#and i didn't care what it would look like or when it was done

[purple-writer8]

But Daddy I Love Him - ACOTAR

Rhysand x Autumn Court Reader (Beron’s Daughter)

“I’ll tell you something right now, I’d rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning.”

warnings: abused eris, autumn court shenanigans, mentioned abuse (verbal and physical), talks of violence, forbidden love, beron being beron, beron being abusive, physical abuse, angst, sexism, the autumn court brothers

2.5k words

Masterlist :)

You were Beron's Achilles heel. 

His youngest child and only daughter. The Princess of Autumn. You were spoiled, by your parents and your six older brothers--loved by everyone in your family. You knew they all hated each other, that your father was a bad man, abusive to your brothers and your mother. But for some reason, you were loved by him, doted on by him. 

You didn't look a lot like him, or like your brothers, or like your mother. Unlike them, you sported dirty blonde hair, though your powers still resembled theirs-- wielding fire like the rest of your family. 

Despite your peculiar hair color, your father loved you inmensely, showing you more affection than he did any of your elder siblings combined. You were lucky, lucky that he didn't do with you what he did to your brothers, that he didn't unleash his wrath on you like he did on Eris or the others. 

What Beron did do, though, was shelter you. You lived in the Autumn Palace, and rarely ever saw outside of it. Your father would rather you stay in your rooms, where you were safe from the dangers of the realm. You had guards to accompany everywhere, and if it weren't guards-- it was your older brothers. You loved them, all of your brothers, but your favorite was Eris. 

He was the gentlest out of all of them, the one that cared the most for you, the one that understood you. Eris would do anything for you, and you for him. It was thanks to him that you found the love of your life. 

Rhysand.  

A year ago, Eris had convinced your father to let you attend balls and parties held by the other High Lords, to let you live a life outside your rooms and the gardens. Beron beat him for the suggestion, but nonetheless listened to him.  The first ball you attended was in the Dawn Court, a celebration of sorts. Most courtiers from all around Prythian were mesmerized-- and stunned-- to learn of your existence. 

Rhysand was one of them. Cauldron, the High Lord of the Night Court was smitten from the moment that he saw you enter alongside your brothers, your head bowed as you walked through the crowd. He had to have you. 

And he did just that. It was just pleasantries at first, he was kind to you-- much to Beron's dismay and Eris' chagrin. Everyone knew what the Night Court was made of, and how Rhysand ruled over it. Eris would rather kill the High Lord of Night than let him near you, caring not for court relations but for your well-being. He remembered what happened to Morrigan in the Night Court, tortured by her own family. 

He would never let you set foot there. 

The second ball you attended was in the Summer Court. Eris had been tasked by Beron to woo some Winter Court aristocrat's daughter, so he was quite busy. Which meant you could slip away without anyone noticing, explore the palace and finally not be babysat by your brother. 

You had found a balcony that overlooked the city of Adriata when you heard, "There you are... I've been looking for you," in that deep voice you had been incessantly thinking about ever since your first outing. 

You turned to find Rhysand standing there, clad in black leather, his violet eyes shining bright while a feline smirk grazed his perfectly sculpted features. You blinked, your doe eyes shining for him. 

He smiled wide, and you instantly knew you were done for. You would be his. 

And you were. You and Rhysand began a secret relationship, a secret and dangerous relationship. You let him in, let him into your mind, let him be the one to take your purity. You were Rhysand's and he was yours. Not only that, but you saw each other in secret at different gatherings. And sometimes he winnowed into Autumn territory in the dead of night to see you, not caring for the consequences of his actions. Of what Beron would do when he learned he had defiled you. 

"I almost melted his mind when I saw him eyeing you," Rhysand growled, kissing you neck in a feverish manner. You let out a low whine, your fingers running through his onyx  silky hair. "I can't wait to claim you," he spoke breathlessly, "to make you my wife." 

You moaned wantonly when one of his hands found its way under your skirts while the other worked to unbutton the top of your dress. "Take me to your court," you pleaded, hooking your leg on his lower waist and pulling him closer to you. 

"I'll take you, steal you away from this place... make you the Lady of Night..." he groaned, one hand snaking to your neck, holding you steady as he kissed down your neck and then your shoulders. You whined and writhed under his touch, then he said, "be quiet, baby... wouldn't want your daddy to find you like this..." 

No, you wouldn't. There was a ball happening, this time in your home, and you had slipped away just so Rhysand could follow you and corner you in a dimly lit hallway. Your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer into yourself, like you were a sick woman and the only remedy was Rhysand close to you. 

"Sister." The voice of Fenix, your second-eldest brother, ran through the hallway. You jumped, pushing Rhys off of your body as if he had the plague. Rhysand turned to the Vanserra male, a smirk on his face, as if he hadn't been caught in a very compromising situation. 

Fenix hummed, his eyes narrowed on you, "interesting." 

"Fenix..." you warned him, your eyes travelling to his hands that were now curled into tight fists. You were sure any second now he would send fire your lover's way. "You have one second to disappear before I lynch you and send you back to your cauldron forsaken court," your brother said in a dangerously low tone. 

Rhys was unbothered. "I think I'll be taking your sister with me then," he said, wrapping one strong arm around your waist. "Over my fucking dead body, Rhysand." 

You closed your eyes in defeat when you heard Eris' voice boom through the hallway.  A feline smile happened upon Rhys's lips, "that can be arranged." 

You turned to Eris, your eyes silently pleading with him, but it was for naught because he was only glaring at the man that had his arm wrapped tightly around you. "Drop my sister, Rhysand. Or there will be hell to pay." Eris warned slowly. 

"Eris, I love him!" You shrieked, only for Fenix to let out a low growl. "And I'll lynch him," he threatened, only for Rhys to laugh. 

"I would love to see you try. We're leavin-" Before Rhys could finish, a beam of fire was sent his way, though it misted before it could even touch him. You cried in horror when you saw your father standing at the end of the hallway, backed by the remaining of your brothers. Seldom from Lucien, who was not in Autumn anymore. "You dare touch my daughter?!" Beron roared, the walls of the palace shaking from the sheer force of his words. 

Rhysand grinned at him, "we can all talk about this like adults." 

Wishful thinking. Your brothers wasted no time in their attack on the Night Court's High Lord, sending flames at him-- though they were no match for Rhysand. He swiftly pushed you out of the way and winnowed around the hall, avoiding each attack. "Please stop!" You cried in horror, but to no avail. They wanted Rhysand dead. 

"You are BANISHED from this court, for now and forever." Your father's voice thundered through the palace, and instantly the flames died down-- leaving only a very shocked Rhysand. "Beron... we can talk abo-" 

"Leave now, or I send Eris to your court with our army. Leave or we are at war," at your father's threat, you turned to Rhysand in horror. You knew he could kill your entire family with a single blink, that he could really take you and form a war between courts-- and win it. 

He spoke in your mind. "Give me the word and I will take you away, bunny. I am not scared of your father or his weak threats." 

"Go. I will fix this." You responded. 

Rhysand turned to Beron, bowed with a wicked grin on his face, and winnowed away. You stared at the space he had just been standing in longing, before a grip yanked you forward. You whimpered as you looked up at your father's rage - filled expression. "How do you dare?" He asked in a tone that he had never once used on you. You trembled, his grip burning into your skin, causing you to wince in pain. 

Eris stepped between the two of you, pulling you behind his frame to shield you from your father's wrath. Beron's glare burned through Eris, and you could almost feel it burning your skin. "You will marry someone of my choosing. Until then, you will remain in your rooms." Beron spoke, his tone offering no room for bargaining. 

"But Daddy, I love him!" You cried, stepping from behind your older brother to face your father's rage. Beron growled, "what do you know about love? You're a woman! There's no choice for you in this matter!" 

You scoffed, he raised you just to cage you. "I love him!" You pressed again, and he simply rolled his eyes at you, "you know nothing of the world." 

"I love him, and I'm having his baby!" You shrieked, and horror instantly was etched unto your father's expression. Your brothers all looked as if they had seen a ghost, eyes wide and mouths hung open at your revelation. Eris covered his face with his hands, "I'll kill him..." 

"I'm not..." you admitted, "but cauldron, you should see your faces." 

Beron was frozen in shock at your boldness. He was not dealing with this. So to Eris growled, "deal with her." 

Your father winnowed away along with the rest of your brothers, leaving the eldest and you to sort out this mess. Before you knew it, your brother winnowed you away and into your room. "Sister, please come to your senses..." Eris started. 

"No, I am not coming to my senses," you snapped at Eris. 

"Rhysand is crazy, the entire Night Court is full of depraved individuals. Remember what happened to Morrigan? How they left her at our border? They'll do the same to you..." Eris trailed, his expression one full of pain and sheer anger. 

"I am not Morrigan! He would never hurt me... and Rhysand said he wasn't the one that hurt her. Eris, I know he may seem crazy, but he's the one I want. I love him! And he loves me!" You contested, your voice cracking as tears once more swelled in your eyes. Rhysand was chaos, he was revelry... and he was also the love of your life.  

 Eris let out a frustrated groan, he could not believe his sweet sister was so hung up on the cruelest High Lord there ever was in the history of Prythian. "Sleep on it, sister. Because Beron will never let you wed him," and with that, your brother left your room, slamming the door on his way out. Slamming the door on you and your future. 

- 

You were summoned early in the morning to breakfast with your family, you attended with your arguments sharp as knives-- ready to hurl them at your father. As soon as you entered the Dining Hall, your brothers erupted into their arguments, all of them reminding you of all the things Rhysand had done in his life. 

Your father looked smug as your five brothers scolded you for wanting the Night Court's leader. Your mother looked mortified, her face pained-- she just wanted you to be happy.  

"He melts minds," said Fenix. 

"He has those two bat boys, they are evil and kill innocents," said Zire. 

"He lets his court torture women, look at Morrigan," said Lukas. 

"I heard he keeps a hundred concubines in his palace," said Ember. 

"He runs his court without any sort of morals," said Eris. 

You thought it was rich coming from your brothers. They were the ones that tortured Lucien's lover, and the ones that ran him out of Autumn. They didn't know you knew that, though-- one of your servants had told you what had happened. 

Their hypocrisy and vile words towards Rhysand made you seethe, sending flames flying from your hands and to the walls of the room as you stood up. "I'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all your hypocritical bitching and moaning," you screeched. 

Your brothers went still, their mouths all clamping shut as they stared at you in shock. 

"You're a Vanserra," your father growled. "Whether you like it or not, you do my bidding, and if you think I'll let you wed Rhysand just because you want to, then you are dafter than you appear, child."

You remained silent, digesting your father's words. You had always known your father to be cruel. Knew he beat your brothers, knew he was the one that bid them to kill Jesminda and run Lucien out of the court. But you had never known his cruelty, no. You had always been his weakness, the child he truly did appear to love. Though now you knew that just because he didn't you, it didn't mean that he cared any more for you than he did your brothers. 

"I may be a Vanserra," you trembled, "but I would gladly disgrace the name. You've already done it plenty." 

Beron never once expected you to go against him like this, no, you were the good one. You were the dutiful daughter, the one he had kept hidden for years on end to protect. Where did you get all this conviction?  Your father stood from his seat at the end of the table, Eris doing the same thing— ready to intervene if he were to attack you. 

Beron strode towards you quickly, and Eris tried to jump in between the two of you, but with a flick of his hand your father sent Eris flying to the wall. You gasped, meaning to rush to your brother, but your father grabbed you midway. 

His grip was deathly, and as you looked up at him— your blood ran cold. And before you could even pull away, his hand struck you across the face. 

-

Author’s note:

i instantly got this idea when i heard this song like IT FITS PERFECT

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs

[prongsiepotter]

down bad | j. potter

summary: you're so in love with james potter but he's a little too good at giving you mixed signals that it might actually ruin you

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: angst, a little fluff if u squint, and so much longing & yearning. omg so much of it

a/n: i am unfortunately completely obsessed with taylor swift's new album, so everything i'll write in the near future will be based on one of the ttpd songs (yey!) & this one's based on 'down bad.' feel free to send requests if u want pick the next song for me x

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"So he just said no?" Mary all but hisses. Marlene shushes her, glancing around the classroom before leaning down from where she's sitting on your desk.

"Are you sure it didn't mean something else?" She rests her hand on yours. "Maybe it was just a misunderstanding. He wouldn't…he just wouldn't, right?" You smile weakly at her, then shake your head. She squeezes your hand.

"The note was pretty clear," you say with a soft sigh. The sentence rolls off your tongue with unhidden bitterness. "Sorry, can't. Need to catch up on some assignments."

You would show it to them, so they could see for themselves and maybe divert their sympathetic gazes from you. But you had set it on fire right after reading it, just like the other two notes friendly rejecting you. You still aren't sure why you did it. After all, you did just tell Mary and Marlene that you're fine. At least you will be. You should not be this devastated over some guy.

Even if that guy is James Potter.

James who is now strolling into the room with his mates, looking as invincible and full of life as he always has and always will.

Quickly, you force a smile at the girls and pull out the chair next to you. Marlene, bless her, gets the hint and lightly shoves Mary's shoulder to have her take the seat. You're going through your book bag, pulling out your inkwell when four bodies make their way past your desk.

"Ladies," comes Sirius cheerfully loud voice as he bows at the waist because, of course, he does. Peter and Remus aren't as dramatic with their greetings. The latter, however, does take the time to slow down in front of you until you look up and return his kind smile. Belatedly, you realise perhaps you shouldn't have done that. You lock eyes with James, who's right behind him.

He sends you an easy smile and a wink. Like he's letting you in on another one of his rare secrets. You're not sure if you're smiling back, but it's almost a given that you are.

He takes his seat behind you, laughing blithely at a joke Pete just told, and it's all so painfully charming that you want to die. You fear he will always make you feel like this. Like you're somehow the chosen one. It's such a sickening feeling, you can't help but whip around and look at Mary, pleadingly. Though, you're not sure what you're pleading for anymore.

She shoots you another unbearably sympathetic smile, looking like she's close to cooing at you. You sigh, hiding your face in the crook of your arms.

You can't help but think how easy it would be to just cry right here. It's embarrassing to admit, but you've done it plenty of times over the weekend after you had seen James out at Hogsmeade with the others. Miserably, you had realised that he was, in fact, not too busy working on his assignments. He just didn't want to spend time with you.

You almost let out a sob.

A hand rubs your back and you know it can only be Mary, but you let yourself believe that it's the universe consoling you, as if to say there, there because there's nothing fair about this and she knows it, but there's nothing she can do it about now, can she?

History of Magic passes in a blur. Before you know it, you're in the library, pouring all of yourself into an essay that you normally couldn't have cared less for. But you're willing to do whatever it takes to keep yourself busy. You know your thoughts will stray the moment you're lying quietly in bed anyway, awaiting another sleepless night.

You finish the sentence and look up, satisfied with your work. Apparently it's been a while since you've torn your gaze away from the parchment before you, seeing how stiff your neck is. You knead at the uncomfortable knot in your shoulder while looking around the library. It's relatively full today with every other seat being taken.

Which makes it all the more irritating when your gaze snatches on a figure sat at the other table right across from you. He's not even looking up, head bent over a book, but you would recognise that mop of unruly dark curls anywhere. James must've seen you when he came in, but that might have just been your hopeful self speaking.

Begrudgingly, you resume your writing and it takes everything in you not to look up every few minutes. To glimpse the slight furrow in his brows and the small pout of his lips as he's carefully reading every paragraph. You know he's likely looking for something to prepare for a prank. Normally, you would simply go over and ask him what he's up to. You know he'd happily tell you. But you're glad to have at least a little bit of pride and dignity left that keeps you rooted in your spot.

Seemingly not enough though since all you can think about is that there's no way he doesn't know that you're right there. It really does make you want to bang your head against the table. Maybe that would finally catch James' attention.

Pathetically, you glance at him only to notice that he's packing his things to leave. The tip of your feather goes back to the parchment so fast, it almost pierces it. You haven't got a clue what you're writing, too busy tracking James' movements from the corner of your eyes.

You watch him stand up, walking down the length of his table towards the door down the hall on his right. Then he stops. You hold your breath. James seemingly hesitates before fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He turns left and walks towards you. You're staring at your hand as it writes illegible words, completely out of your control, when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey," James whispers when you look up, giving you a familiar grin and small wave. It's an innocent gesture, sweet, but there's almost something hostile about this encounter. Like you have no choice but to let him occupy every single one of your senses. You stare up at him, a matching smile sweeping over your lips before you can think better of it.

That's when you notice the scarf he's wearing and its frizzled ends. It's yours. You know it is.

Did he not give it back to you after one of your nights out together on the stands? After you had flown on your brooms, so close to the sea of stars that you could've dipped your fingertips in them? You could almost hear the echoes of your windblown laughters as the memory pushes itself into the foreground of your mind.

James is sitting still, rosy-cheeked, watching you with curious eyes while you babble on about the Leo constellation. He had just told you that you could do whatever you want to him—another quite maddening thing to casually say to someone—and now he's apparently keen on staying true to his word by letting you wrap your scarf around his neck.

It took some convincing before he'd finally accepted it from you. You promised that you wouldn't be cold with your high collared sweater, but James only gave in when you had accepted his wool hat in exchange.

He had carefully put it on you, smoothing down your hair and pulling out some loose strands to frame your face, mumbling something about how much lovelier his hat looked on you than on him. You told yourself that he surely must've known what it did to you when his knuckles brushed your cheeks. Right? Surely.

James pokes your side, chuckling, as if he sensed that your mind was drifting elsewhere. He cracks another joke, saying that if you were the one to teach him Astronomy, he might actually pay attention in class. He says it like it's a deal and you feel inclined to do whatever it takes to hold up your side of the bargain.

You laugh helplessly, feeling drunk on a little bit of everything; the stars above, James' gentle laughter, the familiar smell of broom wax and crisp winter air. This must be cosmic love, you think to yourself. Your breath clouds in front of you, becoming one with his. All the while, you're too aware of James' shoulder bumping into you, his leg pressed against yours. There's no one out here but you two.

You have all the room in the world, but James chose to sit this close to you. Probably close enough for him to hear your heart pounding. Did he do it for a reason? You'd love to know.

"You don't need me to pay attention in Astronomy," you find yourself saying in response, something daring laced in the drawl of your voice. His eyes flash, bright and a bit wild. It's the same look he gets after you challenge him to a race on your brooms. His grin grows wide, carefree, and oh so lovely.

"Please." His face comes impossibly closer and you lean in without another thought, eager to take whatever it is James will give you. You feel his breath on your lips.

"I will always need you, Y/N."

Somehow he makes it sound genuine.

Then he winks and leaves you a horrid, forsaken mess. Somehow he makes that feel like a nice gesture too.

Incredulously, you stare at him as he leans back, elbows resting on the seats behind him. James Potter, you think weakly, what are you doing to me? Not for the first time you ponder what you would do if you can't have him. You almost double over from the striking pain in your chest.

Then he points out another constellation and you nearly forget all about yourself. He's good at that. Never ceasing to show you that the world is bigger than the two of you. Making you forget and remember that you might be in love. Because what if you were in love?

James cups the back of his neck, then points towards the door of the library, almost shyly letting you know that he's leaving. You nod slowly, still dazed. A small smile crosses his lips before you watch him round the corner, his back disappearing from your sight.

You blink, letting out a ragged breath. You feel like you got the wind knocked out of you. Like you just lost your twin. Someone who knows you like no one else ever will. Someone who might just be your better half. Someone who sometimes makes you feel like they want nothing to do with you.

It's ridiculous, you think bleakly to yourself, you're so down bad.

And James Potter makes it feel like a curse and a blessing.

[bunnys-kisses]

vegetable patch (3)

farmer!captain john price & (brief) hybrid!simon

cw: hybrid au, bunny!reader, farmer!price, pregnant!reader, pregnancy, man-handling, fingering, pwp/smut, full nelson (sex position), oral sex (f receiving), threesome, guard dog!simon, double penetration, older!price, mindbreak, (there's a lot happening),

part one (simon) | part two (simon & johnny)

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own!

john never thought it would get to this. when he bought the farm and raised his hybrid guard dogs, he never expected to have a bunny around. let along a pregnant one.

but almost six months into your pregnancy, he had grown affectionate of you. sure you were a bit to handle sometimes, but in a way pregnancy, a roof over your head and a fully belly (in both ways) has made you softer. less of a wild animal and more of a pet.

it was cute.

the one thing that didn't change was your insatiable lust. originally price thought that two strong hybrid dogs would take care of your little bunny cunt, but not even those could stop you. let alone the heaviness of your middle.

the boys were out patrolling the yard with you safe in the house. you were curled up on simon's doggy bed with your hands on your belly and your hands situated on your belly with your head propped up on a pillow.

it was cute, john found himself almost enamored by the sight of you as he relaxed on the couch with a beer in his hand. you were just so small, the little bit of chub at your hips only made you seem cuter.

he got up from the couch and left the beer on the table as he walked toward you. he crouched down and rubbed your cheek. you leaned into his touch and whimpered a little. he chuckled and said, "good girl."

your eyes opened a little and you looked up at price, "what time is it?" your little tail did a wiggle under the over-sized shirt that you wore. he chuckled and pulled you close to him.

he fully sat down on the floor and took you into his arms, delicately. his hand grazed your middle, "not even close to lunch, the boy's are still out. it's just you and i."

you dipped your nose into the crook of his neck and you whimpered, "i feel wet."

