stooping his knees from completely giving out. “This…shouldn’t have happened…it shouldn’t be happening—“

“Then why don’t you stop me?”

He exhaled a shallow breath. “You know why I can’t.”

“Dumb it down for me why don’t you?”

“Fuck,” he buried his reluctance in the back of his throat, hips leaning towards you before they shifted, gaining momentum. “It’s you, that’s why.”

“Me?” You chuckled before putting him back in your mouth, squeezing around his girth.

His hands found claim back on your hair before losing control of his morals, no longer tiptoeing around eggshells and instead crushing them along his path. “Yes, you.”

Your eyes dilate a centimeter too wide when his tense expression melts into one of acceptance, then determination as his body relaxed into your warmth and plummeted down your throat. “It’s always…been you.”

He could no longer resist your advances, letting out a groan of anguish as he emptied in your mouth, cradling the crown of your head to his groin as his stream poured inside of you, his hips faltering as he the white disappear past your lips. Tapping against his hips, he released you mercilessly, ensuing the coughing and the gagging that inevitably came. “You…dirty boy,” you chided, face warm and throat sore.

He softly scoffed, before picking you up from the ground and smashing his lips against yours. “If you’re not holding back than neither should I…Mommy.”

“Mommy?” You grinned.

“Too much?”

“Oh, baby boy. Not at all.” You threw your arms around him, languidly moving your lips, and letting the taste of his own cum penetrated Chan’s senses, only enticing him more. “Lay it all out for mommy. Can you do that for me, baby?”

He gingerly nodded, hand caressing your face with an inspired smile. “Yes, anything. Anything mommy wants, I can do.”

“What do you want, baby?”

He sighed. “I want to taste Mommy.”

“You do, don’t you,” your kiss him playfully, grinding against his cock, feeling him grow under your touch. “Show me how much you want it.”

“Mmh, I want it,” he lifted you off the ground before moving you back toward the dining table planting you flat against the dining table. “I’ll show Mommy exactly how much I want it.”

He tugged off your skirt, flashing your wet panties practically drenched in your anticipation. You heard him take a sharp breath, already inhaling that scent that he knows was now forever ingrained into every wrinkle of his brain.

“You look like you’re about to eat me alive, baby,” You mused.

“And Mommy would be right.”

He pulled you by the legs, emitting a small yelp, before all you could feel was his mouth on your clothed cunt, sucking your wetness through your lace, and his moans against you, living and breathing inside you. Your hands reach either edge of the table before started riding his face, erupting his giggles, “I get to taste mommy’s pussy…I’m fucking dreaming.”

“Mmh, Chan,” you moaned, your fingers pressing into his head and feeling his tongue explore you like the new world.

“Mommy…” he parted your panties to the side, tasting until it’s only raw heat on his tongue and he swallowing every drop.

“Baby like mommy’s pussy?”

You felt him nod. “Mommy’s pussy is perfect…need her cum in my mouth.”

“Work for it, baby.” You laughed.

“Yes, Mommy.” 

If Chan’s mouth was law, you’d be a follower. You embraced every caress, every stroke, every thrust of his tongue. The ‘fuck me’ eyes that stared back at you as he ruined you like rain on parade. You braced on the table, hips taking his face, walls fluttering, and breathing in staggering breaths. “Oh my god,” you spoke as if confessing sin, “I’m gonna cum.”

Chan could not stop himself, and what was between your legs became safe haven. You rode his face until you saw stars, planets, whatever the galaxy offered, while Chan’s name echoed throughout the room and bounced off the walls.

He clamped his grip on your hips, fusing himself to you and tasting your climax flood his gums with the sensation of every twitch of your thighs. As soon as they faltered, he found your lips, mixing your cum in his mouth with remnants of his cum in yours, both swallowing betrayal that’s been long forgotten the moment Chan laid eyes on a freshly single you. “Taste that, mommy? Taste good that pretty pussy of yours is?”

“Baby…”

You tugged on his hair, grinding your hips against him and feel that cock slide against your pussy lips and thinking about how you both were still so close yet so far.

