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pedgito · 3 months ago

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𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part ii)

summary | The temptation with Joel is unavoidable, one consequential choice leading to several, but with time, you find that healing is easier with someone just as broken as you.

author's note | I DID NOT FORGET THEM I SWEAR. i know the first part was posted in july and i abandoned my baby i'm horrible. BUT, the writing bug is back in full force and this chapter was already halfway done so PLEASE ENJOY. i missed these two dearly.

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma, no one's making good choices here, lowkey religion kink?? if you get it, you get. fingering, unprotected piv sex, semi-public sex, mentions of deconstruction, alcohol tw, this is packed with so much stuff i'm sorry

word count —11k

PART ONE, PART THREE (tbd)

The tweed sweater is more grating than the sound of your mother’s voice as you approach the doorstep of the Miller’s home. It’s fucking itchy, scratching at your neck in desperation to strip yourself of your more modest church clothes the moment you crosses the threshold. Your mother seems to notice your fidgeting, swatting at your hand with a look of unmistaken warning.

Cut it out.

Your hand drops to your side, fingers curling into your palm as they dig into the skin. The pain squeezes at your vocal cords, keeping you quiet. Tommy always looks slightly ridiculous when you step out for church on Sundays—starched jeans and perfectly ironed plaid button up to match, paired with an egregious belt buckle and cowboy boots.

The thing was though, he fit in perfectly. And you couldn’t hate Tommy, it was nearly impossible.

Once inside, you’re already beelining for the attic with your shoes slipped off by the door and ready to strip down the layers of clothes to quell the sticky heat that was lingering on your skin. But, there’s a creak to your left and a voice you hadn’t heard since the night before, under…more nefarious pretenses. But, he didn’t know that. You shouldn’t either.

Your eyes can’t meet his own as he rounds the corner, damp hair dripping droplets of water onto his clothed shoulders. He doesn’t speak to you, but he does look you over. There’s a smugness in his expression, amusement at your outfit like he knows. A perfect, modest length appropriate dress with that ugly fucking sweater your mom insisted on you wearing. You hate it, it was smeared all over your face, lips pulled into a tight line as your mother began barraging both of the brothers at once.

“She’ll come with,” You attention focuses back on the conversation halfway through, sneaking a small peak at Joel’s tired features, scratching at his beard with his other hand settled against his hips, so desperately wanting to escape the conversation, “I don’t need her being a nuisance while Joel’s trying to sleep.”

“She lives here,” Tommy points out, “I’m sure she can keep quiet. Do you wanna tag along?”

“No,” you respond with evident distaste, but there was also the creeping worry of being alone with Joel again, unsure how to approach your unfavorable behavior with him, “I’d really rather not, if that’s okay.”

Tommy offers a shrug to your mother, reminiscent of a told you so, before he’s cracking a joke at Joel’s expense, who still hadn’t spoken a word.

“Keep this loner some company anyways, he needs it,” Tommy jests.

“Well, we’ll be out until the evening,” your mother adds, almost like it was a bad thing which wasn’t nearly the case, in fact—it was a heavy weight off your chest, “so call if you need anything and sweetheart, mind your manners.”

“She’ll be alright,” Joel interjects suddenly, “ain’t never caused any problems with me.”

Your mother nods despite her inclination to make a comment or prove a point and after a tense goodbye and a hug that was far too tight, she’s dragging Tommy out the front door again and it shuts with a deafening click as Joel still remained in his previous position, eying the floor for a time before his eye meet your own as yank at the buttons of your sweater and shrug it off your shoulders.

The events over the past few weeks were clawing at your gut, that nervous and fluttering feeling driving you to silence—girl, always testin’ me—it was a constant echo in your head. That, flurried with his grunts and the sight of his hand gripping his cock. And your teasing words were no better, inviting him in and welcoming the temptation.

You had to cut the cord—this wasn’t you. It was wrong, sinful, the shame sitting on your tongue and bitter to swallow. It didn’t matter that it didn’t feel wrong, factually, it was. You would be shamed, frowned upon, rejected by your own mother if she even caught a whiff of your advances toward Joel. But, he’d lied for you when he didn’t have to and that was more confusing than it needed to be.

Joel clears his throat, “I’m gonna head to bed, worked a fifteen hour shift and I’m barely standin’ right now,” Your gaze flicks up as you kneel on the couch, settling into the cushion but leaning yourself slightly over the arm, “you gonna be alright?”

You nod silently and watch as he returns the motion and turns on his heels, the floorboards creaking under the weight and there was no chance like now—say it, just apologize.

“Joel,” you say louder than needed, but it does the trick, “I—you lied for me to my mother, you didn’t have to and I’m…sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I know that doesn’t change anything, but I—”

There’s a flickering of guilt across his own face that you’re familiar with, knowing he’s dreamt of you in the exact ways you’ve suggested and while he doesn’t audibly admit it, his thoughts almost project, eyes racking over your chest for a beat to long as they press together under your thin top and peek through the deep cut in your shirt.

“No harm done,” He lies, his eyes noticeable flicking back up toward your gaze and you don’t react, neither does he, “no sense in pissing her off more than she already is with you all the time, right?”

“Right,” you mumble dejectedly, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you settle into the cushion more permanently, “just…thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies assuredly, knowing he’d done you a favor with the expectation that it might absolve him of some of his own guilt about the entire situation—but just as Joel was being disingenuous, he suspected you were too.

Save your own ass and all that.

It didn’t matter and Joel knew it was better to move beyond it entirely.

Except his dreams are invaded with the sight of your tits, pert and perfect as he squeezed them under his grip and he swears he can feel the warmth of your skin, your smell, but the deep slumber quickly pulls him under.

There’s only so much to occupy your day, having made a few snacks for yourself and wandered aimlessly around Joel’s home, even managed a short nap amongst his soft snoring from his cracked bedroom door, occasionally looking around the corner or over your shoulder to find him sleeping deeply. By high noon, you’re restless. It was hot. Wicked summer heat. You decided to change into your swimsuit and head outside, grabbing a towel and a bottle of newly purchased sunscreen.

There’s a few reclining lawn chairs on Joel’s back deck luckily, snagging one as you drag it toward the lawn and into the sun, squinting at the blistering UV as you bring your sunglasses down your face and allow them to make home on the bridge of your nose. The neighbors have their sprinklers going, giving their gardens a much needed drink during the non-stop dry spell that Austin seemed to be under, the spray hits your skin gingerly as you settle into a good spot and take a seat, spreading the sunscreen out sparingly over your arms and legs, resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t be able to reach your back appropriately, but that didn’t matter.

You untied the back of your top, both at your spine and neck and reclined the chair out completely before resting on your stomach, eyes closed to the quiet hum of afternoon summer and kids playing a few houses down, the soft buzz of dragonflies and bees amongst the foliage.

It was the simple luxuries you enjoyed that weren’t possible with your mother hovering around you, but that was why you had so much appreciation for Tommy, keeping her busy beyond her means and knowing that she was happier when occupied with other things—like him, or the possibilities and expectations that would come with their new life when they did find a place together.

You knew you weren’t going with them, but that was another mountain to climb trying to explain to your mother, knowing it wouldn’t bode well and would end in an all out brawl if you dropped it on her now—in due time, you think.

Your tendency to fastrack through missed opportunities and experiences were your own downfall, but the newfound freedom was exhilarating, breathing in deep as you closed your eyes and relaxed, several minutes passing before you heard a creak at the backdoor.

But even then, you don’t move.

You know it’s Joel when the grill lid whines in protest, utensils clinging behind you.

He doesn’t say a word and forces himself to keep his eyes on the dirtied grill as he scrubs it down ignoring your occasional fidgeting and the soft creaks of the reclined chair, his eyes catching the soft skin of your back, the curve of your breasts as press out at your side, squeezed against the towel you were laying on and the strings dangling toward the grass that Joel had neglected for the past couple weeks and he’s only realizing his wandering eyes when his hand slips through the slit in the grill and drops the sponge into the ash, cursing loudly to himself.

“Was I being too loud?”

Joel tosses the sponge to the side and opens the tray to dump out the remaining remnants of ash from their last cookout, walking toward the dumpster near the gate leading to the front yard, no further than a few yards from you as he mumbles a quiet, “No. Wasn’t you.”

Weird. Your brow furrows for a moment before you reaching for the bottle of sunscreen, taking advantage of the extra pair of hands as you offer the bottle to his empty ones, the plastic cap hitting his stomach as you press it against him, hands pressed tight over your swim top to keep your breasts covered, despite how much the material failed to hide.

“Just my back,” you explain, “I can’t reach it. Well—I can, but I’m definitely missing some spots.”

Joel’s fingers curl around the bottle but he doesn’t pull and your fingers haven’t left either, grazing against the denim at his waist and you sigh in subtle frustration.

“Joel, it isn’t a trick,” you promise, “besides, with your hands it’ll take like, two seconds.”

He makes a face at that, halfway between amused and mortified. You shove the bottle deeper against his stomach, insistent as you raise your eyebrows.

“Oh, come on,” You beg, “It’s sunscreen, get over it.”

There it was. The snark you couldn’t hide, like second nature with him. He snatches the bottle with his tongue slipping under his top lip as he snaked it over his teeth and popped the cap with his thumb, flashing a content smile in his direction as you settle back on your stomach, pushing down at the strings of your bottoms slightly to offer the full expanse of your back.

Joel, poor Joel, swallows around the lump in his throat and tries indefinitely to ignore the everlasting bulge that grew in your presence, a side effect of inappropriate thoughts and your sharp tongue. He’s pathetic and he knows it.

He kneels down between your split legs, one knee on the cheap plastic and his other foot planted firmly in the grass as he hovers. It was as close as he could allow himself, a few inches forward and he would have his thigh pressed against your center, the swell of your pussy grinding against his jeans and he wouldn’t be able to resist, pulling at the loose ties and diving into the sweet divine.

You clear your throat, turning your cheek to rest against the back of your palm as you wait with the cold tip of your cross necklace snug between your lips, a self-satisfied smile growing on your face as the warmth of his hand contrasts the cool sunscreen, a broad stripe up your back from tailbone to neck as his fingers fold over your shoulder and drag against the chain before he’s tossing the bottle into the grass to make use of his other hand, spreading the sunscreen out evenly on the full expanse of your back.

A pseudo massage masked in the way his thumbs rub along the center of your skin, fingers rubbing in the sunscreen along your side, just along the curve of your hips before they’re back up at your shoulders and the muscle is being squeezed gently under his grip.

“You’re tense, kid,” Joel notes, pulling away to wipe his cream covered hands on the towel, catching your gaze.

“With a mother like mine, wouldn’t you be?”

Joel pauses briefly, a silent acknowledgment as he stands, vehemently ignoring the way your legs slip together and your ass pushes up into the air slightly as you reposition yourself.

He grimaces at how sticky his hands feel still, reaching for the spout on the siding and gripping the hose in his hand as the water pours out, hot for a moment as it slips out before it rushes out ice cool, wetting his hands generously.

“Can’t stand getting a little messy, can you?” You tease when you hear the water run behind you, lifting up on your forearm to peer at the older man, his face still frozen in a tight grimace but his eyes briefly turning up toward you.

What a little shit.

His thumb slides over the opening on the hose and transforms the flow into a forceful spray as he lifts stream and at the chair you were lounging in, forcing you up in a matter of seconds while Joel rendered you drenched, top forgotten as you slip your arm over your breasts in attempt to retain some decency.

The cause of action only dawns on Joel in the aftermath, watching you sopping wet as you stomp toward him and attempt to yank the hose from his grip, the option for turning the spout off forgotten—it couldn’t be that simple.

Joel quickly extends the main end of the hose from your grip with a tug of a smirk and you huff, hard through your nose as you twist and press your back against his chest as you wrestle for his arm, in a wrestle for the hose his arm finds home against your chest and you gradually fall to your knees, tackled by Joel in a manner that is surprisingly gentle despite your frustration.

But, somehow you end up chest to chest and none of the effort is worth it, even as you turn the house on him and the water soaks his clothes and your chest, hose slapping into the grass as you toss it aside, breath catching as your heart raced from the exertion.

Joel makes the mistake of shifting to move, his knees hiking behind the curve of your ass and pushing his clothed cock against your core, only separated by a couple layers of clothes, his denim against your think bikini tied lazily at your waist and his eyes drag down by pure coincidence as he tries to find his grip against the grassy surface.

There it was—his eyes on your chest, your eyes on him, and his cock hard against your cunt in an unignorable way.

Joel quickly scrambles to his feet with a frustrated clear of his throat, ignoring you like a quick spreading plaque as he left his tasks behind to disappear as quickly as he had resurfaced and you reach blindly for your top, draping it over your chest hastily as you tried and failed to piece together what the hell had just transpired.

It was like a shot of adrenaline in your bloodstream as you sat up, the world spinning in a way that made you woozy—you turned toward the back door, slightly ajar from the force Joel used to shut it, slamming against the frame before it popped back open.

He could deny you all he wanted, but his body couldn’t lie—wondering if he was running off to finish himself like he had the night before, almost daring to chase after him.

But instead, you hide.

Decisive and calculated, you’d wait him out.

Like meek prey, he’d seek you out if the hunger struck.

—

After a swift shower you barricade yourself upstairs, the murmuring voices below lulling you to sleep as you skip dinner—you couldn’t speak to Joel, wouldn’t.

He lies for you, despite knowing that your avoidance of dinner was entirely his own fault.

Sort of.

It was a double-edged sword, both parties responsible.

But, Joel feels the guilt faster, easier, and he drowns it away in a six pack of beers Tommy brings home as he and his brother, and his soon-to-be sister in law enjoyed a quiet dinner, the occasional complaint slipping from your mother’s lips as she ate.

“She wasn’t feeling too good,” Joel fibs, wiping at his mouth with a napkin, crumbling the flimsy material in his fist, “I can bring her a plate up later, after I clean up—”

“Oh, please,” She holds her hand up to interrupt, politely refusing, “we’ll clean up, won’t we?”

Tommy squints, eyeing the table full of dirtied dishes but nods regardless.

Always the yes man. Joel smirks, a flippant chuckle under his breath.

Joel tips back the final bottle of beer and swallows it down, having learned to manage his alcohol well after years of casual drinking that had slowly morphed into a crutch. He gets the buzz, the warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest but otherwise it was undetectable, aside from the hasty decision making to find a reason to bother you after the wrestling match that afternoon.

He quietly piled the food onto a plate, working around the kitchen and squeezing past the other two bodies before he’s yanking at the cord to the attic stairs, your body lunging up at the sound, nearly jumping out of your own skin as the light peeks through and the hard, heavy footsteps follow.

Joel hears the both of them, Tommy and your mother, as they finish up in the kitchen and trail off into their own respective room in the house, pulling at the handle with his unoccupied hand to seal out the creeping light from downstairs. He slides the plate of food on the dresser shoved against the nearest wall before his head is turning toward you, watching as you rubbed at your eyes, faking the grogginess from a deep sleep you never managed to fall into, running both hands through the front of your hair before they’re flattening out against your duvet, wondering which one of you should speak first.

Both hands shoved into his front pockets, he turns to you fully. He’s changed from earlier, denim traded for a soft cloth; sweats, paired with his usual dark washed shirt.

Relaxed. He looks…relaxed. His eyes are undeniably softer, too. His lips rubbing together tight before his tongue slips out to wet them and he’s still standing, waiting—for what, you’re not sure.

“I’ll eat it later,” you appease his lingering presence, taken aback as the words seem to bring him back to life, socked feet soft against the wood floors but the intent is heavy and intimidating, “I will, I promise—“

You weren’t lying, you would.

But, then the bed creaks as he takes a seat and your legs widen to make room for him, the blanket slipping down your thighs and revealing bare legs under a long t-shirt, having changed out of your damp clothes too.

Closer, you can see the flush in his chest. Cheeks warm and hot, you’re sure if you touched him it would be confirmed. Drunk? It didn’t seem likely, but he had definitely been drinking, a deep but quiet sigh coming from his chest before he spoke.

“Don’t apologize,” you began before he could get the words out, “god—don’t, just…”

“I was gonna ask if you’re feelin’ alright,” Joel begins, turning toward you hesitantly, a fist curled and stamped into the mattress, watching the muscle of his bicep and forearm flex with the action, core clenching at the sight of it.

You nod lazily, “How was dinner?”

He knows you’re not asking about the food.

“Typical,” He responds lightly, “your mom loves carryin’ the conversation, doesn’t she?”

“She just enjoys the sound of her own voice.”

Joel chuckles quietly, hand unfurling and his fingers grazing against your knee. For a moment, you think it could be an accident, but as you find a surge of confidence and drag your fingers over his own, pulling his hand up to your face curiously, making a show to smell his hand with a light quip thrown his way.

“Got all the sunscreen off finally,” You joke and the stretched out glimpse of you flashes through Joel’s mind, his fingers pulling at tied strings, the nylon falling against thick blades of grass, “did you enjoy your shower?”

Joel quirks his brow, curious.

Right, he didn’t know. A momentary lapse of judgment letting the words slip.

“You know, was it…peaceful? Nice?”

No additional expletives groaned out under the steady stream, fist wrapped around his cock? Selfishly your eyes wandered toward the no longer tented material, having caught quite the eyeful earlier—and felt it just the same.

His hand slowly drops to the bedsheet, thumb grazing the cream material while the rest of his fingers curl over your knee, your own hand placed atop it, an unspoken but welcomed touch.

He was losing his mind, surely.

He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t have sat down.

But, Joel lied for you and that was the first mistake.

“I lied for you, again,” He comes clean, emphasis on his final word as his eye flicks up despite his downturned gaze, watching your thumb rub into the spot between his own and pointer finger, “makin’ habit of it, it seems.”

A soft breath mingles between the space, tight and tense, too intimidated to confront him head on now, shaking your head at his words, “You were the one who said my secret was safe, remember?”

His large hand flexes around yours as he presses the back of your hand into the sheets, held prison under his grip, “You know I never meant it like that—“

“Didn’t you?” You counter, turning your eyes up toward him cautiously, daring him to confess.

Our secret, alright?

It was the gateway—one small lie unfolding into many and soon it would be like breathing, second nature.

“Why are you still here?” There’s a softness in your tone that beckons a confession, but Joel’s hard-headed.

So, he retaliates.

“Why haven’t you asked me to leave?” His eyebrows raise, a subtle smile pulling at his lips that was brought up by the inhibitions of alcohol, mostly Joel but there was something lingering.

The words float through your head, climb up your throat, but you can’t force them to leave your mouth, eyes softening under his gaze as a warm, careful hand caresses up your thigh, fingertips grazing your clothed cunt, the wet heat undeniable as it seeps through your underwear.

You can smell the beer on his breath but it doesn’t stop your hand from clawing up his chest and behind his neck, allowing him to pull your leg over his lap, spread wide on your bed as he fit between them, “You’ve been drinking,” it was obvious, but Joel shakes his head, tongue licking at his bottom lip as his left hand squeezes at your calf, “haven’t you?”

“That bother you?” He wonders—he’s mostly unaffected, you can tell. The creeping flush to his face a mix of the alcohol and you, he’s just as in his right mind as you, the inside of his palm reaching further to cup your cunt, rubbing gently with the heel of his palm.

A breathy sigh and a head shake in return as your legs spread wider, hips canting into his touch as your hand falls to your side, exposing your clothed chest to him, breasts peeking through the sheer fabric of your top while your other hand grips Joel’s neck harder, blunt fingernails digging into the skin.

“What are you doing?” You ask carefully, not wanting to startle him.

It doesn’t even seem to phase him, though. His hand moves forward slightly to push your shirt up your stomach before it slipped beyond the fabric of your underwear and against your bare skin, two fingers sliding between your folds to press into your sticky slick.

“Giving you what you want,” Like it was obvious; the constant taunting, ill-mannered behavior, his own resolve finally breaking and the guilt he was feeling disappearing in an instant now that he has you like this, a clandestine sight, “—s’what you wanted, right?”

You nod, a subtle jerk of your head.

At the notion, his hands are in two different directions—one hand is tracing the chain that wore like armor, a dainty necklace your mother had gifted you when you were young that was the only significance you had to show for with her, your undying faith. He slips the necklace around and between your shoulder blades, out of sight. His other hand slips between your thighs until they’re finding home against your cunt. Absent fingers drifting deeper between your shoulder blades, delicate touches tracing along your spine over soft skin until he’s back at the nape of your neck and squeezing, determined fingers rubbing slowly at your sensitive clit, a stuttered and quiet gasp falling from your lips.