"yeah, havin' wet dreams about simon, mama?"

"no." you said, "about you." as your hand reaches for his shirt and you held onto it. you buried your face deeper into his neck as he held you on the hardwood floor.

price's eyes went wide for a moment but then slowly got up with you in his arms. it was like holding a sack of potatoes. the most prominent part of you was the puppy was slept soundly in your belly.

"then i guess we must go to bed then. i know you love simon's bed, but my knees and back won't let me fuck you on the floor." his voice was gruff.

you giggled, "be gentle, baby's sleeping."

"of course, bunny." he replied as he brought you upstairs to his bedroom. there was a spare room for guests and an extra room for the three hybrids of his home.

but right now he was taking you to his room where he could fuck that sweet bunny cunt. it hadn't been the first time he had ever done it, but every time it was something else. a wild little hybrid now tamed and under his gentle care, the way he tamed his boys.

the bed was large and soft, he placed you down and started to work on the jeans he wore followed by the flannel of his shirt. he was hairier than simon and johnny, who had tufts here and there to show their hybrid heritage. but price was hairy that was a man was.

you wondered if a human got a hybrid pregnant then what would the baby be. because from the size of price, you were certain to have a heavy newborn. you got off your shirt and sat there naked on the bed, exposed to your farmer.

his large hands touched your belly gently, thumb grazed the stretch marks, "keepin' the little pup nice and safe, huh? bein' a good mama for me?

you nodded, "only the best for you, sir."

he reached down and rubbed your chubby little cheek, "i can see why simon trapped ya." he chuckled, "cute thing like you shouldn't be wandering the woods. that little cottontail will get into too much trouble."

he got onto the bed and man-handled you into his lap, he wanted to feel you as deep as he could. he wanted to know the inside and outside of bunny cunt. but the position he got you into was more of a wrestling move to keep you pinned against him.

you put your knees up to your head and he had your arms pinned back against him. your squirmed a little, you sort of loved the idea of being trapped. john was propped up against the oak headboard with his little pet bunny in his lap with her cunt soon full of his cock.

it was a little hard to do with such a big belly in the way, you had to squish it a little as you were moved to fit his position. you faced the door that led out of the bedroom and with a few misplaced thrusts, you moaned when price sank his cock into you.

"ah, sir!" you whimpered.

he thrusted into you and kept you in the position. it tested you physical limits but john was a strong man and you were a flexible bunny. after all you had to get through his fence somehow. but now you were all nice a plump with child.

price groaned at the idea of you pregnant with his child next. such a sweet little bunny carrying the farmer's seed made his cock throb while buried inside of you. you sweet noises were music to his ears.

"you like that, mama." he groaned, "you like when i fuck you hard?" he kissed the shell of your ear, "simon got lucky to have a taste of you first, because if it were me. if i caught you in my vegetable patch, then you'd never get the taste of my cock out of your mouth."

you kicked your legs out a little bit as he sank into your further, as deep as it would go. you could feel his cock pressed against your womb. your ears twitched and you felt soaked.

"you'd like that wouldn't you. maybe a little bit more time before you go on birth control would do you some good. see if you can take this old man's seed in your pretty, fertile cunt." he grumbled, "bunnies are known for their many babies."

you felt something churn in your stomach as your pregnant belly bounced with every hard thrust. the sex was rough, heat filled the air as you two moved together.

"i like how you look, mama. all swollen with pup. i bet it was so easy for you, took simon's seed so nicely." he purred as he held you tightly, making it slightly uncomfortable.

but you felt on cloud nine, until the bedroom door opened. and on the otherside was none other than your lover, simon. you whimpered and kicked out your legs.

simon was covered in muck, blood across the shirt he wore. he watched you as you were cock drunk and raised an eyebrows, "price." he said, "what are you doin' with my girl."

"she needed a little tlc, simon." he replied, "you know what bunnies are like. they could be having thirteen kits and still beg for another." he looked over your shoulder and asked, "what the hell did you get into."

"had to scare of a coyote." simon replied, "he could smell bunny all the way from the fence. that's how i knew you were fuckin' her."

"then get that shirt off and help me out." john replied as his pace became harder. you saw stars and your mouth hung open for a moment in pure lust.

with his shirt off and dropped to the floor, followed by, his jeans. he was soon on the bed and licking at your sweet cunt as price fucked you. you were trapped between the two men and you felt a dizziness in your mind.

this was somehow more intense than the threesome you had with johnny and simon. simon only let those in his 'pack' have a taste of his pregnant mate, which meant coyotes like graves were off limits. if simon ever saw graves' paws on you.

simon kept your legs open with his strong hands, the tips of his claws left indents in your skin as he lapped at your cunt. his tongue did touch price's cock which made the older man feel hot all over.

you were the loudest out of the three of you, your voice was high pitched and you felt so full. you squirmed against both men but they kept you still as best as they could.

you came once, then twice, the three times from the pleasure from both men. it was sensory overload. your mind went blank by the third orgasm that the men pulled from you. which left simon painfully hard.

"got any room in there, price." simon said as he pulled away from your cunt and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. his cock stood at full attention in his underwear.

"well, she'll need a good stretch if she's havin' your pup." price chuckled, he could feel himself getting closer. you on the other hand were mindlessly moaning without being able to form words.

your pussy was so wet that he slid in next to price with ease. the stretch made you whimper like an animal, but soon you were dropped back into the depths of pleasure as both men used you.

price let go of your arms but caged you with his around your middle. you felt sore, but your brain couldn't register much. your mouth hung open and drooled a little. your brain felt like it was broken in half.

"i know you can't smell it, price." simon said, "but bred bunny smells the best." his hands were on your belly and soon were price's. simon felt superior for having seeded you first.

sure his other packmates had their fun, but everything from the pup in your belly to the cotton on your tail was his. he watched your gasp for air as you tried to formulate thoughts.

his poor pregnant mate, such a beating to your pussy. but it was okay, he knew that you liked it. bunny's had a pension for a little pain.

both men, fucked you without much abandon. they ever managed to pull one last orgasm out of you which tore from your throat as you went limp against price's hairy chest. the feeling of two cocks inside of your cute little cunt was just too much.

and not wasting any seed, they flooded your poor pussy with human and hybrid seed alike. they stayed in you for a moment more before they pulled out at the same time. cum oozed out of you and simon petted your belly.

"johnny's gonna be jealous he didn't get to join." price remarked.

simon replied, "before he went out on patrol with me. he stuffed a sock in her mouth and fucked her in his bed on the floor. she's got all of our seed in her."

price held you in his arms as you twitched and moaned from the aftershocks of your activity. he watched simon kiss you before he rubbed your belly, "good mama. good little bunny, now you rest and keep growing that pup. simon and i will come back for you later."

you managed to give them a weak nod, your brain felt flat-lined but the lingering feelings of pleasure still shook you to your core <3

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (27)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: fingering, masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, dirty talk, kissing without consent, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When her uncle decided that they would spend the night in Dragonstone for a moment she thought she had overheard herself − she was unable to contain her delight and outburst of joy at his words, feeling that he had somehow rewarded her for her efforts.

Or at least she thought he had.

His sudden change of plans was unlike him, and she was aware of that, knowing his nature.

He detested deviating from the plans he had previously made for himself.

However, she recognised that perhaps he wanted to show her and her family his sincere intentions, to prove that she was not just a prisoner in his eyes and that he, as her husband, could also sleep under their roof without being one.

She wasn't sure if she had ever been as happy in her life as she had been the moment she flew through the sky next to Vhagar, Caraxes and Syrax; her heart was filled with heat and hope, her uncle's words echoing in her mind like a sweet whisper.

I am proud of you.

Those words meant more to her than any of his other confessions.

Of course, his confession of love was a wonderful thing, but she had always been waiting for him to appreciate her as a person, not just a woman he saw by his side.

With this, she finally felt equal to him.

Her optimism extinguished as quickly as it had appeared as soon as she crossed the walls of the family fortress. Although her heart screamed with joy at the sight of familiar rooms, smells and sights, the faces of her brothers left her with no illusions.

She swallowed loudly as she saw the hateful look on Jace's face; she knew him and she knew that he was hurt.

He was disappointed and heartbroken, he felt humiliated and, deep down, betrayed by her, even though she never meant it.

Luke clearly didn't know what he felt himself, because he just lowered his head, unable to look into her eyes.

She felt a squeeze in her throat at the sight, a discomfort in her stomach that told her that perhaps this wasn't her home at all anymore.

She was no longer welcome here.

She was snapped out of her reverie by Rhaena − her step-sister was the first to approach her, warmth and longing in her gaze, some kind of understanding from which she felt tears under her eyelids. They hugged each other tightly, though they had never done so before − her words made her feel a tightening in her stomach.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice, and she smiled involuntarily at her words.

"Me too."

As Baela approached them, also enclosing her in the tight embrace of her arms, she thought with a shrug that even though she hadn't let them into the depths of her heart for so many years, they truly cared and worried about her.

At the very end Joffrey ran up to her, sobbing loudly.

"− why have you been so long in King's Landing? − why did you leave us? − Jace wouldn't read me my favourite book −" He mumbled cuddled into her belly, her hands combing through his dark curls with the calm motion of her fingers.

"− forgive me − I'm here −" She said softly, looking at her older brother and swallowed hard, seeing the murderous glances they exchanged over the table with her husband.

She looked at her mother, who nodded, understanding what she wanted to convey to her.

"You are certainly exhausted. Take up your old quarters, daughter, I will immediately command them to be brought to order and prepared for you." Rheanyra said calmly, and she bowed before her.

"Thank you, my Queen." She said softly, looking into her eyes. Her mother swallowed hard and nodded, allowing them to leave.

As they stepped inside her chamber, she felt a squeeze in her heart and some kind of elation; all her belongings were in their places exactly as she had left them, as if no one had been allowed in here since she had been forcibly held in the Red Keep.

She shuddered, snapped out of her reverie when her uncle moved ahead of her, strolling around the room with his hands folded behind his back, intrigued.

It seemed to her that some part of him wanted to understand what her life had been like and who she had been for the eight years during which they had been separated.

She saw him walk over to her old oak desk and run his fingers over its top, thoughtful.

"− is this here? −" He asked casually.

She felt heat in her lower abdomen at the thought that he meant the place where she had written letters to him.

"− yes −"

She swallowed quietly as he hummed at her words, watching as he sat in the chair where she sat many times leaning over the parchment, scribbling words on it meant only for his eyes. He tapped his finger on the armrest, turning to face her in profile as he gazed out of the window, apparently absorbed in memories.

She thought that although her return home had proved more uncomfortable than she had thought, she was grateful to him.

Whatever decision he had made that morning had led them here and was proof of his intentions.

"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said quietly, smiling at him, wanting him to know she wouldn't force him to sit at the same table with her family.

She thought she would spend the evening with him, give him the feeling that she was not speaking with anyone behind his back, and perhaps in the morning, before they flew away, she would ask him so that she could speak to her mother at last in peace and solitude.

Comforted by this thought and the fact that it looked like all was not lost, she began to tell him about her life in Dragonstone, to show him the books she had written to him about in her letters, the places she had flown to on Larax.

It seemed to her that her husband was only partially listening to her; his gaze was thoughtful, his face expressed weariness and discouragement. She knew that something was making him uncomfortable and she suspected that it was about the place they were in; however, she did not know how to help him, to give him the feeling that neither he nor she was in danger here.

"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −" She finally made an attempt to find out what had been on his mind since the morning. He shuddered at her words and looked at her with a horror as if he was about to faint.

"I'm tired." He replied quickly, without thinking, as if he wanted to answer her anything just to end the subject. She sighed quietly, recognising that she couldn't push him too hard.

Not after what they had managed to accomplish.

"Let's go to bed."

She felt a squeeze in her throat as, already lying on the bedding, she watched as he took out his dagger and tucked it under his pillow; she looked at him and met his calm, impassive gaze.

She decided not to say anything, understanding where his caution came from, not wanting to discourage or frustrate him.

She smiled involuntarily, content as his body clung to hers as soon as he lay at her side. She heard him murmur as she snuggled his face between her breasts, felt his arms embrace her waist and tighten around the material of her nightgown on her back.

She loved it when her mother sang lullabies to her when she was a child; it always calmed and soothed her. She had never dared to sing to him when they were children, fearing that her voice was too squeaky and unpleasant, but now she decided that maybe that was just what he needed.

So she sang, humming softly, once in a while placing a warm, lingering kiss on the top of his head − she felt his embrace slowly growing weaker, his muscles relaxing, his breathing quiet and even.

She sighed quietly feeling him fall asleep.

Someone's jerking and growling roused her from a deep sleep; when she opened her eyes for a moment she didn't know where she was or what was happening.

She recognised her chamber but did not know what her uncle was doing in it, convinced that he still had not answered her letters, as he had not done so for eight years.

After a moment, however, her mind seemed to regain focus and she remembered that she was his wife after all, and that his silhouette lying beside her was not a figment of her imagination.

She raised herself up on her elbow seeing that his body convulsed once in a while, as if he was trying to break free of something, whimpers and grunts came out of his throat, however, his mouth did not open, tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes one by one.

"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!" She called out, grabbing his arm, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.

She was frightened and jumped back as his eye opened suddenly, his figure rose to sit up, and he began to pant like a wild animal, quivering all over. She looked at him in disbelief, horrified to hear that he was struggling to catch his breath.

Was he having nightmares again?

Was he dreaming again of the night he lost his eye?

"− easy, my love − breathe −" She whispered tenderly, gently touching his back; he flinched all over and looked at her as if he didn't recognise her − his eye was wide open, his nostrils twitched in accelerated, heavy breaths.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled like a small, terrified child and fell into her arms, bursting into a sob so loud that the voice stuck in her throat.

She embraced him immediately, letting him find protection and comfort in her arms, stroking affectionately his hair and back, placing warm, soft kisses on the top of his head in an attempt to reassure him.

"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She mumbled, feeling that the fabric of her nightgown was all wet with his tears, his hot, broken breath enveloping her skin.

She felt like he wanted to melt into one with her, to hide deep inside her from whatever it was that scared him.

He was silent for a long moment, trying to calm himself; she hushed him tenderly, whispering that he was safe, that she was by his side, that all was well. She finally heard him swallow hard, his voice trembling and uncertain.

"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −" He muttered. She blinked, twisting comfortably in her seat, feeling her heart begin to beat faster.

"− I'm listening to you, my love −" She whispered, stroking his hair. She released him from her arms when she felt him wanting to rise.

He sat on the bedding with his side facing her, running his shaking hand over his face, his healthy eye closed as if afraid of what was about to leave his mouth.

"− I − fuck −" He began, swallowing hard − her hand rose to his back, stroking it reassuringly.

"− easy − take your time − start from the beginning −" She encouraged him softly, not wanting him to fall silent again, seeing that he wanted to throw off whatever had been weighing on his shoulders since they had left Harrenhal.

"− you may remember − Lord Strong wanted to speak with me soon after we arrived in Harrenhal −" He said uncertainly, and she nodded, reminding herself that this was indeed what had happened.

"− yes −"

Her uncle swallowed hard, drawing in air loudly.

"− he told me at the time − that my grandfather had no intention of letting your mother and Daemon leave the Eyrie alive if it turned out they wouldn't accept our terms − but now I think they wouldn't have left alive anyway − Larys had his spies there −" He muttered and fell silent, freezing completely as she did, her heart beginning to pound like mad.

My grandfather had no intention of letting them leave the Eyrie alive.

"Will you be by my side even when all is lost? Even if there is nothing left but darkness? Is that what you had in mind then?" She mumbled out in pain, feeling that there was a complete void in her mind. "Will I be there for you even if your grandfather kills my mother?"

"− n-no −" He began quickly. "− will you be there for me even if I fail to prevent it knowing that I didn't tell you −"

She felt a constriction in her throat and lower abdomen, felt tears of disappointment and sadness flowing into her eyelids − now it was her body that trembled in convulsions, his gaze full of shame and horror directed at her.

She sucked his cock, she let him take her, and he knew that the next day her father and her mother could be murdered.

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head and laughed low.

"− you will betray me − you will run away − those are your words, aren't they? − you were always the first to accuse me − was it because you were trying to cover up your own conscience? − you wanted me to let you down so that you wouldn't feel guilty about doing it over and over again? −" She asked with a cold mockery, from which he bowed his head in embarrassment, in a subconscious reflex he had inherited from his mother plucking the cuticles around his fingernails.

He did not answer.

"− what should I do now? − divorce you? − say I won't come back to King's Landing with you? − not speak to you for eight years? − tell me, uncle, what do you think you deserve? −" She asked dispassionately, feeling the tears of rage and grief one by one run down her cheeks.

She saw him tremble at her words and curl into himself, as if he were again the same little boy who had cried in her arms when his mother had reprimanded him for inappropriate behaviour.

She pressed her lips into a thin line as he hid his face in his hands and wept helplessly, as if his whole person, everything he had built around himself was just falling apart in front of her eyes, showing him his insides, what was left of him.

He was vulnerable.

"− fuck − I − I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you'd change your mind − that if you warned them they'd see it as a betrayal and wouldn't want to pact − that's why I didn't let any of us stay in the Eyrie − I −"

"− because my mother agreed − but what would you have done if things had turned out differently? −" She asked coldly, and he swallowed hard, covering his eyes with his hand, as if he could not bear what he felt or this conversation.

"− I don't know − I don't know how I could have protected both you and my family then − what decision of mine would have saved you from death −" He muttered and she pulled herself up from the bed, recognising that she didn't feel like listening to this, that she had had enough of him and his guilt when it was always him, him, him disappointing her.

From the first night she had returned to him, when he had closed her cheeks in the brutal grip of his fingers she had seen in his eye what had now become clear to her.

He was weak, and when he was afraid, he resorted to violence.

She heard him stand up behind her, panting heavily, wiping his tear-wet face with his hand.

"− no − don't leave − I told you because −"

"− because your conscience didn't give you peace − because you didn't want to carry your guilt alone −" She hissed, turning towards him with furrowed brows.

She felt that fury, not blood, was flowing through her veins now.

He swallowed loudly at her words, looking at her wide-eyed.

"− if you've never hidden anything from me − you've never concealed anything from me for fear that I might react impulsively, leave − but if you did, come back to bed − I won't touch you −"

She pressed her lips together in fury, recognising that he must have been mocking her, but then she felt an unpleasant sting in her heart that proved she had doubts.

She heard again the words of one of her servants in King's Landing whispering in her ear that when the time came, Prince Daemon would help her escape; she heard again the words of Alys speaking of the prophecy she had not shared with him for fear of his reaction.

Had she really never hidden anything from him?

Her whole body screamed for her to leave; she wanted to do it, but felt that if she did, she would be lying to herself and to him, creating an image in which she was without flaw.

She could say that she had the right to do it, that she had good intentions, but didn't her uncle think the same about his decisions?

She glared at him and let out a loud breath, returning to the bed without a word, sinking into the soft sheets, turning her face away from him. She heard him breathe heavily, and after a moment, the bed creaked under the weight of his body settling against her back.

"− tell me −" He whispered.

She sighed heavily and grunted, recognising that her faults were less than his anyway.

So why did she still feel shame and a squeeze in her gut?

"− after I tried to take my life I was told that my father could help me escape − don't ask how − I also didn't tell you about the prophecy I heard from Alys −"

"− that fucking witch is a liar −" He growled, and she let out a loud breath, impatient.

"− it is possible − but I also heard this prophecy from your sister's mouth − both of them spoke of two rivers of blood merging into one, taking the shape of a dragon's crowned head −" She choked out finally, her husband stirring beside her in his place, surprised.

"− what could this mean? −"

"− I don't know − I was afraid that when you heard it, you would want to give up on the negotiations and return to King's Landing − Alys warned me, so she probably knew what your grandfather was planning to do −" She said regretfully, thinking that strange woman was more concerned for her safety and her family than her husband.

She heard him swallow hard, letting the air out loudly.

"− forgive me −"

She lay in silence for some time, feeling anger that he expected her to simply forget everything, understand his reasons and forgive him as always.

No.

"− I will forgive you, but I have my conditions − we will stay here longer − for a week or two, I will decide in the morning −" She said coldly.

"− but − my mother will be convinced that they are holding us by force −" He began, but she would not let him finish.

"− you will write a letter to your brother informing him that my mother has accepted his terms, but is also setting her own − that we will stay here to discuss all the details, show our goodwill − if your mother wishes, she can travel here in her own person − you can leave Dragonstone when you wish, but I will stay here as long as I desire, and you will show no opposition −" She said impatiently, feeling her heart pounding like mad, her hands clenched into fists.

Her husband swallowed loudly at her words, tense.

"− I − very well −" He muttered finally, knowing that any other words would forever cross him out in her eyes.

She hummed under her breath, covering herself tightly with the bedding and closed her eyes, figuring she wouldn't turn towards him for the rest of the night.

"− don't try to take me or embrace me −" She commanded and he sighed quietly.