You needed it. You needed Chan. You need to feel him stretch you out fuck the shit out of you. You needed him to ruin you on this stupid family dining room table that humiliates you now that the person that introduced you has put an end to things on his own terms. You were gonna get closure your way and no other way.

“I want baby’s cock in me…”

Chan smiles, hands tracing over your curves and lines. “Mommy, are you asking or are you telling?”

“I’m demanding.”

His smile was only more radiant after your tone shift, positioning himself exactly where he needed to be. “Anything for you, Mommy.”

It’s big. It’s thick. But after the feast Chan had, he was sliding through you with ease, testing the limits of your endurance as he vanished inside you. Your voice gave out, hands planting on either of his shoulders as he took you by the hips to drag you against him across the table. 

You rest your forehead against his. “Baby...”

“That feel good?”

You nodded. “So good, baby. Your pretty cock pushing in and out my cum.”

He groaned, his hands moving to squeeze your hips, “Mommy, your mouth—”

“Filthy hmm? Like your cock fucking my mouth or how your tongue tasted my pussy?” 

He moaned, against your lips, pounding you against him so desperately the table shook and it was a study table from your experience. “Your talking is gonna make me cum, Mommy.”

“Good because it’s all I want: baby’s cum in mommy’s pussy, squirting your fat load inside of Mommy…Make Mommy yours.”

“Mommy, you’re killing me.”

Your nails ran down his back, pleased. Lips tasting the salt in his sweat, and your breath cooling the heat of his flushed neck. “Mommy just wants you to empty out in her, fuck her better than anyone else has.”

“Better than anyone else…like my brother?” He asked in gentle reluctance.

“Would that be hard for you? You think you can’t fuck me like your brother would?”

Violently, he shook his head. “No,” his hips take flight and a moan cracked out of your lips. “I don’t think anyone would fuck Mommy like I can. Especially my brother.”

“Yeah?” You clenched around his biceps. “You gonna make me forget what he feels like?”

“I’ll make you forget his name.”

“Chan…”

“Mommy won’t remember nobody’s name but mine.”

You don’t remember when it was that you arrived at this house but you’d soon realize when you’d come. And come. And come.

And come until Chan was empty, or at least until someone finally came home. But it was the weekend. Your ex was out of town and so was his parents. 

So who the fuck knows when that is.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Give In » Bucky Barnes (AU)

Pairings: Step Brother!Bucky Barnes x Step Sister!Reader

Summary: You finally give in to your hot step brother.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, flirting, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, praise kink, name calling (slut), pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You were walking past your step brother’s bedroom when you caught a glimpse of his naked body, a towel hanging low on his hips. You honestly didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that he’s so hot and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking. “Y/N, stop it! He’s your step brother.” You thought to yourself.

“Staring is rude, you know.” Bucky says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Bucky walked towards you and leaned against the doorframe. He was inches away from you. You watched a water droplet roll down his body. You desperately wanted to touch him so bad. You turned away and quickly made your way to your bedroom. You closed the door and leaned against it. You closed your eyes and exhaled a breath. You jumped when someone knocked on your bedroom door. You opened it to see Bucky, still in a towel.

“What? Did you come to my room to seduce me?” You say in a sassy voice.

“C’mon, sis. Don’t be like that.” Bucky coos.

You walked backwards when he walked in your room. He closed and locked the door behind him. You kept walking backwards until the back of your knees hit the edge of your bed.

“I see the way you stare at me all the time.” He says.

His hand caressed your cheek and his thumb rubbed against your bottom lip, making your breathing get heavy.

“If you want me to fuck you, all you have to do is say the word and I’ll make you feel so fucking good.” He almost whispers.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Only a whimper. Bucky smirked. You watched his other hand push the straps of your tank top off of your shoulders. He kissed along your skin to your neck. A gasp left your lips when his teeth nipped on your skin.

“Bucky…” Your voice sounding breathless. “Th-This is wrong.” You say with a stutter.

“You know you want this.” He says against your skin.

It took everything in you not to give in to your step brother’s dirty words.

Bucky’s fingers rubbed your pussy through the thin fabric of your sleep shorts. Your thighs clamped together, trapping his hand behind your legs. He slid his hand inside one of the pant legs of your shorts. His fingers immediately felt how wet you are just by touching your panties.