He’s not the first man to touch you like this, but he was skilled. No fumbling hands and hesitant touches, there was surety in his movements and his gaze that didn’t shy from yours in embarrassment or lack of care.

Joel Miller was in the mood to watch you fall apart for his own entertainment.

“Shh,” He reminds you, a soft command, “don’t need them gettin’ curious.”

You shake your head in agreement, a plethora of sins being committed in the act of one greedy and selfish desire, “Mo—More,” You plead, feeling his fingers slide down the center of your cunt before they’re breaching your tight hole and pressing inside. Joel grunts as you pull at his short curls, his tongue resting wanting over his bottom teeth, yearning for a taste.

“Take it off,” He demands, “wanna see those pretty tits, darlin’.”

Your skin prickles with anticipation, separating from him briefly to pull your shirt over your head and Joel, in a moment of blind lust, takes the advantage of you on your back to yank your panties down your ankles and balling them up, thrown haphazardly near the top of your bed as he settles on his knees between your outstretched legs—

God, he’s going to hell.

And you want to kiss him, the feeling so strong it sends an ache down your core, releasing a shaky breath as he squeezes at your thighs before his fingers continue, dipping inside of you with ease. Luckily, with this position, he’s got a free hand to rub at your clit, thumb pressed firmly against the nub and drawing soft, mewling sounds from your lips.

It’s intoxicating, the subtle smell of barley and fresh soap. He’s speaking to you in some far off, distant place, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he sets an inescapable pace. They’re goading words, encouraging and bordering the line of patronizing but you can’t commit them to memory, only coming as another soft command falls from his lips.

Because he sees your fingers itching, needy, “Touch yourself,” He murmurs, his touch somehow more tender as his fingers pump inside of you, thumb working quick circles of your clit as you hands drag feather-light of your breasts, a tickle at the center of your chest before you’re squeezing the flesh under your grip and moaning louder as he changes the angle of his fingers inside of you, deep and undeniably precise. Thick fingers keep you full and satisfied.

He can hear your breath quickening, a silent warning when your brain wasn’t catching up with the rest of your body, words a complete loss. His fingers slip out of you, wet slick smearing over your mouth as he leans forward to muffle the unintentional cry that falls from your lips as he pulls you over the edge with a mere motion of his thumb, your eyes squeezing shut as you come.

The pleasure blooms inside, teeth digging gently into the skin of his palm as you selfishly savor the feeling, Joel only moving away when your eyes fall back on him—back to reality.

“How’s that for a mess?” Joel doesn’t miss a beat, turning your earlier jab back on you as you notice the gleam on his fingers, thin strings of slick hang between his fingers as he separates them and you pull at his wrist, knowing that Joel would follow through the rest of the way, pressing his fingers to your lips as you clean him, tongue dragging along the digits diligently.

You swear you hear Joel groan, but it was muffled by your own squeak as Joel grabbed at your chin, flesh pinched between his fingers, “Eat your damn dinner,” He demands, but you quickly muffle him with the fabric of your underwear, shoving it into his mouth before you move dangerously close to his face, still under the stern grip of his hand.

“No problem,” You appease him, “and a suggestion—”

Pulling the fabric from his mouth, you aren’t amiss as he pockets it, his eyebrows raising in question.

“Double check your doors next time you decide to jerk off to me.”

Because if anything, you wanted him to be more deliberate.

Joel’s flush deepens, shame flashing in his eyes for a brief moment before you break out into a playful smile as you sing softly, “Goodnight, Joel.”

Joel’s never had a harder time falling asleep, night creeping into dawn before the slumber finally takes him, riddled with a guilt that is indescribable.

–

Breakfast is quiet.

Too quiet.

You pick lazily at the fresh blueberry muffins your mother had baked that morning, watching as Tommy conversed with Joel across the living room, both of them nursing steaming cups of coffee. Your mother notices your trailing gaze, mistaking it for you spacing out as she perks up, speaking from beside you as she pours more orange juice into your empty glass.

“I was thinking we could do something in town today,” She begins, “all of us—Joel, too. Tommy mentioned they’ve got a fair going on downtown—food, music, plenty to keep you interested.”

You slip the blueberry beyond your lips and chomp down, “What’s the occasion? Big news? Don’t tell me your pregnant—”

Your name comes out as a stark warning, the plastic bottle of orange juice crunching under her grip, “That is not—no, I’m not. But, Tommy and I…may have put an offer down on a house, if you’re that curious. We were gonna drive by on the way there and show it to you.”

You shake your head nonchalantly, “Joel was actually going to take me to that cowboy museum a couple towns over—I forgot to ask, but you don’t care, right?”

Joel perks up at the mention of his name, his conversation with Tommy stalling.

“I mean, I’ll be with Joel,” You remind her, “I’ll be safe, won’t I?”

Your head turns over your shoulder, catching Joel’s surprised expression and watching as it slowly morphs into understanding, silently following the path you had so carefully constructed as he approaches the counter at your side, pressing his mug into the counter.

“I shoulda mentioned it,” He lies through his teeth, “slipped my mind, but it’s alright with you?”

She swallows. Tense.

Tommy interjects then and chuckles, clapping a hand over his brother’s shoulder.

“History of cowboys?” He asks, “Oh come on, sweetheart. Let ‘em go, they can always meet up with us after.”

She folds for Tommy, of course. Flashing an apprehensive smile that you knew too well, eyes flitting toward the pair of brother’s with a cynical regard, catching Joel’s tight expression for a brief moment. You had lied, big deal.

It wasn’t the worst thing you’ve done as of late, watching the leisurely swagger of Joel’s walk as he steps toward the coffee pot, offering a sturdy goodbye over his shoulder as the lovebirds make their escape, leaving you both under the thick cloud of unspoken tension.

With disregard, he walks past you and sips noisily at his coffee, taking a seat on the couch with the low hum of the morning news as your sock covered feet pat softly against the floor. Your thigh presses against the arm hanging over the couch as you squeeze by, but you’re stopped by Joel’s foot pressing into the coffee table, blocking your path.

“You make plans for somethin’ I’m unaware of?”

You huff out a soft laugh through your nose before you shove at his foot gently, knocking it to the ground before you’re climbing over his lap, mug screeching against the table as Joel scrambles to place it down, his hands falling against your hips instinctively as you settle over him, tight shorts crawling up your thighs and settling in the crease of your hips.

His touch is intimate—and warm, god his hands were always so warm. Your fingers scratch testingly at his patchy facial hair, a delicate touch that extends to his mused morning hair, untouched and still riddled with sleep. Then he’s inhaling hard as your lips press to his without preamble, his mouth opening in a quiet sigh and your tongue find the opportunity and slips beyond his lips, dragging over his teeth as it swipes against his own tongue and for a few minutes he melts into you, returning the kiss back feverishly.

But, like a fragile tower—the moment snaps and collapses in on itself as Joel shoves you away, a large hand pressed against your collarbone as you yelp at the sudden movement, slightly disappointed as you frown.

“Stop,” he breaths out harsh, his hand fisting in your shirt as he peers up you through a half-lidded gaze, “you—we can’t keep doin’ this, kid.”

“No one’s here,” you murmur, pushing at his hand but it doesn’t budge, so you settle for his thighs, cotton material smooth to the touch as you fingers climb until they can settle near his groin, rubbing your clothed cunt against his hardened cock, a noticeable tent in his pants, “if you worried about getting caught.”

“I know you’re doing this to get back at your mother,” Joel begins, but he never gets the chance to finish.

“And if I was doing this for me?” You counter, “Because I want to? What would you say then?”

There’s a long beat of silence, Joel’s hands pressing into your hips again to keep you still, frozen in place and unable to chase the pleasure you were so desperately after.

“Naive,” He offers, “childish—downright stupid, if you think about it. I’m twice your age and if the other reason wasn’t obvious, well—“

“We’re not blood related,” you argue, “it isn’t nearly the same thing and you know it.”

You lean forward, crowding into his space once more, the ghost of his breath across your lips as he eyes follow, his head leaning back as you move in, hesitant.

“Besides, I think you’ve ruined all other men for me,” You goad, a salacious grin spreading across your face, “your fingers—Joel, they’re—“

At a loss for words, you sigh, hips dropping against his groin pointedly, he grunts and you can see the hard line of his jaw as he clenches his teeth.

“I’m not the one, darlin’. You can’t compare me to them—I’m old, I’ve lived. Don’t think you gotta settle for me.”

Joel has sequestered himself to loneliness—after his separation from his wife, the loss of his daughter, he was content being alone. Living alone. Dying alone.

Drowned out by bad decisions and alcohol, he’s found himself regretting his choices once again, but not for the reasons he had hoped.

He didn’t regret you—his actions with you, but how the repercussions would affect you if your mother found out, his brother. There was no coming back, no explanation that could justify his actions.

But you’re sitting, pouting in his lap as your finger twirls around the string of his sleep pants and he knows that look—more, give me more.

Nothing would satiate that hunger.

“I’m not a virgin, you know,” you add as if it may magically heal things, but the next words out of your mouth have Joel squeezing at the flesh of your hips, words that make his cock pulse under his clothes, “I think you enjoy corrupting me, too. My mom put me on birth control the second she was able, afraid I’d turn out like her.”

Luckily, you hadn’t. She’d never let you live that down.

You press in further, a hand climbing up to press against the column of Joel’s throat, lips sliding against his as you whisper, “Do you wanna ruin me, Joel?”

All you get in response is a growl, deep and intense as he surges forward, kissing you soundly to shut you up.

It was a weight off your chest, a sharp breath as he slips his tongue into your mouth as you part your lips as his fingers pull at the base of your scalp, a sharp sting of pain drowned out by pleasure.

“Upstairs,” he ordered, mouth down your neck hungrily, “in your room, now.”

The heated, dark look in his eyes tells you that you weren’t going alone, his footsteps trailing behind you.

He splits you open with his thighs, already bare underneath him as he’s stripped himself of everything but his pants, sans his underwear he definitely wasn’t wearing, an unreadable expression on his face. Pinched, his brow furrowed as he lingered around you, hands pressing into the mattress but not you, careful that his hands didn’t stray too far again.

“Should I say my morning prayers?” You tease, your pointer finger trailing down the center of his chest, both of your eyes following the digit until it hooks into the waistband of his underwear, “Absolve you of some guilt?”

“It ain’t guilt,” Joel retorts, dark eyes flicking up toward you, “you really think all that prayin’ actually works?”

You shrug, “I dunno what I think anymore—what do you believe in, Joel?”

Joel chuckles lowly, ignoring your hand as it slips beyond the material to touch him, his cock heavy in your hands, feeling the surreality of the moment hit you all at once as his hips keen into the touch, a subtle gesture as his fists settle into the space beside your head.

“Ain’t never believe in nothing,” He responds quieter, “easier that way.”

You hum softly, nodding absently to his response as you force the final piece of clothing down his hips, his eyes never really leaving you—wandering, maybe, but you have his full attention.

“Come on, Joel,” You squander, giving his cock a light squeeze before your hand trails up his chest, fingers forming to the lines of his jaw as your fingers glide over his scruff, “Easier?”

“You’re brainwashed,” He admits, pausing to slip his hand between your bodies and drifting over your cunt before he slips two fingers inside of you without warning, a gasp ripping from your throat but quickly settling as his fingers work inside of you meticulously, dragging with gentle pressure against your walls, “can’t think for yourself without feelin’ guilt, can you?”

He’s making a mockery of the beliefs you’ve been under for years—you get it, you do. But, it seems to strike a nerve when you dig deeper, unsure why, amongst your building pleasure the taunting scripture slips from your lips in an attempt to rile him further.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just—” Your voice wavers as Joel’s attention snaps to your soft words, eyes locked on his unreadable expression, “ and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousn—”

A tight squeeze at the cross around your neck does him in.

A familiar sound slips beyond his lips, a hungry and deep set growl as he breaks from you, manhandling you with force onto your stomach and in an attempt to muffle your antics and silence you, a hand pressed against the back of your neck, face pressed into the soft fluff of your pillow as his voice rumbles behind you.

“Ain’t gonna listen to that shit,” Joel gripes, his free hand binding to your waist as he lifts your hips up, back arched and ass up, breathing out a soft noise of protest as he squeezes at your skin, “—you done?”

You shake your head weakly, a small laugh bubbling from your chest as the full expanse of his hand slides over your cheek, pressing your face deeper into the pillow, his thumb tracing along the corner of your mouth.

“There’s no savin’ yourself from this, sweetheart,” Joel acknowledges, a vague but somehow crystal clear way of checking in, assuring there was consent to follow through—that you wanted this.

“I know,” You mumble around the finger that glides over your lip, a calloused thumb against soft, fleshy lips.

Joel presses inside of you with a low groan, mixed with a tight hiss as you clench around him instinctively, your eyes drifting shut as his cock fits inside your tight walls, both hands drifting to the pillow under your head and gripping tight as he begins a slow, steady snap of his hips in utter silence, forceful exhales coming from his nose as he fucks you from behind, noting the way your lips drift apart when he presses just a little too deep, the skin between your eyes scrunching up at the bridge of your nose.

His thumb presses inside of your mouth, against the inside of your cheek before pressing against your tongue, effectively silencing you, “Go on,” Joel taunts, “keep prayin’.”

Your eyes roll back as the hand gripping your waist travels over your stomach and toward your cunt, his middle finger drifting featherlight over your clit in slow circles, your grip in the weak cloth fabric growing tighter—you make an attempt, unintelligible mumbles around his thick finger, followed by a deep snicker of amusement from the man behind you, inside of you.

“Don’t try and convince me you believe that shit,” Joel tells you, “not when you’re beggin’ me to fuck you like this—’ve never been a saint, either.”

Eventually, your mind goes blank, a welcomed numbness as Joel fucks you into the mattress above a squeak boxspring in a home that didn’t belong to you, in a room that has only been yours for a short time, giving in to a forbidden temptation with a man who’s challenged every belief you’ve ever known.

He notices your attention drifting, removing his hand from your mouth, smearing the saliva over your breasts as he jostles you upright, your back pressed tight against his chest as you move against him lazily, feeling the deep, full snap of his hips as he breathes hot and heavy into your neck.

“Just this time,” He promises you, “no more teasin’, or lying—”

The preaching to you was rich, given his own actions. He must be speaking to himself, committing himself to it aloud. You nod regardless, knowing now that you’ve learned his weakness.

Because, like you, it was the unavoidable temptation.

“Another secret?” You tease, feeling the crest of your orgasm building in your gut as he squeezes at your breast, his soft groans evolving into throaty moans, a boisterous surprise to somehow who’s always so forlorn, an empty house with no reason to hide his deep and selfish need for pleasure, you giggle quietly through the force of your orgasm as you both collapse on the mattress, Joel’s hands barely catching himself to avoid the weight of his body pressing into you as he pulls out of you slowly, the bed creaking underneath the movement.

You feel candescent, shirt barely covering your body as you haphazardly drape it over yourself, watching as Joel pulled his sweatpants back up over his hips, his eyes catching on you in a way you’ve never witnessed, his come literally dripping down your thighs and he senses the shift in your expression, immediate guilt flushing your body and showing in the way your body curls in on itself, avoiding the eye contact he was offering.

He sees it, the way your brain is programmed to feel immediate guilt, shame, and as much as he’d like to think of a way to fix it, he knows that was something you had to work through on your own.

A shower would work for now, though.

Wash away the sin until the inevitable happens.

There is some normalcy that returns to your life as your classes resume, finding that time away from the Miller household was refreshing in a way. Tension with your mother was unavoidable, the wedding on the horizon and the impending truth threatening to come to light—your mother had done an excellent job as sheltering you, brainwashing you, and scaring you into behaving out of fear that you might be stuck down.

It all seemed small and finite now, that craving to break Joel down for your own pleasure, seeing the shell of a man he was now.

And he, of course, couldn’t even follow through with his own promise to himself.

Though, as you return for the short weekends, he doesn’t always seem like…Joel.

He drinks more, itching toward the end of September soon and a couple months back at school and when you aren’t buried in the sheets of your twin bed or locked away in the darkness of his room when you’re both home alone, he reeks of alcohol and silence.

He doesn’t seem angry or upset, but the sadness is like a wave.

It makes it easier to keep your distance, something Joel acts like he wants, but then he’s seeking you out in the dark again, bourbon on his tongue and you return the messy kiss he presses to your lips, trying to silence your own thoughts by occupying yourself with him.

But, he does sense your hesitancy.

“I’ll go,” He speaks into the darkness, a hand cradling your head as he squeezes at the base of your neck, a comforting gesture despite the cloud that shrouded him, “if you want me to.”

You’ve barely seen him all day, both of the brothers overwhelmingly forlorn, but you don’t pry.

“No, no,” You insist, hushed against his mouth as you seek out his eyes, glossed over and hooded, his shoulders twitching when your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, “you just—you seem tired.”

It was a loaded word, one that Joel doesn’t touch or elaborate on. But, he was tired, physically. Taking on more shifts before the holidays approach, begging to keep himself occupied alongside his brother who was stressing for his own reasons. He’d come to you seeking a weird dichotomy of comfort and it made you feel warm inside, but a tinge of warning couldn’t be ignored.

“Just sleep here,” You suggest, “I’ll wake you early, before they’re up.”

Without protest, he nods.

You can’t explain how easily your bodies mold together on the too small mattress, like this was something you’ve done for years, staring up blankly at the ceiling as Joel snored quietly beside you.

–

“Hey, kiddo,” Tommy boasts from the kitchen counter as descend the stairs, making your pass through the fridge before you’re gone for another week, “school treatin’ you alright?”

“It’s fine,” You shrug noncommittally, ripping a banana from its bunch and reaching for the half empty jug of orange juice, pouring half a cup to sate your stomach, “how’s mom?”

Tommy feels the heaviness around the question, tensing as he sips at his coffee, “Stressed over the wedding, all the planning, ya know—“

“Yeah,” It’s lazy and short, but Tommy knows your relationship with her is less than favorable lately, sensing your desire for freedom and answers, truth rather than careful lies your mother has constructed around you for your safety, “uh, can I ask a question, actually?”

Tommy nods, hearing the faint creaking of the floorboard somewhere distant in the house.

“Is…Joel okay?”

Tommy seems surprised, but he masks it quickly.

“Oh, he…usually gets…worse around the anniversary of Sarah’s death,” Your eyes wander, clearly missing crucial information but your eyes drift toward the closed bedroom door that was vehemently off limits, always wondering but never questioning, “shit—we ain’t mentioned her to you?”

You shake your head.

“She died about five years ago, raisin’ her alone had always been tough on Joel but her dying…it’s been hard.”

“His daughter?”

He had a daughter.

I’m old, I’ve lived, the words echoing in your head.

“He…never mentioned her, you’ve never…”

“He won’t,” Tommy tells you, “can’t even bring her up to him most days—I thought I’d mentioned it to you but it must’ve slipped my mind, I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“No, don’t…don’t apologize.” You assure him, taking a sip of the tart juice and peeling slowly at the peel of your banana, “I guess that explains the bottles on the table when I come home every weekend.”

And the alcohol on his breath when he kisses you.

Tommy notes the way you so easily call the house home now, smiling slightly. But, he’s always been aware of his brother’s…problem, not sure how to help or fix the situation without an implosion happening.

In the distance, you can hear your mother calling out for Tommy, his eyes drifting toward the sound.

“Have a good week,” He pressed a gentle kiss at the crown of your head, squeezing at your shoulder before leaning over to speak under his breath, “—you should talk to your mom before you plan on taking that offer, by the way.”

Your attention perks up, his finger drifting toward the envelope hidden under a stack of placemats on the kitchen table before he’s interrupted by another shout from your mother, “I can handle the fallout for you, kiddo. Don’t worry.”

Tommy retreats and eventually, you do too. Snatching the letter up and stowing it away in your bag, you aren’t able read through it until later that night, Joel’s unsaved number lingering on the phone screen in your missed calls.

It was an internship at your dream job in Dallas, a flat rate pay out with six months of lodging covered while you got on your feet—but more importantly it was an escape.

You should be upset at Tommy for prying, opening the letter before you had a chance to peek at it yourself, but he’s sensed the tension for months. He loved your mother, but he cared for you, even in the tumultuous months he’s been around you both.

You were strong, independent, and far better off blossoming on your own without the hard grip of your mother and her undying but fickle faith.

The second call from Joel startles you back to reality, answering with a shaky finger.

“Didn’t say goodbye this morning,” Joel greets, only sounding slightly bitter.

You’re quiet for longer than Joel is comfortable with and he almost speaks again, apologizes, but you cut him off.

“Sorry…my mom, it seemed like she was already on her reign of terror and I didn’t…she’s hard to be around anymore.”