She swallowed hard when she felt him place his large hand on her head and begin to stroke her hair exactly as he had when they were children.

She felt furious that it was so pleasant, so soothing, that he knew she loved it.

"− my Rheanys −" He whispered tenderly. She pressed her lips together at his words, feeling a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.

The next morning she was awakened by a rustling noise and the sound of a quill scratching on parchment; she lifted her sleepy eyelids and saw his silhouette sitting behind her desk, bent over a letter he had apparently just written.

She felt strange at the thought that he was sitting in the exact place where she had spent years writing him messages that had never received a response.

She knew, however, that she now had the upper hand over him and that her word was an order to him.

She was not going to imitate his cold nature and not speak to him − they had to maintain a semblance of at least a warm relationship so that the image of their marriage, on which the whole agreement between the two parties was supposed to be based, did not begin to crack.

He lifted his gaze to her when she stood up, but they did not exchange a word between each other.

He did not know what to say.

Her maidservant walked in at her summons and bowed before her, bending her head humbly.

"− my Lady, will you have your morning meal before your travel? − your mother would like to speak with you before you leave for King's Landing −"

"− we will have a meal, but convey to my mother that there is no rush − my husband and I have decided to stay here for a few weeks as an expression of our sincere intentions − my husband is in the process of conveying this message to his brother − my uncle is in need of new garments, provide them for him without delay and bring them to my chamber −" She said calmly; her servant blinked, shocked and nodded, immediately disappearing behind the door.

Despite what she had learned and the rage she felt, she was pleased − the roles had been reversed and although her husband was not her prisoner, he was attached to her and was forced to stay in a place that disgusted him.

Good, she thought.

She wanted him to feel what she had felt during the month she had spent in King's Landing, imprisoned by his mother and grandfather.

"− I wish to spend this afternoon with my mother − if you so desire, I can show you in which chamber the library is located −" She said lightly, without looking at him however, taking a bite of bread spread with confiture. Her husband rolled his eyes, displeased.

"I have no intention of leaving your quarters." He replied indifferently.

She raised her eyebrows in amusement at his words.

"You are not my prisoner, uncle. You can walk and fly wherever you please. Holding someone by force is not in my nature." She murmured softly − her husband gave her one tired look.

She smiled at him in a way from which he swallowed hard and looked away, sighing heavily.

He knew she was enraged and he wasn't going to get in her way.

One of the aspects she enjoyed upon returning home was that she had finally retrieved all her robes; her uncle looked at her from the side, watching as her servants helped her put on a golden gown with long black sleeves that reached the ground.

"− make braids around my head − my husband adores it when I wear this hairstyle, is he not? −" She sneered, glancing at him over her shoulder. She only saw him roll his eyes, running his hand over his face, not saying a word.

He knew he had to endure everything she was throwing at him with humility if he didn't want to make his already bad situation worse.

She had no idea what he could do to regain her favour, her trust, the respect she had for him.

"− have a pleasant day, husband −" She threw over her shoulder, leaving him alone in the chamber, recognising that she did not care what he did.

As she stepped into her mother's quarters, Rhaenyra rose from her seat, putting down the quill she held in her hand, approaching her with surprise and uncertainty written on her face.

"− is it true? − are you planning to stay in Dragonstone? −" She asked in a trembling voice − she smiled and nodded. Her mother sighed in relief and walked over to her, embracing her tightly with her arms, snuggling her head into her neck.

They pulled away from each other after a moment, her hands gripping her cheeks, her thumbs stroking her skin as if she remembered a time when she was still a small child.

"− let's sit down −"

Being in her chamber again was like a dream to her − she couldn't believe she was sitting at the same table again, surrounded by the same furniture and bed with a red curtain, with the windows open to a view of the great sea.

"− does he treat you well? −" She asked suddenly, taking her hand in her own.

Her mother's question surprised her, but it also filled her heart with warmth and emotion.

"− I − yes − despite his harsh, difficult nature −"

"− so how did he let this happen? −" She asked, exposing a part of her wrist with her thumb, where her pale scar was clearly visible. She swallowed loudly, not knowing what to answer her.

She wanted to tell her about the moon tea, but hesitated.

She didn't want her to think that her husband knew about it, that he was a worse person than she assumed.

It devastated her to think that she still had to tell half-truths.

"− I did it as an act of desperation − when he found out he wouldn't leave my side for weeks − he wouldn't let anyone but himself, Helaena and the maester cross the threshold of my quarters − he let me see Luke −" She muttered, looking at her at last. Her mother lowered her gaze, sighing quietly, tired and pale.

"− when Daemon passed on your words to me, I was furious − I didn't understand how you could do this to me −" She began and fell silent, closing her eyelids for a moment.

She felt an all-consuming shame at the thought that she had failed and disappointed her as a daughter.

"− forgive me − I would never question your rights if it were only about you − but you know very well that it is not −" She said cautiously − her mother lifted her gaze to her and nodded.

"− I know −"

They fell silent for a moment.

"− can I trust him? − your husband − and my brother −" Her mother asked coldly; she raised her gaze to her, surprised to feel that her lips involuntarily parted.

I don't know.

"− yes −" She muttered. "− he refused Maris Baratheon to take her as his wife − he himself proposed a form of compromise, and his elder brother supported him − Aegon is not a good man, but he cares about his children − he knows he will not leave them a secure, safe throne − just as you would not leave it to your sons −"

They said no more.

She spent some more time with her, just holding her hand, wordlessly trying to comfort her, thinking with weariness that she had to give up everything that was rightfully hers.

She finally decided to take pity on her husband and return to her chamber, not wanting to leave him alone for so long in a state of anxiety and uncertainty.

She felt her heart stop as she stepped into her quarters and saw no one inside − a cold shiver ran down her spine at the thought of him leaving her.

He had returned to King's Landing without her.

She pressed her lips together, involuntarily feeling her heart begin to pound like mad with pain and sadness, her eyes glazed over with tears that she was ashamed of, thinking it shouldn't hurt so much, and yet it did.

She looked around the room quickly, looking for a letter or anything else that might say he had left her some word, but found nothing of the sort; she shuddered when she heard someone's dim voices in the distance and walked over to the window.

Her father and her uncle stood facing each other on the beach with their hands folded behind their backs, discussing something animatedly, a clear tension between them.

She felt regret towards herself, her body filled with an overwhelming relief that he had not left her, that he had not betrayed her again.

She thought the gods had been cruel, allowing her to love this man so deeply.

She blinked, startled, when she heard the door from her chamber open; she turned and saw the figure of her eldest brother, who only spoke up when they heard a loud clatter of wood behind them.

"− how could you do this? − choose him over us? −" He growled with regret, resentment and disappointment, his big brown eyes filled with anger and pain from which she felt a tightening in her throat. She furrowed her brow and shook her head.

"− we both know what the truth is − you can't rule with lies −" She replied, shrugging her shoulders; Jace moved towards her and she flinched all over, surprised at how pale he was, his lips tightened into a thin line − she had the impression he was trembling all over.

"− this was my inheritance − my throne − my crown − and you chose him, a man who did not write back to your letters for eight years, who humiliated you by calling you a bastard, and you shared a bed with him the first night you saw him, like some... −" He didn't finish and fell silent, the word he wanted to say stuck deep in his throat. She felt her lower lip tremble at his accusation, her eyebrows arching in pain and anger, her eyes red from tears of shame and humiliation.

"− say it − you've already spoken the word in your mind −" She sneered, lifting her chin higher, challenging him.

"− I won't call you an unworthy name −" He muttered lowly, and she laughed involuntarily at his words, shaking her head.

"− you think that makes you a better man? − look at this −" She hissed, lifting her hand up, exposing her wrist tugging impatiently at the material of her black sleeve. "− here is what I have done for you and for your crown − should I do it again? −"

She swallowed loudly, surprised when she noticed that something in her brother's expression had changed − Jace had grabbed her wrist and locked it between his fingers, but there was no aggression in the gesture, his thumb stroking her smooth, bare skin.

They stared at each other for a moment, breathing loudly; she felt that there was a kind of tension between them from which her heart was pounding like mad, but she wasn't sure what it was caused by; something in his gaze, in his brown, misty eyes and parted lips, made her feel hot.

"− do you love him more than our mother? − than Luke, than Joffrey? − than me? −" He asked in a trembling voice and she shook her head, not understanding what he meant.

"− Jace − it's a different kind of love − I −"

"− what kind? −" He hissed. "− the kind where you're constantly betrayed? − in which someone mocks your parentage? − locks you up like some prisoner? −"

Gods.

"− Jace −" She gasped, feeling that something in his questions, in his gaze, in what he wanted to hear from her had broken her down, her whole body began to quiver.

She shuddered as he approached her suddenly, as his free hand cupped her warm cheeks, as his forehead pressed against hers, his voice trembling as the words left his throat like a river.

"− I am your oldest brother − you were born to be mine − I would be good to you − you know I would −"

"− brother, what are you saying? − you had no objections when my mother decided to marry me to Ronnel −" She said disapprovingly, furrowing her brow in anger.

"− it was our mother's decision − how could I oppose her? −" He asked with a frown, as if he really believed what he was saying, a cold shiver ran through her body as his thumb ran over the soft skin of her cheek, hot with emotion.

"− you have never loved me − not in this way, we both know it well − you have always preferred to lie to yourself rather than face the truth − you do not look at me as the woman you desire, but as an inheritance that was taken from you −" She said with pain, feeling that what he was saying was not due to any deep feeling he had for her, but to his anger that she was not waiting for him docilely like his throne and his crown.

Her brother swallowed hard at her words, his hot, ragged breath enveloping the skin of her face.

"− when you were born, our mother told me that you might be my future wife − and I always, always saw you this way −"

"− you mocked me with Aegon −"

"− I craved his attention − he was older and impressed me − didn't you do anything you regretted as a child? −" He muttered wearily; she felt her heart stop at his words, a drop of cold sweat run down the back of her neck.

What was she supposed to answer him?

"− brother − I am married to another man − of my own free will −"

"− you are a traitor −"

"− how dare you −"

"− you are a traitor, but I still am unable to hate you −"

A squeal of terror stuck in her throat, her body froze completely as his lips pressed against hers in a greedy, hot, sticky kiss, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her cheeks, refusing to let her move away.

She cried out and pushed him away − before he could make any move her hand slapped him in the face so hard that he took a few steps back, clutching his red cheek, panting heavily.

"− get out −" She muttered, placing her hand over her heart, feeling as if it was about to burst out of her chest. "− get out of my chamber, brother − I'll forget this...conversation ever took place −"

Jace swallowed hard, horrified and ashamed, as if it had only now occurred to him what he had actually done.

What would Baela say if she saw this?

It seemed to him that they both couldn't believe he had done it − Jace had turned and walked out, leaving behind an open door and a complete blank in her mind.

She thought he wanted to take it out on their uncle, to take away something that belonged to him.

That she was just an object for him on which he had decided to vent.

She thought with pain that he, unlike her husband, had never tried to truly understand her.

When her uncle returned to her chamber they did not exchange a word − he seemed distracted and frustrated to her. He took one of the books from the bookshelf and sat by the fireplace, pretending to read. She lowered her gaze, playing with her fingers, thinking only of the fact that if she hid it from him, she would be just like him.

She didn't know for a long time how she should put it into words, but she figured he'd be furious either way.

"− Jace kissed me − on the lips −" She muttered, glancing at him fearfully − his eye opened wide, looking at her in disbelief, his jaw clenched in such a way that a shudder went through her.

He was silent for a moment, as if he had run out of words, which frightened her even more.

"− he did WHAT? −" He growled, closing the book with a loud slam, pulling himself up from his seat like an enraged bear.

"− he kissed me − grief and humiliation took his mind away − I − wait − gods −" She muttered, standing up as soon as he headed towards the door, which he opened with a loud clatter, running out into the corridor after him.

"− Aemond − no, no, no − stop! −" She hissed, grabbing his arm, but he pulled away from her, opening door after door until he found himself in the right room − Jace and Beala were sitting together at a table, apparently discussing something.

Her older brother rose from his seat and turned pale at the sight of them, horrified.

Her husband walked into his quarters with a wide, menacing smile, exactly the same one he bestowed on him and Luke when they saw him duelling with Criston Cole in King's Landing. He put his hands behind his back, shifting his body weight to one leg, cocking his head.

"− haven't you learned yet not to take what's not yours? − hm? −"

"− Aemond −" She said warningly, but her uncle didn't listen to her, his healthy eye wide open, as if he was just waiting for this.

An opportunity for confrontation.

"− your sister when we were children told me that she never desired you as a man − she knew even then that you were a cunt −" He sneered amused, revealing his teeth in a wide grin full of feigned recognition.

"− Aemond, that's enough −"

"− how dare you? − you are a guest under our roof − get out −" Baela thundered.

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that she knew nothing.

She moved ahead and stood in front of her husband, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"− we are leaving −"

"− no − I'm speaking with my nephew −"

"− we are leaving, uncle, or I swear I will never return with you to King's Landing −"

"− so I'll stay here with you − Jace as ruler of Dragonstone will surely be delighted to host us, won't he? − he seems to have a weakness for you, sweet wife −" He murmured in a voice filled with poison, from which a strong shiver ran along her back.

"− Jace, say something at last! −" Baela hissed, furious that her betrothed simply looked at their uncle and remained silent, unable to get a word out.

"− I made a mistake − I shouldn't have done it, forgive me − I −" He directed his words to her, to his sister, sadness and regret in his gaze, from which she involuntarily felt sympathy.

"− you made a mistake? − I seem to be able to understand the feeling − I have made a similar one many times, as well as others, even worse ones −" Her husband hissed, gripping her cheeks in his hand − her voice stuck in her throat as his fleshy lips clung to hers in an aggressive, loud kiss, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat.

She sighed as he turned her back to him, pressing her brutally against his chest and grabbed her neck − she grasped his wrist as his free hand slid down her lower abdomen, his fingers dug into the material of her gown beneath which her womanhood lay, she could feel his hot breath on her cheek.

"− so beautiful, isn't she, nephew? − I couldn't help myself either − I can't count how many times I took her − how many times I have filled her with my seed − right here −" He breathed out into her ear and she closed her eyes, feeling with horror and disbelief that her nipples had hardened, that her walls had clenched around nothing at his embarrassing words, feeling his finger tease what lay between her thighs despite her resistance.

"− u-uncle − stop −" She muttered, a moan stuck in her throat as she felt his erection behind her throb hard at her words, pushing against her buttocks, his fingertips dug deep into her folds hidden beneath the fabric.

Gods, he wanted her brother to watch this.

Baela looked at Jace as if she suddenly understood everything, her eyebrows arched in pain and disbelief.

"− what did you do? −" She asked quietly, her older brother shook his head, all red, turning his face away, unable to look at it.

"− I −" He didn't finish; her uncle let her go immediately, panting loudly as she did when Daemon walked into the chamber, looking at them, then at Jace and his daughter.

He grinned.

"− what is the meaning of this...commotion? − hm? −" He asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement and mockery; she looked away and glanced at her uncle, shaking her head with furrowed brows, letting him know that he was to remain silent.

Her husband pressed his lips into a thin line, but did not utter a word.

They stood in awkward silence, with only the quiet fizzle of the blazing fire in the fireplace around them.

"Mmm." Her husband hummed and turned away, heading for the door. Not knowing what to do, she simply moved after him, casting only one apologetic glance at Baela.

When they finally returned to her chamber she let out a loud breath.

"− what was that supposed to mean? −" She asked in frustration, wondering what had possessed him.

She tried not to think about how embarrassingly wet she was now.

"− I don't know what you're referring to, wife − I've merely shown my nephew the depth of my understanding as to his desire −" He grinned, grabbing a jug full of wine, pouring himself a full cup of it.

She licked her lower lip in impatience, standing still and watching him − their gazes met as he raised the goblet to his lips and took a deep sip from it.

"− what − are you wet now? −" He sneered and she felt a hot wave of shame surge through her body − she felt like her cheeks had turned scarlet.

"− don't mock me − this was humiliating −" She growled, furrowing her brow, a smirk on his face that she didn't like.

"− if you say so, wife −" He muttered, approaching her lazily, playing with his cup in his hand, raising it to his lips again "− I, however, think you'd rather I did something else −"

He said and took another sip of wine, swallowing it loudly, towering over her with a look from which a pleasant shiver ran through her core.

"− I think you'd rather I fucked you good in front of him − for me to slip my fingers under your skirt and sink them into your leaking cunt −" He murmured, leaning over her so that the tips of their noses were almost touching, her walls swelling all over at his words − she felt a drop of her own wetness run down her thigh.

"− am I wrong? −" He asked, cocking his head curiously, taking another sip of wine from his goblet without taking his eyes off her.

She drew in a loud breath as he set his cup down on the table standing beside them with a loud clang of steel, taking a step towards her, his lips parted in desire.

Gods, no.

"− don't touch me −"

She saw him squint his eyes as he hesitated, his nostrils flaring in accelerated breath.

She knew he was hard.

She knew he wanted to soften her up.

"Mmm."

She immediately summoned her servant wishing that she would help her pull off her gown and let her hair down. After this, she lay down in bed, covering herself with thick furs, not looking at him or speaking a word to him. She swallowed hard when she heard him lie down right next to her and closed her eyelids when she felt his hot breath on her neck.

She thought he would try to touch her, embrace her and give her a reason to push him away, but he just lay behind her back, driving her crazy.

She waited for some time, listening to his quiet breathing, and decided that he was surely asleep by now; her hand slipped silently into the material of her nightgown, lifting it up. She swallowed quietly, tightening her lips as her fingers sank into her leaking, soft, hot womanhood begging to be fulfilled, teasing and squeezing the bud between its fleshy folds.

She felt herself grow hot, her heart began to pound like mad at the indecent idea that these was his hand touching her in front of Jace, making him watch, wanting him to see what her fulfilment looked like.

She felt her walls clench greedily around nothing at the thought, her fingers teasing the spot between her puffy folds with circular, intense strokes.

Involuntarily, her hips began to rock softly to the rhythm of the flicks of her own fingers, she felt that she was wonderfully close to fulfilment.

"− what are you doing? −" She heard his low, cool voice and froze completely. She swallowed hard, sliding her hand, sticky with her own moisture from between her thighs, and remained silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.

"− go on −" He said in a hoarse, deep voice from which a shiver went down her spine. She heard a rustling behind her and then the sticky sound of skin slapping against skin − his hot breathing quickened, heavy and ragged. "− come on −"

She couldn't help herself; his fingers dug into her swollen folds again causing a wave of heat to pass through her body − she felt pleasant tickling sensations in her lips, fingertips and nipples. She moaned quietly when she felt his nose pressed against her hair, her hips involuntarily began to rock when she heard him begin to pant, the splats behind her getting louder, louder and louder.

"− fuck − you know I'd lick you good there − hm? −" He sighed and she felt her whole body quiver, her fingers teasing her puffy pearl all sticky from her own wetness.

"− mhgm −" She whined, tilting her head back, feeling his hot, uneven breath on her ear, his swollen, wet lips run down her neck.

"− are you leaking? − are you leaking at the thought of how good I would make you feel? − at the thought of your brother watching me fuck his little sister? −" He breathed out, and she moaned loudly as she felt a wonderful, relieved sensation at his words, her fulfilment shaking her like a hot, tickling wave.

Her slit pulsed all under her fingers as her own moisture leaked out of her, she shuddered when she felt his warm, rough tongue run across the bare skin of her neck, leaving a slick, wet mark on it.

"− fuck, Rheanys −" He muttered and after a moment he gasped − she felt something sticky and warm spurt out onto the back of her nightgown.

His seed.

Gods.

She closed her eyelids, trying to calm her breathing, furious at herself and her weakness.

"− let me embrace you −"

"− no −"

She heard him huff, sighing heavily, his face still sunk into her neck.

"− move away, uncle −"

"− I inhale the wonderful scent of vanilla after having experienced fulfilment with my wife −"

"− your wife does not wish for this −"

"− sleep −"

She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, thinking with frustration that she hated him with all her heart.

[livelaughlovesubs]

do you write for nanami? if you do, i have a req :3

au where hes still with us (sniffles) and being a sorcerer is more of an on-the-side thing, and he's like an overworked office middle class guy whos also a wizard on the lowkey. sometimes he works so much he even forgets his birthday. but you didn't. ohhh no you did not. you're at home patiently waiting for him, and all you want is to spoil him for the night because he deserves it!! he deserves to just be taken care of, given the care he needs, maybe a little overstim in the process, but it's all with good intentions... (right?)

SORRY THIS IS SO LONG OMG 😭😭

anyway...... requesting a sub!nanami x softdom!female!reader with a little overstim <3 (out here exposing my service dom fantasies)

idk if you do emoji anons, but if you do can i be 🎱 anon? tysm!! i love your works and i hope your have a lovely day/night :) <333

So taking care of nanami on his birthday? Consider it done. Also welcome 🎱 anon, I’m happy about all my new anons ^^

Dom!reader x sub!nanami

Warning: blow job (reader giving), teasing, marking - hickeys, fluff, use of pet names

Hands moving across the table, reaching for the dirty porcelain. The sound of plates being stacked could be heard, and you swiftly placed the dishes on the counter. Nanami tried to help, carrying the cake over to the refrigerator, though you stopped him. “Let me do it, it’s your birthday today! You are forbidden from working.” You declared, snatching whatever he was holding away and putting it in its rightful place yourself. “My birthday isn’t that important, just let me help.” He was such a gentleman, but you still stayed stubborn. Today was his birthday, yet he still went to work, he even did overtime. That’s not acceptable, at least now you should lift some burden off his shoulder.