“You sure you don’t want to give in?” He asks with a teasing smirk.

You whimpered and shook your head no, lying to yourself and Bucky.

“Your mind may be saying no…” He slid your panties to the side. “For now…” His fingers rubbed in between your wet folds. “But your pussy is saying yes.” He says.

Bucky slid two fingers in your pussy, making your hand grasp onto his biceps. His thumb applied pressure on your clit as his fingers began fucking you.

“I better that feels good, huh?” He whispers in your ear. “You like it when I fuck you with my fingers, baby?” He asks.

You hummed in response and nodded your head. Your nails dug in his skin the faster his fingers fucked you. His thumb rubbed your clit in slow circles, teasing you. Bucky’s free hand found its way to your face, gently grasping your jaw and kissed you hungrily. You moaned against his lips.

Your mind was all over the place. It’s taking everything in you to not give in, but Bucky is making that very hard for you. Considering that he’s standing in front of you, wearing nothing but a towel and his fingers are fucking you. You bit your bottom lip to keep moans from coming out.

“Let me hear those pretty moans, baby girl.” Bucky whispers in your ear.

You desperately wanted to release your moans. You felt like you were on a loose thread at the moment. You parted your lips to release a shaky breath. Bucky was determined to get you to get you to give in. He achieved that. A loud moan left your lips, making Bucky smirk to himself.

“Atta girl.” He coos. “I knew you would let me hear those pretty moans.” He says.

Your legs began to shake a little bit from the amount of pleasure you receiving. Bucky wrapped his free arm around your waist and pulled you against him to keep you from falling. You gasped when you felt his bulge against your thigh.

“I know you’re about to cum, baby.” Bucky almost whispers. “Just give in.” He coos. “I can make you feel so fucking good.” He says.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your head tilted back. Bucky was really enjoying this. He was watching you fall apart on his fingers. He could tell you couldn’t take it anymore.

You moaned his name loudly as you came on his fingers. His thumb gave your clit one last rub before he took his fingers out of your pussy. You lifted your head so you were face to face with him. You were panting as you stared into his lust filled eyes.

“Fuck me.” Is all you said.

Bucky kissed your lips hungrily before striping you from your clothes. Your hands tugged on his towel and dropped it on the floor. You pulled away from his lips to lay down on your bed. You shamelessly looked down at his hard cock, biting your bottom lip. He’s bigger than you excepted.

“My eyes are up here, pretty girl.” He says with a smirk and snapped his fingers.

You voluntarily spread your legs for him to get in between them. Bucky got in between your legs and sat back on his knees. He grasped your hips and pulled you closer to him, pulling you onto his lap and put your legs on either side of him. You moaned when his cock bumped your pussy. You instinctively moved your hips against his, rubbing your pussy against his cock. Bucky put his hands on your hips, keeping you in place and helping you move against him.

“Such a little slut. Grinding your little pussy on my cock.” He says huskily, sounding cocky.

You moaned when he called you a slut. Normally you wouldn’t be turned on by being called a slut, but this time is different. Bucky makes it sound hot.

Bucky stopped your movements and lifted you just enough so your pussy was hovering above his cock. He wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked it a couple times before lining it at your entrance. He slid his tip inside of you and you sunk down on his cock. Your mouth fell open, a relieved moan leaving your lips.

“I bet that feels good, huh, baby?” He coos. “My cock in your pussy.” He says.

You bit your bottom lip and hummed in response, nodding your head.

You gasped when his cock practically touched your sweet spot, that’s how deep he is. You wrapped an arm around his neck as you started riding him. Bucky’s became occupied with your breasts, kissing and sucking on them. His tongue flicked against and circled your nipples. Your head fell back and you arched your back. You practically shoved your breasts in Bucky’s face and he was absolutely loving every second of it.

Bucky’s hands found their place on your hips, helping you with your movements. He kissed his way from your breasts to your lips. The kiss was heated and sloppy. Bucky’s tongue licked across your lips to get you to open them. You parted them enough to let his tongue enter your mouth. You two moaned against each other’s lips.