“I’m just messin’ with you, kid,” He replies, letting out a soft huff as he sat down in his worn-in recliner.

“Are they home?”

“Left about an hour ago, they’re movin’ stuff into the house, I guess? I don’t know,” Joel sounds disinterested and you share the sentiment, but then there’s a distinct snap of a bottle cap that you try to ignore.

Joel hears your lips part on the other end, “It’s been a long day,” It was the first time he’s outright acknowledged it, which was a step, but not what you needed.

“Tommy told me,” You blurt in frustration, “about her.”

“Listen, I don’t need you judgin’ me either. I get it enough from Tommy as is—“

“I’m not…I wasn’t,” You respond, confused, “I just, I wish you’d mentioned her, at least. Not that you owe that to me…but—”

Joel clears his throat and the bottle scuffs the table, undrank as he settles back into his seat.

“I got my own baggage, ain’t no sense dragging you into that,” Joel defends, “not with all you have going on.”

“If you can fuck me, you can talk to me too,”

It silences him effectively, “I’m not a child. I’m not your child. I’m an adult—“

“Where is this comin’ from? I’ve never said that—“

“I don’t know,” You sigh in exasperation, “It’s been a long day, Joel. I’m gonna head to bed, okay?”

You don’t wait for his response, hanging up on him with a frustrated finality, mad at yourself and him, reasons unclear—you haven’t prayed in months, but you find the urge as the guilt creeps in, wondering if Joel was the corruptor your mother had always warned you about.

They’ll come at your weakest and test your faith, and if you break, you’re just as feeble as the rest of the world without faith to guide them.

The week drags and you’d much rather be somewhere else, but you find yourself turning the doorknob to the Miller home and a Happy Birthday balloon floating into the open doorway, a contorted look of confusion on your face as your eyes land on the three adults in the living room.

“Are we celebrating early?” You look at your mother, who’s birthday is approaching in a couple weeks, but she’s quickly shaking her head.

“It’s Joel’s birthday, honey.”

“Oh,” Your eyes glide over the three of them until they land on Joel, “Happy Birthday?”

Joel hates the attention, clearly.

The next few hours are spent together at a fancy restaurant Tommy decides to treat everyone too, a nice gesture for his brother’s birthday, but it doesn’t dissipate the underlying frustration.

And Tommy, being a pushover for the sake of allowing his brother to enjoy his birthday, drinks alongside him—four beers down and a couple shots later, dinner finished and skipping dessert, everyone is heading back to the car in silence, though Joel does look considerably lighter in his expression, his normally furrowed brow now relaxed.

Your mother is quick to drag Tommy to their shared room when you’re home, giving you a gentle hug that you haven’t felt in months, strange and unsettling to your psyche. Joel relaxes onto the couch, kicking his boots off toward the edge of the rug before he’s searching around blindly for the remote, thumbing the button to turn on the television.

It illuminates the dim room and you find yourself standing there, unmoving, suddenly feeling completely out of place in a home you’ve grown comfortable in.

“You’re quiet,” Joel notes, not looking at you while he fumbles with his watch, twisting in on his wrist as he places a sock covered foot against the coffee table.

“And you’re drunk,” You retorted, the again unsaid but implied.

“Believe it ‘r not, I can handle myself. I know my limit,” Joel responds, “I’ve been cuttin’ back, I don’t need you tellin’ me what I can handle. You’re young, you wouldn’t understand anyways.”

“Guess so,” You reply lamely, stripping off your shirt down to the thin spaghetti top, the thick September heat seeping inside the Miller home, even as the sun set—and you can feel Joel’s eyes on you before you look at him, eyes lingering longer than they should.

There were often moments where he would fend off your advances, quiet moments at home alone when you would slip into his lap or behind him and he’d let you down easily, but he wasn’t always that strong—a weak man with temptation dangling in his face. He’s always been in the wrong from the beginning, allowing any of this to develop and further.

But, you’re feeling vindictive tonight—upset and angry at yourself, angry at Joel—no, frustrated.

And with Tommy and your mother turned in for the night, absolutely no sign of them resurfacing until morning, nothing was stopping you as Joel’s eyes bored into you and the slow rise and fall of your chest.

He’s always been cautious and safe, never while the house was occupied, only in quiet and enclosed spaces that he could lock the doors—that in the chance you might get caught he could lie or evade and not face the consequences, but even as you grow closer and climb into his lap, he doesn’t stop you.

Your hands grip his hair immediately, yanking his head back as you press your ass into his thighs and bring your lips to his jaw, mouthing against the line of his neck and around, pulling at the collar of his shirt to nip at his chest, nothing but his shallow breaths and the soft hum of the television to fill the air, the solid press of his hard cock against your inner thigh a warning sign.

You could end it here, leave him with the guilt that continued to grow within him.

You could drag him to his room, ride him over his sheets like he desired, a clandestine sight that would have any man on his knees—or so he’s told you.

Or, you seduce him here.

He was already nearly there, reaching for you as he leaned forward when you pulled back, pressing a hand into his chest, “I’m leaving, after the wedding,” Joel pauses, the furrow in his brow returning faintly, “I got an offer for an internship.”

“Well..that’s good, ain’t it?”

His hands squeeze at your sides as they travel and settle there, ignoring the obvious danger that the two could walk out at any moment, focused solely on you. It shouldn’t make you feel good, but it does. You shouldn’t want this, but you craved it.

“No, like—I’m leaving that night. To Dallas.” A long pause follows and Joel waits, watching as you glance down the hall, “I don’t know how to tell her.”

“Do you want to?” Joel asks.

You sigh softly, playing with the hem of his collar, “No, I don’t. Tommy told me he could deal with the fallout, but—”

“Tommy knows?”

You look at him with a tired roll of your eyes and a faint smile, “Yes, he does. He snooped and read the letter—he’s known I’ve wanted this opportunity for a while.”

“I didn’t think you two talked that much,” Joel replies honestly.

“We don’t, not always,” You admit, “not with my mom around—and he told me, about your drinking problem.”

Joel huffs quietly, scratching at his cheek as he looks away.

“I just—this isn’t…like, it isn’t also because of that, right?” You ask, “Does drinking make you feel less guilty about it?”

You know it isn’t the entire reason, but there is some suspicion. Given the constant lingering taste on his lip after the first instance together and the several that followed, a burgeoning problem of his own melding with the dangerous secrets you’ve been trying to keep.

“There’s no guilt,” It was the most confident you’ve heard Joel to be…ever. Not an ounce of hesitation in his tone, “We’re adults, we made a choice. But, I think there is a point where we have to realize this can’t work.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Joel awaits quietly, not giving you a nod but his eyes turn up in wait, his thumbs slipping under the fabric of your shirt to press into warm flesh.

“If they weren’t together—if your brother wasn’t going to be my stepdad, would you have thought twice? If we had met at a bar or something?”

“I don’t know,” Joel answers, unsure.

You sigh deeply, leaning into his eyeline to capture his lips, an unexpected kiss that grabs his attention, his hands climbing higher under your shirt in search of skin.

“I think you do,” You mumble against his mouth, “I also think you were vulnerable and you saw that I was too and you wanted to feel a little less lonely.”

Joel can’t find the words to respond, feeling like you’ve seen straight through him.

“So, let me help a little more,” You soothe his rapidly beating heart with your sultry tone, unbuttoning your jeans with slow movements, only removing yourself from him briefly to strip your jeans and underwear off before you return to his lap.

You wait until he finally got with the program and unbuttoned his own jeans, shifting them just far enough down his thighs that they’re out of the way, grabbing for the blanket draped over the couch to wrap around you and you almost protest, but the concentrated look on his face as returns your gaze short-circuits your thinking, fisting his cock as he slides it between your wet folds, pressing inside of you slowly, your slow breaths mingling together in each other’s mouth.

“Quiet,” He reminds you, “we have to be quiet.”

Easier said than done, you giggle against his lips.

“Says you,” You tease, lifting your hips slowly as he follows the movement, allowing you to lead, your hands pressing into the back of the couch, “I like hearing how bad you want it,”

Joel’s hand dwarfs your mouth as he covers it, eyes narrowing at your pointed choice of words and he snaps his hips into you harshly without warning, forcing out a yelp into his palm as your hands tighten into the cushion, canting your hips as you lift them in time with his thrusts.

He’s got his teeth digging into his bottom lip in an attempt to silence himself, eventually grabbing for your hand and covering his own mouth in desperation, wrapping his free hand around your back and pulling you to his chest, foreheads pressed against each other as you meld together, different emotions swirling as he commits this feeling, and your body, to memory.

Joel feels the familiar, cold touch of your dangle chain necklace, plain silver cross interlocked at the center of it, at this angle it nudges his nose with every thrust, a dainty piece of jewelry that he always took the time to tuck behind your neck—he’s never seen you without it.

He thinks for a moment, considering his action before he’s reaching to tuck it behind your head.

But, your hand stops him, placing it back center before you’re reaching behind to unclasp the necklace from your body, dangling it over the empty cushion beside you.

“It’s okay,” You can sense Joel’s confusion, worry— “I’m starting to figure things out for myself,” It’s intimate, the way you’re talking to him now, voice barely above a whisper as his hips rock gently to keep a slow place, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, “besides…the things I want you to do to me, it’s blasphemy, really.”

Joel snorts at that, finding the sudden burst of energy to snake his hands under your thighs, lifting you up slightly as he scoots himself further down the couch, feet planted flat on the ground and allowing you proper leverage to use his body just the way you desire.

It takes very little time to work him up, a deep growl suppressed behind clenched teeth as your fingers dig into his cheek where your hand is still tight over his mouth, riding him with a clear determination, his eyes softening and pleading—he’s right there and you can see it.

His eyes flutter, hand squeezing and kneading at your thigh in silent prayer.

Rich, you think. Maybe you’ve been worshiping wrong your entire life.

Your climax comes slowly, alongside his. It’s quiet, a long moment of drawn out sighs poured into each other’s skin, his achy groan a light reprieve to the moment as you climb off of him.

“Staying or going?” He asks after you’ve stood, blanket wrapped around your body.

“Depends,” Your finger dangle in front of his face, watching as he works his jeans back up his thighs, belt sitting unbuckled in his lap, “your room or mine?”

Joel nods with a smile, nudging you toward the hall.

–

Joel’s dangling the silver necklace in his hand as you exit the bathroom, hair damp and dressed in only a shirt—his shirt, climbing onto his bed while he approaches with an extended hand.

You take it silently, passing it off to his bedside table without a word.

“So, when do we have the talk?” You ask curiously, ripping the bandaid off immediately.

“Not tonight, if you don’t want to.”

Your brow pinches together as he slips under the blanket beside you, throwing the cover back to beckon you underneath. You oblige, sliding onto your knees to lean against his chest, forearm covering his abdomen as you rest your chin on your arm.

“I was thinking about starting deconstruction therapy,” You admit, scratching a fingernail at the patchy and fading emblem on his shirt, “It’s…silly, I know. But, I think it might help. I’m doubting—well, everything. I just need someone to talk to. A professional, I mean.”

“That really what you want?” Joel asks curiously, his fingers wrapping around your wrist gently, rubbing his thumb into the skin, “It ain’t because of me, is it?”

“I think I’ve been questioning things long before you, or even Tommy. I’m telling you because—I don’t know, I guess I want to hold myself accountable. So I don’t chicken out. Besides, you seem pretty good at keeping secrets.”

Joel shakes his head slightly in amusement, heaving out a long sigh as his eyes turn toward the ceiling, still favoring your touch as he continues to rub slow circles into your skin.

“I…also think you should get some help,” You add gently, “talk to someone about Sarah—doesn’t have to be me. I mean, Tommy is terrified to mention her, and thinks you’ll blow up on him. You’re…you’re an alcoholic, you know that? My mom was too, before she met Tommy.”

Joel keeps quiet, chewing at his bottom lip. It wasn’t a horrible sign, so you continue.

“She hid it really well, you…not so much.”

“So, holdin’ each other accountable then, huh?” Joel inquires, eyebrow raised.

“I can forgive your lapse in judgement when it came to me—the sex is…good,” You pause, considering your words, “really…really fucking good, but I think we’re using it to avoid things.”

“Think you can fix me?” Joel asks, with a tone of honesty in his voice, “Sweetheart, I’ve been broken for a long time.”

“Mend,” You emphasize, “you can heal—so can I. I think we both owe it to ourselves”

His hand engulfed the side of your face, the hot press of his skin against your cheek as you smiled against the touch, watching as he slowly returned the gesture.

“I think we do, sweetheart.”

I’ll try, for you—he thinks silently but doesn’t say. It doesn’t matter that his fatal attraction had turned into something of lasting admiration, because that would never work.

But, for you, he’d try.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #my writing #absolution

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yeonmuse · 8 days ago

Text

— “You haven’t changed”

( pairing) - nerd!Heeseung x f!r 3kwc + smut. not proofread!! 3rd pov Contains!! Mentions of sexual themes/mean heeseung [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🪷

Authors notes, for some reason its not letting me link this post to the actual request, so hopefully whoever requested this sees it

🔖 @jwonistic @bubblytaetae @pkjay @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @sol3chu @right-person-wrong-time @riribelle

You and Your boyfriend both shared a mutual agreement that your relationship was strictly for show, or at least that was the terms you had given him. After the two of you had been caught cozying up to one another, at one of Jake's parties. Since then people had started putting the two of you with one another and you had simply accepted it. Jay was tired of the swarm of girls that’d surrounded him when he arrived on campus and you didn’t care for any of the guys there because all of them acted the same. Obviously Jay knew what he had been getting himself into with making you his girlfriend though, after all you were one of the most sought out girls in the university's freshman class.

Not to mention you were the dean's daughter, which meant everyone would either suck up to you or go through him thinking it’d get them into your mothers good graces. Though little did they know you yourself were slipping through the cracks of your mothers sincerity. Your grades were slipping bringing you from rank 1 to rank 2 of top scoring students on campus. Number one being Yang Jungwon and Number two being Lee Heeseung, a man you had known all too well since middle school. He was a friend of your eldest brother, the two of them having been friends so long tbz you couldn’t remember a time where Heeseung wasn’t at your house, sat on the couch playing video games with your brother. All you knew wanted him was that the boy owned more keyboards than he knew people, and the only reason you had known that was because you once heard him and your brother talking about it in discord.

That's all there ever did though, and you found him and your brother to be agonizingly boring. All they had ever done was play games, snack on junk food and waste away in their parents' attic playing d&d or reading old comics. Of course your mother loved Heeseung, damn near treated him like her son right along with you and your brother, and yet it didn’t make you any more interested in him than you had once been as kids.

Finally making it back to your apartment after having gotten chewed out by your mom and sat through an agonizing number of classes you were relieved to finally have some peace. Though your temporary serenity was interrupted as you heard a knock on the door forcing you up from the couch and having you stride over to the door. The scowl on your face had immediately changed to a smile as you found your brother on the other side.

“Anton!?” His arms wrap around you catching you in a tight embrace as you leapt into his arms, not having seen him in almost a year since he had chosen to travel instead of going to college.

“You haven’t grown at all.”

“Don’t start, look at you all grown up. What are you doing here?!” Your little brother had in fact grown up, ditching his glasses, old plaid button ups and bowl cut he’d always rocked when the two of you were younger. He looked like a man now, and he had grown tall enough to surpass you in height, meaning you no longer had anything to tease him about.

“I talked to mom and she said you lived here, I was hoping..to crash her for a few days?”

“Anton seriously…why can’t you just go to mom and dads?” You groan knowing that if he stayed here your peace would fly out the window.

“You know how that goes everytime, I’m tired of arguing with them over my life plans.”

“Are they really still on your ass about not going to college?”

“Mom and dad, what do you think?” You sigh as he places you back onto your feet.

“Please?” Rolling your eyes at his sad attempt to sway you , you slide over letting him inside.

“Penthouse suite, you always were a spoiled princess.”

“For your information, I’m paying myself..well our parents are helping but I wouldn’t have felt alright with them paying it all.”

“Yeah you’re crazy I'd have let them pay it all.” He says flopping down onto the couch.

“So how long do you plan on staying exactly?”

“Four days tops, then I’ll be on the move again.”

“Are you still in that band?”

“Yup, we’re on break at the moment.”

“Mm you always did love music, though you were too busy hanging out with Heeseung and Sohee.”

“Oh right Heeseung, you two go to the same university right?”

“How do you know?” You snorted, making your brother roll his eyes in response.

“‘Mom how else?”

“I don’t know ive never seen him on campus, I only know he goes there because mom is always talking about him and you, and he passed me in the ranks for the top scholars.”

“You? A top scholar?” At your brother's reaction you grabbed the nearest thing to you, chucking it at his head.

“Okay okay, no more water bottles, I was only joking.”

Your phone rings interrupting your chat with your brother, slipping your hand into your pocket you pull out your phone and step away from the living room to answer the call.

“Yes Jay.”

“Well hell to you too sweetheart.”

“Jay I don’t have time for this, is this about something important or should I just hang up.”

“Won’t take up too much of your time sweetheart don’t worry, so the party at Jakes was canceled, his parents came home early from their trip, so we were all wondering, maybe we could move it to your place? It's been a while since you’ve thrown one.”

“Jay my brother is here. I can't just throw a party when he just got here.”

“You’re having a party?” Antons ears perk up at the mention of a party and he pushes himself up off the couch before making his way over to her.

“I wouldn’t mind a party” your eyes widen at your brother's sudden approval and you hear Jay chuckle on the other line.

“So is that a yes?”

__________

That was exactly how you ended up here, a house full of random strangers from camps you’d known absolutely nothing about because they had been friends of Jays rather than your own. You sat comfortably in Jay's lap, minding your business while he and his friends talked. Only getting up when you felt like you needed to throw back another drink to cure your boredom. Now you love a good party, but after the day you had you’d simply expected to just lie in bed and rest. As you had been making your way out of the kitchen you heard the faint sound of the doorbell making you audibly sigh as you sat your cup down and sauntered over to the door.

Pulling it open you were surprised to see none other than Lee Heeseung. By the looks of it he hasn't changed one bit, other than the fact that he had grown into his looks he still had dressed exactly the same as he did in high school.

“Heeseung?” You couldn’t hold back the shocked laugh that spilled from your lips.

Lee Heeseung? At a party?

“Yo Heeseung.” Heeseungs gaze shifted from you to your brother who had now been approaching the door with a goofy smile on his face.

“You actually came.” Your gaze shifts between Heeseung and your brother and you couldn’t help but laugh as you step aside and go back to your drink while the two talk

Maybe they hadn’t changed and both of them were just as nerdy and goofy as they had been when there were kids.

The rest of the night had gone by agonizingly slow for you, at some point the party began to die down and everyone had left, the only one staying behind being Heeseung so that he and your brother could catch up.

The two of them sat in the living room while you yourself sat on the kitchen counter stuffing your face with popcorn to cure your drunken dazed hunger.

“You haven’t changed one bit.” You let it slip past your lips in a drunken ramble, having thought it was something you said in your head rather than aloud.

“Did you say something yn?” Your brother asks, forcing Heeseung to turn his head and look at you as well

“Heeseung, he changed at all.” You respond still stuffing your mouth with popcorn

“You grew up a little, but Heeseung still looks the same, remember keely would call him the little nerdboy, and you geek charming.” You say with a small chuckle reliving the memory.

“Yeah, how much did you drink tonight exactly?” You roll her eyes in response.

“Enough to make me feel nice, not enough to make me drunk dad.” You respond sarcastically, making your brighter roll his eyes.

“Did you bring the game?” You could hear Anton ask, his and Heeseungs voices growing fainter and fainter as you made your way up the staircase and to your bedroom.

You had a peaceful shower, those heaven spent thirty minutes having sobered you up just enough. You had been getting ready to lay in bed when a knock at the door interrupted you mid climb. Letting out a frustrated groan you shuffled over to the door, feeling slightly annoyed that once again your peace had been interrupted. Yet you were surprised to see Heeseung on the other side.

“Heeseung?” For a moment he just stood there, his eyes scanning you before his arms snaked around your waist and he pushed you back into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Heeseung what”

“You’re so annoying, even after a year you’re still this annoying?”

“What-“

“You haven’t changed one bit, Jesus, you just don’t know when to stop talking.” He backs you against the door pressing your back directly into the knob making your face twist in discomfort.

“Heeseung, I was only joking.”

“Don’t care, you’ve been this way for as long as I can remember, you’d always have something to say about me, your brother too but I’m not so much interested in anything you’ve said about him.”