Right, that was your plan. To take care of him, make him feel loved and happy. Also most importantly, not let him do any chores. Even if it doesn’t look like that, he also has to rest. You really adored him which is why you wished he’d take care of himself some more, and have a mesmerising birthday of course. So why did he look so troubled? You told him not to help. Instead of relaxing he looks uncomfortable or awkward. Just sitting there, watching you do it all. Seems like this part failed a little.. then it’s time to move onto the next one.

Still determined to make him enjoy himself, you brought him to your shared bedroom after watching a movie. “Could you please sit down, my dear?” You asked him, while slowly stripping your clothes. Until you were only in your undergarments. In the meantime the Blondie sat down, a slightly hesitant look on his face. He wasn’t sure what to do, since you’ve been taking everything upon yourself the entire time. His hands wandered to his belt, gaze never leaving your body. Before he could get rid of his belt, he felt your hands on top of his, stopping him gently. “Leave it all to me, alright?”

Nanami felt really embarrassed now. What was he, a kid? Why would he need help undressing himself? Despite his inner turmoil, he still let you do whatever you wanted. It looked like you planned all of this just for him, thus he’ll try to play along. The last thing he’d want is to inconvenient you. Slowly you pulled his belt out, then your fingers wandered up to his collar. He felt a slight tug as you pulled on his tie, untying the knot. Then you gently, and carefully unbuttoned his deep blue shirt. You were only focused on him, and nothing else, pupils glancing at his face every now and then. A smile spread across your features when you saw him furrowing his brows. “You can take off those glasses now.” You whispered, one hand reaching for his cheeks, caressing him while the other still held his dress shirt. His own hand moved upwards and took them off, placing them on the nightstand.

“Such beautiful eyes, don’t hide them from me all the time, hehe.” “I’m not hiding anything from you.” You sure hoped that was the case, considering how he thinks most of the stuff happening at work isn’t worth mentioning. Now that that was out of the picture, you resumed your previous antics, opening one button after another. Soon it revealed his muscular body, and you couldn’t help but stare. You have always loved everything about him, from the head to toes. Yet right now you were sure his torso was your favourite. How beautiful his skin was, as well as the little, barely visible scars from battles; or his firm chest with those cute nipples.

You moved your face closer to his, hands on his pecs now as you kissed him, locking your lips with his. His lips were soft and you were like in a trance when you kissed him. Before he got to enjoy it you pulled back, grinning from ear to ear. It was way too short for him, but he didn’t complain, he could never get mad at you. Afterwards you started kissing his neck. So carefully and tender, that it felt like a feather brushing over his skin, it was almost ticklish. His breath sharpened by a notch when you started groping his chest, squeezing that place with your fingers. In between kisses and smooches, you made sure to whisper into his ear, showering him with compliments. “I’m so glad to have you, my handsome and beautiful boy.” This continued for a bit, and soon his entire collarbone area was covered by red spots. Some hickeys were on his torso too. “You look gorgeous right now.” you commented on those trails of marks you left behind, before fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

You didn’t strip him entirely naked, only enough that you get to touch him wherever. Pulling his pants and underwear down a little to free his cock. He groaned a little when you wrapped your hand around his shaft, rubbing the part that is connected to his pelvis. “Y/n, darling.. don’t tease today.” Immediately your attention wandered to him again, shushing him with your finger as you said, “don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything, I’ll make you feel good today.” A light chuckle, then you played with his tip. The adoration you had for him was genuine, and visible in your eyes.

The way you looked so confident and eager to make him feel good was so adorable in his eyes, and he just can’t help himself but fall even more. Sighting a little before it turned into a breathy moan, “uhh,..huh.” Your delicate fingers were touching all the right places, and soon he was fully erect. One of his hands was clutching the sheets, while the other reached out to your hair, stroking it gently. This surprised you a little, but it wasn’t too bad so you let him be. Then you moved lower, until your lips were inches away from his dick. You let your saliva drool down, afterwards you licked his tip as a tease. “Hmm- i told you not to tease.” “Oh? Guess i forgot that then~” an adorable giggle followed, coming from you. He was truly lucky to have you here with him.

While he was still admiring the relationship you two have build, you took him into your mouth and sucked. Trying your best to avoid any teeth and using your tongue to roll it over his tip. “Ughh- haa..” his grip on your hair tightened. Normally you’d push his hand away, though today was a special occasion. Sweet moans and the occasional gasp spilled from his lips, eyes now clenched shut. Sometimes he’d bite his bottom lip too, to try and keep his voice down. You just continued taking more of him, using your hand to jerk off the rest that didn’t fit. “Darling.” He called out to you, but stopped mid sentence to compose himself. It was getting harder and harder to speak, or to think.

He could feel every fever of his being pulsing, his heart pounding like crazy. The blood rushed to his face and abdomen, making the rest of his limps go numb. Strength was leaving his legs and arms slowly, all while more and more pleasure flourished within him. How his body convulsed every time you licked his tip, or when the inside of your mouth clenched down on him. It felt warm and soft, so good he could feel himself getting closer to the edge.

“Ahh.. keep going, just like that.. please.” Finally he finished his sentence, pleading with you with a meek voice. You didn’t plan on stopping anyway, instead you wanted to make him beg you to stop at the end of this session. Smirking to yourself as you kept doing your own thing, enjoying the noises he’d make. Did it really feel that good? Was what you would have liked to ask, but this is fine too. As long as your lovely boyfriend looks ecstatic and full of bliss, you were content too. Out of nowhere his grip righted by a lot, enough to make it hurt for you. He mumbled apologies while saying, “ah.. I’m clo-close.. haa, sorry., darling…”

What a lucky boy. If today was any other day you would have punished him. Fine, guess you were going to be especially merciful with him. You didn’t mind the slight sting his tug brought you, mouth and hands still working on bringing him over the edge. He let go of your hair in the last minute and clasped it over his mouth. A silent moan left him, then a repressed groan followed. “Nghhnmmm…!! Ahhh..ugh..” his voice was beautiful, you could listen to him all day. Even though his hand wasn’t in your hair anymore, you still didn’t move away. Letting him cum in your mouth, before you finally moved back. When your lips left his dick you made a wet slurping sound, then swallowed everything he offered to you. “Delicious~” you smiled innocently as if you didn’t just make him see heaven.

Suddenly he moved closer to you, sitting up and hands grabbing your cheeks now. “Nanami? Is something?” You wondered, but that curiosity soon got replaced by shock and a joyful feeling you haven’t felt for a while. He kissed your forehead, cupping your face with his hands as he whispered, “I’m glad i can spend my birthday with you.” All while smiling so tenderly, with a calmness and warmth that was unfamiliar to you. Only sometimes he’d get emotional enough to be like this, and whenever he did, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him all over again. “Happy birthday, nanami.”

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Dove

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Sister of Ageon, Helena & Aemond) Rating - Flirty Word Count - 1495

Warning - Mentions of Abuse and SA

Aegon had been drinking so much that it seemed like a bright idea to take his little sister, who had rarely left the Red Keep before, for a stroll down the street of silk. The street was busy with people going about their business many not even looking twice to see the prince as him coming around was a fairly common occurrence, "So little dove finally left the nest. Thanks to the better brother. I'm talking of course about myself." he slurried a foul smell of alcohol wafting off of Aegon. Drunk men were everywhere, so Aegon's demeanour didn't attract much attention, 

Y/n chuckled as she walked the street of silk with her eldest brother, she wore a beautiful black and green gown as she held his arm partly guiding his drunk steps down the cobbles, she was very used to having to go out and fetch her older brother from whatever pit of sin he ended up in, "Aegon what are you talking about?" 

Aegon stumbled, "Isn't it obvious? I deserve you much more than Aemond does. I am the heir to the throne. He is just a second son. A spare." he grumbled, "I can be so much kinder to you than Aemond ever could."

"I do not doubt you would be kinder Aegon. But it's been agreed since the moment I was born, you are the heir to be king when father passes, you married haelena the first daughter. Then Aemond and I are to marry as the second son and second daughter, the two spares it is simply the way of it. Father and mother agreed,"

"But I could be much greater to you, little dove." Aegon leaned in closer, brushing his cheek against her. "Married or not, I can make you so much happier than Aemond can." Aegon grinned playfully, "You would be happier with me. I would make you so much happier than anyone ever could."

"I do not doubt you would, but there are things we cannot change, besides don't you love your wife and children?"

Aegon sighed and looked down at the cobbles. "You know mother forced me to marry her. And my children are a chore, you are the only one I care about."

"Aegon, that's very sweet and yes I do wish things had been different but these are the cards that have even dealt. We must learn to make the most of it. You know I will always be nearby, you and aemond are brothers you cannot allow this to come between you"

Aegon's expression sobered up a little. "You are right... you are right, little dove. I know. I know we have to play our cards right. I just... I wish things were different. That we had a chance to be together. But you're right that nothing can change the way it is. But I will always protect you, little dove. No one can harm you, no ever shall. Not as long as I breathe."

"thank you big brother" she cooed kissing his cheek

Aegon leaned his head against her. He was more affectionate to her than he had been to his wife at her best, or to anyone at their best really. Aegon seemed pleased to hear her call him 'big brother'. He was fond of that title. "So, little dove. Are you excited to be married?"

"... Honestly?"

"Of course, Are you not excited to be married?" Aegon frowned a bit, then he looked back at you, his expression solemn. 

"Not really..."

Aegon stopped walking and looked at her. He squinted his eyes, and his lips curled into a frown. Aegon tilted his head and placed a hand on her shoulder. "What is wrong, little dove? What are you not saying?" His tone was concerned and gentle.

"... aemond frightens me sometimes. He says thinks, does things, they frighten me that's all, but in sure I'll grow accustomed once we're married"

Those words shook Aegon to his bone. "Does he... hurt you?" His eyes widened. "Has he hurt you since the betrothal? Or done anything to scare you?"

"no he hasn't... Hurt me exactly he just scares me, he often tells me of frightening tales, of fights that end in bloodshed, makes me watch him in the practice yard against the poor squire boys, often threatens to take me riding on vahgar with him." She explained, "the other night he... I shouldn't speak I'll of him,"

Aegon's expression hardened. He hated it when his little sister was treated in such a way that she was frightened by anyone. Aemond did nothing to ease Y/n's fears, only made them grow worse. Aegon felt protective of her. "No, little dove, you must. What did he do that night?"

"he wanted a kiss before he left my chamber, I was feeling tired so I politely declined said I'd give him two kisses the next day but he got angry with me tried to pin me on the bed and take the kisses I owed him when I pushed him away he forced me against the wall and took far more then kisses as a punishment he said"

And he was furious. "He did what? Did he... take... take liberties with you?"

she nodded sheepishly 

"I want to know one thing and one thing only, little dove. Do you want to marry this man? This creature that calls himself our brother?"

"I do not... But father insists mother says it is no matter what he had done as my flower was long plucked anyway"

"I don't care what father says. I don't care what mother says." He paused again, and when he continued his voice was as cold as ice. "And I don't care what he says. I will not allow this. I cannot allow for you to be married to a man who you do not want. You are not his flower who has been plucked already. You are our family, and you will not marry a man who has used you."

"but if we are to follow the rule that no man who has used me can marry me... That would also mean you couldn't marry me" she giggled hugging his arm,

there was a slight smirk on his lips. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, "Oh, and why is that, little dove? Have I taken liberties with you that I don't know about?"

"It's strange... What you boys do and don't remember, do you really not recall what you use to do to me Aegon while we snuck around the red keep, when we made little blanket forts, when we used to... Kiss and touch in what's children should not" she reminds,

Aegon felt a weird sense of pride. Of course, he did remember those evenings. How could he not? It had been one of the most pleasurable memories of his life. “You are right, little dove."

"you hang your head as if in shame of those days? Do you regret our nights snuck away in blanket forts Aegon?"

"I certainly do not regret them, little dove. But... I suppose I am ashamed of what happened, or at least how wrong they are." He paused again, shaking his head. "I suppose I had forgotten that you looked fondly on those days. I had always thought they were a shameful memory for both of us."

"I recall no shame from that time. I was happy as we're you"

Aegon's lips turned up into a sad but genuine smile at the realization that she also had enjoyed that time as well. It was good to know that he hadn't been the only one, and that she had also felt pleased with it. "I suppose I was. Happy I mean. It's just that... as we got older, so did the guilt I felt. I always thought of those times as being so wrong and I felt horrible for it..."

"why? I wanted to play as badly as you did, never once did I deny you, I am sorry if I make you feel guilty for such things I do not think them horrible or wrong merely sweet experiments that I hold dear. And I'm sure if we were to make a blanket forts big enough for us both I'd be more then happy to continue our games "She smiled kissing his cheek

"My, my, little dove, are you suggesting what I think you are?"

she giggled "Depend what you think I am?"

"Are you suggesting that despite your impending marriage, you would like us to resume our... blanket fort games?" He looked at you, and his expression was almost bashful.

"mhm".she nodded

"And what if I said yes?"

"then I suppose we'd need to find somewhere to cuddle"

Aegon's lips curved into a smile. “Indeed we do little dove,” he smirked grabbing her hand and tugging her though the streets so they could find an inn for the evening to enjoy their time alone, 

[sturnsdoll]

𝖶𝖨𝖲𝖣𝖮𝖬 𝖳𝖤𝖤𝖳𝖧 -`♡´- -C.S

(HEADCANNONS!)

pairing: chris x (gf) reader, some reader x bsf matt and nick <3

summary: how chris would support his girlfriend before, after, and through wisdom teeth removal, as well as being under the influence of anesthetics!

warnings: fluffy!headcannons, dentist, mention of teeth pulling, little blood, slight mention of needles, anesethetics, established relationships.

authors note: kind of a blurb more than hc's tbh? it was a little rushed! sorry!

₊⊹⤑ you had been talking about how nervous you were for a couple weeks now..

₊⊹⤑ so it was no surprise when the whole car ride there, you were holding your boyfriends hand and avoiding the topic of what you knew was coming.

₊⊹⤑ chris had been reminding you everyday that besides the needle, the rest of it you wouldn't even remember. he ensured that him matt and nick would be there the entire time if you needed a hand or two.. or three to hold.

₊⊹⤑ with some encouragement (and chris lending you his grey zip up to wear for emotional and physical comfort) you did manage to enter the building just to get it done and over with.

₊⊹⤑ while the IV was intruding your skin, chris stayed next to you, asking about what flavour of ice cream you'd be getting after as a distraction from the needle.

₊⊹⤑ from there on, the process itself you had no memory of but chris stuck close by the entire time incase you needed anything or for some reason woke up.

₊⊹⤑ "hey sweetheart how'r ya feeling?" chris would ask while gently holding your hand when you come to your senses

₊⊹⤑ confused, your instinct was to sit up but chris would immedietly usher you to lay back down, letting you know that they're done working on your teeth.

₊⊹⤑ "why dtha fack is this bullshit still in my fucking arm then HUH?" your words wonky from the cotton in your mouth and the haze of anesthetic.

₊⊹⤑ "shh, were in public stop cursing like a sailor" "dude, nobody under like 100 says 'cursing like a sailor'" "yeah, what he thsaid!"

₊⊹⤑ chris would of course glare at you for agreeing with matt. but his thumb soothingly rubbing your hand tells you that he's obviously not too mad.

₊⊹⤑ you would leave later then you should have because everytime a password was given to you, you'd forget less than five seconds later..

₊⊹⤑ "it was ass right?" "no, it was GRASS sweetheart...."

₊⊹⤑ everything that came out of your mouth had the doctors and the triplets giggling.

₊⊹⤑ when it came time to take the IV out, chris thought that a 'got your nose' joke would be funny to distract you with. it was... definetly distracting at least???

₊⊹⤑ usually you were sweet to your boyfriend but something about anesthetic had you more than arguementative today.

₊⊹⤑ chris would try complimenting you "you look pretty even like this"

₊⊹⤑ "i KNOW i do. stop being corny you sthtoopid fuck" chris's jaw drops like he's offended but you don't care because nick's contagious laugh brings out your own laughter out as well.

₊⊹⤑ "i thought i was supposed to be the stupid one right now, not you"

₊⊹⤑ "maybe YOUU need to see the dentist about all those terrible jokes that come out of your mouth."

₊⊹⤑ you had no filter, just having fun rebelling against your usual niceness to your loved one.

₊⊹⤑ then finally the car ride came.

₊⊹⤑ now you leant on chris' shoulder to take a nap

₊⊹⤑ "thought i was stupid?" he questions, arm coming around to pull you in closer. "shhhh i'm sthleeping" the inpedament on your speech makes him giggle. "I SAID SHHHHHH" "jesus. my bad sleepyhead"

₊⊹⤑ the whole car ride he was making sure you didn't need your gauze changed, asking if you need water, offering you chapstick. you had to tell him to shut up at least 100 times before he'd relax, telling him you could put your own damn chapstick on. (you ended up asking him for help two minutes later...)

₊⊹⤑ the whole rest of the car ride was filled with you zipping up and down the zipper of your boyfriends sweater you had on, mixed with your favourite artist playing as you attempted to sing along

₊⊹⤑ the second you entered the triplets home, you rested on the couch with your legs over your boyfriends lap, singing a song that everyones pretty sure doesn't exist..

₊⊹⤑ "i love... YOUUUUUUU, i lovovovovovee YOUU, all three of YOUUuUuU-" "someone sedate her again." nick jokes while handing you an ice pack you'd previously asked for.

₊⊹⤑ "want me to hold it on your jaw for you bab- oh" before he can finish speaking you're gripping his wrist, leaning toward him "wanna know something?" you ask eagerly "hm?" "I LOVE YOU!" "i love you more"

₊⊹⤑ matt and nick didn't enjoy the next 30 minutes of the predictable arguement at all. ₊⊹⤑ once the delusion of the anesthetic wore off, you were just plain tired. nick and matt had both chosen to chill in their own rooms by now.

₊⊹⤑ the second you mentioned wanting to lay down, chris curled up behind you with a blanket over the two of you. he held you tight, muttering in your ear about how good you did today and how proud he is that you went.

₊⊹⤑ "sorry for calling you stupid" you apologize with a sweetly apologetic smile.

₊⊹⤑ "aw, it's okay. i know you didn't mean it-" "wellll sometimes.." "nevermind i don't forgive you."

₊⊹⤑ he'd make sure your favourite cartoon was on and that he held your ice pack on your sore jaw till you eventually drifted into sleep.

tags ᥫ᭡: @pettydollie @mattsrod @sturncakez @sturniololovesss @sturniolosstar @sstvrnioloo @watercolorskyy @sturniol0s @6ix9inewiturmom @sonicsmacks @orangela

[forever-rogue]

you asked for fallout request, so here i am, eagerly writing this…

i’ve been craving a cooper howard x reader oneshot where him and the reader are navigating through life in their own way. maybe a run in with tricky people?? angst?? fluff??? it’s up to you best friend. THANK YOU!!!

AN | Alright, let’s goooo. First go around with Cooper and we had to go with some fluff because that is my specialty. I’ve loved Fallout for a long time and I love the show too❤️

Pairing | Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x fem!reader

Warnings | language; gun violence

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You weren't sure if you'd call yourselves friends.

More like…an unwitting duo of sorts. Unwitting on your end more than anything.

You'd promised him that you absolutely didn't need company or anyone to assist you. He'd insisted that the only way he'd let you go on your own was over his dead body. You'd contemplated that idea for a few moments. Given his reputation, you decided not to push him too much.

The realization that he was a stubborn old man who wasn't going to change his mind was the only reason he was still next to you. Begrudgingly, mind you.

“How much further, darlin’?” His deep voice cut through your internal monologue and you shot a glare in his direction, “I'm starting to think you're not the best judge of distance.”

“If you're just going to complain,” you pointed over your shoulder back to the last town you'd passed through, “you're more than welcome to go back and terrorize that town. I told you that I didn't need you to come with me.”

“And why would I listen to you, huh?” He rolled his eyes lightly as you scoffed, “you'd be dead before the sun went down, sweetheart.”

“So what?” You turned on your heel, walking backwards so you could face him, “why do you care?! You don't even like me!”

“Contrary to what you believe, I do have somewhat of a conscience,” his voice was gruff but somewhat soft, “and if I let you go and then heard that you were killed, I'd be a little annoyed.”

“Why?” 

“Because I’ve already saved your life once,” he so sweetly reminded you as you sighed heavily, “and I didn't just save your life so you could go and be killed by someone else.”

“Ain’t that sweet? You’re a modern day prince,” you mocked his twang as his expression refused to shift. It was almost annoying how unfazed he remained the majority of the time, “I had it handled. You happened to come at an inconvenient time.”