“Bucky…” You moaned, loving the feeling of the veins of his cock rub along your walls.

One of his hands cupped your on of your breasts, giving it a squeeze. His thumb rubbed against your nipple before pinching it. A moan fell from your lips, loving the new sensation. Bucky smirked to himself and did the same thing with your other nipple, earning the same reaction.

His hand wandered down your body, stopping on your clit and his fingers began rubbing it. You looked down, watching his fingers rub your clit in circles. Bucky watched your mouth fall open when he started rubbing your clit. He smirks to himself, loving the affect he has on you.

“Bucky…” You moaned. “Fuck me please!” You begged.

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers left your clit, making you whine at the loss of the rubbing. He wrapped his arms around your waist and gently laid you on your back.

“I love it when you beg me.” Bucky says huskily.

He hovered over you, putting one of his hands on the headboard and put one of your legs on his shoulder. That’s when he started pounding into you, catching you completely by surprise. Your head fell back against the pillow and your mouth fell open, strings of moans leaving your lips. His cock hit your sweet spot perfectly and relentless at this angle.

Bucky looked down at you, watching your breasts jiggle as he fucked you. He quickly became mesmerized with your breasts. He lean down, kissing along the swells of your breasts and marked you up more, his lips making their way to your nipples. He latched his lips on your nipples and swirled his tongue around them, making you arch your back in pleasure. You pushed your breasts more in his face and he was all for it.

One of his hands snaked its way down to your clit and began rubbing it in fast circles. His name fell from your lips like a chant. It was like music to his ears.

“Yes! Fuck!” You moaned when his cock hit your sweet spot. “Right there!” You tell him.

Bucky smirks to himself and continues to pound into your sweet spot, your pussy clenching around his cock. He moaned at the feeling. Two of Bucky fingers rubbed against your bottom lip. You parted your lips just enough for him to slide his fingers in your mouth. You knew what he wanted. You wrapped your lips around his fingers and swirled your tongue around them, getting them wet. Bucky got even more turned on as he watched you do that. He took his fingers out of your mouth and blindly felt for your clit while maintaining eye contact with you, finding it with ease.

“F-Fuck!” You moaned when he gave your clit a pinch.

Bucky smirks to himself and bit his bottom lip, loving the reaction he got out of you when he did that. He did it again, earning the same reaction again. His thrusts got faster. The sound of skin slapping and sex filled the room. Your hands found their way to his back, your nails digging in his skin. Bucky slightly hissed at the feeling, but loved it.

“B-Bucky, I’m- mmm fuck! I’m getting close.” You say through a moan.

“I know, babe.” He pants. “I can feel your pussy squeezing my cock.” He says, moaning at the feeling of your pussy squeezing around his cock.

His fingers applied more pressure to your clit as he rubbed it. His cock hit your sweet spot over and over, making your orgasm build up rather quickly. It felt like your orgasm was about to come crashing down on you any second. Your legs began to shake a little against his hips. Bucky smirks to himself again, knowing that he’s doing a good job if your legs are shaking.

“Bucky, please!” You begged desperately. “Can I cum?” You asked, followed by a small whimper.

“You don’t need my permission to cum, baby.” He states. “Cum for me. Make a fucking mess on my cock.” He says.

That’s all it took for you to fall over the edge. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your mouth fell open, his name leaving your lips as you came hard. Bucky gave your clit one last rough rub before focusing on his own orgasm. His thrusts became sloppy, meaning his orgasm was building up quickly. He lost rhythm with his thrusts for a short moment before regaining it. A loud fuck left his lips as he came inside of you. He thrusted a few more times before his thrusts came to a slow stop.

He pulled out of you and laid down next to you. The two of you laid there sweaty and breathless, staring up at the ceiling. You were caught off guard when Bucky put his hand on your thigh and gave it a squeeze, making you turn your head towards him so you were looking at him.

“That was so fucking hot.” Bucky says.

“Mmm.” You hummed, agreeing with him.

You rolled over, getting on top of him, kissing his lips.

“Round 2 in the shower?” You suggested seductively.

“You read my mind, baby girl.” He says with a smirk.

Giving in to your hot step brother was the best thing ever.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll’s