“You need to be humbled.” Before you had even had any time to register what was going on he shoves his hand into your shirt. His fingers tracing over your skin making goosebumps rise on your skin. His fingers squeeze your hips in a manner that forces you to stay pressed against him. His fingers slowly trailing down to your exposed thighs just below your shirt making you suck in a breath.

The side of his lips curled into a smirk as he heard a desperate whine that spilled past your plump lips, so quiet he’d damn near miss it if the room wasn’t so silent. The moment you opened your mouth to speak the sound of a slap rang throughout the room followed by a whine from you. Him having slapped your thigh to keep you quiet, focusing amusement in the way you used the back of your hand to try and suppress the noises that spilled past your lips.

“You’ve talked enough tonight.” His fingers immediately met your clit, pushing past your folds and slipping them right inside you with ease.

“Only sound I want to hear from you is your desperate little moans.” His thumb pressed against your clit as he started slowly, thrusting his fingers deep into you like he has done with you thousands of times.

“But A-Anton.” You force yourself to breathe out between ragged breaths, the way Heeseung continuously abuses your clit without letting up, making you squirm against the door.

“Went out to get snacks, told him I'd stay behind and look after you since you drank so much.” He responds by watching the way your face contorts between a look of pleasure and one of confliction.

Without hesitation he slipped in two more fingers, taking the time to stretch your walls and feel you out before he began to thrust them in and out slowly. The way you whine for him to move them faster only causes him to slow them down. His fingers thrust further into your cunt with every loud cry that left your mouth. He could tell you were getting annoyed with his sudden change in pace, he didn’t care though he thought it was what you deserved

“Heeseung” A chuckle spilled from his lips at how desperate you sounded.

“Hm? What is it baby hm? Too fast for you, should I slow it down some more?” He teases, slowing down the curling and thrusting of his fingers to an agonizingly slow pace.

“Look at you whining like a desperate little doll for some little nerdboy when you’ve got a boyfriend.” His eyes shoot to the mirror near your bedside and he forces you to stare straight ahead into it, giving you a perfect view of just how pathetic you looked, whining and whimpering while his fingers that were buried deep inside of you.

Finally forcing his fingers from your now dripping cunt he lifts you up throwing you onto your bed you had been coming into his mere moments ago. Face down ass up, with your hands pressed into your back, he has you completely vulnerable.

“Look at you, aren’t even trying not to give in, it's pathetic honestly. Is Jay not giving you what you need?” His hands traced your curves until his finger hooked within your panties, pulling them to the side.

“Fuck you’re already a mess” it took him less than a minute to shove his pants and boxers to the floor, the view of you making him all the more eager to take you right then and there. Something he had thought about time and time again since high school.

Your eyes rolled back immediately as Heeseung wasted absolutely no time and pushed himself inside of you until he fully bottomed out. Your tightness earned a low growl from him as he pushed so deep you could have sworn you felt him hit the top of your stomach. He watched the blissed out look on your face with every little thrust inside you.

“Taking me so well baby.” A chuckle spilled past his lips and he immediately spread your legs wider and pulled your ass up against him. Your moans were evident enough that whatever pain you felt from him stretching you out, if any had gone away. It was quite easy for him to get into the rythym of fucking into you, rough and feverish thrusts from the very beginning. Thrusts that caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head so hard you saw stars. He rolled his eyes and there was a hint of annoyance in his tone as he watched you force your face into the mattress trying to keep quiet.

Grabbing a fist full of your hair he forces your head back and presses you flat against his chest.

“Don’t try to be quiet now.” Your nails dug so deep into his thighs that you nearly drew blood. He watched the view from the mirror, watching the way strings of saliva dripped down your chin from the way your mouth hung open spilling pornographic moans.

“Look at you getting fucked by a nerd like me.” He immediately leans down to place kisses on your neck, your nipple between his fingers while his other hand fondles your breasts. The pleasure had been overwhelming your bodies in ways you hadn’t thought to be possible. From the feeling of his fingers against your breasts to every time he thrusted in to you feeling like the more he fucked the deeper into your stomach his cock seemed to push. Your thoughts had been so cloudy that you could barely even make out anything he had been talking to you about.

“Such a pretty little thing gonna cum all over my cock.” He immediately rested one hand on your waist while resting the other on your stomach and pushing down. He wanted to feel just how far his cock could go inside your little frame. This action was all it took to push you over the edge, the moment he pushed down upon your stomach your legs shook and it was a glorious sight for all of them to see, to see you squirt upon the impact of his hand. As you were finally able to pry your eyes open you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach. The sight of his hands wrapped around your waist holding you close to him as you came completely undone. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he watched you try and conceal your dazed condition.

“Yn? Did Heeseung leave?” Heesung couldn’t help but chuckle as he heard the sound of your brother calling him from the hall.

“Go ahead sweetheart, answer him.” He found it absolutely amusing, the very person you’d always tease and talk about as a kid had been fucking to into your matress making you a complete mess.

“U-um He- had to step o-out for a moment.”

“Did he say where he was going?” You mentally cursed and bit down on your lip to choke back a moan when Heeseungs fingers met your clit.

“A-An errand or something.”

“Errand? O..kay.”

When you finally heard him move away from the door and you weren’t even able to let out a sigh of relief. Your legs shook violently as Heeseung thrusts grew in speed and the low growls that spilled from his mouth made it all more easy for you to unravel right then and there, your cum spilling out onto his cock and he wasnt too far behind as the fucked out look on your face and the way you clenched around him was all he needed for him to spill into you.

Slipping his head into the crook of your neck he sucks harshly, leaving evidence that you were now tainted by him.

“Mmm now you have to go down there and keep him distracted so I can make it look like I left.”

“What? You expect me to go down there after this?”

“You want your brother to know you fucked one of his friends?”

“Fuck i like you better when you just sat in the room and played video games all day.”

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the-kr8tor · 4 months ago

Text

Into the Eye of the Needle

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 11.6k

Summary: Billie and Ramona falls back in time during the 90s, meeting the younger versions of their parents and finding that your relationship with their dad is in shambles. Will they be able to help in repairing it before they cease to exist?

Tags: no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), use of Y/N sparsely. Mum! Reader, Dad! Hobie, twin au, dad au, Billie and Ramona au, TTN au (but you don't need to read it to understand this one), time travel au, cw food mentions, fluff.

A/N: Behold! One of the silliest fic and most self indulgent fic I ever wrote lol enjoy

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Dad! Hobie Masterlist

Octobie🎸

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” Billie and Mona's voices echo around the house as you and Hobie clean the living room before you start setting up for Halloween.

“Damnit!” Billie's unmistakeable frustrated tone floats from upstairs down to the living room.

Hobie sighs and meets with your eyes across the room whilst he's holding up the entire sofa with one hand and with a vacuum on the other. “They got your vocabulary.”

The feather duster pauses in your hand and the picture frames on the wall that you're dusting stop swinging. “And they got your love for doing chores.” You say sarcastically.

Hobie wants to abandon the cleaning and snog you right there and then. Which might prove your words right if he does. With a promise and a wink towards you, he calls the girls. “Mac and Cheese!”

The sounds of bounding feet reverberates, and a moment later, their almost identical faces pop up from the top of the stairs. “Yeah?” They say at the same time.

You smile at them with fondness. But you show them that you mean business with your hands on your hips. Hobie calls it your mum pose, and your children call it the ‘we’re in trouble’ pose.

“Your mum asked the two of you to grab the boxes from the attic, not just one of you. Stop playin’” He glances at you briefly, and he gets a nod of approval from you.

“But playin’ rock, paper, scissors is an old age tradition on who gets to do the chores!” Billie answers back.

“Didn't you and uncle Ned used to do it when you were roommates?” Mona, being Mona, backs her sister with a smart rhetoric.

Teenagers, you sigh in your mind. “Well when me and your dad were roommates, we did all the chores together. That made it more fun.”

“Ew, mum!” They say simultaneously, groaning and acting like they're about to vomit.

You cross the distance towards Hobie, and he in turn puts the sofa down gently as he abandons the vacuum to hold your waist instead.

“Wait, what did I say?” You ask the three of them.

“We didn't need to hear what you and dad were up to back then, mum!” Billie even covers her ears dramatically as Mona fakes a gag.

Hobie chuckles next to you as realization hits you. “I didn't mean it by that—”

“If you gremlins don't go to the attic in the count of ten you're goin’ to hear a lot more.” Hobie cuts you off, and you play by his bit when you send him a sultry wink. “One…” they're already running up the stairs and up the ladder before you could even smooch Hobie. “Works like a bloody charm.” He says as he pecks your cheek lovingly, all the while chuckling against your soft skin.

—

“Why is it so dusty in ‘ere?” Mona coughs, while Billie sifts through the numerous boxes in the small attic.

The attic smells of old clothes left in the wardrobe for far too long and mildew clinging on wood. The place is big enough to fit dozens of boxes and bags but small enough to let the girls crawl and not stand up lest they want to get a full face of cobwebs clinging on the ceiling.

“I think they're just spider webs, Mon.”

“That is not better, Bee.”

“Our dad is literally part spider—ohh!” Billie holds up a pair of old jeans with white lace sewn into the ripped parts. “This is so cute!”

“Looks like mum's.” Mona checks it for any damage, she finds none but she does find Hobie's name scribbled on the tag. “Nope, it's dad's.”

Billie scrunches her nose. “Doesn't look like dad's.”

“You never know what kind of fashion he had back then.” Her sister shrugs, taking her attention away from the jeans to a wooden box that looks more enticing. “We're talkin’ ‘bout the 90s ‘ere. Dad probably had a leather jacket for every day of the week—” she hears shuffling behind her and Billie's already rifling through the entire box without a care. “And she's gone.”

Billie doesn't hear her, “this one suits you, Mon!” Lifting up a long sleeved blouse with a hummingbird embroidered on each collar, Billie brings it on Mona's chest to see if it fits her. “Hmm, a bit small but nothin’ like a pair of high waisted jeans couldn't fix it!”

“I like this one actually,” Mona smiles, tracing the colourful stitched bird on the collar with her thumb. “This was definitely mum's. Dad would never wear somethin’ with a collar like this.”

“Good find, huh? Say ‘thank you,’ Bee.” She shuffles, dancing excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah, Bee.” Mona rolls her eyes before folding the blouse neatly and then placing it on the floor next to her. “We still need to find those decorations. I can feel my allergies acting up.”

“Fine, but 'm gonna take this entire box with us.” Billie closes and kicks the box towards the attic exit, it skids on the dusty floor and then plunges down from the ladder down to the hallway. “Whoops!”

Ramona gasps, “You gotta watch your strength, you might break somethin’!”

Billie winces when she hears your familiar footsteps frantically walking up the stairs. You don't sound mad, probably concerned about them. Your eldest crawls towards the hole in the ceiling to look down apologetically at you. Mona shuffles on her knees, following behind her sister.

“We're okay!” They both yell the second you reach the last step.

You visibly relax, shoulders sagging as you see them both fine atop the attic. “I thought you two fell!” You hold onto your chest, “They're alright, Hobs!” You yell down to inform him.

“Told you! Spider senses don't lie, love!” His muffled voice echoes up the house.

Crossing the small distance, you look at the crumpled box that's spilling old clothes. “I remember these!” You chuckle, bending at the waist to take a familiar white shirt splattered with graffiti designs. “I made these! Too bad it doesn't fit your dad anymore.”

“I told you it was dad's!” Mona nudges her sister by her shoulder.

Billie nudges back, pushing Mona playfully. “But it fits us, mum! Can we keep it? We'll share, promise!” Billie acts cute, fluttering her lashes towards you with a sweet smile.

Mona huffs, hand pressed on her sister's cheek to push her away as she continues to jab her. “Yeah, can we?”

“Stop pushing, you'll actually fall this time.” You chuckle, they remind you of Hobie and Ned when they were younger, always pushing each other but more than ready to pull the other back up. “Are you sure? They're not too old school?”

“Nah!” They simultaneously say.

“Old school is actually in these days, mum!”

“Oh I know, sweetheart, my design assistant keeps yammering about trends just going around in circles.”

They smile at you, “you should hire us instead then!” Billie half teases.

You get a light bulb idea, “Tell you what, dad and I are going to pick up your brother from band practice. When we come back— and if the house looks ready for the Halloween party tomorrow then I'll bring you both to work next Friday, deal?”

They shriek excitedly. You hear Hobie downstairs copy their high pitched shrieks, making their guffaw ring around the house. “Only if the house looks nice.” You laugh at their antics, “just be careful with the streamers, okay? And leave the string lights to us.” Walking closer to the ladder, you look up at them sweetly. “I know you're not used to your abilities just yet, so be extra careful with each other, okay?”

“Don't worry, mum, I've got Mon-mon.” Billie mocks salutes.

“And I've got Billie. I'll catch her when she falls.”

“Oi! That was one time!”

Your phone rings in your pocket, the ringtone is one of Hobie's old songs. “Good,” leaning up, tip toeing, you pat each of their cheeks. “That's your brother, love you both so much.”

“Love you too, mummy.” Mona replies, sending you a flying kiss that she hasn't shaked away since she was five. You wouldn't have it any other way.

“Love you, mum!” Billie responds more enthusiastically, waving at you while you climb down the ladder.

“No love for me?!” Hobie, still downstairs and getting the keys based on the soft jingle of metal, yells back at the three of you.

“Love you, dad!” The twins yell back happily. You're glad that even though they're already fifteen, they're not embarrassed to say the three words back to you and Hobie.

“Love you, gremlins!” Hobie screams back, this time much clearer as he stands on the bottom of the staircase while waiting for you. “C’mon, love, let's get ice cream without them.” He teases.

You giggle, hand reaching towards Hobie as you both run away. A resounding sound of disapproval rings out while you and Hobie run off towards the garage.

“I want rocky road!” Billie calls back as she hears the engine start. “What do you want, Mo—” when she turns towards her twin, she finds her spot empty. “Hey!”

“What? ‘m doin' my task. Go look in the other corner.”

“Fine, don't blame me if they don't get your coconut ice cream, yuck by the way.” Billie heads off towards a red bag, unzipping it to find old rolls of fabric. “No Halloween stuff here.”

“Coconut ice cream is refreshing.” Mona explains while she rummages through a box full of multicoloured wires. The whole box got her intrigued, why would her parents keep this junk if it's not important?

“Ooh more clothes! Jackpot!”

Something shiny catches Mona's eyes, pushing through mountains of wires to get to the bottom of the chest, she finds something circular and metallic at the end. “What's this?”

Billie looks over her shoulder while she holds up a pair of plaid pants. “I don't know but that doesn't look Halloweeney.”

Mona takes it out of the chest, thumbs rubbing along the front, the dust has settled on the glass, caking it with grey itchy dust. “Looks like a watch.”

“Oh shit what if it's one of those vintage watches that's actually worth thousands of pounds?”

Ramona cleans the watch face with her jumper sleeve. Billie tilts her head, curious at why her sister is so intrigued by an old watch when she can't even get her attention whenever they watch a movie.

“I've never seen dad wear a proper watch, not even at uncle Ned’s weddin’.”

Mona's breath hitches in her throat, remembering her father's stories during his time at the spider society. “I don't think it's a regular watch, Bee.” Her eyes widen at how advanced it looks technology wise, with a touch of Hobie's personal style.

“Shit is it a million dollar watch?!” Her twin scooches closer, knees dragging along the floorboards unbothered that it's probably scratching her precious corduroy.

Mona turns her head towards Billie, “I think it's—!” Before she could finish her sentence, a bright light encapsulates them both. Plunging the twins into a kaleidoscope of colours.

—

“Ramona! I don't want to die!” Billie grabs hold of her sister while they're plummeting down in a multicoloured tunnel of lights and sounds that echo in their ears like a wind turbine.

“We're not gonna die!” Mona hugs her twin tighter, eyes shut closed to keep out the bright lights. “Mum and dad's gonna kill us if we die!”

“Fuck!” Billie shields Mona's head, bracing for impact once she spots the end of the colourful tunnel.

With roll and a groan, they land on a sea of grass. Mona lifts her head up from the tall grass, checking and patting herself if all her fingers and face are still intact.

“Billie!”

A hand raises from the bushes. “‘ere!”

“Oh thank fuck.” Standing up, Mona scans her surroundings. It looks like their neighborhood, except there's fewer houses in place, and there's a large oak tree standing in the middle of where their house is supposed to be. “What?”

Billie spits out a piece of grass stuck on her lip gloss. “What, what?” While she picks out blades of grass from her sister's braids.

Mona walks over to the metal fence where the picket fence that she remembers painting with her family was supposed to be. Her eyes roam all over the neighbour’s house. She's sure an older lady and her husband live there, not a middle aged couple with three kids running around the porch. The couple look spry while they're both tending to their bountiful garden.

“What the fuck?” Mona curses under her breath while Billie takes out her phone from her pocket to check. To her surprise, the device doesn't even open no matter how many times she taps it.

Billie turns her attention towards what's causing her sister to curse, brows creasing together at the sight in front of her. “Mon, tell me what's happening and why old Eunice looks gorgeous in that sweater vest.”

“I don't think we're in the same universe anymore.” Mona grips the metal fence tightly, the sound gathering the attention of the children, who awfully look like the people she sees visit the house every holiday. “Psst!”

All three children glance towards them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Mon, don't do that, you look like a bloody creep.”

“It's the only way I can get their attention!”

“Hello, excuse me, do you two need help?” Surprisingly, a much younger Eunice walks over to them. She roams her brown eyes all over the twins, concern and confusion flitting over her expression.

“Yeah, uh…” Ramona realizes that she can't just ask what year it is, or even ask what universe they're in. So she plays it casually. “Who's the top artist this year?”

“Excuse me?”

Billie sighs and closes her eyes from the sheer embarrassment. “We're from the local radio conductin’ a survey and we'd love to hear what you think of the… top artist this year.” She tries her best.

Mona nods enthusiastically, chuckling nervously, “what she said.”

“Oh I love nirvana and Mariah Carey!”

Mona gasps, “late 90s!”

“What?”

Billie grabs her sister by her arm. “Yes, thank you for answering our survey! Bye!” She yanks her away, dragging her towards the street and out of the suburban area.

“Wait, aren't surveys supposed to be more than one question?!” Eunice yells back, “I want to tell you how much I love ‘Always be my baby!’”

“Walk faster.” Billie walks briskly with Mona right next to her. “‘Top artist?’ Really, Mon?”

“Well it's either that or ask how Diana is!” She huffs, keeping up with her sister's strides. “Well at least now we know what year we're in!”

“Yeah, what if we're in a different dimension? Remember what dad taught us?”

“I know! Fuck!”

Billie stops mid stride, holding out her arm to stop Mona from walking. “Wait, where's the watch.”

Mona's eyes widen like saucer plates, “oh shit!” Patting her pockets frantically, she feels the circular shape of it in her jean pocket and she sighs in relief. “It's ‘ere.”

“I can't fucking believe dad's old watch still works.”

“Not anymore.” Mona winces at the cracked screen with the glitching numbers that read ‘138’

Billie sucks in her teeth. “At least now we know we're in the same dimension. But we're not in Kansas anymore.” She says with a transatlantic accent. Mona side eyes her with her nose scrunched up. “What? I always wanted to say that.”

Mona huffs, “Yeah, we time traveled.” She rubs her eyes with the heel of her palms. Groaning and body deflating. “I didn't even know it could do that.”

Meanwhile, Billie walks up and down the street with her hands buried in her hair. “Fuck, what if Miguel comes after us?”

“I think that's better, at least he can take us home.” Mona sits down on the curb, pocketing the watch for safe keeping while she thinks of a solution. What would you think when you get home to an empty house? Would their dad figure out where they are?

“Uh no, I don't want that vampire runnin’ after us!” Billie continues to pace around, anxiety pooling in the bottom of her stomach. “They're gonna go bonkers when they find out we're missin’”

“He's cool now, I think.”

“How are you so calm?!” Billie shakes her sister's shoulders.

“‘m not! ‘m freakin’ the fuck out, Bee!” She yells, cracking under the pressure, lips wobbling. “What if we can't go home because of my curious arse?!”

“Oi! Not your fault, alright?” Her eyes grow soft despite the tears brimming. “You were just lookin' at it, not your fault that it went haywire, ‘kay?”

Mona nods slowly, rubbing her clammy palms on her leg. “Okay, I'll get us home, bee, I promise.”

“I know, Mon, I'll help.” She gently punches her bicep playfully.

Mona scoffs with a smile, “you better.”

Billie chuckles, reminiscent of their dad's smile. “I think I've got an idea.” She sits down next to her sister on the curb. “Remember that one old movie we watched with mum and dad?”