“If that's what helps you sleep at night,” he had to fight to hold back a laugh as you turned back around and you marched in front of him, making it a point not to look back at him. He had to be the most infuriating person you'd ever met. He'd had two hundreds years to perfect being annoying and he had done exceedingly well.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you had been traveling together for a number of days. You'd managed not to kill each other, luckily, but otherwise things had remained mostly the same. Silence, and if it wasn’t silence, it'd be harsh words and fast quips.

You didn't hate him - not really. You hated the idea that anyone, let alone a man, believed that you needed help. You'd had things handled and would have kept yourself safe. He'd just happened to come fight when you were in the midst of either killing or getting killed. 

He wasn't going to let that go anytime soon. That much you already knew about him.

“It’s cold,” you announced as the two of you made camp for the night. You pulled your jacket tighter around your frame but it was no use, “I’m cold. Can we make a fire?”

“That, princess, is one of the many reasons you need someone out there to keep an eye on you,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost have thought that he was being kind - nice. 

“Listen,” you sat down and leaned against one of the trees near the clearing you’d decided to call home for the evening, “I know it’s not exactly safe or the best idea, but I’d rather do that than freeze.”

“It ain’t even that cold,” he mused, stripping off his overcoat and tossing it over to you. You made a sound of surprise, but didn’t hesitate to put it on, “life really was different for you, wasn’t it? I’d say it was almost as easy as those vaulties had it.”

“It wasn’t…” you knew he wasn’t wrong. You’d come from a place of privilege, having been born into a family with wealth, new world wealth anyway, and had it pretty easy for a surface dweller. You’d lived in a large, well stocked and safe home with people around to do your bidding. Those were some of the perks of having a father that was some sort of merchant prince, “it wasn’t like that.”

“Yeah?” he rolled out his bedroll, a bitter laugh escaping him, “sounds like you had nothing to do and everything done for you.”

“I mean…” you trailed off, knowing it was futile to lie to him. He’d known your father after all; Cooper Howard was the one sent to fetch you and return you home once your father had found out you’d run away, “it was…good sometimes. There were a lot of bad times too. But I still know how to do things for myself. I could kill you with my bare hands if I wanted to. I’ve done it before.”

“Huh,” he grabbed a vial and downed it one go, his eyes never leaving your face, “guess that makes you a killer. Just. Like. Me.”

“I did what I had to do,” you swallowed thickly, blinking back tears that threatened to well up. Cooper knew that you had run away, but he didn’t know the full extent of what had happened to cause you to run away, “and we’re here.”

“Tell me what happened,” your eyes snapped to him as you tried to weigh his words in order to see if he was being serious or not. He’d never really taken an interest into your personal life, but you wondered if that was because he genuinely didn’t care or if he’d just created some sort of creed for himself that didn’t allow him to get close to anyone, “what made you run away from your sweet little life, darlin’?”

“Cooper,” you wiped your hands on your thighs and shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. You’d never really said his name before and that caught him off guard, “does it really matter?”

“It’s still buggin’ you, clearly,” he mirrored your position and crossed his arms over his chest, “and we ain’t got nothing but time.”

You inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling and looking at the sky. You could feel his attention still focused on you, “my father told me that there was a man I was going to marry. I told him no and he told me that I didn’t have a choice. Said man found me shortly before the wedding was supposed to happen and he…he tried to…”

You paused for a moment, wiping away the tears that had unwittingly rolled down your cheeks. Cooper’s gaze had darkened but he was still watching; the expression on his face looked like he was ready to commit murder.

“He didn’t get a chance to do anything,” you said softly, “I killed him before he could. But he managed to get me a little bit when he was trying to fight me off. That’s why I had a black eye and all the bruises.”

“Darlin’-”

“I didn’t hesitate, Coop,” your expression steeled as you looked him in the eyes, “and I won’t hesitate now. A man will never tell me what to do. And I don’t need anyone thinking I need someone to protect me.”

Cooper had been listening with rapt attention, his mind already thinking of the things he could do to your father.  Bringing you back to him definitely wasn’t one of those things. He’d made up his mind about that almost the moment he’d met you. You’d been sporting a black eye and cut lip, dried blood caked on your hands and arms. He was smart enough to put two and two together.

“For what it’s worth,” he looked back at you with the gentlest expression you’d seen on him, “I’m sorry for what you had to go through. Those are not men, those are monsters.”

“And you’re going to bring me right back to him,” it was a question presented as a statement. You weren’t entirely sure what his plan with you was; you’d been scared to ask. But he also wasn’t hadn’t mentioned a word of bringing you back to your father, “aren’t you?”

“I ain’t bringing you back,” he admitted and you couldn’t keep the surprise off your face, “I never was. I’ve been around a long time, little girl. I know what your father is. I figured it was a better option for me to find you than someone else.”

“You’re not?” you hated how small your voice sounded; how you almost sounded scared. In a way you were. Scared of going back to the place that you hated and would surely make sure you suffered, but you were also scared of forging a new path. You didn’t really know where you were going or what you were going to, “really?”

“On one condition,” of course. You waved your hand, motioning for him to go, “you admit that you have no clue where we’re going and we’ve basically been making this hell of a trek for no real reason.”

You tried to look serious for a moment, but you couldn’t help but start to laugh at how well he could already read you. Cooper was so taken aback by the soft, sweet sound that he couldn’t help the smile that tugged up the corners of his mouth. When you managed to catch your breath, you looked at him and cocked your head to the side, “I have no clue where we’re going and we’ve been making this hell of a trek for no real reason.”

“Honesty,” he pulled one of his knees toward his chest and drummed his fingers on it, “it’s refreshing. You’re gonna be alright, kid.”

“There’s a place,” you murmured after a few moments of silence, “that my mom told me about when I was little. She made it sound like this magical place. I guess really, that’s where I want to go.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Cooper said, “but magical places don’t really exist. They never really did.”

“I know,” you admitted softly, “it just seemed like that when I was young. She died a long time ago, but I’d always think about that place, going there someday.  She said it was west - just go west and you’ll know when you’re there.”

“Hmm,” he nodded and paused for a moment before getting up and grabbing some nearby sticks and bringing them to the center of the clearing. He started making a fire before you could even question him, “if it draws anything out, I’m sure we can handle it.”

“Thanks Coop,” you watched him work, an odd feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Once the fire was going, he settled down near you, “Cooper?”

“Hmm?”

“We are going west, right?” your question caused him to chuckle before he reached into his pocket and pulled something small out that he passed over you. It was a small silver compass worn and weathered just like him.

“I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but we’ve been goin’ east for the last couple of days,” he shrugged as you groaned at yourself. At least you didn’t have anywhere to be at any particular time, “had I know we’ve been searching for a magical place, I could have told you we were going the wrong way.”

“I guess I’m not as handy as I thought,” you grumbled to yourself, clutching the compass tightly in your hand, “you know you don’t have to come, right?”

“I know,” he nodded, “you think anyone could force me to do something against my will, you don’t know me at all, sugar. Now stop your yapping and get some rest. We’ll start heading west at sunrise.”

You paused for a moment, pulling his coat tighter around you, “thanks, Coop.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next couple of days of trekking passed in relative peace. The two of you were now making your way west for whatever magical place your mom had made you dream of you. You weren’t sure why Cooper was still with you, but you weren’t about to complain. He provided some decent company since you’d had your little heart to heart, but he owed you nothing. You weren’t exactly complaining; he was the closest thing to a friend you’d had in a long time.

But, as things would have it in the wasteland, life threw a wrench in your plans. A wrench in the form of two raiders that definitely weren’t looking to get chummy. 

“Ugh,” you groaned as the two figures approached from a distance. The two of you were outside of a saloon, trying to decide whether to keep pressing on for the evening or staying put and turning in. Cooper followed your line of sight and made a sign of annoyance, “why do I feel like they’re going to make trouble?”

“Well, darlin’, that’s because they’re about to make trouble,” he touched the brim of his hat and pulled it further down. 

“Look who it is,” one of the men sneered at the two of you. He looked about as unfriendly as they came, “the Ghoul of the hour and his little bounty.”

“We heard you were having some trouble delivering her back home,” his partner came up and eyed you without shame. He looked disgusting with greasy hair and rotting teeth, a sinister expression on his face, “so we came to take over.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you spit at him, reaching for the dagger that was at your side. You felt Cooper reach for your hand and gently squeeze it in order to stop you from making any rash moves.

“What this charming sweetheart means is that she is not going back with you,” Cooper smirked at them, “so you can run along now.”

“Fucking Ghoul,” the first man snarled at him, “you couldn’t even do your job. Turn the bitch over and we’ll let you go alive…or whatever the hell you are.”

“You can go back to my father and tell him that he can go fuck himself too,” you hissed, blood boiling with sheer annoyance and anger, “and if you don’t turn around right now-”

“What?” His voice was sticky sweet and filled with vinegar as he smiled at you; both of them had pistols in their hands and that made your stomach churn. They could easily get the jump on you, “you’ll kill me?”

“No,” Cooper pushed you behind him and looked at them with a grin on his face. Of course he’d  be enjoying this, “but I will.”

“Why don’t you just-” but the man couldn’t get another word in as the sound of the gunshot rang through the air, causing you to stumble backwards and cover your ears. A second shot rang out within seconds and you saw the other body fall to the ground. 

It happened so fast that you couldn’t help the shock that ran through your body, causing you to let you let out a loud sob. You’d seen death before, you’d seen things much worse than before but there was something about the moment that was overwhelming. 

Blood spattered the side of the building, causing you to dry heave as you noticed the bits of brain and bone clinging to it. Your ears were still ringing as you tried not to completely lose your grip on reality.

“Hey,” you heard his voice cut through the fog and you felt his hand on your shoulders, helping to keep you steady and upright. You shifted your gaze up and found his eyes concerned, “hey.”

“I-I…” you couldn’t even form a proper sentence as you looked at him, “they…you. You saved me.”

Before he could even respond, you threw your arms around him and held tightly onto him. He was taken aback for a moment before he hugged you back, and you could feel his breath of relief. There was something so good and reassuring about the feel of his arms around you.

“You would have had it handled,” he insisted and you shook your head. 

“No,” you looked at him and to your surprise he gently wiped away your tears, “I couldn’t have. I couldn’t have saved myself this time. Thank you.”

“No need to thank  me, darlin’,” he took your chin in his hand and kept your gaze on his, “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“I do,” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and nodded slightly, “I do need you. Don’t go.”

“The only place I’m going is west,” there was that smile again, the one that rarely graced his features. The same one that made your legs feel like jello, “are you comin’?”

“Yes,” you promised, “I’m coming.”

“Well then, we best get goin’ sweetheart,” he glanced over the carnage that he left behind, “before someone else comes to make trouble.”

He checked himself over to make sure he had everything ready to. You missed the feel of his touch almost immediately. 

Once he made sure he had everything, he held his hand out to you.

You took it without hesitation. 

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

If it's okay with you can you continue the series where Gojo was giver the reader "lessons." I love that series so much, you did an amazing job writing it😭 I would love to see more parts of that series.

I'm so glad you're enjoying them! However I believe I may be running out of ideas for lessons, so I may have to call this one the last part of the series. But you are still more than welcome to request anything else, my friend.

Title: A Hands on Lesson: Lesson 3 (A continuation from Lesson Two)

Characters: Gojo x m!reader

Contains: light BDSM, blindfolding, fingering, praise/degradation, pet names(love), orgasm control/denial

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

"Alright, are you all situated?" Satoru's voice after moments of silence settled your nerves, your position, however, not helping.

Your head rested on a couple soft pillows, eyes once again shielded with Satoru's signature eyecloth(you both had agreed it was a thrilling addition to the sessions), and arms gently tied behind you as your lower half was propped on a support foam pillow to help keep you up without getting tired. The perfect doggy style position for a novice like you, posed in a way where Satoru could properly teach you.

Speaking of...

"I-I'm alright. But...uh...w-what's...the lesson this time?"

Satoru's fingers gently brushed up your bare leg, the limb flinching from the touch. They glided up from the spot, leaving your skin already aching for more of his touch.

"Let's see..." The way Satoru spoke was like he was counting on his fingers. "You handled receving and giving a handjob, excelled in giving a blowjob...now..." Pausing, it felt like his presence was gone, but he simply positioned himself by your exposed ear, causing you to gasp softly from the change of position. "Now...The lesson is taking me, and controlling yourself...~"

As he initially listed the tasks you had done, your face grew redder with every one, embarrased by the words alone, but you didn't dare speak against him, unsure of when the game has started. Between sessions, he had teased before how he wouldn't tell you when he'd start, but you would know, so he insisted you keep on your best behavior. He also reminded you that the safeword would always apply, no matter whether or not he was in his role or not.

As you were in your thoughts, something cold pressed against your awaiting hole. One of Satoru's fingers, coated with lube, was prodding at the tight rings, as if urging you to open.

"Now just relax, alright? Otherwise the rest of this will hurt."

Putting all trust into him, you did as he suggested, your body relaxing against the soft pillows below you. Thanks to that, paired with the lube, Satoru was able to slip the one finger inside, causing you to tense once again before returning to your relaxed position.

"Good boy~ I promise this will make everything feel much better..."

His movements were slow and careful, easing himself in and out of you. The sensation was strange but not unwelcome. On occasion, you let out an audible breath, especially as Satoru hit a deep spot inside, and with every little sound you made, he would praise you.

As he felt it was easy to move a single finger, he soon paired it with another, your hips suddenly grinding against the support pillow in tandem with his motions. Your moans were a bit louder than earlier, a smirk growing on Satoru's lips.

"Oh, look at you. So desperate, huh?"

His tone of voice told you he had long slipped into his role, setting your body aflame. He watched as your hips continued to gyrate, your cock pressing against the edge of the pillow for him to view. Your hands clenched into fists, nails digging into your skin from merely two fingers. Your actions would soon come to a stop as Satoru's also halted.

"Did I say you could move?"

His voice wasn't dark, but it was definitely a warning. Panting lightly, you shook your head, swallowing down pooling saliva from the side of your mouth.

"N-No, sir."

"Good. Stay still."

With that said, he resumed his actions, curling his fingers around, spreading them, thrusting them. You were lost in this light bliss for what felt like awhile, the two fingers having stretched you enough for them to have plenty of room. Within time, he stopped once more, but with less time in between than last. A third finger joined, and the stretch burned lightly, though it was quickly shrouded with pleasure as he moved once more.

"Fuck...~ Look at you. Three fingers? How much of a slut are you~?" The word sent a jolt to your cock, precum having already began leaking from the tip. You weren't expecting it, but you weren't complaining; it felt thrilling.

As you were reeling from the new sensation, Satoru spoke once more.

"What, can't talk anymore? Is this all it takes to ruin you~?"

You were brought back to reality, lightly shaking your head once more. "N-No, I'm sorry." A sudden thrust of his fingers caused you to cry out, your hips subconsciously grinding against the pillow once more. You were quick to realize your mistake. "N-No sir!"

"Hah...~ Good boy. You learn quick~"

His fingers then left you, leaving you empty with a soft whine. Satoru didn't keep you waiting, and you felt hands spread your cheeks, a larger object prodding your stretched and aching hole. He asked if you were ready, and with your consenting nod, Satoru filled you, your ass taking him down to the hilt thanks to the stretching. As he let out a groan, you had let out a blissful cry, fighting the urge to grind your hips once more.

"F-Fuck~ God you feel amazing. I knew you could take my cock like this." Your body shook with anticipation, patiently waiting for Satoru to move. Noting this, he pressed his chest to your back, his warm skin coming into contact with your blazing body. "Are you ready, love?"

One extra reassurance, but honestly, despite how respectful it was, it was unneeded. You nodded nearly the moment he stopped speaking. You had been ready the moment he entered you. Sitting up, Satoru placed a firm but gentle hand on the back of your neck as he began to cycle his hips into you, the movements almost precise. His hand placement, his movements, all of it nearly made you lose it, your cock throbbing painfully against the pillow. You needed a touch, friction, anything. You were desperate to the point you started to grind your hips again.

The action didn't go unnoticed, Satoru slightly increasing his speed as he watched.

"Nngh...~ Yeah you're desperate...~ Can't...last a moment of fun without w-wanting your cock touched, huh?"

Your eyes were rolling under the blindfold, nails digging into your palms. His hand placement only grew in firmness, not by a lot, but it felt like it was the only thing keeping you mentally in place, like a leash keeping you connected.

Without an answer, Satoru simply continued his thrusts, degranding phrases of how dirty you were slipping out only to be replaced with praises of your work, of taking it as well as you were.

All of it was enough to tighten the coil in your stomach, your moans pitching in sound. It was a familiar feeling, one you were able to proclaim.

"G-Gonna...cum~! S-Satoru--S-Sir I--"

"No."

The denial brought you back down, your body shaking with the urge to already let loose. "P-Please!"

It didn't help that Satoru's movements hadn't stopped. You were about to burst, yet he insisted on continuing.

"Y-You cum when I say. That's part of the lesson~" His voice was breathy. "Don't move o-on your own...a-and don't cum. You can do that, right~?"

"S-Satoru, please!"

At your plea, the movements stopped, and your approaching orgasm would gradually leave.

"Alright, then I'll stop...~" Satoru's voice wasn't upset, but teasing. If you couldn't handle it, he'd stop, leaving you there to lose your orgasm. His hands now resting on your bound hands, not to untie them, but to simply rest there.

"N-No, Sato--S-Sir I...I-I can handle it, please!"

You really were desperate to have him move inside, but he would ignore your pleas until he figured enough time had gone by.

"Still feel like you have to cum?"

Realizing it wasn't there, you groaned softly, shaking your head.

Gently gripping the binds, he used your arms as a leverage, using it to pull you closer to him to bury deeper into you. Just as you were before he stopped moving, you were quick to fall back into the mess you were, your ass clenching around his cock, as if begging him not to stop again. It didn't take long for your orgasm to return, in which you'd announce it once more.

"J-Just hold off a bit longer," Satoru breathed, repositioning himself to once again press his body into you. His hands rested on your shoulders, not in a way to press you down, but another leverage spot for him. This way, he could focus on his hips, losing himself inside of you in a sticky mess. You tried your best to hold off, but it only inched closer.

"S-Sir, I-I can't! I-I need to cum--!"

As if answering your prayers, Satoru replied, "C-Cum with me~!"

Another moment more and you would have came without his permission. Before your mind went white, you thanked the gods for the reprieve, cum roping out from your cock onto the pillow as your body shook with bliss. You let out heavy, moan-filled panting as your felt your ass fill with Satoru's cum, feeling Satoru himself pant heavily against you with soft groans of each release.

You had to admit, Satoru was an excellent teacher. You'd be sure to tell him that whenever you'd awaken from this experience.

[cerisahh]

GREEN-EYED GIRL

SYNOPSIS ꒱ gun gives goo's number to someone flirting with him, reader is unaware and gets jealous

REQUEST ꒱ hiiiiii may i request a drabble of gun x f!reader where he took her out on a date but when she went to the restroom she saw a girl ask him his number and he still gave it to her (and reader got jealous lol), but it turns out that he gave goo's number instead of his to that girl. eventually gun found her jealousy cute and decided to tease her before revealing the truth to her >< thankewww <3 - @vynnyll

NOTE ꒱ THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!! thank you for the request, vynn. it was a pleasure experimenting with this one!

Gun isn't exactly what most would call a 'hopeless romantic'.

That's why you're surprised when he asks you to have dinner at an exclusive restaurant in the heart of town. Not that you hadn't gone on dates before, but they tended to be more secluded, the atmosphere more relaxed. Not right in the hustle and bustle of central seoul.

Now imagine your further surprise when he turns up at your apartment the night before with the most gorgeous gown - because it would be a great disservice to simply call it a dress - and a smirking grin at your instant fawning.

Your boyfriend delivering an outfit for you to wear to a date? Now this is pretty romantic.

"I take it you like the dress?" He asks, still holding the gown as you continue to pour over the details and embroidery.

"Like it?" You say breathlessly, still mesmerised, "Oh, Gun, you really didn't have to - I love it - but you really didn't have to."

"I wanted to, so I did." The corners of his lips lift up into a slight smirk, "Besides, you shouldn't thank me too much. Not like you're gonna be wearing it for long."

"Gun!"

Romantic while it lasted, anyway.

You kick him out shortly after so he can return to his work, and so you can return to admiring this masterpiece. Seriously, where did he find this?

You go to sleep late that night, having tried on the gown and pretending you were a princess for an entire hour. I mean, no judgement, you look like one in that getup.

Gun arrives at your door at seven o'clock sharp. The door opens and it takes quite a fair amount of willpower for his jaw to not go slack.

You look breathtaking. He notices you've done your hair up all fancy and you've adorned yourself with jewelry that matches your outfit perfectly. He chose the right dress for sure. And the right girl.

"My, my." His arm snakes behind you at your waist and pulls you closer to him. Mine, he thinks, "Don't you look delectable."

"Delectable is certainly a choice of words." You grin, relaxing into him, placing your own hands atop his chest.

He hums and it reverberates through his chest, "I can think of a few more. Ravishing, opulent, enchanting," With each word his hands wander until you're flush up against him and the wall. God forbid any of your neighbours decide to peek their head out of their doors. One wrong move from him - or right, depends on how you're looking at things - will have you both tumbling back into your apartment and forgetting about your date tonight. Besides, you did not want him roughing up your dress.