“The time traveling one?”

“No, Tarzan.” She answers back sarcastically. “Of course the time traveling one, ‘back to the future.’

“Okay, so what about it?”

“We can't tell people we're from the future. But at the same time we can't fix that watch ourselves.” Billie points at where the watch is stored.

“What if I can? You don't know that.” Mona scoffs.

“Just lower your damn ego for a minute, Tony Stark.” Billie huffs, “my idea is that we go to someone who can actually fix it.”

“Well we obviously can't go to dad. You know what happened to the movie when the kid met his mum.” Mona shivers from the thought.

“Ew, I know, also I do not want to see dad and mum makin’ kissy faces at each other.” It's Billie's turn to shiver.

“So the second smartest person we know who can handle tech?” Mona understands what her twin meant.

“You read my mind, we're goin' to go to uncle Ned's—”

“Aunt Riri—!” They manage to say simultaneously. Sometimes twin teleplay fails.

“Shit, your idea is better actually.” Billie agrees.

Mona throws her head back, groaning at the realization. “Yeah, but if I remember correctly, she hasn't met mum and dad yet during the 90s. They met sometime during 2003, I remember because That's when Aunty moved ‘ere for her doctorate.”

“Fuck!” Billie stands up abruptly. “So uncle Ned then? Since Aunt Riri is still in the US. Unless we get on a bloody plane and manage to convince her.”

Mona stands up, shrugging. “We have no choice, it's either him or dad. Besides, he helped dad make his gadgets. We'd be in good hands.”

“Yeah, if he knows us! He doesn't know us, remember? He might not help a couple of strangers.” Billie follows Ramona towards the city. She can see the light from where she's standing. The sun shines down on them on a rare sunny day in London, making the back of their necks sweat and agitating them even more.

“We can convince him, if that doesn't work we'll tell him we're aliens. He's obsessed with ‘em, remember?”

“This is why you have the higher grades, Mon.”

“I don't know if that's sarcasm or not.”

Billie giggles, hand placed in her pockets. “Guess.”

“Arse.” Mona's lips curls into a smile, while Billie loops her arm around her sister's. “By this time, Uncle Ned has already moved to Richmond so we'll take a bus to his place.” They walk into the busy city with its buzzing sounds and lights flashing all over. Passing by a graffiti, Mona holds Billie's hand to reassure herself that she's not alone in the strange yet familiar city.

“Thank god for your ironclad memory. I don't even remember what we ate last night.” Billie nudges Mona with her shoulder.

“It was lasagna—” Mona stops halfway, eyes glued on someone sitting on the bus stop. She has Billie’s lips and face shape. And with Mona's eyes and smile. “Mum?”

Billie follows her line of sight, palms suddenly clammy at the sight of a younger you. “Holy fuck.” You look amazing in your high heeled boots, and blouse that Billie herself saw while rummaging through the boxes back home. You're unmistakably you. “What are we gonna do?”

“We just walk away— oh fuck, she's cryin’” Sure enough, your casual façade fades into sadness. You hold your face in your hands, shoulders shaking and tears seeping through your fingers. “What the fuck happened?” Their heart aches for you.

“I don't know, but that's our mum, c’mon.” They don't hesitate to walk towards you. Damn all the time traveling rules they got from movies, you're their mum and they can't bear it when you cry.

Their shoes click against the pavement, eyes trained on your shivering form. “H–hi,” Billie starts with trepidation. “Are you okay?” She tilts her head, making sure to give you enough space so as to not frighten you.

You swallow thickly, hands immediately rubbing along your eyes to wipe away the tears. But your red eyes stay despite your gentle smile. “Hello, sorry, am I blocking the bench?” You say with a broken tone, acting fine while you gather your bag.

“No, mu—” Mona's lips wobble at the sight of your tear stained cheeks. “No, you're not blockin’ the way. We're askin' if you're okay.”

You nod your head with hesitation. “Yeah, I'm okay, sorry to bother you.”

“I don't think you're okay.” Billie says bluntly. “Sorry, that was a bit rude. ‘m—” she pauses, thinking of another name so that she doesn't accidentally change her actual name in the present. “Milly, that's my name. My sister…Eunice and I were just a bit worried ‘bout you.”

Mona winces at the name her twin chose for her. “Yep,” she says, side eyeing her sister. “Are you hurt?”

You chuckle wetly, “does being heart broken count?”

What the fuck did dad do? Both Billie and Mona think at the same time. They look at each other knowingly.

Mona sits next to you while Billie leans on the bus stop. “You can tell us.”

“I'm sorry but I don't like bothering strangers with my sad loner story.”

“Nah, bother us.” Billie smiles gently at you.

You manage to crack a smile. “You both remind me of him actually. You have that confident nonchalance that he also has.”

Oh fuck. Billie and Mona glance at each other knowingly. They should tone down the Hobie–ness they got from their dad or else you'll suspect something is amiss.

“Uh do you guys really want to? My bus won't be here for…” you check your watch. “ten minutes. And you two must have plans tonight.”

“Nope, no plans!” Mona says nervously. “No parties no nothin'.” Billie narrows her eyes towards her sister.

“Ah same, I was just about to go to my friend's house to ask for advice since he knows him as much as I do.”

Mona flits her eyes towards Billie, silently communicating with her. She's going to uncle Ned's. Well that complicates things.

“Or you could ask us for advice instead. No bias ‘ere since we don't know both parties. Just calculated thoughts.” Billie thinks quickly.

“You sure? I don't want to keep you guys away. Your parents might get worried if you two don't come home on time.”

How ironic, Ramona thinks. “We're actually on…an errand. So they don't expect us until later.” She chuckles wryly, hoping that her lie is convincing. “What's botherin’ you?”

You sniff, tears already brimming in your eyes. “I—” inhaling, you look at their concerned faces, finding that their empathy is genuine from their expressions. For some reason, you feel relaxed in their presence. “I'm in love with my best friend. And long story short, I thought he was too. He was saying such sweet words that no friend would say to another friend and I…I thought he fancied me back.”

Billie looks away briefly, refusing to stare at your brokenhearted face. Ramona wants to hold your trembling hand, but she takes her hand back in case her touch is unwanted. You gaze at Mona softly, eyes glancing briefly at her hand before staring at the pavement.

“I h–heard someone at his place.” You stare at your shoes, hands fisting your trousers when you remember her voice ringing out from inside his houseboat. “I know I don't have a right to be jealous or feel like I'm being cheated on, but I can't shake the feeling that he wasn't genuine. That our relationship was just that, a friendship. A one sided love.” Wiping away your tears with your sleeve, you mindlessly play with your cherry earrings, helping yourself calm down. “Especially after what he said yesterday, I just thought,” you shake your head. “That he loved me back. It's stupid, isn't it?”

A looming migraine tugs at your head, you feel like there's a woodpecker poking a hole in the middle of your head, right in between your brows. You push that spot with the heel of your palm, one eye closed to shield yourself from the sun beaming at your right.

You inhale sharply. “And I have this project that could determine my future. And I'm so afraid of failing it just because I decided to ruin my friendship with him.” You gather all your remaining strength, inhaling and exhaling to suppress the headache. Surprisingly, Mona shifts to your side to shield you from the glare of the sun. You look at them, their eyes and soft smiles reminding you of him. “I love him beyond belief. That's a crazy fucking thought.”

Both girls don't remember this part of your love story whenever you or Hobie recall how you two got together after being friends for more than ten years. Billie swallows down her nerves, she leaves the side of the bus stop to crouch down in front of you, looking directly at your tearful eyes.

“‘m sorry that happened to you. And that's not a mad thought.” Mona gently grasps the back of your hand, kneading your palm with her thumb just like how you always did for them back in the present. “You're under a lot of stress, everythin’ just feels like it's all coming down on you, yeah?” You nod, “but it's not, the world's not crumbling down on you.”

“We don't have the right words to help you but—” Billie continues, reaching for her sister's hand that's wrapped around your own. She holds onto you and Mona with a tender touch. “We do know one thing, you'll be okay.”

Mona nods, smiling sweetly at you. “We know you'll be okay.”

You chuckle through the tears, frown replaced with a smile. “Thank you for hearing me out. I think I just needed to vent. I'm sorry that you had to hear all of that.” You joke. “I feel lighter,” squeezing their hands, you grin wider as a tear slides down your cheek. “I feel better, thank you. For a bunch of kids, you two seem to know more than I do.”

“Mum and dad taught us well.” Billie almost chokes on her words when a lump in her throat appears. She wants to go home and see her family.

The bus arrives, and the door opens with a hiss. You pat each of their hands before letting go. “I think I'll go back to my dorm, it's better to finish my project than travel an hour away and bother my friend.”

“Again, you're not a bother.” Mona stands up from her seat, she follows Billie, who's already in the bus’s doorway. “We're glad to lend you an ear.”

“Tell your bloke that he's bein’ a prick, yeah?” Billie jokes, making Mona slap her arm.

You gather your things, already walking away. “I think I will. I'll see you two around. Oh, and uh, nice pants. I have something similar to it, you have a good fashion sense.”

Both girls beam, looking down at their matching corduroys but in different shades. Mona waves at you, almost throwing you a flying kiss, good thing she stopped herself before she blew it.

Meanwhile, Billie waves more enthusiastically even with the tears still clinging to her lashes. “Thanks! It was our mum’s!” As the doors close and they watch your retreating form smile and wave at them goodbye, they feel closer to you than ever.

—

Mona and Billie finally arrive at their uncle Ned's place. It's a simple flat with a bike parked up front, and a flower bed that's been abandoned judging by the dead leaves clinging to the pots.

“I think it's this one. I remember the whole band took a picture in front of it before uncle Ned moved away.” Mona walks up the steps, hand reaching up the door to knock. She pauses, suddenly shy at the thought of talking in front of someone who doesn't know them like they know him.

“You want me to do the talkin’?” Billie asks wholeheartedly without malice or a condescending tone. “I'll try my best not to scare him. Not like the time we sold cookies.”

Her sister nods, “okay, just don't tell him that…” she leans in closer to whisper. “We're from the future.”

Billie chuckles, mirroring her sister. “I won't.” Leaning back, she clears her throat. “Trust me I can handle it.” Holding out her fist, she knocks on the door with a rhythm that both girls made up to recognize each other through the door.

“Hold on!” Someone's muffled yells call at them. “just a minute, Y/N!”

“Oh, he's expectin’ mum.” Billie says, “should I tell him that we ran into her?”

Mona whips her head towards her twin. “I–I don't—”

The door swings open, and out comes Ned in a pink fluffy bathrobe with a toothbrush still in his mouth. “Can I help you?” He raises a brow, looking at their faces like he's trying to place where he last saw them.

“Ned Leeds?”

“Yeah? If you're selling stuff, I don't want it.” He starts to close the door but Billie stops it from closing with her boot in the doorway. Thank goodness for steel toed boots. “I already paid the down payment, now leave me alone.”

“We're not ‘ere for… whatever that is. We need your help.” With Billie's words, Ned opens the door again just a smidge.

“Oh, you lost? I can call your parents for you.”

“That's the thing though, we heard that you're good with tech?” Billie looks at her sister, she nods quietly in place. “And we're looking for someone who can fix our watch.”

Ned's face morphs into annoyance, thinking it's one of those modus operandi for scams. “Call a horologist.” He moves to close the door again before shoving Billie's foot out of the doorway with his fluffy slippers.

“Wait!” Mona shouts, hands grasping the door to keep it open. Billie's eyes widened, afraid for her sister's fingers. “We're aliens!”

A silence hangs in the air for a second while Ned glances at them with an unreadable expression. Then, he laughs amusingly. Both girls look at each other desperately.

“You? The both of you are aliens?” He asks sarcastically.

Billie sucks in her teeth, pushing the door further to open it more, still very careful of her strength lest she doesn't end up meeting uncle Ned in the future. “You sleepwalk at night, and when you do, you always prepare a sandwich in the kitchen, that's why you have that scar on your palm from that one time you used a knife.”

Mona gasps then tamps down a giggle when she realizes what her twin is doing. She remembers when their dad told them that story while the rest of the band were blackout drunk in their old backyard. He had to dodge the knife just to take it from Ned while you were afraid that it would nick either of them.

Their uncle flicks his eyes at his palm, sure enough the scar stares back at him. “How'd you know that? Only two people know about that—”

“You didn't know how to ride a bike until you were sixteen.” Billie continues, slowly walking inside the flat. Mona follows closely, hands placed on her hips to intimidate their poor uncle. He backs down with a terrified expression. “Your friends doesn't know that you're datin’ again. And that you're highly allergic to limes.” Ned looks pale, looking like he's about to faint on the spot. For the cherry on top, Billie shows her ‘hightech’ phone, causing Ned to blink at what the brick shaped object is.

“And peanuts!” Mona adds, and Billie gives her an approved nod. Ned walks backwards into a wall, toothbrush falling from his agape mouth.

“Holy shit,” His chest heaves, wide eyes staring at their faces, waiting for it to turn into bug eyed green creatures from mars. “I'm gonna call the cops now.”

Billie side steps and blocks the only phone in the room, “nuh uh, Ned Leeds. Mon, show him.”

“Oh god I don't want to see your true forms!” He cowers back into a corner.

Mona takes the watch from her pocket, practically shoving it in his face. He jumps away, shoulders shaking. “Sorry, we really just need your help in fixin’ this so we can go home.”

“Y–you’re not gonna hurt me? Or tell me how I die?”

“D’you want us to tell you?” Billie is clearly having too much fun with him.

“...no.” Ned sniffs, trying to calm his nerves while taking a look at the cracked watch. His expression shifts, eyes blinking at the tech. “This looks futuristic.”

“Can you fix it, unc—” Billie clears her throat, “Ned Leeds.”

He furrows his brow at her, “I think so, it might take some time though.”

Both girls look at eachother, they sigh, anxiety rolling around in the pit of their stomach. “Please fix it as fast as you can. Our—” Mona spares a glance at her sister, finding that she has the same expression as her. “Parents are looking for us, they're worried. And we miss our brother too. So please, fix it.”

Ned nods, staring at them empathetically even after what transpired. “So your planet needs you then?”

“...sure.” Billie says with a lopsided smile. “Can we trust you, mortal?” Mona hides the roll of her eyes by closing her eyes.

“Absolutely. If you spare me and my planet.” They don't know whether he's playing them too or he genuinely thinks that they're aliens.

“Better yet,” Mona adds, “you get to learn about our technology while you're at it. Win/win.” Yeah, that definitely won't change anything in the future. Or so she hopes.

“Deal!” Ned walks towards his dining table, already getting all his tools out from his pile of boxes. “Let's get started then. But before that, you guys don't have ray guns right?”

The twins have a long day ahead of them.

—

The sun was beginning to set when Mona woke Billie up from her nap on Ned's couch which was surprisingly comfortable despite it still covered in plastic. After a few hours trying to crack the watch open, Ned has finally figured out what's wrong with it. The bad news is that he needs parts, lots of it, to get it up and running the sooner the better. The good news is that he knows where to get most of the parts, the other bad news is that it's three hours away from his flat. So the three of them decided to split off, the girls will be going back to London to get the new set of lens and power supply from a shop. While Ned drives alone to get the rest. He even left them a copy of his flat keys so that they got somewhere to stay after shopping.

Billie yawns, joints cracking as she stretches her arms up. “Uncle Ned's too trustin’ of people, no wonder he fell for that scam a few years ago.” She jingles the set of keys around her finger, twirling the carabiner around.

They walk on the sidewalk that faces a preppy looking university. A few people walk about, some frantically run inside the campus. Billie guessed they might be late to class, or just needed to take a dump. Her mind wanders off as Mona sighs next to her with the plastic bag of spare parts clanging against her leg.

“I think he's just awfully nice, Bee. It's either that or he knows who we are.” She places her cheek atop her sister's bicep, tired bones creaking as they walk slowly. She wonders if you and Hobie got home already, and if you're freaking out once you see the empty house.

“Literally impossible, how would he know?”

“His best mates are mum and dad, he has known them since they were young. And he's smart, he might've figured it all out—”

“Holy fuck is that dad?!” Billie yells out of nowhere, startling her sister. “Christ, he looks awful.”

Mona follows her gaze, stopping to see a tall disheveled man standing next to his bike at the campus parking lot. His hair and leather jacket stands out amidst the crowd, and his demeanor screams lovelorn. His shoulders slump, hands moving about like he's about to take a leap of fate. When Mona follows what he's looking at, she's not surprised that he's staring at you.

“And mummy too.”

“What–?” Billie peeks behind a car, gasping when she sees you talking to a friend in front of your campus building. “Talk about drama.”

“Billie, I think we're in trouble if we don't help them get back together.”

“What do you mean? I think we already helped by talkin’ to mum.” Mona starts to walk towards the university entrance, eyes trained on the younger version of their dad.

“Yeah, but not dad.” They stop right next to a parked car, hiding behind it to watch whether or not Hobie would walk towards you. Or do something, anything to keep the peace between the two of you. “Look at him, I've never seen him this nervous since our brother was born.”

“Correction, I've seen him this nervous during our recital.” Mona just stares at her with a flat look. “What? ‘m just copyin’ you.” She teases with a chuckle. “You said it yourself, we can't talk to dad.”

“Yeah, ‘bout us bein’ his kids, but that doesn't include us givin’ him advice.”

“What are we even goin' to tell him? He's gonna eat us whole, Mon, look at him!” Both girls turn their attention towards Hobie. “Ew, he's all sweaty—okay, not that but, he looks like he's gonna bully us.”

“This is the exact same time he got bit by the spider. Give him some slack, Bee.” Mona rolls her eyes, in her peripheral vision, she sees you walk towards your dorm building with a couple of classmates. “Besides, he's not gonna bully us.” She takes the opportunity to cross the distance towards Hobie while you're occupied with your friends in the lobby.

“Yeah, but remember uncle Ned tellin' us that he wore a cardigan with loafers one time and dad never let him hear the end of it?”

“Yeah, but mum wears it all the time and he says that it looks cute on her!” They walk briskly when Hobie gets on his bike. “Not in those words, ‘fit’ is the word he used, but he doesn't bully people!”

“That was mum! Not us who are a couple of almost identical strangers—” Billie tries to grab Mona by her shoulder but she's faster than her, dodging her hand and standing in front of their dad's motorcycle with an intense look.

Mona inhales deeply, nose flaring up, index pointing at their dad. When she opens her mouth, no words come out.

Hobie blinks at them, eyebrows furrowed with a questioning look. “Is there somethin' on my face?”

“Nothin’! My sister ‘ere thought you're somebody else.” Billie tries to save face, pulling Mona out of the way but she stands firm. “Let's go, Mon.”

“You!” Mona starts tentatively, Billie groans, hiding her face with her hands from the second hand embarrassment. “I– you better apologize to mu— Y/N! Yeah, apologize t–to her.” She puts her hands on her hips, trying to act intimidating. Billie curses under her breath.

“You’re friends with Y/N?” Hobie leans atop the handlebars of his bike, confused about the whole ordeal. “I don't remember her talkin' ‘bout a couple of teenagers bein’ friends with her. Didn't your parents teach you manners?”

Mona swallows thickly, looking back towards Billie for help. Her twin sighs, stepping forward to fix the situation. “Well,” she chuckles nervously, his pointed stare reminds her of his look whenever they break curfew. “We're—” she's at a loss for words when Hobie raises a brow at her. Her palms are suddenly clammy. “Just apologize to her please.”

Hobie chuckles lightly, hands rubbing along his face tiredly. “That's what ‘m tryin’ to do, mate.”

The girls glance at each other briefly, sensing their father's frustration and sorrow behind his words.

“I don't know where to start, she wouldn't answer my calls, it was a misunderstandin’, I—” He sniffs, eyes staring off in the direction of where you are. “Is she alright, at least? She eatin’, sleepin’?”

Mona purses her lips, “we don't know but she misses you.”

Hobie's eyes shines in the orange afternoon glow. “Yeah, same over ‘ere.” He taps his brake mindlessly with his thumb, a nervous tick of his that the girls are familiar with. “Don't worry, I'll talk to her. I think she just needs some time away from me.” He chuckles without humour. “Ten years with me will do that to you.”

They both shake their heads. “We don't think so,” their hearts break for their dad. In the present they know how much he loves you, but now they know that he loves you just as much as in the past. “Just please talk to her.”

“And remember she has that fashion show.” Billie adds, frowning as she fights the tears in her eyes. If they fail, they wouldn't be born, she wouldn't have met her sister. She wouldn't have met their younger brother no matter how annoying he can be sometimes. “Don't make her wait or she might not come back for you.”

She recalls the story that she knows like the back of her hand. Where you come back to London after years of being apart, only connected with him through letters and late night phone calls. If he doesn't cross the line that he's been tethering over for the past ten years, or if you don't take that leap of fate you always wanted to, their family wouldn't exist. Their love would cease to exist.

Hobie swallows down his nerves. “I'll keep tryin', and I remember her show. I'll be there.” With a nod, he puts on his helmet.

Both girls back away. “And we'll make sure that she gives you the outfit.”

Billie smiles, “we think you'll like it.”

Hobie grins under the helmet, eyes staring briefly at you, as if saying goodbye for now. “If she made it, I already like it.” He revs his engine, “thanks, uh?”

“Milly and Eunice!” Billy says with her whole chest while Mona side glances at her with a scrunched up look.

“Milly,” he repeats, smiling, “wait, have I seen you two before?”

The twins widen their eyes, quickly walking away before he could ask any questions. “Maybe at a gallery or a concert? Anyway, bye, da— Hobie!”

As they walk away with their heads down, they hear Hobie drive away from behind with more questions swimming in his mind. Sighing, they see themselves in front of your dorm building. Before they could leave, the door opens and your head peeks over the crack.

Your eyes are clearly brimming with tears, nose relentlessly sniffing. “That was him.”

“Oh, mu— Y/N.” Mona opens the door, and without thinking, she hugs you. To both of their surprise, you hug back. Billie joins in after the shock, patting your back gently as you cry on Mona's shoulder.

—

“Where'd you guys learn how to stitch? You're both pretty good at it.” You say while you put the last safety pins on the red blazer you made.

The girls found themselves in your dorm with snacks and drinks around them. You all sit on the floor in a circle while they help you put the finishing touches on your project. Aka, what their dad will wear on the runway. After you cried buckets full of tears in front of them, you insisted that you pay for their dinner as compensation for making them hear all your woes. Which they declined, instead they asked if they could lighten the load for you by helping with your project which was probably fifty percent of your problems. So, with slight reluctance, you ordered food to go and the three of you clicked together like you've known eachother since childhood. Well, that was the case for the girls.

“Our mum did. Dad helped too.” Mona smiles, hands pausing from the lace she's stitching together.

“They sound like cool parents then.” You smile back sweetly, “sewing is a necessary skill.”

“Oh we know.” Billie says, referring to all the times you had to sew Hobie's wounds close even before they were born. Mona nudges her, giving her a ‘shut up’ look.

You smile gently at them, and they miss you dearly from that smile. The second they get home they're gonna hug you immediately. And maybe their dad too after they glare at him for a minute.

“You two are twins right?” You laugh awkwardly, “I didn't want to ask back at the bus stop, it might've been too obvious.”

“Yep, unfortunately I didn't absorb her in the womb.” Billie jokes while she paints the white t-shirt with a graffiti style design.

“Oi!” Mona scolds her sister but her grin betrays her. “You stole my joke.”

Giggling, you lay the blazer down flatly to double check your stitches. “I've always wanted a twin you know, it's like having a forever best friend. You two get along so well.”

“I think you already have a forever best friend.” Billie says softly.

You mirror her smile, hands playing with your cherry earrings. “Yeah, I guess I do have one already.” You look like you're in deep thought. “I saw you two talking to Hobie, how'd you know the guy I was talking about was him?”

“Uh,” Mona sucks in her teeth. “He seems like your type? I mean judging from how you talked about him.” She sounds unsure.

“Was I that obvious?” Thankfully, you buy it. They sigh in relief. “What did you three talk about? If you don't mind me asking.”

“We don't mind.” Billie leans back against your bed, grabbing her soda cup to sip while you wait for them to speak about the conversation they had. “We just talked ‘bout you, nothin' bad don't worry. We just told him to apologize, and he asked about you actually.”

Your eyes light up before faltering, “he did?”

“Yeah, he looked apologetic. He says he's gonna keep tryin' to talk to you, but he also says he'll give you some time for a bit.” Mona continues for her sister. “He was askin' if you were alright, if you were sleepin’ and eatin' okay.”

Your cheeks heat up while your eyes brim with tears again. The girls can tell that you missed him a lot. “If you see him again, can you tell him that I'm trying too? And that he's right, I think I need a bit of time to gather my complicated thoughts.”

“You can say it yourself durin’ the show.” Billie's smile grows into a smirk, knowing what happens during the said fashion show. “He said he'll be there.”

The perks of having enhanced abilities is feeling what people's emotions are like. Kind of like their spidey senses telling them if the person in front of them is angry enough to attack or when exactly to comfort someone. But this time it's neither of those things, they sense that your heart is thudding loudly against your ribcage, and that your hands are suddenly sweaty, and that your cheeks are practically on fire from the simple words, complete with butterflies flying in your stomach.

They felt the same thing with Hobie while talking to him. They chalked the quick heartbeat and sweaty palms were from the new powers that are still taking hold of him. But the butterflies and how he tenderly looked at you do not lie. He's unquestionably, unequivocally in love with you just like how you're absolutely lovestruck by your best friend.

Both girls think that there's no danger of them fading away into nothingness knowing that you two won't let go of your feelings for the other. All they have to do now is to help you finish your project and wait for Ned to complete their watch. For now, they'll keep you company in your cramped dorm that they've heard a lot of stories about during their childhood.

“Now let's finish this masterpiece for the love of your life, hm?”

—

You try to sneak out of your dorm room at the crack of dawn. The three of you chatted until Billie fell asleep on your desk, to which Mona apologized on her behalf. She was about to wake her up but you stopped them, telling them that it's alright for them to stay the night if they called their parents beforehand, and that they'd stay quiet so that your R.A wouldn't kick them out. You didn't want them commuting this late at night. You even considered calling Yuri to borrow her car and drive them back home, which the girls refused since if they see another person they care about in the present here, they would've balled their eyes out.

Mona, with her quick thinking, dialed a ‘fake’ number in your landline, your number in the present. She imagined that she was talking to you even though you're technically in the same room with her. She even asked how her dad and brother were in the so-called conversation. She missed her family dearly. Billie heard it all while she was half asleep, her head hidden on her arms cushioning her head, eyes starting to blur as she remembered your promise to them before they fell back in time.

As the girls slept in your bunk, you tiptoe over all the mess the three of you made. Scraps of fabric lay about, various colours of thread roll around the floor as you quietly pack the finished outfit in a box. With one last look at the leather vest you painstakingly made, you shut the box closed, tied it with a ribbon and wrote your message on the back of a starbucks reward card.

You almost made it out without waking either one of them, but the creaking door woke both of them up with a start. Ramona thinks that it's their spidey senses rousing them from their sleep.

“Where are you goin'?” Mona blearily asks, one eye cracked open.

“Sorry,” you wince, “I was just dropping this off at Hobie's place. Go back to sleep, I'll get breakfast for you two as thanks for helping.”

“Nah, we're comin' with.” Billie, forgetting that she's on the top bunk, falls face first.

“Oh fuck!” You panic, walking quickly towards her while Mona helps her sister up. Billie's giggles echo around the room, and you're definitely sure that the whole building heard the thud.

“‘m okay,” she yawns as Mona rolls her over to face the ceiling. “Jus’ fine, mon-mon.”

You and Mona both sigh in relief. “You sure? I can take you to the hospital? Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” You hold up a fist in front of her.

“None, that's your fist.” She swipes your hand away. Sitting up, she blinks all the sleep away while Mona tamps down her laughter. “You said breakfast right?”

—

After eating a breakfast sandwich, the three of you walk and chat as you cross the street towards Hobie's houseboat where it’s currently docked.

“Our brother's a little shit sometimes but we love him.” Billie sips at her cooling tea, letting the warming air flutter her lashes.

“Mm-hmm,” Mona is still chewing on the last bite of her sandwich. “He likes monster trucks and playin’ the drums. On his 7th birthday, our parents got him a drum kit with monster trucks painted on it.”

You giggle, box in hand that feels heavier with every step you get closer to Hobie's place. “He's definitely not gonna regret the monster truck design when he's older.” You say with sarcasm.

“I think he's already regrettin’ it, Y/N.” Billie isn't used to calling you by your first name, it feels wrong but it's inaccurate (and weird) if she calls you mum when she's only a few years younger than you. Technically.

You stop mid step, eyes roaming around the houseboat docked on the side. Both girls remember it from old photos of when they were still toddlers waddling around the houseboat. They remember that they used to love the place, no matter how small it was. To them, it was their castle. Their home on the water where they said their first word, and celebrated all their firsts.

“Oh,” Billie seems to have the same nostalgia brought sadness when she sees it floating. She grabs Mona by her arms, face placed on her bicep. “Is it just me or do I suddenly miss this boat?” She whispers.

Mona pats her back, “not just you, Bee, I forgot how much I missed this place.” She blinks and you're gone from her side. “Wait, where's—?”

Billie turns around, spotting you hiding behind a tree, and clutching the box to your chest. You lock eyes with her, shaking your head and pursing your lips.

The twins look at each other before walking towards you. “You okay?” Mona asks you, brows knitted together at your sniffing.

“I don't think I can face him.”

Billie understood your feelings. She has an idea as she peeks behind the tree to take a look at the houseboat.

“How ‘bout I do it for you then? I won't talk to him, I'll just leave the box at his doorstep, no problemo.”

“Can you? Please?” You're already handing the box with shaky hands.

Billie meets with Mona's eyes, her sister nods, agreeing that her idea was for the best.

“Right, don't worry I'll do it quickly he won't even hear me.”

“Be careful, the floor is very slippery when wet. I don't want you to fall in the water.” You say with a wobbly smile. “And thank you, Milly.”

“It's alright.” Billie walks briskly towards the boat, making sure not to make any sound with every footstep as you and Mona watch from behind the tree.

Billie leaps over the boat effortlessly, boots barely making a squeak. As she tiptoes over to the door, her senses perk up. The hair on the back of her neck stiffens, while her ears pick up the unmistakable sound of her dad's footsteps. With wide eyes, she makes her escape.

Mona senses it too, silently beckoning her twin over to their hiding spot before Hobie could open the door.

Just as Billie’s hand grasps Mona's, yanking her behind the tree, the door opens with a creak. And out comes Hobie stumbling on his feet as he skids to a stop, almost trampling over the box. His eyes roam around the area, flicking left and right for your familiar face. Finding no one, he sighs and picks up the box gingerly. Once he reads the note you left, his eyes soften, glimmering in the early morning light as he gets back inside with his shoulders slumped over.

You finally exhale when you heard the door closed. You didn't have the heart to peek behind the tree to look at him, lest you run to his arms and let out all the words you wanted to say.

“I'm sorry you had to do that for me.” You say and you see them whispering amongst each other. “Oh, do you two need to go?”

“Yeah,” Billie closes the distance, “we need to check on somethin’ but we'll be back to see your show.” She hugs you suddenly, and you hug back before she lets go of you, but not without her signature smile.

“That would be great, you get to see the clothes you helped make.” You pat her back kindly.

Mona waits on the side, you see her casually waiting and you immediately open your arms to her. “Thank you, Eunice.” Her lips wobble for a second, she embraces you before you could see her tears flow that she immediately wipes away.

“You're welcome. I know you'll kill it.”

“I hope so, before it kills me.” You joke as you hold her at arm's length. “I'll see you two at the show then?”

Holding each of their hands, you beam at them. And both girls have the urge to hug you again. They don't, knowing that they'll be home before they know it and embrace the real deal by then.

“We'll see you there.” They say simultaneously.

You giggle, “twin telepathy.” They wave goodbye to you, now knowing a different side of you.

—

Billie and Ramona got the right parts for Ned to fix the watch which needed an entire day for him to finish. Mona helped in assembling the parts while Billie made sure everything in the interdimensional watch worked by poking and prodding each individual screw and notches if it sparked or not. If there's sparks, the power is working normally in that section of the watch, if not, Ned and Mona had to rearrange the whole thing again.

Shadowing over their dad's work table while he assembles gadgets since before they could even talk actually helped. They can't wait to show all the work they've done and accomplished to their dad. Hobie would be proud of them persevering through all the shocks and mechanical hisses the old watch emanated.

Ned was terrified out of his mind though, there was real danger of him accidentally blowing up his new flat together with a couple of strangers that he has grown to know through the assembly of the ‘intergalactic’ gadget.

“Shit!” Mona wakes up from her nap in the guest bedroom that the twins have called their own for the past day or so. “Bee!” She pats her side, finding her sister snoring under the covers. Flinging the blanket, she shakes her awake. “Wake the fuck up! We're gonna miss mum's show!” With a kick to Billie's leg, she sits up with a startle.

“Oi! What the fuck!”

“Get up! We need to see them before we go!” Mona's already fixing her appearance in the mirror, and then she quickly folds the blanket and makes the bed while Billie groggily walks around the room to grab her shoes.

“Calm down, uncle Ned still hasn't finished the last bits. D’you want us explodin’ in the portal?”

“No, but I don't want to miss the show. It's the event that started it all, Bee.” Mona walks in front of Billie to fix her shirt for her. “Besides, we need to make sure it goes as planned. If dad doesn't show up and confesses backstage we're basically fucked.”

Billie yawns, “yeah, I forgot all ‘bout the space time continuum.” Her sister grabs her hand as she yanks the door open, almost breaking its hinges apart. “Careful!”

“Sorry!” As they leave, Ned does a double take.

“Wait, where are you going?” He asks, jittering from the fifth cup of coffee he had in the past twelve hours.

They stop in their tracks, “uh, we're gonna go see a fashion show?”

“Huh?” Ned makes a face, “without your watch?” He fishes the finished watch from his pocket, showing it off to them.

“No shit?” Billie guffaws, taking the watch gingerly in her palms like holding a precious stone.

“Yes shit.” Ned grins, “just finished it a few minutes ago. You're good to go.”

Mona laughs, wide eyed at her uncle. “You're bloody brilliant, Ned Leeds.”

He shrugs, “I should say the same thing to you two. I guess it runs in the blood eh?” The twins look at him with their mouths agape. “I would drive you but I can't see straight right now. There's three of you.” Laughing, he sits down on the couch with a groan, eyes growing heavy.

The girls smile kindly at him, Ramona puts on the watch on her wrist, its metal is shiny and new but Hobie's stickers and design still remains in the wrist strap. It blinks and boops on her wrist, more than ready to go home.

“Thank you, mortal.” Billie still plays with the bit, even making a peace sign at him while they leave.

“Yeah yeah,” Ned grins tiredly at them, waving them out of his house. “say hi to your mum and dad for me, yeah?”

They turn their heads towards him lightning quick. But by the time they stare at him with surprised faces, he's already snoring on the couch.

“We need to give him a really nice gift on his birthday when we get back.” Billie says with a laugh. Shutting the doors closed, they make their way to the bus stop with one destination in mind.

—

They make it in time. The venue was packed, and the runway was in full swing with various models strutting their stuff on the raised platform.

As they push through the front towards the backstage, they see another familiar face in the audience, your old professor that always sends them gifts during their birthdays without fail. The girls only met her one time during their fifth birthday, and they only heard stories about her from you but they feel a kinship with her ever since the old professor was in your life. Without her near impossible project, you and their dad wouldn't have gotten together and pushed through the boundaries to be together.

Billie waves at her with a grin, followed by Mona who even greets her politely. Mrs. Williams creases her perfect brows together at the two strangers, but thinks nothing of it as she continues to grade her students.

With a push of the curtains, they see you pacing along the floor alone, clearly nervous out of your mind while you keep looking back at the double doors. Hoping to see Hobie suddenly appear.

“Shit, did we fuck up?” Billie grasps her sister's shoulder while they peek their heads through the curtains.

Mona heaves, panic settling in her stomach. “I—”

She gets cut off before she could even say another word. The doors burst open, flying off the hinges to reveal Hobie in his outfit that you painstakingly made. The twins almost squeal in place, but they clamp down their mouths shut in case they disturb you and their dad.

“This is it.” Mona grabs Billie's hand, and they look at eachother with an excited grin.

“Hobie?” You ask, chest heaving, palms clammy.

Instead of Hobie grabbing your face and kissing you until you're breathless, he passes by you to get to the runway. The girls sees your posture deflate, face in pure disbelief and confusion.

“What?” Mona watches you in place while Billie can't believe her eyes while she follows where her dad is heading.

Hobie struts down the runway like he owns the place. Billie had to move her sister's head to make her look at their supposed silly dad making the runway his. Their eyes grow wide while camera flashes go off around him, which doesn't even faze him one bit, not while you're waiting at the end of the runway. As he heads back towards you, his fake model façade fades.

“Hobie, I—!” You say, and you're met with his lips upon your own.

With the closing of the runway, Hobie finally crosses the line he has been threading through for years.

When you kiss back, both Billie and Mona back away with their eyes closed but smiles on their faces.

They laugh with tears in their eyes, then with a hug, they leave the venue out into the sun. Hand in hand, they punch the right codes into the present.

“Ready?” Mona asks.

“Just press the bloody button, Mon-mon.”

A kaleidoscope of light appears, showering them in warmth, and down they go without wasting another second.

—

“Do you have your sisters’ ice cream?” You pat your son's head, and he hums against his ice cream cone, cheeks painted with caramel while showing you the plastic bag in his other hand. “You need a haircut, baby.” Giggling, Hobie opens the front door for you. “What a gentleman.”

Hobie points at his lips with a playful glint in his eyes. “Payment.”

You feign a sigh, “chivalry is dead, I guess.” And yet, you still give him a chaste kiss, tasting the cherry he plucked from your sundae.

A thud interrupts your tender gazes, and you instinctively look at your youngest, finding him all wide eyed and ice cream forgotten as he looks at the house.

“You okay there, little man?” Hobie asks, crouching down. He rubs his back and follows his gaze. Whistling out, he sees the entire house perfectly decorated for Halloween. Orange and purple streamers were strewn about the staircase, pumpkins and blackcats are placed in the same spot you always put them in. Plastic bats, gaudy string lights and knitted skeletons that you made while pregnant with your youngest, decorate your shared home. The girls definitely did their job perfectly, but they're nowhere to be seen.

You clutch onto Hobie, cheek pressed on his bicep, gawking at the decorated living room. “They even found the skeletons we thought were missing.”

Hobie chuckles, pecking the top of your head while his arm wraps around your middle and his free hand placed atop his son's head. “And even dressed the skeletons in my clothes.”

“They found Bilbo!” Your son runs off towards the mechanical witch that cackles when it detects movement. Somehow that one is his favourite.

“Mac and cheese, where are you?” Hobie calls for them, hand in hand with you while you two search the first floor of the house. Reaching the kitchen, roaming his eyes around, he just sees empty pumpkin shaped bowls on the counter and not a sign from either one of his girls. “Where—?” He jumps when he sees someone crawling on the ceiling towards him. “Fuck!” Yelling, he pushes you behind him to shield you from the ‘danger.’

Guffaws echo as Billie reveals herself, flinging her hair away to show her face. “I got you!” Giggling, she drops down on the floor, landing elegantly on her feet, and then beelining to embrace you and Hobie. She can finally hold you, the you that she knows and loves.

“Takin’ advantage of my lack of spidey senses for you and your sister, huh?” Hobie says, hugging her back with a heavy peck on the crown of her head.

“You and your sister did such a good job, Bee!” You rub her back while she hides her face on your shoulder, hiding her tears from you. Your mum senses tingle, “you okay, baby?”

Billie sniffs, leaning away briefly. “Yeah, I just missed you both so much.”

“We were only gone for an hour, Mac. Did somethin’ happen?” Hobie wipes away a stray tear from her cheek, worrying more when Mona is still nowhere to be found. “Where's your sister?”

An upside down face suddenly pops down from the ceiling in front of Hobie's face, making him jump away. “That's for mum!” She points accusingly at Hobie while she somersaults back on the ground.

Hobie holds his chest, “what did I do?!”

Ramona ignores him for a moment. “Hi, mum.” Embracing you, she rubs her face against your shoulder, trying hard not to sob in front of you.

“Hi, baby, why is everyone crying today, huh? You're gonna make me cry too.” You hold her cheeks, and then you kiss her forehead sweetly. Reaching for Billie, she immediately latches herself onto you, and you smother them both in kisses.

Hobie watches on with a tender smile, Mona beckons him over and he obliges as Mona detaches herself from you to hug him properly. He cups her jaw, looking at her eyes that's near identical to yours. “You okay, my toyota corolla?”

Ramona giggles, sniffing, and hugging him again with her arms around his neck. “Never better, dad.”