You will your heated cheeks to cool down, "You can add late for our reservation to the list if you carry on that way."

He does, in fact, carry on that way. You both arrive at the restaurant twenty minutes later than what you had arranged, which is shrugged off by the waitstaff due to the fact that Gun knows the owner personally.

Which is another way of saying that Gun had threatened the owner personally, but who cares about details.

You two are escorted to a more secluded part of the restaurant, well, as secluded as the place could really get. It was a weekend so naturally it would be full of more people.

Gun levels a threatening glare at the waiter before he gets the chance to pull out your chair, doing so himself much to your amusement.

“Someone fancies themselves a gentleman tonight.” You muse, patting down the skirt of your gown as it adjusted to the chair.

“Gotta get in all the niceties before I get you back to my place tonight.”

Gun was lucky you had the patience of a saint right now, otherwise you would have flicked him with the cloth napkin you were holding.

The dinner was nothing short of delightful. You're no stranger to the finer things in life but between the food and the company in attendance, you had no complaints. It was nice to be seen in a more public place with Gun, somewhere that didn't involve fighting or gang wars.

It wasn't as nice to see a woman a few tables behind Gun's shoulder staring at you two. What was her problem?

"I need to powder my nose." You say to Gun, who was in the middle of taking a bite of a particularly bloody slice of steak. How he can stomach eating meat that rare you'll never know.

He hums, chewing thoughtfully, "You just said that to sound fancy, didn't you."

"Would you rather all the grizzly details of my bathroom escapades?" You ask, folding your arms against your chest.

"Would you judge me if I said yes?"

"Might do."

"Then no."

You roll your eyes and walk yourself to the bathroom, checking your hair to make sure it hasn't lost any of its volume or shape, it could use a little hairspray. Good thing you have your bag and a patient boyfriend.

Almost as soon as you left to 'powder your nose' - Gun thinks that saying is ridiculous, by the way - some woman wearing a dress that is way too low cut for the establishment they're in had sauntered up to him and started talking. About what, he wasn't sure, he wasn't in the mood to entertain some random whore who was clearly only looking for a rich man and a quick lay.

He notices she's stopped talking a few seconds too late and watches as her phone is pushed into his field of view - effectively moving his plate of food away, the arrogant bitch - he picks it up and stares at it for a moment, before putting Goo's number into her contacts. He's been pissing him off more than usual lately, he can deal with whatever train wreck is standing next to him.

"Are you busy later, handsome?"

Would this girl just fuck off already? She already thinks she's got his number so what more could she possibly want? He opens his mouth to tell her something of that nature before he gets interrupted.

"He is."

You're standing behind her glaring with your arms folded, mostly glowering at the woman but he sees you flicker that murderous gaze at him too.

Would it be so wrong to say he liked it?

Coming back to your table to see the staring woman, who now that you're looking closer looks like she's wearing an awfully cheap Jessica Rabbit cosplay, flirting with your boyfriend for everyone to see was not on your bucket list for tonight.

Seeing him put his number into her phone wasn't exactly thrilling either.

The woman cocks her hip to the side and looks you up and down, "And you are?"

You smile mirthlessly, "His girlfriend. You're standing in front of my seat."

"Really?" She asks, raising a brow, "You're his girlfriend?"

You're not an insecure person. Especially not with the way you know you look now, and you can see it in her eyes: she's intimidated.

Good. She should be.

"That's right. Now move along." You shoo her away with your hand.

She harrumphs at you and throws a 'whatever' over her shoulder. You make a sound of dismissal as she stalks off, you've half a mind to follow her to the table she came from and slam her head onto it a few times.

...

Where did that burst of violence come from? Gun must be rubbing off on you.

Speaking of Gun, you turn to him. He's leaned back in his chair and is all but smirking up at you, "Something bothering you, sweetheart?" He asks, examining you whilst you take your seat opposite him.

"Someone is bothering me." You manage, your expression must look similar to that of someone who has just sucked the juice out of a lemon. "What was that?"

"What was what exactly?" His head tilts slightly to the side with his question and he looks and sounds so stupid that you almost slap that stupid grin off his stupid face. Grinning like a moron like he hadn't given his phone number to that simpering whore. The nerve.

"Why were you talking to that... woman?" Bitch had been on the tip of your tongue but you caught yourself just in time.

With an air of nonchalance, he shrugs, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He takes a sip before he speaks again, "She wanted my number."

"Right. So you just decided to indulge whatever fantasies she was concocting in her head for shits and giggles and give her your number just because she wanted it?"

Oh he liked this side of you. Seeing you sitting there all irritable and enraged, albeit quietly, as to not make a scene, made his blood pump hotter. Jealousy looked real good on you.

He supposes he should set the record straight, having you think he would ever give his personal number to some rouge-wearing tramp when he had you was laughable. Guess he'd have to get that through your skull later, one way or another.

"I gave her a phone number. Not mine."

"What?" You pause, the angry flush that had been festering dissipated quicker then it rose, "Who's?"

He shows you his phone instead of responding verbally, “Goo?” You say, confused.

“Didn’t really think I’d let any woman have my number did you?” He tucks his phone back into his suit pocket.

"You weren't exactly telling her to leave."

He looks at you, "I wasn't even listening to her."

"Well... I don't like it."

"Like what?"

He's gonna get a kick out of this one, you let a beat pass as you try to gather some words that won't make you sound like a jealous control freak that doesn't want her boyfriend to even acknowledge the existence of other women.

"Women talking to you."

That was absolutely not the correct choice of words. He snickers.

"Shut up. You know what I mean." You huff, cross at yourself.

"I do, but hearing you admit that you were jealous is music to my ears. Say it again."

Holding up your middle finger doesn't do much to deter him. "Say it, you were jealous."

You roll your eyes, "You really want to hear me say it?"

"Desperately." He admits, taking a sip of his drink. Nodding at you to begin your confession.

"Will it shut you up?"

"For all of thirty seconds, maybe."

You lean back and look to the side, "Fine. I was jealous. Hope you enjoyed that because I'm never saying it again."

"Once was more than enough."

"You still have twenty five seconds left."

© CERISAHH 2024 — all fics on this account belong to… ME! don’t steal my shit.

[misc-obeyme]

🍄 coming in for laughs So imagine lucifer and mc switching bodies for a day. Satan needs to learn how to store the cursed tomes. Mc makes lucifer swear to behave like nothing happened. At RAD Dia obv figures out mc is lucifer for today, and so mc is excused from work. Meanwhile, lucifer needs to handle all his brothers touching, flirting, suggestions, secrets, not being able to be as intimidating, body is too small, where the fuck are my wings, why is your skin like that. At some point mammon even picks mc up on his shoulder and runs away. Attempted kisses. Total chaos. But he is too prideful to go back on his promise. At evening in the common room, they are back in their bodies, mc sitting on the couch, stifling a laugh, lucifer standing there embarrassed to his core, the rest come in, and find out the truth. A week later, Satan still hasn't come out of his room, Mammon can't look lucifer in the eye, Asmo gets flustered just thinking how close he was to lucifer having him on the table (in his imagination at least), Solomon wishes he asked mc for a pact while he could've, maybe it would work like that What do you think about the rest pf the characters? Ps. I love torturing lucifer, it's a hobby at this point

OH NO poor Lucifer!!!

MC being kinda mean by making him promise not to tell! They had to know he'd suffer at the hands of everyone believing he was them.

Then again, maybe it's good for him to experience a day being MC. He can finally know what it's like for MC to deal with this nonsense every day lol.

I love the idea that Diavolo figures it out almost immediately. Like MC shows up in Lucifer's body, ready to pretend to be him and get work done. At first Dia's like hmm okay.

But then MC does something too un-Lucifer like and Dia's like okay what gives. Who are you and what have you done with Lucifer. And MC just caves.

I can kinda see Levi just being unaffected. Like maybe he didn't even go to RAD that day and he's been holed up in his room playing some video game and missed the whole thing. 'Cause if he thought he was having some kinda sweet moment with MC and then found out later it was Lucifer, I promise the HoL will be flooded shortly thereafter.

Beel takes it in stride. He just goes over to Lucifer and says "Sorry for what I did when I thought you were MC." And Lucifer sighs and looks aggrieved, but he's like it's fine. 'Cause who could stay mad at sweet precious Beel?

Belphie is devastated, but like hell he's gonna let anyone know. Says he doesn't care and goes to sleep. Later finds MC and is like, here's what I did when I thought Lucifer was you. It was terrible. How could you make me suffer like this.

Barbatos would know, I don't think he'd be fooled at all. He keeps the secret, but he's just laughing about the whole situation on the inside.

Simeon is confused. Wait. MC was actually Lucifer? Oh. Oh no. He's gonna be apologizing to Lucifer for anything he did when he thought Lucifer was MC, even if he didn't do anything lol. Lucifer's just like please let us not speak of it.

I love that Solomon is disappointed he lost his chance to try for a pact. Lucifer is just like it's never gonna happen.

Satan receives an unfortunately long lecture about the correct storage of cursed books.

[jeewrites]

Hold Fast | Ch. 5 - Five Courses

Series Master List

Rating: M, but this blog is 18+ MDNI

A/N: Frankie and Sweets finally go on their date! I do not recommend reading this when you are hungry. Ty to @bloviating-vy for beta-ing and providing all the emotional support one needs for writing fanfic lol.

Word Count: ~5.6K

Tags: no y/n, alcohol, gymbff!Benny, OC!Chloé, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short and has hair long enough to put into a ponytail, reader's nickname is Sweets, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), Tom owns a bar, Pope owns a gym, Frankie POV, kissing, making out, gratuitous descriptions of food, Sweets eats like a powerlifter, angst that resolves by the end of the chapter, discussion of previous relationships, implied past abusive relationship (not described), cliffhanger-ish?

<< prev next >>

After you leave on Sunday, Frankie spends the rest of the weekend scouring the internet for the latest, fanciest restaurants in the greater metropolitan area. He's determined to make up for canceling on you at the last minute and go all out for you after everything you've done to care for Gabi and him. Tucking into another bowl of your magical chicken noodle soup, Frankie sighs at his laptop after clicking through tasting menu after 7 course menu after kaiseki menu after some weird pop-up dinner theater. Yeah, no. This isn't it.

And a small part, ok large part of him, wants to impress you, but he's at a loss as to how since he doesn't know you well enough. Surely as a doctor you are used to living the good life, dining at fancy places, right? What would not just be good enough for you, but impress you? His phone buzzes with a text from Benny in the group chat about a new PR lift and that's when an idea pops into Frankie's head. After a brief exchange with Benny he shuts his laptop and readies for bed. He has a plan.

Just as you are sitting down to scarf down your lunch later that week, your phone vibrates with a text from your favorite brown-eyed pilot.

[text conversation]

😻🐟: Hey, so what kind of food do you like? 🏋🏻‍♀️: Yes 😻🐟: ???

🏋🏻‍♀️: I have to eat so much to fuel for 🏋️‍♀️, so yeah, I like food. 🏋🏻‍♀️: 🍜🍳🥩🍔🌮🥟🍣🎂🍩🍪🍮🧁🥐🫔🍧 🏋🏻‍♀️: I don't do sandwiches though 😻🐟: Roger that 🫡

😻🐟: Be ready to eat okay? Might want to wear something stretchy. Prepare yourself. 😉 🏋🏻‍♀️: 🫡 say no more. I have the perfect outfit. 😈 😻🐟: Pick you up Saturday at 4:30? I know it's early, but trust me ok? 🏋🏻‍♀️: 💃🏻💃🏻

You spend the rest of your break smiling into your lunch wondering what Frankie has planned for Saturday. The weekend couldn't come soon enough.

On Saturday, at 4:25 PM you hear a soft knock at your front door. Swinging the door open you're greeted by an enormous arrangement of dahlias, a stunning ombre of purple, pink, and fuchsia hues, a grinning Frankie peeking from over the top.

"For you," he says with a winning smile as he hands you the arrangement.

You're speechless. You didn't think he'd remember you whispering to him, nearly three weeks ago, what your favorite flowers are. And how did he know these are your favorite colors? Chase never remembered your favorite flowers despite the years you were together. He probably gave you flowers less than five times in the entirety of your relationship.

"You remembered," you breathe, looking up at him. "Frankie, they're beautiful."

"I do my best to remember the important things," Frankie huffs, cheeks pinking at your compliment. You catch him flick his eyes over your form, biting his lower lip. "And you're prettier than the flowers. You look — wow."

It's your turn for your cheeks to heat before you invite him in for a moment while you find the best spot to place the arrangement (you decide on your dining table so you can look at it every morning while you drink your coffee). The dahlias are arranged like a piece of art, exploding with color against the drab colors of your apartment. You could look at them all day.

"Sooo, where are we going this early?" you venture, finally taking your eyes off of the flowers and running your eyes over Frankie, admiring the way the navy button down shirt stretches deliciously across his broad chest and the khakis he's wearing hugs his hips and thighs. Curls accentuated with product. And surprisingly no hat.

"I'll tell you when we get in the truck," Frankie grins at you.

"Okay, Mr. Mysterious," you huff with a small smile as you grab your bag.

When you get to his truck he insists on opening the door for you and offering a hand as you climb in. As he settles into the driver's seat and starts the truck, he hands you a beige piece of folded card stock, printed to look like a menu. The cover reads, "Frankie's Food Truck Tour" in elegant script across the front.

You gape at him, excitement bubbling up your entire body. "You're taking me on a food truck tour?!?"

"Yup," Frankie responds, popping the 'p.' "Someone might’ve mentioned you love food trucks and hole in the wall restaurants. So I'm taking you to all the best ones I know about."

You're practically vibrating with anticipation as you open the card and gasp at the listed courses on the food tour.

Frankie's Food Truck Tour

Menu

First Course - Taco de Carnitas 🌮 Heirloom blue corn tortilla from house made masa, slow braised pork shoulder, pickled shallots, chicharrons

Second Course - Empanada Colombiana Braised beef, potato in fried corn flour crust

Third Course - Sunday Sauce with Fresh Tagliatelle 12 hour simmered ragu with fresh made tagliatelle

Fourth Course - Soup Dumplings ground pork, blue crab

Fifth Course - Gua Bao braised pork belly, pickled mustard greens, toasted crushed peanuts in steamed bun

Dessert - Italian Water Ice

You are so very glad you wore your fancy stretchy clothes because this is a veritable feast of all of your favorite things. You weren't joking when you told Frankie you liked to eat. Plus today's SBD day was max effort sets, so you are ready to inhale some food. But you are also so moved by his thoughtfulness, planning such a creative first date. Who told him about your love of food trucks and hole in the wall spots?

As Frankie eases onto the main road, he swallows before asking, "Does it look okay?"

"Okay? This is amazing Frankie! It's so thoughtful." You look at him with watery eyes. "No one's done something like this for me in a long time." You might have let out a little sniffle because he's glancing at you with concern etched across his handsome face.

"Hey," he soothes, sliding a hand into yours. "It's my pleasure."

He presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand. The gesture makes you melt inside at the sweetness. You intertwine your fingers in his, wanting to stay connected to him and you catch him smile when you do.

"Wait, so who told you I like food trucks?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Oh uh, I — I asked Chloé," Frankie's ears reddened at his admission. "I checked with Benny to see when she usually works out at Pope's and, uh, talked to her earlier this week."

You hum in response, impressed that Frankie would voluntarily approach Chloé considering most regulars at Pope's Gym wouldn't dare. She intimidated everyone too much.

"It was weird though. Benny acted like he didn't want me to talk to her until I told him it was to plan my date with you." Frankie continues, tapping the steering wheel.

"Huh," you wonder, filing that bit of information away. "Wonder why."

Frankie shrugs as he pulls the truck into a gravel parking lot. A half circle of food trucks sit just in front of a copse of trees, surrounded by picnic tables. Several other cars pull up shortly after you arrive and a queue starts to form at one of the food trucks on the far end.

"Ready for the first course?" Frankie grins at you as he opens the passenger door.

"Born ready, Frankie," you grin at him with barely contained glee.

By the third course, you and Frankie are both completely relaxed and enjoying each other's company, allowing the conversation to ebb and flow between food truck courses.

The carnitas tacos whet your appetite, a perfect balance of succulent pork shoulder topped with crispy chicharrones. Pickled shallots cut the tender, savory bites with crisp acid that dance along your tongue. Charred tomatillo salsa rounds out the bite. All perfectly wrapped in a freshly griddled blue corn tortilla. You can't help but close your eyes and let out a small moan as you experience the first bite. A cacophony of well-balanced flavors and complementary textures. When you open them again you catch Frankie with a pleased look on his face as he takes a bite out of his own taco.

At the second stop, Frankie asks why you don't do sandwiches as you chomp into a piping hot empanada. The corn flour crust crunches with satisfaction giving way to the tender braised beef and fluffy potato filling. Steam curls from the opening of the empanada, a testament to how freshly made it is.

"I mean, why would I want something slapped between two slices of bread when I can have this?" you respond as you gesture to your half eaten empanada. "It's just as portable and tastes a billion times better."

You scoop some of the red salsa onto your empanada before continuing, "Besides, I had way more than my fair share of sandwiches and cold, sad meals during med school and residency. I want my meals to be hot as much as possible."

"But what about hot sandwiches?" Frankie presses, even though he nods in agreement.

"I'll make an exception for them if they are really tasty," you acquiesce. "And bánh mì, especially if the baguette is baked fresh in house."

"Duly noted," Frankie smiles, taking mental note of your preferences.

"Oh my god, you have to try this salsa," you moan after you finish your salsa covered bite of empanada. The acid from the tomato cuts through the richness of the filling, followed by sharp bites from the minced white onion, finished by a hint of sweetness — maybe from pineapple?

"Wait, don't tell me you're a fan of sandwiches."

Frankie looks slightly embarrassed when he admits he eats most of his meals standing over the kitchen sink, especially when he has Gabi, but the food is usually at least hot. "I do love cooking meals for Gabi and introducing her to all of our family's foods," he adds. "She's a really adventurous eater."

You perk up at his information. "Yeah? That's so awesome Frankie. Maybe I can make her some of my family's favorites sometime?"

He gives you the sweetest look of adoration and gratitude. "She'd love that. I — I would too."

You continue to chat with Frankie about how Gabi is doing since you last saw her as he tidies up the picnic table, and you both head to his truck for the next course.

When Frankie pulls up at the third food truck, you giggle and remark at the kitschy decor, multi-color string lights, barrels painted the colors of the Italian flag, red umbrellas shading long wooden picnic tables and smaller red metal patio tables for two. The food truck itself is a long white truck reminiscent of an old milk delivery truck. Short velvet red curtains frame the ordering window with a mismatched gallery wall of photos and paintings hanging along the side.

As you and Frankie sit at a cute red patio table sharing a sangria, waiting for the buzzer to go off to retrieve your food, you hear a woman's voice call out, "Morales?! That you?"

"Hey— " Frankie stands to greet the person behind the voice before a blur of brown hair wraps him in a tight bear hug he returns awkwardly with one arm.

"Finally made it out to check out this place huh??" the brunette says as she pulls back and releases Frankie.

"Yeah, uh, thanks for the rec. This is Sweets," Frankie gestures towards you as you stand to meet her. "This is Becs. She's one of the flight nurses I work with."

"Ooh, date night?" Becs winks at Frankie as she pumps your hand up and down one too many times. "Didn't realize you were seeing anyone Morales. Gonna break all those hearts at the hospital when people find out." You offer her a wan smile, a bit overwhelmed by her chaotic energy.

"Wait! I know you," Becs cocks her head as she assesses you intently. You stiffen even if you don't recognize her. Before you know it she's dropping the name of your former employer, adding, "Yeah, I used to work as an OR nurse there, but jumped at the chance to become a flight nurse. Less surgeon egos, more excitement, ya know?" She gesticulates with fervor as she speaks.

"Yeah, uh, I worked there," you admit, realizing you've been holding your breath. "Been over a year since I left though."

She looks you over once more. Just when you think you're in the clear she snaps her fingers and exclaims, "I do know you! You were engaged to that new trauma surgeon, what's his name!"

Your heart is in your throat and you can't move. Can't breathe. Is this really happening right now? What are the chances you'd run into someone who'd recognize you from your old job right the fuck now?

"I'll never forget how you made a surgeon get on his knees so fast," she smirks. "It's not every day you see someone throw a $50k diamond ring across the cafeteria."

Really, what are the chances you'd run into someone who witnessed the moment your engagement exploded spectacularly in front of what felt like everyone at work? Over a year ago? You can't look at Frankie. This isn't how you want him to find out. Not that you were exactly hiding it from him, but wasn't this like a third date kind of conversation? What did you know, you're so out of the loop on dating things these days. Because you're old. Broken? No one's going to want you, your mother's voice hisses up from the abyss of your mind.

"Well, it's not every day you catch your fiancé cheating on you, at work," you grit out as you find your spine.

"Yeah, bummer about that." Becs waves you off. "It was hilarious watching him crawl around on his knees trying to find that ring though."

She slaps Frankie on the shoulder and says something about seeing him at work before tossing you a nice to meet you and jets off as abruptly as she appeared.