You smile, meeting Hobie's eyes, with your own shining with happy tears. He walks over to you and Billie with Mona in tow, hobbling over to you while he doesn't let go of her.

“Aww group hug!” You say, making it a mission to smooch each of their cheeks including Hobie's, who's always glad to receive them.

“We still haven't decorated the outside yet!” Billie shrieks as Hobie blows raspberries on her temple.

“We'll do that later, yeah?” Hobie leans away, admiring you and his girls with a tender smile. He wraps his arms around everyone as best as he can, almost carrying the three of you as he slowly twirls the group in place in the home that he made with you.

You and Hobie will ask about what happened later, and maybe they even have a story to tell for you two. But for now, you hold them in your arms, squeezing them affectionately.

There's clattering behind you, and you see your youngest covered in fake spider webs, with a confused look on his face that's a carbon copy of his dad's face.

“What did I miss?”

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yonseibananamilk · 4 months ago

Text

“𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒆."

synopsis 𓂃𓈒𓍼ོ living with fyodor was the same as living without him. however, the night of his return reminds you, embarrassingly so, just how close the two of you are. literally. (~4k wc)

a/n 𓇢𓆸 i think i may or may not be starting to hate my writing BUT i really stretched beyond what im used to in certain parts of this and i am quite proud of myself for that ^^

content 𓍼ོ𓂃𓈒 canon compliant, suggestive themes(especially around the end), fyodor is very cold temperature-wise, soft!fyodor(hes soft in his own way), references to my work song fic ! + connected directly to it will come back as it is a part 2 ^^

ᡣ𐭩 special special જ⁀➴ this fic is in collaboration with @musamora ‘s new talk!fic ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و please try to check hers out too if you can — shes a brilliant writer and a lovely person overall <3

Books upon books knitted themselves compact inside the towering shelves that pressed into the walls of what you assumed was Fyodor’s home. He had never called it his home, in fact, you explicitly remember when he did bring you here —

“Welcome to this humble abode. Feel free to touch and grab whatever you desire. Everything here belongs to you, дорогая.”

— Ever since that blind date (gone wrong(but then right in the end)), the Russian had let you stay for as long as you liked. One night led to two, which led into you bringing over a few things for just a few more nights.

Which led to you staying with Fyodor for nearly a month now.

You shook your head at the thought. If anything, he was the visitor. The man was hardly ever home, therefore you weren’t even living together. And you were, like anyone else with experience in a leaky apartment, eager to accept a place as generous as this.

The house held two stories; the first floor with the living room, foyer, and utilities, and the second floor with the bathroom and bedroom. Not to mention there was even an accessible attic-study.

In the beginning, he had stayed the night with you on the couch while you remained upstairs. But it had been weeks since then. Your Russian companion, much to your dismayed crocodile tears, was now predominantly busy with his ‘mission’. You couldn’t argue with that.

Though, on one of the times when Fyodor did stay longer than just a few hours…

“Please? I don’t mind, I swear! Besides, we’re both adults, not some teenagers that’ll go off at the first brush of skin. You don’t have to sleep on the couch..!”

You didn’t want to admit that you had actually stained the sofa downstairs on the first day of being here — even if Fyodor knew about it already, with all his observance — and it also felt… wrong to have him sleep on the couch. Cold. In the dark. And very, very, very lonely.

With a desperate and dramatic gesture of your arms, you tried to make the bed as dreamy as possible to his cherry wine eyes. “See? So comfy!”

To prove your point even further, you jumped on yourself with a muffled noise in the comforter.

“How amusing.”

Your point was most certainly not taken.

Therefore, you began to deflate into the sheets. Even more muffled now, and perhaps even softer than before, you mumbled out — “Is ‘modesty’ really the only reason why you won’t share anything with me?”

Everything in the room stilled. As if gauging the weight behind your words. Then, faintly, a gust of a sigh fell into the golden air of your nearby nightlamp. The candle flame was tickled into a dance thanks to the Russian, twisting and spinning hypnotically.

So hypnotically that you failed to catch the shift in the bed beside your head.

Not until a chilled hand fell atop your head. Bony fingers of ice itself urged your face up and away from the fire. Your attention was rewarded with a smooth, humming smile.

“There is more, дорогая.” He admitted. “But those reasons have nothing to do with you. After all, you are the sole reason why I would like to sleep here.”

Briefly, so much so where you barely even caught it this time — a thumb brushed over your lips. Cherry wine eyes batted down at you, reflecting the flame behind your burning face. Like the sun was the center of his very being.

“Then why don’t you?”

As his thumb curled into the corner of your lips, the rest of his hand glided over your skin. Two fingers read the curves of your jawline. Its adjacent pair followed down to the side of your neck.

He could grab your entire head with ease.

Fluttering ties in your stomach unraveled and twisted again in an endless heap of knots. Why wasn’t he saying anything? What was he thinking of? Why is he getting closer?

A chilled breath brought respite to your burning cheeks. But only for a moment.

Why is he moving away?

“Be wary of the fatigue that will eat you, if you do not sleep soon, дорогая.”

Pale feet revisited the cold, yet still warmer than him, floors. Wood welcomed him with a tired creak, following the man’s every step until he reached the doorway. By then, you had turned off your back to finally face him yourself.

“But I’m not tired.” Horribly, a yawn tore through your last syllable. The heaviness of your eyelids was never apparent until now.

Another amused hum brought you back to the Russian before you, hand on the knob as he smirked down at you. Slowly, the sharp edges of his little grin faded into something softer, fuzzier.

A smile, he had gifted you.

“If you are not tired…” Your heart skipped a beat, anticipating every little thing for his next suggestion. As if crying out — “What? Yes? What is it?”

“Then remember this: there is danger in giving into one’s desires, дорогая.” Icy red eyes rove over your laden figure with an unreadable spark. He always looked at you so curiously.

“I would be wise to not fall victim to such dangers. As would you.”

The closing door halted itself instantly when you let out the smallest of huffs.

“My offer still stands…” With a dragging breath of protest, you fell underneath the blankets.

Black swirls encapsulated your mind as you managed to spin his words effortlessly; “Remember this: there is reward for passing through danger.”

…

Unknowingly shooting through the Russian’s morale — you fell asleep with the same singular weight of your own on the bed. However, the door was still ajar in the morning upon your awakening.

But that moment was weeks ago. The memory of it proven by the clear frown on your lips — twitching up and down every now and then based on whatever the book you read said.

You wouldn’t spend your time thinking about someone who wouldn’t even give you so much as a clear answer to ‘How was your day?’

A creak of wood whipped your head around in urgence. Only for nothing to be there.

Nothing but a pang of disappoint. All at the absence of a certain Russian.

Well. Maybe you would spend a bit of your time.

With a ruffled sigh you fell back against the chair, pages still in hand as the grandfather clock behind you whisked the day away. These moments of solitude had become a daily part of your life — ever since popping out of Fyodor’s floorboards like a daisy in the snow.

But they might as well have been your floorboards too.

The creak of wood glided past your ears. Followed by the light shuffle of a coat being draped over the rack nearby. Then the ghosts of footsteps slowly but surely making their way toward the living room.

“Hm?”

Much to his amusement, there you sat. Old book in hand atop the gentle rise and fall of your chest. In a peaceful slumber too.

“How adorable.” The R rolled after his deep chuckle, growing slightly in volume as he drew closer to your laden frame. “Falling asleep to folktales, are we? Hm, дорогая?”

Frostbite ghosted over your cheek. A chill fell over your fingertips — the lingering absence of your now-taken book. Burgundy eyes flitted over the title with a deep hum.

Surprisingly enough, you had managed to find one of the few English books that hid in his shelves. The vast majority were Russian(as he wasn’t the best with learning new languages).

“Orpheus and Eurydice?” His tongue read. “Now what on Earth compelled you to read such a tale..?”

Firewood slid off one another as it ate away at itself in incessant hunger. A desire for something warmer than what it already had. A rod poked it stable in no time.

“Perhaps my дорогая is more romantic than she lets on. It makes me wonder…”

The shadows around him chuckled in tandem before, again, rippling as the fireplace was muted once more.

‘What a foolish thought.’ His brain reprimanded.

Yet his heart leapt not once, but twice — as you began to slowly stir awake. With orange light painted across the dips of your babbling lips in a silent dance with dark.

“Uah… who’s there..?”

Raven locks fell to the side as he tilted towards you slowly. Akin to an animal watching something unusual. Unexplainable. Unimaginable. A thick silence filled the air as Fyodor lagged to translate your words — no thanks to the strange foreign tingling south of his head — all by the sight of you.

‘How vulnerable.’ He mused. ‘How adorable.’

Despite knowing full well what was coming out his lips — despite knowing just what it could risk for him —

“Федя is here.”

He had willingly revived something. Something that had lied dormant for dozens of hundreds of years. All for you. You and your daftly half-conscious state. He hadn’t been called such a simple name since childhood.

And since his family was alive.

Despite his already-dissipating regret, icy tips glided reverently over the crown of your head. The locks of it threaded like yarn. Each part sifted through like flour. The back of it all was cupped tightly — encouraging your limp head to face him.

“Fe… diya…?”

Oh how adorable you were. So sleepy you couldn’t even pronounce a simple nickname. A diminutive. An endearment.

Nor could you realize how special you were right now. Though, that was the norm at this point.

“Yes. Can you indulge Fedya for a moment, дорогая?” The Russian cooed with a smile both condescendingly familiar, and unrecognizably tender.

Your whined nod was enough to coax him closer. Arms atop the sides of the chair. Frosted breath wafting just shy of your pulse.

“Can you tell Fedya what you were thinking of? Hm?”

Lithe fingers haunted the cover of your little folktale with echoed taps. His cherry wine gaze hooked onto the half-lidded glaze in your eyes.

“Tell him what you were thinking of when reading such a story?”

As slurred syllables pooled from your tongue, Fyodor locked himself onto every quiver, bite, and sound. Each was greedily soaked into the prodigy’s mind — held in higher regard than any mazed tactic.

Although just as half-lidded as yours, his eyes were far more awake than they had been during his accursed mission earlier.

After all, if Fyodor knew such a sweet sight waited for him here — he would’ve destroyed everything in his path to get back as soon as possible.

Frosted breath ghosted over the angle of your jaw, waiting patiently for something more.

“I… I thought that Eurydice was very lucky to have been loved so dearly... Regardless of what happened at the end.”

Black brows rose at you. “Lucky?”

“Yes. I’m a bit envious — being loved so dearly is…” A shake of the head pauses your sleepy train of thought. With a deep breath, your head reclined further into the plush of your seat before correcting yourself.

“Being loved is a very lucky thing indeed.”

Well weren’t you the lucky one?

The gentle squeaks of the couch were thankfully muffled by your weight, settling further and further into its cotton fabric. Your warmth soaked into it well. Though, much of that warmth was the fire’s — which only seemed to be growing.

Just along the edges of your peripheral, a certain smiling Russian was also present — leaned over your shoulder closely. Close enough for the scent of black tea to flood your nostrils yet again.

“Could you imagine it?”

A chill ran over the hairs on the nape of your neck. Fyodor’s breath was cold. His lips too.

“Imagine being loved…?” Your voice was far softer than expected. “I… suppose it would be nice. Very nice, in fact. I’d like to be cared about…”

Shifting your eyes, the golden text of the book was now being circled by Fyodor’s idle fingers. Lithe enough to perfectly recreate the intricate cursive. And cold enough to make you shudder at the mere sight.

Nonetheless — the image of such hands snug around you was as warm as the shared fireplace.

“Wouldn’t everyone?” He cooed. Slender fingertips rhythmically tapped atop the book cover.

“Being loved…” Cherry wine eyes reflected the orange fire beside you. “Or wanted…”

You swallowed a lump in your throat that certainly wasn’t there before.

“Is a very human desire.”

Another swallow. Glued to the fiddling hands in your lap, your heart leaped with you upon asking;

“Do you desire it as well?”

Briefly did his eyes widen.

It was borderline impossible to catch Fyodor off-guard. But, as luck would have it, you succeeded at it like any other mundane task. You always did.

It’d be terrifying if not so attractive.

“I suppose…” Once unoccupied fingers found their way atop your shoulder. Chills ran through your arm. As well as an unwelcome spark through your entire body. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

A flicker of your shared fireplace caught your eye. Avoiding the piercing gaze of Fyodor Dostoevsky as he, much to your confusion, stared into your very essence. It was as if he was analyzing every curve and groove before completely committing it to memory.

That sly, condescending chuckle reeled you home to him. All semblance of earlier surprise had drained from his eyes. “What a curious question, дорогая. Were you picturing it in your mind?”

Blackberry strands fell against the white fabric of his shirt, flowing in tandem with the inching of his face.

“Thinking… pondering… wondering…”

Orange light danced within the seeds of his eyes.

“Imagining what it’d be like to be loved by me?”

You didn’t know whether to fuse with the couch or disappear completely.

Whatever happened to the fire danced over your already-burning cheeks — radiating against the chill of Fyodor’s face as he bordered closer and closer.

“Can you imagine it?”

Close enough to count each eyelash.

Close enough to taste the scent of black tea and iron on your tongue.

Close enough to feel the subtle heat of his cheeks.

“Imagine being loved by me?”

Your lower lip began to tremble. Sweat sprinkled from your shaky palms. That same spark shocked you from head to toe yet again.

Everything felt heavy. Heavy and warm.

And your nose itched. Itched and twitched. You couldn’t help but sniff — which only amplified the hot water in your eyes — already glittering in your lashes. The unsaid border between the two of you dwindled like a candle in the wind.

All you knew was that you were sweaty, shaky, and far too warm to be considered normal.

A snort caught itself in his throat. While perfectly timed with just how stiff you were getting, your little sniffle was not out of embarrassment. Simply an incoming sneeze that he would gladly bless you for in: 3, 2—

“Achoo!”

…

He did not want to finish that countdown.

“Woah…! I got my boogers on your face! Hah!”

“That you did.” The Russian begrudgingly muttered, closed eyes subtly twitching under the weight of your giggles and dabbing sleeve. “Bless you.”

Despite all your unceremonious, uncouth, undisciplined whatnots — the sheepish smile you flashed to him was hardly ignored. “Thank you… Did it get in your eye?”

“Fortunately not.”

“Aww. Better luck next time then.”

The caught snort from before clawed its way out of Fyodor and into a throaty, hearty, genuine laugh.

No cocky chuckles. No sadistic grins. No sly hums.

Just a normal laugh. With golden fire reflecting off the sides of his face like framing sunrays. And a usually imperceptible ombre of deep magenta in his otherwise black hair — thanks to the generous amount of light the fireplace provided a few feet away.

Sure, it was akin to the cawing of crows at the crack of dawn — Fyodor most certainly hadn’t laughed like that in what seemed like centuries. But it was touching nonetheless.

Very much so.

“It’s rude to stare, дорогая.”

It was even harder to look away when he was smiling so warmly.

“I bet Orpheus wouldn’t think Eurydice was rude — even when her boogers got in his eye.”

An unfamiliar emptiness frosted over your shoulder when the Russian leaned away. “Perhaps, дорогая. Perhaps.”

You couldn’t recall a time when he was ever so warm.

“There are no more wool blankets.” The Russian patted through the wooden cabinets with a small hum. “Дорогая, you wouldn’t happen to know where they are, would you?”

Looking over his shoulder, a cherry wine gaze poured over your freshly showered & dressed body. You learned to always stay snug for the cold that managed to occasionally sneak its nightly way past the fireplace — crackling happily a hallway down.

You hummed back, offering the man a smile warm enough to rival it. “I do.”

“And whatever happened to them?” Knowing lips cooed. The answer fell sweeter when it was from your tongue than his mind.

“I put them in the attic because they scratched at my face,” Rubbing at your arms, a wave of apology washed over you. Maybe Fyodor preferred blankets that way? Scratchy and itchy. He was a strange man after all.

Even more strange now that he was finally content with sharing a bed. You don’t think you’d ever seen a man smile for so long. However eerie though, at the end of the night, it was… endearing.

Tonight, he had changed out of the usual wear for war(or whatever he did outside of the house) — a fluffy white robe wrapped snug around Fyodor. Tied together by the loose cotton belt.

“And so you have been sleeping in a single blanket? Instead of the multiple wool ones I had given you?” The urge to hang your head was woefully strong. You opted to shuffle your feet instead.

“Yes, Fyodor. I… I can give you the blanket for the night if that’s what you want?”

Briefly, his roving eyes met yours. With a small lilt of his voice, which was another strange way of expressing amusement for him, the Russian cooed; “And leave a woman to fend for herself against the cold?”

Another spark of warmth crackled under your skin. The sensation swam through your bones in a melting frenzy that burned your face once it reached it.

“T-then we can share…?”

Cherry eyes crinkled in delight.

“Wonderful idea, дорогая.”

As your knees slowly crawled up to meet your chest, the sway of his hair encapsulated you in a garden of imagination — with cherry wine eyes to drink and straight locks that rivaled shades of the ripest blackberries. Such sweet attributes for such a cold man.

Literally. He was colder than the air itself when sitting on your bed. The man could’ve drunken up all the warmth in the room, and still ask for more.

“You’re freezing!” You whined out, curling into a shuddering ball. “Maybe you should take that blanket, you might as well take the ones in the attic too.”

A frown quipped its brows at you. Yet, despite all his shown annoyance, there lacked a general sense of danger that once lived within.

Every glare was now punctuated with a cooing riddle of warning but quickly followed by a soft smile — imperceivable to all he knew. Excusing you.

“And I assume that means you are warmer? Hm?”

“Well, duh. I’ve been soaking in the fireplace all day waiting for you.”

“Oh?”

Under the gentle fire of your candlelit bedside, a meek coral bloomed across the slim cheeks of his face. His ears were red too — how long had he been that way?

“So, you were waiting for me?”

“Yes.” An exasperated breath left you feeling flustered and confused.

“Diligently?”

“And I was very lonely the whole time.”

A sense of deja vu sprung over you like a freshly pouring fountain.

Candlelight brewed against his face. Cherry wine eyes raked over your every inch. Pale skin, now painted with pink, smoothly approached closer and closer and closer —

Until the two of you are face to face once again. Illuminated only by generous candlelight and warmed by a singular blanket, except for Fyodor leeching off your heat.

“Дорогая, if I didn’t know better, I’d assume you thought we were married. With you waiting so, what was the word...?"

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"Ah yes. Diligently for my arrival.”

Freezing fingertips grazed along the bridge of your jaw. Dancing over the skin like whistling air, then halting at the chin. Two fingers held it gently, softly, reverently even.

“Though, my words are not necessarily a complaint.”

Candlelight pooled over the side of his face, glistening in the corners of Fyodor’s eyes like water lanterns at nighttime. You could only hope he was staring at you because you looked just as beautiful.

Gulping, a strained noise tumbled from your lips —

“Oh? Whining now?” A chilling thumb ran over the shine of your bottom lip. He was closing in.

“I did not whine.” Your voice cracked. “I just—”

Words left you. Tumbling freely from your throat in an entanglement of broken syllables and whines.

And with each mishap, his grin only grew. Evident by the crinkled underside of his trailing gaze.

At long last, a semblance of defense clicked into mind — spilling out with almost-paralyzing heat inside. And yes. Your voice cracked a second time.

“You caught me off-guard!”

“I did?” He crooned. The weight of your blanket was peeled off — making way for Fyodor to finally join you. Which you would’ve been over the moon about — if your thoughts weren’t so scrambled. You only hoped his were, too.

Every restrained laugh. Every languid movement. Everything he did — you prayed that he felt even a semblance of the bashfulness you did. Maybe then, it wouldn’t feel so embarrassing.

“Oh, дорогая.” Frostbitten lips sighed. “You truly are adorable.”

Time melted into an infinity of simply you and Fyodor. With your brain dry of anything else to say, and his hopefully the same. With one last strained noise, you turned away to bury yourself into the cotton of your now-shared bed.

A candlelit silence bloomed over.

As the sheets’ soft heaviness cradled back over you, Fyodor included now, the man slid himself behind your burning face — peacefully watching the uncharacteristic heat fizz out of your little head.

Blackberry locks stretched over the expanse of the pillow like grape vines across a fence.

Amid all your muffled sounds, the cotton had begun to seep a sense of sleep into your skin, added on by Fyodor’s granted silence. With a sniffle, you reluctantly let go of his blundering words — slowly but surely relaxing into the candlelight bed. But not without an evident pout.

A haze of warmth enwrapped you. Cozy.

The edges of consciousness were held by none other than a familiar pair of cold hands. Which slithered their way around your waist — pulled you snugly against their owner’s body — allowing him to soak in the feast of your body heat.