You brave a glance at Frankie, but not really seeing him with the adrenaline flooding your system. "I —"

"Sweets —"

Of course the food buzzer decides this is the most opportune moment to go off, shocking you back into yourself as it dances erratically on the metal table top flashing red like a siren. Frankie slides a hand over the buzzer and picks it up as he walks around the table to stand in front of you. With his other hand he gently cups the side of your face.

"Sweets, you don't have to explain. It's ok. Breathe."

You swallow and let out a stuttery breath as you clasp a hand over his. His hand is warm and comforting against your skin, steady unlike your heart pounding through your chest. The buzzer continues to flash red and vibrate, muted now in his other hand. When you look up, his warm brown eyes only convey care and concern at your thinly veiled panic. Full blown panic, really. You're practically shaking.

"Hey," his voice is soft like when he speaks to Gabi. "It's okay. I'm going to go grab our food and when I get back you can tell me as much or as little as you want. Whenever you're ready. Or we can just go back to talking about how much we hate sandwiches, okay?"

"I— you— okay," is all you can manage, followed by a small nod, eyes still wide with panic, even with his attempt at humor. Coherent sentences are back to being a struggle apparently.

"We all have baggage, Sweets. I mean, I have a whole ex-wife and toddler, remember?" He gives you one more understanding smile before telling you not to go anywhere as he heads to the food truck to collect your food.

How are you supposed to eat anything right now? Your heart is in your throat and your stomach is in knots. You plop down in your chair as the adrenaline recedes, replaced by a wave of dread at what to possibly say to Frankie when he returns. At some point you did plan to tell him, but what happened spans several conversations, none appropriate for a first date. You try to ground yourself in what he said before he went to retrieve the food. It's okay. He has baggage too. He's okay with you telling him what you’re ready to tell him. What the fuck are you ready to tell him?

When Frankie arrives at Pope's Gym to catch Chloé and ask for her help in dinner ideas for his date with you, he isn't prepared for Benny acting so cagey and weird.

"Hey, Benny," Frankie greets Benny at the front desk with a familiar dap of the fist.

"Fish," a rare one word response from Benny, the more loquacious of the two Miller brothers.

"She here?"

"Sweets or Chloé?" Benny asks, feigning ignorance even though Frankie literally just texted him the day before asking when Chloé usually worked out at Pope's.

"For God's sake Ben, I'm looking for Chloé." Frankie glares at Benny before rolling his eyes. "To help me plan my date with Sweets. What's gotten into you?"

"Oh. Right, yeah she's here," Benny mumbles nodding in Chloé's general direction before sulking away.

As Frankie treks over, he notes the message on her cut off shirt declaring, "I'M A RAY OF FUCKING SUNSHINE." Chloé's covered in a sheen of sweat and breathing hard as she finishes a set of medicine ball slams.

"I'm pretending this is your head," she mutters at Frankie as he approaches. "For canceling on Sweets the day of without telling her why."

Frankie decides to stop a generous distance away from Chloé. He lifts his cap and runs his fingers through his curls, a nervous tic, before replacing the cap on his head. "Yeah, um, that really was my bad. Uh, that's — that's actually why I'm here."

He swears the glare Chloé gives him could kill.

"And why should I help you." It's not a question, but a challenge.

"I want to really impress her and go all out for her this Saturday to make-up for canceling," he continues before pausing. "Especially since she took such good care of my daughter and me when Gabi got sick last week. Which is — which is why I canceled at the last minute."

Chloé gives him a non-committal grunt, brows still furrowed, but her eyes motion for him to continue.

"I thought about taking her to some of those fancy tasting menu places, but I realize I don't know what she really likes… If she'd be into that."

"I mean, who doesn't like a fancy meal once in a while?" Chloé scoffs and shifts her weight from side to side, as if she's trying to decide whether to divulge more and help Frankie out. "But Sweets isn't into the fancy shit the way she is into food trucks and hole in the wall spots. The woman is always on the hunt for the best tacos or dumplings or whatever in the area."

Frankie nods along intently to what Chloé shares and takes detailed mental notes. You truly are a woman after his own heart.

"You should see her on vacation trying to suss out the best local eats. You always know you're going to eat well with her." Chloé glares back at Frankie before concluding with a threat for good measure. "You hurt her and I'll kill you. She's — she's been through enough. She doesn't need another guy wrecking her life."

Frankie appreciates a direct woman. And the tip about some guy wrecking your life. He stores that one away along with the threat.

"I just want to go all out for her. She deserves the best," he manages. "Gonna try my hardest not to fuck it up."

"Good," Chloé resumes picking up the medicine ball and raising it overhead before slamming it down on the ground. How does someone make everything sound like a threat?

"That still my head?" Frankie ventures looking at the medicine ball.

"Depends," Chloé huffs back at him, but he thinks he catches her smirking at him for a moment. "On how well you take care of my friend."

As Frankie thanks Chloé and turns to leave, he catches Benny hiding behind the cable tower machine watching the entire interaction, pretending to wipe down the gym equipment. Benny never cleans a goddamn thing unless it is a weapon.

"You're gonna take the paint off the metal," Frankie whispers to Benny as he walks by.

"Huh?"

Frankie shoves Benny out from behind the cable tower, "See you later, Benny boy. Good luck with that," as he motions with his eyes towards Chloé.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Benny calls back after catching himself from falling on his face in front of Chloé.

Frankie just shakes his head and beelines it to his truck. He has a food truck tour to plan.

When Frankie returns with a giant pile of fresh tagliatelle smothered in Sunday sauce, your stomach turns even if ragu is one of your favorite things. He sets everything down gently as if he is afraid to spook you with any sudden movements or sounds.

"I — I wasn't trying to hide my ex-fiancé from you," you blurt out without thinking. Smooth start there, tiger. Real smooth. You worry your hands in your lap to hold back the rising waves of anxiety. "I just thought failed engagements are more like a third date kinda conversation."

"Didn't think ya were," Frankie responds as he settles back into his chair. He slides a large hand across the table beckoning for you to place one of your hands in his. After a beat you slide a hand into his. It's warm and grounding. You find your shoulders relaxing away from your ears a smidge, and your stomach settles.

"I meant it when I said you don't have to tell me anymore than you're ready to," he reassures before something you said clicks, and he beams at you. "You'd go on a third date with me?"

You can't help but offer a small grin back, "I'd let you take me on as many dates as you want if they're anything like this, Frankie."

"Minus the co-worker with the big mouth." Frankie is full of jokes. "Too soon?"

You suppress a giggle bubbling up from your throat. "I guess that means you're not going to take me home after this?"

"Not unless you want me to, Sweets," Frankie squeezes your hand. "I'm having the best time."

Your stomach rumbles at this exact moment in response and Frankie laughs, tummy shaking laughter, wondering out loud how you are still hungry after tacos and empanadas.

"I told you I like to eat!" You cross your arms in mock indignation as Frankie wipes away tears of laughter and hands you a fork.

As you both dig into the pile of pasta, marveling at the depth of flavor a 12 hour simmer gives the ragu, you take the opportunity to ask Frankie about his work as an EMS pilot. His entire body is buoyant with excitement when he talks about flying, brown eyes bright with passion. You can tell the two loves of his life are Gabi and flying by the way he speaks about both.

"The hours aren't terrible, 12 hour shifts, 4 days on and 3 days off, with a lot of waiting around. But at least I'm not getting shot at now when I fly," Frankie shares, adding how his parents help watch Gabi when he has custody and has to work. Your breath hitches at the thought of anyone shooting at sweet Frankie.

"Next stop?" he tries to change the subject when he catches your worried expression.

You nod and attempt to help clear the table, but Frankie insists you don't lift a finger.

The next two stops fly by as Frankie tells you about the owners of the soup dumpling take-out window, former cooks at some Taiwanese chain making its way into the U.S.

"Ooo yes, DTF! I've been to one of their locations before!" you exclaim.

His eyebrows curve upward in confusion, "Wait, I thought DTF meant... something else??"

"Ohmygosh, DTF — Din Tai Fung!" you cackle. "Their soup dumplings are to die for."

Frankie admits he hasn't ever eaten a soup dumpling before as you lift the lid and a cloud of savory steam erupts from the bamboo steamer basket. You offer him two options that won't involve near boiling broth burning his mouth off. After all, you have... plans for that mouth.

"Next time we have to try the pork and shrimp ones too," Frankie tells you as he opens the passenger door for you. Seeing his eyes light up after the first bite and slurp of soup dumpling, you know he is a convert for life.

At the last stop he slides an arm around your shoulders as you sit side by side on a park bench splitting one extra-large gua bao, too full to each have your own. It’s the size of your face instead of the standard appetizer size. Frankie insists you take the first bite of the pillowy soft steamed bun, a vehicle for the unctuous braised pork belly, pickled mustard greens, and toasted crushed peanuts. The umami of spiced soy sauce carries forward balanced notes of anise and cinnamon with a not too sweet caramel finish of hoisin and brown sugar. A savory symphony of flavors in your mouth.

"That good huh," Frankie smiles as you let out a groan.

"Mmph," is all you can manage, eyes closed, savoring the bite with a happy food wiggle.

You offer the bao up to him, angled so he can get the perfect bite, the scruff on his chin tickling your fingers as he takes an exaggerated bite.

"Fuch, ish good," he mumbles, mouth full and sauce dripping out the corner of his mouth.

When you brush your thumb to wipe the sauce away, the pink triangle of his tongue peeks out to lick your finger clean. Your eyes flick up and catch a dark, mischievous look across Frankie's face that makes you want to combust on the fucking spot. You distract yourself by taking another bite of the bao before offering the last bite to him.

He sighs in contentment when the food is finished and pulls you closer to him, tucking you to his side. It's warm and safe here snuggled against him with his strong arm draped over your shoulder as you idly watch other diners nearby. Safe enough you weigh the risk of ruining the moment by sharing about your painful past.

"Can I tell you a little bit about... what happened a year ago?" you ask, voice quiet, looking up at him.

Frankie returns your gaze, "Of course."

"Ok," you drop your gaze to your hands and take a deep breath before continuing. "We, um, met in college. Both of us pre-med... and just dorks with the same goals you know?"

You tell Frankie about Chase, how he changed from a sweet college boy to someone you didn't recognize as you went through med school and residency. "I was so afraid of being alone, I ignored the red flags and how we were growing apart until he went out of state for his fellowship and I stayed here. That’s when I realized I was happier on my own than when he would visit."

You peek up at Frankie through your lashes and realize he's been looking at you and listening intently the entire time. "But it took catching him cheating for me to leave."

You shudder at the memory of the night you tried to leave and the weeks that passed before you finally could. That is a story for another day. Frankie tightens his grip around your shoulders as he releases a sharp exhale through his nose when you stop talking.

"I appreciate you sharin' all that with me, Sweets," he says, pausing as if he isn't sure what he wants to say next. His thumb on your shoulder tracing slow circles on your skin.

"I guess I spent the last year working on myself and figuring out what I want now in a relationship," you continue.

"And what's that?"

"Where I can be myself and not have to cut off pieces to fit someone else's idea of who I should be — accepted for being me," the last part you say wistfully.

"As you should be. You're amazing, you know that?"

"Depends who you ask," you respond, quirking a smile up at him. "But I like myself alright now."

Frankie shares a bit about where things went south with Vanessa, his struggles with learning how to single parent. They had been high school sweethearts and stayed together, though he admits he felt like they were growing apart even before he joined Delta Force. How they tried to stick it out when Vanessa got pregnant with Gabi, but eventually realizing it was better for everyone if they separated.

You pull his arm tighter around you when you feel him hesitate and start to pull back after sharing about his own relationship history.

"Thanks for telling me."

"Not too much?" Frankie asks, eyes etched with worry.

"You're never too much for me, Frankie."

He visibly relaxes before asking, "Would getting dessert be too much?"

"Never," you say as you stand and offer your hands to pull him up. "Don't you know I have a whole separate stomach for dessert?"

The dessert course is a small takeaway window for Italian water ice just off the broad walk along the beach. You weigh the flavor options, debating between mango and passion fruit, before finally deciding on mango. Frankie picks passion fruit without hesitation.

He gives you a knowing smile and wink when you raise an eyebrow to his choice, "Figure that way you'll get to try both flavors." Is it possible to simultaneously melt into a puddle and combust from his thoughtfulness?

The velvety smooth ice refreshes as the fruit flavor cleanses your palate from your decadent dinner. You both make your way down the broad walk at a leisurely pace, sharing bites of yours with Frankie as he feeds you bites of his.

“Not too sweet?” he asks with a grin, knowing your bar for the ideal dessert.

“Not too sweet,” you confirm with a pleased smile.

He offers you the last spoon of his dessert, which you accept without hesitation because your sweet tooth is the boss, before he takes both your empty cups and tosses them into the trash. You intertwine your fingers in his as you continue your stroll, turning down one of the piers and walking down part of the way.

“Think this might be the best first date I’ve ever been on,” you smile at him, eye to eye as you lean back and balance on the lowest rung of the railing. His strong arms cage you in on both sides, protective as if you might possibly fall into the water below.

“Yeah?” He breathes back, curls whipped wild by the ocean’s breeze, brown eyes anchored to yours. “What would make it definitely the best first date you’ve ever been on?”

“If you kissed me right now.” The tip of your tongue wets your lower lip as your gaze flicks to his plush lips curving into a small smile at your words.

Frankie smooths your hair back before cupping your cheek with one hand. “Think I can manage that.” He presses the line of his body against you as he slots his mouth against yours, gently at first, until you open for him to lick into your mouth. A soft moan escapes your throat. He kisses you harder, his other large hand snaking up the middle of you back to cup your neck, holding you in place. You reach your hands to run your fingers through his curls, such soft curls, tugging to keep him pressed against you. When he lets out a soft moan you realize he likes it when you do that.

Your foot slips when someone suddenly catcalls the two of you, followed by a "GET A ROOM!" But Frankie catches you with his quick reflexes, holding you tight against him. "I got you, baby," he reassures, voice breathy and soft. Baby. You practically melt at the endearment. And because he's now nuzzling the sensitive spot behind your ear with the delicious curve of his nose, peppering kisses down the column of your neck.

"Frankie," your voice comes out breathy like you've just sprinted down the broad walk. You repeat his name when he continues to pepper you with kisses.

"Hmm," he rumbles against your neck.

"We're in public." A giggle escapes your throat.

His eyes flick up to yours, black pupils edging out the brown you get lost in, expression intense. Hungry, but not for food. He wraps an arm around your waist and places you gently back on solid ground.

"I can fix that, baby," he murmurs. Pressing a kiss to your temple and tucking your hair behind your ear, he steers you by the small of your back and leads you back to his truck.

<< prev next >>

Endnote: Sweet's relationship with her ex-fiance is partially inspired by this quote from Robin Williams: "I used to think that the worst thing in life was to end up alone. It's not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel alone."

Hi hi, did ya miss me? I missed YOU. Been adjusting to a new job and the absolute fatigue from training has me beat (summer powerlifting competition wee!). But I’m so glad Frankie and Sweets finally went on their date and ate so well. It’s funny, but I’ve mostly written the last chapter and I just need to get them there. I’m learning that all the stuff between is uh, the hard part. Also, I still haven’t wrapped my head around writing smut, but we’ll see. At least they kinda made out? Lol. Thanks for reading if you’ve made it this far. It means the world to this newbie fanfic writer. Taglist is open! You know you wanna! xoxo, Jee

Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held @littlemisspascal

@burntheedges @darkheartgatita @enretrogue @titabel

@copperhalfcent @triplefrontier-anniversary

[mercurygray]

#76 broken pieces for whatever two characters you would like, please.

I have a brainwave that these two needed to share a scene - so here they are.

This was the third date this month.

It felt funny, saying that, that Molly was going on a date, but Billie wasn't sure she had any other word for when a fellow dropped by in a nice suit, picked up a girl in a nice dress, and the two of them went out to dinner.

A date. Could you even imagine? It was Berlin and the war was over and they were going on dates again, real dates, where you spent time cleaning yourself up first and the fellow actually had a front door to show up at. Not like they'd done during the war, where a date could be meeting a guy for dinner in the next foxhole, or sharing a blanket, or watching a fire. Any spare five minutes alone.

But here he was, on the front mat, shoes shined and hair combed. She wondered what they were paying him - his suit looked too nice for Berlin. Everything here was shabby after six years of war, and he looked out of place in the hallway. "Mr. Rosenthal." She opened the door and let him inside before returning to her seat at the table.

"Sergeant Mitchell."

"She's almost ready - she found a run in her stocking and had to change."

He shrugged. "We're not in any hurry."

Billie nodded, and returned cagily to her magazine, glancing up to follow his eyes around the room, taking in the small bits of art on the walls, some of it stuck up with tape, the calendar in the kitchen, the dishes in the drainer by the sink.

George Stout wasn't ever one for running a really military outfit, and the fact that they were Army without the Army meant private billeting rather than barracks. It was just the two of them in the apartment, though there were several other officers in the building, which was run by an absolutely ancient little old lady who knew very little English. (Molly was trying to learn German, just to get by a little with her, but the Army phrasebook wasn't getting them very far.)

He looked a picture, standing there in the front room - you could say that much. He would have looked even more handsome in class As, with that dark dark brown bringing his eyes out in full force and the mustache that made him look like Tyrone Power. An easy charmer, one of the gang would have said. But she'd known easy charmers before. What do you know about him, Mol? Like, really know? Apart from the blue eyes and the curly hair and the manners and the smile and the fact that he can't sing? He's been coming here for a month and what is he? A hotshot pilot and a lawyer and what else? What's he hiding? Where's the catch?

Because there's always a catch, isn't there? With a boy like that. He's too good.

Billie rose from her chair and moved to put her now-cold cup of coffee in the sink. "I don't think she ever told me where you're from, Mr. Rosenthal."

"Brooklyn - Flatbush."

Billie had a sudden desire to call up Ruth and ask her what she knew about flyerboys from Flatbush. "And you still have family there? Parents, siblings? Girlfriend?"

He nodded. "My mother, and my sister." He smiled a little. "And no girlfriend."

Notice I didn't ask about a wife. "You still close with them?"

His smile never wavered for a moment. "My mother writes me nearly every week. Sister less often, but she'll put a word in Mom's."

"And your firm, are they - are they taking you back, when this is over?"

"I'm sure they will be." He moved closer to the kitchen and looked her in the eye. "You know, I could provide personal references, if that would take less time, Sergeant. Former commanding officers, friends - my rabbi." He smiled at her surprise. "I'm a lawyer. I know what an interrogation looks like."

Billie squared up, her eyes meeting his with no hint now of gentle prying. If you thought the rabbi was going to trip me up, I'll tell you now I don't care. "I like having all the facts." And the fact is that I don't know you, Robert Rosenthal, and I don't like that.

"And the fact that I like Molly an awful lot?"

See, you say that and I believe you, and I hate that I do. "Lots of guys can say they like a girl, Mr. Rosenthal. Maybe even use the word love. Doesn't mean a thing later. I'm trying to establish intention and motive." There's been a war on. People say things they don't mean all the time. Isn't that why you have a job?

He was watching her with a kind of respect in his eyes, smile tugging at his mouth. "Have you ever considered becoming a lawyer, Sergeant?"

Billie felt off balance at the compliment. "The bar wouldn't have me."

He laughed at her casual brutalism, and glanced down at his shoes, considering his next words very carefully. "When you fly a bomber, the only guys you trust are the other nine in the plane with you. Imagine it's the same in a foxhole."

"After they've given you a reason to, sure."

"Guess I'll just have to work on that, then."

It was then, of course, when they were nose to nose and eye to eye that Molly walked in, beautiful in her dress uniform. "Billie Mitchell, are you interrogating him?"

Rosie stepped back, supremely unconcerned by all of it. "It's all right, Mol. We were just talking. It never hurt to have friends who care."

He calls her Mol. And he calls me Sergeant, because he knows we're not friends yet. That's what Ron did, too.

Billie met Molly's eye with a clenched jaw, almost afraid of what she'd find there. It's what you did for me, isn't it, care? And I never listened. But you're smarter and better than me, and you deserve better, too, better than broken promises and broken pieces of a heart. And if he is what he says, you deserve him, Molly. You deserve the world. And if he's not then I'll bury him.

"No," Molly said, softening a little, realizing what they were saying. "No, it never did." She sniffed and checked the fastening on her purse, fiddled with a button. "Will you wait up?"

Billie shook her head. "You'd better take the key. I'm not going out."

Molly nodded, grabbing the key and its chain from where it hung near the door and closing the door behind her as she and Rosie left. He would ask her, at dinner, what that had all been about, and perhaps Molly would tell him - or not. She fell in love with a guy she thought she knew. It ended like you think it did.

[cowboysandpilots]

Secrets of a 30-Year-Old Flyboy — ch. 2

Fake Roonix, Secret Hangster | Words: 895 | Warnings: Blood, medical stuff, sickness, miscommunications, and boys being stupid.

Hondo was waiting for Bradley when he landed, having been listening on the comms. He was halfway across the tarmac when he saw Bradley collapse. He hollered over his headset for medics to get out there immediately. Mav ordered the squadron back to base as Hondo informed them that something was wrong with Rooster. By the time they all landed and had climbed from their planes, the military EMS team had gotten Rooster on a stretcher and were headed for the base hospital. They’d left, telling Hondo they would be contacting Rooster’s emergency contact. All of this, Hondo told everyone as they gathered around him, worry evident. Jake hung back from everyone, staying quiet as he listened to what Hondo had to say. He was pale, and his hands trembled as he stared at the blood that was staining the ground near Bradley’s Hornet. He was finding it hard to breathe. Jake should’ve known something was wrong. He’d seen that Bradley didn’t look good when they got up this morning—hadn’t for a while now. This was his fault. He should’ve pushed, should’ve asked. As soon as Hondo was done talking, Mav was sprinting across the tarmac. He was pulling his phone out of his flight suit's inner pocket and fumbling to call Ice.

Ice, unbeknownst to everyone, was already on his way to the hospital since he had been listed as the man's emergency contact since his mom died at twelve. He's too focused on the road to reach for his phone, which was sliding around in the passenger seat.

"We have to go to the hospital," Phoenix said immediately. She didn't care if the rest of them came along; she was really just speaking for herself as Bradley's best friend. She wouldn't go back to work until she knew he was okay.

The rest of the squadron is quick to agree with Phoenix. Despite everything that Maverick had been yelling at them earlier that day, they were a team and moved as such to drop off their flight gear and head to the hospital. Everyone except Jake. He took a few shaky steps in the opposite direction until he was standing beside where Bradley had collapsed. He was shaking, and his breathing was coming out too quickly as he dropped to his knees. “My fault,” he gasped, fingers touching the still-wet tarmac. “I failed. Failed. Failed him.” Logically, it wasn't Jake's fault. Bradley was a grown-ass man, and he could call in sick if he weren't feeling well, but for the last ten years, since the academy, since they started their friends-with-benefits, specifically, their BDSM dynamic. As the dominant, it was Jake's job to take care of Bradley, to read his body language and take care of him even when he couldn't speak for himself. He always felt as if he failed when he couldn't do that.

It took Jake a long time to become aware enough to realize he was alone. Everyone else had left, and he needed answers. Thoughts of doom, that Bradley had bled out. Had died on the way to the hospital. Or was in surgery and was going to die on the table. He kept circling through his head as he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled his way to his truck.

Maverick scanned the waiting room with wild eyes as soon as he got to the hospital. He’d seen Iceman’s car in the parking lot. He felt like he could take at least a small breath when he saw the taller man and made his way straight to him. “Please tell me you are still his emergency contact,” he implored, reaching for Ice. Dimly, Maverick was aware that most of the rest of the squadron was filing into the waiting room not long after he got there.

Ice takes Maverick's hand with a nod. "How many times am I gonna have to answer the phone to 'you're listed as the emergency contact' for this kid?" It is meant to lighten the mood, but he only manages a slight chuckle, not even thinking that the rest of the squad is listening. It wasn't the first time, and as horrible as it was, Ice knew it wouldn't be the last.

Taking a deep breath, Maverick closes his eyes and clings hard to Ice’s hand. Probably too hard, but he’d worry about that later. “Enough that we will both have grey hair,” he groused before he looked up at him. “Did they tell you anything? Do they know what happened? Hondo said he threw up blood and collapsed.”

Jake stopped just barely inside the doors to the emergency room. His heart stopped at Iceman’s words, and he pressed his back against the wall. It was that or collapse. This had happened before. Something had happened before. Something that made Bradley need his emergency contact. Last time, Jake had made it in time. He kept repeating that to himself. He’d shot down that Su-57 before it killed Bradley. And in Afghanistan, he’d taken down an F-111 Aardvark that had a lock on Rooster. Pressing his hands flat against the wall, Jake swallowed thickly. Bradley was going to be okay. Jake saved him. Twice. A man that stubborn wasn't going to be taken out by a training exercise. He was going to be okay. Jake just had to keep repeating that.

——

Thanks for reading! 💕 Donate to my food fund if you want. 🥰

[wexhappyxfew]

24. whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin

For Annie and Brady please!!! I adore them and your writing!

HI ANON!!!! thank you so much for stopping by the askbox!! greatly appreciated, especially when it is annie and brady!! :) these two have my heart and deserve all the best things life has to offer. please enjoy this take on the prompt and these two just being so soft on each other (and brady well....brady being BOLD). lmao! ENJOYYYY!!! thank you for all the love on them! :D

you in my A-2

(a/n): partially inspired by the prompt, partially by an ask i got earlier. just....annie x brady getting more and more comfortable and slowly realizing things about this war that they didn't realize earlier. them. them them them. i need them to be the happiest they can be when this is all done :')

Ever since that first night in the Stalag that she'd crawled into the bunk with Brady, it had become a nightly thing that she'd evacuate by the time morning came, but yearned for with each passing day.

Where it was just the two of them, side by side, curled into one another's bodies, their eyes the only innocent thing held between one another in this horrid place.

Sometimes they'd talk, whispering quietly between another about random things, about some of the sad things of the world, about their lives back home that would be entirely different if they ever got out of here. Sometimes they'd just stare at each other, with what little light there was from the moon outside or the lights from the guard huts outside.

And by that point, Brady would usually thread his fingers into her somewhat tangled hair and she'd apologize for something she could hardly control and he'd whisper all the sweet things that it was fine, he just wanted to be there with her. And that usually lent to her fingertips brushing against his stubbled cheeks, her pointer finger tracing all those stress lines that popped out when it was just them, or she'd let her hands dip into his hair and brush it back in a calming motion that usually got him right to sleep.

And so by morning, when she was back in her bunk, curled in her blanket, looking across the way as people would start moving about, waking up, rubbing their eyes, yawning and stretching, she'd meet Brady's gaze from across the room and they'd share that silent look that meant more than whatever words either of them would manage to find.

It never went past that - the longing looks, the occasional forehead kiss. Maybe they were both scared to go over that line they'd drawn. That maybe if there was anything more, they'd lose it just as quick.

As Annie slid out of her bunk and crossed the small room towards where Brady was, she couldn't help but feel her heart bit a little faster just at the sight of him asleep there - his face scrunched up in a way that made her heart ache. The visible stress on his face even in his sleep made her want to pull him right into her arms and tell him over and over that everything would be okay, that they'd make it out, that she was okay beyond anything. Because he cared so much, that he stopped taking care of himself sometimes. And she always would pick up what pieces were lost and stitch them back together again and hold him in the darkness.

As she approached, she softly bit back her lip and reached out to prod him awake, which always made her feel guilty for doing such a thing, but he welcomed it and told her it was fine, despite her want to make sure he got a full nights sleep. Brady woke with a shake awake and turned to look towards her and smiled softly in the darkness.

"Hey," he whispered, before opening up the blanket, "hop in." Annie watched him for a moment, before her cheeks warmed - they always did when he looked at her like that - and she slid in beside him and let him engulf her in a mixture of his arms and blanket.

The second she felt her body pressed against his in the cocoon of blankets and warmth, her worries were stripped away, as they normally always were. She curled herself against the heat from his neck, her body begging for some sort of comfort in all of this, as he pressed a kiss against her temple, something he'd grown more akin to recently it seemed. It's not that they didn't want people to see them, it was more of the fact that they finally were back with each other and trying to keep things like they had been back at Thorpe Abbotts - friendly, maybe dancing the line of flirting but not nothing more. But here at the Stalag, they were anything but. And they both seemed to recognize that.

"You doing okay?" he whispered softly against her ear as she cuddled further into him the best she could and sighed, "That cold finally going away?" She nodded against him.

"Yeah," she whispered, "just a little bit of a stuffy nose, but can't complain. How about you?" She leaned back from him, from his warmth and smiled at him as she leaned a hand up against her head. Reaching forward, she ran her hands through his hair and watched a sense of calm wash over his form for a minute as she did so. And it did settle Annie's own nerves and worry for Brady that she constantly endured day in and day out. She always worried about him and seemed, but it was always mutual for the two of them.

"Okay," he said quietly, before the corner of his lip turned upward, "better now that you're here, I gotta admit." Her cheeks warmed and she shook her head before holding his gaze in her own.

"You're too sweet on me, John Brady." she whispered softly to him, cupping his cheek for a minute and brushing her thumb across his cheek as she grinned at him with her rosy cheeks. Brady watched her, that slightly far-off look in his eyes, a hint of a smile. He grinned.

"You deserve it, Annie," he whispered back to her, reaching up his own hand and brushing his fingers against her warm cheek and grinning, "that and you blush red like a tomato."

"You a fan of that?" she whispered back quickly with a laugh and she watched him bit his lip and smirk.

"I'd say I'm a big fan of that," he whispered back, "'specially when you look like this." Annie watched him - she could probably be covered in mud and he'd be staring at the way he currently was. And now, stuck in a Stalag camp, looking slightly malnourished and sickly, with slightly matted hair and sunken in eyes and he still looked at her like that and said things like that.

"I could say much of the same," she whispered back to him, turning her head slightly to nuzzle into his hand against her cheek, "you look cute when you blush." John Brady did in fact blush when she said that, even though she couldn't even really see much of his face in that darkness of the room. She grinned and then leaned forward and cuddled into his neck again, Brady chuckling the slightest bit as he curled into her as well.

"You're so warm." Annie whispered against his neck as the rumble from his throat echoed in her ear and made her grin like a loon,

"You're like a personal blanket." That got him to chuckle quietly again as her lips danced near her ear and she could practically hear each and every breath that left his lips - a mixture of knowing he was alive and right there next to her - and even more so; knowing that all they were in that moment right now were two people dying for an ounce of comfort in this world.

"Consider me your personal blanket," he whispered back as his lips continued to ghost over her ears, "I was thinking….." Annie listened to him trail off and gulped for a moment as his breath trembled and his heart pounded.

"I'd give anything if it was me and you back at Thorpe Abbotts, just you in my A-2 jacket and nothing else." he whispered and her body grew hot - whether from his soft, husky voice in her ear or the way his hands had found their way underneath her clothes, fingertips grazing her bare back, traversing her battered and hot skin, her thoughts were suddenly in a blunder and all she could think about well was….that. Annie pulled back from her spot curled against his neck and met his gaze.

"Just your A-2?" she whispered softly, looking at him shyly from underneath her eyelashes, a small smile growing on her face as a look dawned on his features that almost seemed like he hadn't meant to let that slip from his lips, but it had, "What does that mean for you?" Brady watched her, the look in his eyes matching the touch of his fingertips on her skin and she suddenly couldn't focus on anything else but that gentle touch of his fingertips. He leaned closer and brushed his lips against her forehead again with that tender touch.

"You can have me anyway you want me." he whispered against her forehead and her eyes instinctively shut as he pressed up against her and she overwhelmed with him. His presence, his touch, the way he held her so gently and close to him, but with a level of protectiveness and care that made her know that this was safe, that she was safe, just like this.

Annie reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, slowly running her fingers up into his hair as his head fell to the inside of her neck and he pulled her close, like a warm, tender hug that you never wanted to pull away from. Gleefully his hands raced along her bare back as she curled against him, feeling the way his hands explored underneath her coat and wooly top, dancing across her skin and making her feel things she hadn't quite felt in some time.

"Can I tell you something?" Annie whispered softly to him, rubbing slowly again through his hair as he sighed against her.

"What is it?" Annie listened to his heartbeat for a moment before blinking.

"This is the safest I've felt in years." And to even say a statement like that, in a place like this was ironic even in it of itself. She hadn't even felt the safest at home, a place that was supposed to be safe. No, no, she felt safest in the arms and embrace of someone she had only met a couple of months ago and had proved himself to be more of a home to her beyond anything.

"With me?" Annie nodded against him.

"Right here." she whispered back to him, "You and me." His grip didn't loosen, he only held her tighter and it seemed in that moment, the realization and the weight of whatever was going on between them seemed to hit. Her truth spilling from her lips quietly into his body, his grip tightening, their bodies pressed against one another in a way that should've felt foreign. Brady seemed to want to say something, she could tell, but when he stayed quiet and instead pressed another soft kiss to her forehead, she didn't question it. Because whatever they had here was okay for right now.

"I feel safe with you too, Annie." he whispered back and Annie was convinced even she wasn't so comfy, that she wasn't sure what she would've done if they'd been looking right at each other, inches apart. For now, she cuddled closer to him, enjoying his hands on her stomach and his lips near her ear, their soft breaths, mixing into deep slumber as they laid in each other's embraces until the world went quiet.

[charlies-diary-entries]

metamorphmagus!reader drabble <3

very, very long fluffy ass drabble approaching, just about 2k words. im actually deeply insanely obsessed with the concept of the metamorphmagus (my non-binary is showing, i know) and need more content of a metamorphmagus!reader.

you officially meet the marauders during your later years at Hogwarts. they'd heard of you before, how could they not? beyond the small class sizes (which required you be aware of essentially everyone in your year, willingly or not), and the houses (which only further narrowed your chances of not knowing anyone), it was difficult for something as rare as a metamorphmagus to slip under anyone's noses.

james recalled seeing you at quidditch games, your hair vividly colored to match whichever team you were supporting. he was often proud to look through the crowd and find you sporting flaring red locks, cheering alongside his fellow gryffindors. he was proud, even if he knew you weren't there for him. very secretly, he often found himself wanting you to be there for him.

remus remembered the awkward instance of a professor dragging you to the front of the class and demanding you transform for him and your peers. it was a substitute for care of magical creatures, and he was determined to treat you like something to study. remus had cringed as you shifted, clearly uncomfortable and disjointed, before running off and skipping the rest of the day, upset. he wished he had gone to comfort you.

sirius often thought about when he spotted you shifting back to your true face while being dragged through the corridors by minnie. she was huffing and puffing about something you had done, some harmless prank scaring some first years with a strange face, but you only laughed. when he caught your eye, you winked, and he could feel his cheeks flush as he grinned. he'd suspected you'd be great fun for a while yet, but you were just beginning to prove yourself to him.

you had mostly slipped them all by up until their fifth year. by then, the boys had all been dating each other only for a short amount of time but it was becoming apparent to the rest of the school that the marauders were now strictly "look, but don't touch". they were really too fond of each other to consider anyone else now! (this was deeply upsetting information for the many young witches and wizards who had their hearts set upon a member of the famous group.)

however, as you had continued to find passion and joy in care of magical creatures despite your previous experience, you were studying to be a magizoologist. this meant, you were assisting kettleburn while james took the class. which of course meant, he finally had a clear opportunity to befriend you.

you and james caught on like wildfire, and it didn't take long for him to begin dragging the other marauders into your study sessions. hours would pass by, quiet jokes turning into loud laughter and getting shushed by the librarian. they found your ability endlessly fascinating and you were only too happy to oblige your new friends. (one time you transformed into sirius and the two of you acted out him falling in love with himself. the uproar it sent james and remus into actually got you kicked out of the library.)

it didn't take very long for you to become the newest unofficial member of the marauders. you were their beloved friend, and unfortunately in remus's eyes, all too smart. you had figured out his "furry little secret" just within the first month of knowing them all. the next month, they sat together in the hospital wing. sirius was holding remus's hand as james lay next to him on the bed, trying to bring him what comfort they had to offer when you stormed in. they were all aghast when you appeared in the hospital wing after the full moon with a full load of chocolate, several novels, and a promise that you'd do anything you could to help Remus through the lunar cycle. (remus thinks this very well may be when he fell in love with you. didn't help that you refused to leave his side for the rest of the day, reading to him and holding his hand in an entirely friendly way.)

you often joined them for the famous gryffindor parties, often getting sufficiently drunk and completely out of your mind. your appearance would shift constantly, struggling to find one stable face and body when your mind was so fuzzy. you would dance and laugh with them all, so when remus had squeezed sirius's hand and sent him to the corner you'd tucked away in, he knew something was wrong. you had been rather viciously rejected by a ravenclaw you liked, and now, very drunk, you were moaning to sirius about your appearance. could you have made your lips fuller? grown your hair? maybe cut your hair? what could have been different, more attractive, what could have made them like you? bigger eyes? sharper features? he had held your shifting face, helping you calm down and relax into your true complexion. (sirius had thought you looked completely gorgeous as yourself, because no matter how you looked, no matter what changed, he could always tell when you were comfortable in your own skin. he liked you best like that.)

and you always stood for what you believed in. once, james and remus had to not-so-gently drag you away from someone who had loudly claimed werewolves were "inhuman monsters". you continued to shout after them until you were dragged out of their sight, after which you gave remus possibly the longest hug he'd ever had. james gave him a soft kiss on the cheek after they sent you off to class, hoping you wouldn't attack any other students. unfortunately, later that same day, james caught you shouting at the very same student, defending a muggle-born slytherin. he didn't hear what they said, but something shifted in your eyes before you physically shifted, taking on a shit-ton of muscle and pouncing on them. he raced to pull you off as you bellowed at them, wordless and angry, before a professor raced over and helped him. you were dragged off to detention for a week and the slytherin dealt with a broken jaw and black eye as punishment for calling the student you had defended a mudblood. (james only felt immense appreciation for you afterwards. he'd never seen you spark like that before, and he'd never seen you look so undeniably hot.)

it was an incredibly comforting conversation between the three of them when sirius had audibly expressed just how attractive you were. james and remus were quick to agree, and it grew to them admitting to each other their collective feelings for you. but with it suddenly out in the open, none of them knew how to interact with you anymore. the previously friendly touches now felt charged, every glance your way was longing, and none of them knew how to manage it.

it didn't help that you seemed to be pulling away from them either, flushing and quickly making your way out of most of your conversations with them. they thought they were scaring you off. in reality, you were scaring yourself off.

you felt the exact same as them, but deeply feared ruining one of your few lasting friendships at the school. you began shifting into new faces, new bodies, ones they wouldn't recognize in order to avoid them in the halls. it stung to see them searching for you in class and around school, and it stung more when they gave up. maybe if you avoided them you'd begin to feel normal about them again. (you'd had enough weird for a life time, the few normal things you could have you desperately clung to.)

eventually, they caught onto you. again, there were only so many students at Hogwarts, so seeing a new one every other day during their classes with you? it was a painfully ineffective tactic.

remus caught you one day, lounging by the lake. well, sulking seemed a more accurate word, as you were incredibly glum, despite being relaxed enough to look like yourself. it felt like the first time he'd seen your actual face in years. he called out to you.

you jumped, and turned to run, but he cried out for you to stay. and well, you couldn't deny him. not when he sounded like that. not when he sounded so... abandoned. you cringed as you turned around and he rushed up, grabbing your face, turning you this way and that, filled with worry. he asked if you were okay, if you'd been hurt, if they'd hurt you somehow, and why in godric's name were you avoiding them so much-

and gently, you grabbed his wrists to still him, opening your mouth to... to what? comfort him? lie and say you were fine? no words escaped you as remus realized what he'd done and quickly pulled his touch away from you, a flush spreading across his cheeks. (he nearly didn't notice how you'd deflated as he stepped back.)

an awkward, pained grin crossed his face as he looked at you and whispered to you, "where'd you go? what happened to... to us?"

you very nearly broke down in tears right then and there, sucking in a sharp breath as you tried to prepare for losing them. that could be the only possible resolution to all this mess, and you'd be on your own. again. that was fine. you began to speak again, before a shout interrupted you.

james barreled past remus to give you a bear hug so forceful he actually tackled you to the ground. sirius was not far behind him, slipping a hand around remus's side and leaning into him, relaxed at finally seeing you.

a few tears slipped down your cheeks as you hugged james back, who only held you tighter, shouting that you could never leave them alone again. "we all love you too much to lose you ever again, so don't ever get lost, okay?"

you chuckled softly, more tears escaping as you buried your face into his neck. your laughter quickly boiled over into quiet sobs, shakily asking, "love, huh? that's- that's an awful big word, you- are you sure you love me?"

"love you? dove, we're plain obsessed with you-" james finally pulled back, shaking your shoulders then cupping your cheeks. "don't cry lovie, why are you crying?"

"because you don't- you don't love me the way i love you."

james tilted his head at you, deciphering your words, before your true meaning hit him like a truck. he grinned, whispering a quiet "fuck it" before shoving completely into your space and smashing his lips against yours. his glasses went crooked and you gasped into it, and there was some teeth clashing from how much james was smiling, but it was wonderful.

when he finally pulled back, panting and gleefully laughing, you could hear sirius's wolf-whistle and remus's shocked chuckles. you quickly looked between all of them, completely shocked before locking back onto james.

"you- you kissed me."

"sure did, dove."

"did," you glanced between all of them again, now keeping your eyes on sirius and remus as you leaned towards james and whispered, "do all of you want to do that?"

james somehow grinned even brighter. "sure do, dove."

"oh."

you felt your cheeks become ridiculously warm as sirius plopped beside you two, dragging remus down with him and smirking at you the entire time. you shyly smiled at him as he leaned over and smacked a kiss to your cheek.

"how- how long have you all been- how long have you felt this way?"

"long enough dove," remus said, leaning over and pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead before smiling down at you.

"certainly long enough."

i'm begging someone to request more metamorphmagus!reader, especially gender queer or otherwise. (i'll probably still write it even if you don't though, lol) i will also be writing more magizoologist!reader! just smth about a reckless partner that the marauders just can't keep track of... <3