Oddly enough, as the Russian slid himself closer, not an inch of his frigid temperature leaked into yours. Quite the opposite.

Your slumbering body thawed away at his cold one.

Save for one place that did not need any more warming. Like his cheeks, for example. Or elsewhere.

taglist ᯓᡣ𐭩 @aureatchi @soleelia + people that also wanted to be added but please know time is my greatest enemy

translations! (these are rough translations, and if there are any inaccuracies please let me know)

дорогая - ‘darling’ i just cant envision fedya saying ‘baby’. darling is the only accurate one.

thank you so much to @musamora for betareading again !!! she is quite literally the sweetest writer i know and this fic couldnt be possible without her ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡

also thanks to @/saradika-graphics for all the wonderful dividers! the images for the banner were either found on pinterest or edited by yours truly <3 thank you for reading !

#in full bloom 𓍯𓂃 #oh dear lord my schedule has not been kind to me #it also doesnt help that ive been as sick as a victorian child #or as sick as a dog #but ANYWAYS I BIRTHED THIS FIC WITH MY BLOOD SWEAT TEARS #and muse #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #fyodor x reader #bsd #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor bungou stray dogs #fyodor dostoevsky bsd x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x you #fyodor bsd x reader #fyodor bsd x you #bsd fyodor dostoevsky

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britcision · 1 year ago

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GANG I AM SURE IT IS OLD NEWS BUT I HAVE BEEN DOING MATH AND LEMME TELL YOU A FUCKING THING

EXHIBIT A: MITHRUN’S TIMELINE PER THE DUNGEON GUIDE

EXHIBIT B: KABRU’S TIMELINE PER THE DUNGEON GUIDE

EXHIBIT C: MILSIRIL’S COMIC PER THE DUNGEON GUIDE

HYPOTHESIS: Milsiril was bare minimum visiting, caring for, and feeding Mithrun at points in his timeline between year 480 (trying to recover) and 500 (appointed as a captain - this is also noted to have happened immediately when he was fit for work, since they were running out of people)

In the comic, Milsiril specifically references Utaya (year 499, from Kabru’s timeline - it’s the only demon incident in Utaya), as she uses the incident with the demon in Utaya to get Mithrun to eat and get his act together

Kabru lived with Milsiril in the elven capital from year 499 to 510

Milsiril specifically dislikes and avoids other elves… now with the apparent exception of Mithrun, who she thinks she might have quite liked pre-nuking

Milsiril would not want to go to Mithrun’s family estate and deal with his entire family every time to take care of him… and they may not have been keen on her dolls or cooking

The only thing we know about Mithrun and his family is that he hated his brother, and visits him every five years (brother has extended a permanent invitation for Mithrun to visit any time pretty sure Mithrun overestimates how much his brother cared/noticed he didn’t like him)

His parents deadass aren’t mentioned except to note that he’s the bastard child, and his parents ignored his older brother. There’s an implication here that they preferred Mithrun… until they sent him to a death squad

Milsiril has a repeatedly-mentioned tendency to take in strays, usually kids of short-lived peoples, and strong nurturing instincts that may/may not be pretty dehumanizing

CONCLUSION: there is a non-zero chance that Mithrun and Kabru LIVED TOGETHER FOR A FUCKING YEAR post Utaya at Milsiril’s house and just didn’t even fucking notice

I am losing my mind

This is incredible

Mithrun deadass coulda been The Crazy Uncle In The Attic for a full fucking year

He was busy going feral and blaming himself for Utaya cuz it “could have been different” if he’d been there and recovered for the same fucking year THE LAST SURVIVOR OF UTAYA was in the next room

What kind of unhinged interactions did they have

Kabru was fucking SEVEN the state of Mithrun in that comic woulda fucking RETRAUMATIZED HIM any mention of him being a dungeon lord???? NOPE

We know from the changeling incident that Mithrun barely considered Kabru a distinct person so 0% chance he would ever put it together but KABRU

Kabru is an observant little thot and his favourite thing is making assumptions from his observations

Just a MENTION of Milsiril and Kabru shoulda been all up on that

Mithrun FULLY DID mention her as Milsiril the Gloomy when exposing his backstory and Kabru just… tossed every single name in the garbage

(Which, fair. Elves live a long time, the odds of there being only one Milsiril are 0% and she wasn’t all that gloomy with Kabru, and, frankly, he had bigger concerns named Laios Touden)

Ugh too much too many bits Otta’s comic includes them actually talking about his adoptive mom but without names they were SO CLOSE I am going insane

Fanfiction

So much fanfiction

It MUST be post Kabru/Mithrun this ship is all angst and tbh the whole “desiring someone who can’t desire” is only gonna consternate Kabru for so long so once that is done I want a slice of “WAIT A FUCKING SECOND you’re the guy in the attic???????”

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #mithrun #mithrun dungeon meshi #kabru #kabru dungeon meshi #kabru/mithrun #but also LORE #milsiril #milsiril dungeon meshi #y’all have no idea i am eating this shit up

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air--so--sweet · 8 months ago

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I found out from the production designer's website and an interview he did that the basement kitchen is actually the 'kid's lounge', a space the siblings created for themselves.

And I've been obsessed with it ever since because I feel it gives us more of an idea about what the umbrellas childhoods were like.

Because, okay there's the slightly extravagant things like the pool table and foozball table, but most of it is very simple. A hifi system and a collection of cassettes and CDs (I bet Luther was only allowed have a record collection as part of his special treatment as Number One), what looks like board games and some toys in what used to be the butcher shops fridges and there's another toy next to the hifi system that looks similar to some of the ones we see in Five's room.

And in the scene where Allison and Diego fight Cha Cha we see art supplies as well.

These are just basic things most kids would grow up with but the umbrellas had to create a secret place, away from their father, to have them. It's just desperately sad.

But I also find it kind of beautiful that they worked together to make a place for themselves and I like to imagine the process of it coming together. Them scavenging furniture from the unused academy rooms. One of them finds the table in storage room, or the attic maybe, and then over the next few weeks they manage to take chairs from different rooms until they can all sit at the table together. Coming home from Griddy's one night (sneaking out became a lot easier once they had a separate entrance that their dad didn't know about) they spot an armchair and a sofa left out on the sidewalk and they don't look in too bad a condition so Five jumps back with the armchair while the others carry the sofa home (Five was still getting the hang of jumping with objects, the sofa was still a bit too big for him to manage). Grace catches them stealing food to take downstairs one day and she mentions it to Pogo (who knows about the room since it's right next to his own room, but he chooses to turn a blind eye) and suddenly there's a fridge in the room and Grace makes sure it and the cupboards are always fully stocked, even after the kids are gone (we see Five make a sandwich here when he comes back from the apocalypse). Hargreeves never interacts with Grace much and doesn't pay much attention to the food orders she makes as long as she stays in budget so some extra loaves of bread or jars of peanut butter won't catch his attention.

And Hargreeves never found out about the room because There's no reason for him to go to the basement, the only things in the basement are Pogo's room (so telling that there are 42 bedrooms in the academy but Pogo is relegated to the basement) and a utilitiy room. Viktor's cell is also in the basement but it's accessed by a separate elevator so Hargreeves wouldn't pass the kid's lounge to get to it.

You can tell how important the space was to the siblings as well because of how they use it in adulthood.

It's where they all go when Five returns and where they hangout when in the academy (we see them in the living room too but mostly for family meetings).

When Viktor comes to invite the others to his concert he comes through the butcher shop entrance.

It's where Klaus gathers his brothers when he tells them that he spoke to Reginald the night before.

And, even when he was the only one left living in the academy, Luther ate breakfast there.

It's the only part of the academy they feel is truly theirs and theirs alone. It's their safe place.

#the umbrella academy #tua #analysis #set design #the siblings #this was partially writtem in my drafts for ages after tumblr only saved a partial draft so I lost a large chunk of it #finally got over it today and finished writing it #the visual syory telling in the TUA sets is one of my favourite things

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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The Younger Kind Part 33 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You need answers so you can move forward with Bradley. He wants to reassure you that you're everything Meredith is not. And it always feels like everyone else is trying to define your relationship for you, but you want to take control.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, mentions of smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Bradley felt sick. This must have been why you were clearly so uncomfortable since he got home yesterday. He could tell that something else was wrong outside of the break in at your old rental and the cut on your hand. And it was the fucking dirty video he had made with Meredith years and years ago.

God damn it.

As he rushed out of the kitchen and tried to find you, Bradley called out, "Princess!" But you didn't respond.

How irresponsible and careless of him. He hadn't watched that video since he and Meredith were living together. Sure, he'd uploaded it to his phone and watched it on a few deployments before Noah was born, but that had been it. He had deleted it from his phone, but apparently there was a backup copy. And the fact that you had seen it had him in such a vibrant state of panic, he couldn't get to you fast enough.

"Baby, where are you?" he called out, yanking his fingers through his hair. He looked in Noah's room and then continued to the bedroom that he wanted you to share with him forever. And there you were, standing with your shoulder pressed up against the bedpost that was adorned with your paper crown. You looked impossibly young and so sad, and he wasn't sure what else to say except, "Princess. I'm sorry."

You just shook your head and looked at the floor as you wrapped your arms around your chest like you were trying to protect yourself. God, you never needed to protect yourself from him anymore. He wanted to be the one to protect you from everything else, not make you worry.

When he took a step closer, you looked up at him with tears shining in your eyes. "You told me I could go through the stuff in the attic," you whispered, rubbing your hands up and down your arms nervously. "I didn't mean to watch your personal video. I wish I hadn't. And now I feel so stupid for moving all my stuff in."

Bradley ran his palms over his face. The bedroom smelled like you. The whole house smelled like you. It was intoxicating, and he was always going to need it. "Baby, I had no idea that was in the attic. I didn't even know it was saved anywhere. It was from years ago, okay?"

"I know," you replied, wiping at your eyes and looking toward the dresser he had encouraged you to finish filling up with your stuff. "I know it's not new or anything. But... I hated it."

"I hate it, too," he replied immediately. "And I hate that it hurt you."

Then you pushed away from the bed and squared your shoulders, and it felt like you were forcing yourself to keep eye contact. "Did you keep it because you still watch it? And am I an idiot for giving you those photos? Because I don't know if I can compete in that way." The words at the end of your sentence started to fade away softly, and Bradley closed the distance between your bodies without touching you.

"I didn't keep the video intentionally, Baby," he swore, ready to drop to his knees and beg. "I don't watch it. I didn't know it still existed. Why would I keep it when I'm with you now?"

You traced his knuckles softly with your index finger and whispered, "Because she's beautiful."

"No," Bradley growled, tucking his fingers under your chin and gently guiding your gaze up to meet his. "She's been a nightmare for me. For us. That's not beautiful. She's nothing like you." Then you melted against his body, and Bradley whispered, "Nobody competes with a Princess."

He rubbed his big hands up and down your back as yours settled around his waist. "I don't even want to have to think about her," you whispered against his shirt. "But she's everywhere, like she wants to make sure she's not forgotten."

Bradley kissed your forehead. You weren't wrong. Meredith had come out of hiding as soon as he got involved with you, and she just wouldn't quit. "She's in custody now. There's no reason for us to have to think about her."

"But the USB-"

Bradley took your chin a little rough in his palm and kissed you hard, eliciting a whimper. He kissed you until both of you were breathless, and you were clinging to the front of him. Until he felt like things could get back to the way they were. "Let's destroy it."

--------------------------------

You let Bradley take you by the hand and lead you to the kitchen where he bent to pick up the USB drive from the floor near the sink. Then he reached into one of the cabinets and grabbed a cutting board.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"Something I would have already done if I knew it was still here."

Then both of you walked out the back door into the afternoon sun where he set the USB drive down on the cutting board on the patio. And then you watched him dig around in the shed and return with a hammer. He went right to kneeling on the patio without any hesitation, and you watched him make quick work of it. With three swings of the hammer, bits of blue plastic went flying in every direction. By the third hit, all that was left on the cutting board was some mangled wire and flattened metal. The stupid thing was obliterated, and when Bradley looked up at you, there was a smile on your face.

He tossed the hammer aside. "Come on, Baby," he said, standing and scooping you up in one smooth motion. "I want you forever, Princess. You don't have to doubt that." He kissed you softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes."

He grunted as he kissed your cheek. "She's gone. She doesn't live here. She has no bearing on what we're doing."

"I know," you promised as he carried you back into the kitchen and set you on the counter. "I know, Daddy." You watched his expression soften further at your words and your touch as you pulled him closer by his shoulders.

"She's not coming back," he whispered, placing soft kisses to your lips and face. "It's just us. And Noah. He's ours."

Ours. You wanted that. You wanted to be as much a part of this home and this family as Bradley was. As Noah was. And you knew they both wanted you here. They were your boys, and you were their Princess. You needed to accept that it could just be that easy.

"You're making everything seem so simple," you whispered, squeezing his shoulders and biceps as his fingers kneaded into your hips and waist.

"It is," he promised. "It's just us, and we'll figure out the rest."

"I don't want you to feel like I'm the one making it harder though. Like I'm the one taking advantage of the situation and your house and your money."

Bradley took a deep breath and planted one hand on the counter next to your thigh, his other thumb skimming along your lips. "That was what Meredith was like. Not you. You're too smart to waste money. You're too sweet to take Noah for granted. And you're too perfect to ever intentionally take advantage of someone. And it makes me want to share everything with you."

You kissed the rough pad of his thumb, and he replaced it with his perfect lips. His mouth was everywhere, and his hands were starting to roam, and you thought he mumbled something about a ring. But then your phone started ringing in the pocket of your scrub pants.

Bradley paused with his hands on your thighs as you held up the phone. San Diego Police.

"You better answer it," he whispered, kissing your cheek and pulling his big, warm body away from yours.

"Hello?" you said a bit breathlessly.

"It's Detective Summers. We've completed our search of your rental. Just wanted to let you know you can enter the house again and clean it up, and we'll be in touch with your landlord."

"D-Did you find anything?" you sputtered, holding the phone tight to your ear.

"No," he replied, almost monotone. "Nothing. We've got no leads and barely any evidence. I'll email you the report and call back with any updates."

Then the line went dead. "Fuck."

"What's wrong?" Bradley asked cautiously. You barely recounted the brief conversation with him before your phone was ringing again in your hand.

"It's my landlord," you said, tossing your head back. "He's going to start making a big deal about the glass again."

But you answered the call so you could hopefully just get him off your back and move on from this headache once and for all. And he wouldn't shut up about the stupid broken window. "You need to come over today so we can talk about how you're going to get this repaired. And then we can discuss an additional month of rent."

Bradley must have been able to hear your landlord clearly through the phone, he was talking that loudly. And when he took it out of your hand and pressed your phone to his own ear, you didn't stop him.

"Right," Bradley growled, and you would have loved to see the look on the other man's face. "So what you're saying is you'd like to wrap all of this up today? Sounds great. We're on our way over."

Then he ended the call and helped you slide off the counter. "Uh oh, Daddy. I think you just made things worse for me."

Bradley scowled and said, "He shouldn't have been talking to you like that. Like any of this bullshit was your fault. Let's go. I promised I would fix everything. Let me try to fix this for you so you don't have to deal with it. You live here now."

You watched him grab his checkbook before he took your hand in his and led you outside.

----------------------------

Bradley was pissed off. You and he were finally getting somewhere talking in the kitchen. You were listening to him, he knew you were. He was in way over his head with you, happily. He would do anything to make your day easier, gladly. You always did the same thing for him and Noah. But he didn't appreciate how nobody else seemed to want to get off your back.

He was holding your hand, maybe a little tighter than was comfortable for you, while he drove to your rental house. He loosened his grip a little bit and asked, "Has your landlord always been a prick?"

You just shrugged and ran your thumb along the side of his hand. "Kind of. But definitely worse since I told him about the glass."

"Needs an attitude adjustment," he grunted, passing Penny's house and pulling up to the curb in front of the rental. "Is that him?" he asked, nodding toward the man standing on the porch with his hands on his hips.

"Yeah, that's Sam," you confirmed, and Bradley leaned over to give you a quick kiss.

"Let's get this sorted out so we can go get Noah."

You climbed out of the Bronco, and Bradley rushed around the front end until he was at your side. He was pleased to note that Sam's eyes went a little wider as Bradley marched up the sidewalk with his arm wrapped around you. He was also pleased that you seemed completely relaxed next to him now.

Sam planted one hand on his hip and scratched his bald head. "Listen, missy. Let's get this sorted out with a rent payment so I can get my new tenant in here." Bradley had to fight back a smirk, because he sounded nowhere near as aggressive as he had over the phone.

"I just don't understand why you expect me to pay another month of rent. This was literally a crime scene, Sam," you said. "I didn't break the window myself."

He pursed his lips at you. "That's debatable, since the police said there was no way to know who broke it. And honestly, with the things kids get up to nowadays-"

"I'm sorry," Bradley said, cutting him off, but he wasn't actually sorry at all. "Sam? Is that your name? Sam, she's not a kid. She's an adult. Start treating her like one."

He opened his mouth and snapped it shut again before finally asking, "Who are you, exactly?"

Bradley wrapped his arm a little tighter around you as he said, "My name is Bradley. But you can call me Lieutenant Bradshaw. Just wanted to let you know that I already talked to my lawyer, and she doesn't owe you another month of rent."

Sam's eyes bugged out. "Your lawyer?"

"Yes," Bradley barked. "Pay attention. There will be no additional rent payment. Got it?"

"Y-Yes," he stuttered. "Fine. But she still owes me four hundred dollars for the broken panel of glass."

Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose before he turned to you and kissed you. You looked up at him with surprised eyes as he said, "Do you still need anything else from inside, Princess?"

"No. Nothing."

"Great." Then he left your side and marched over to Sam, glaring at him as he opened the door. Bradley's shoes crunched on the broken glass and he looked around the floor inside the front door. "This looks like about a hundred dollars in damages to me."

Sam looked scandalized. "No way. It's four hundred."

Bradley glanced at you out on the front step before he leaned in closer to Sam. "If you make me get my lawyer on the phone, I'm sure she would be delighted to explain to you why your departing tenant actually owes you no money at all. And we can get the San Diego police department on the phone as well just for some added clarification. Tenants are responsible for damages they cause to the property. That does not apply here. Understand."

When Sam didn't say anything, Bradley pulled his checkbook and pen out of his pocket and asked the man how to spell his name. "Here's one hundred bucks, because I've been in an exceptionally good mood this afternoon with my girlfriend. You really caught me at a moment where I'm feeling generous. Now that's going to be it. Sound good?"

Sam met his eyes, and Bradley really thought he was going to try to disagree with him. "That's fine," came his eventual response, to which Bradley smiled smugly.

"And why don't you just go ahead and delete her number out of your phone. Go ahead. Do it now, while I watch," Bradley encouraged like he was talking to a very dim person. "No reason to keep calling and bugging her when you have a new tenant moving in, right?"

"Sure," Sam murmured, and Bradley watched as he deleted your name and phone number.

"Now, one last thing. You stressed my girlfriend out for no good reason. So I'm going to need you to apologize to her."

Sam's gaze was steely, but he turned toward you anyway. "Sorry." It was the saddest excuse for an apology that Bradley had ever heard, but he nodded at the man regardless.

"Great. Won't be talking to you," Bradley told him, and then he reached out for your hand. "We should go get Noah before we're late," he said.

"Yes, Daddy," you gasped, and Bradley's eyes snapped up to meet yours. He paused halfway to the Bronco and slid his hand around your hip. Your eyes were filled with need as you very slowly pressed your body tight against his.

"Princess," he grunted.

"That was so hot," you moaned softly, and Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "I don't even know if what you said about rent and Tracy and the police is actually true or not, but my god, Bradley... so.... hot." You pressed up on your toes to kiss him.

"I'm not sure if it's true either, but I was prepared to call Tracy," he told you, gently guiding you along to the Bronco.

"Well Sam certainly believed you."

"Yeah, well I was feeling a little aggressive. I don't understand where he gets off talking to you like that. Probably talks to all women that way. You think my mom would have let me talk like that when I was younger? You think Nat would let me know? Jesus, he's lucky I didn't kick his ass."

Bradley had the door open and you were halfway inside when you leaned in and kissed him, tugging him closer by his hair. "I'm really turned on."

"Fuck," he grunted as he heard Sam start his own car and pull away. It was probably the combination of clearing the air about the video and making sure he reiterated that he was in this thing with you forever. And it probably didn't hurt that he took care of your landlord, too. Because Bradley was turned on as well.

Your kisses felt like the heated ones he knew by heart. The ones he thought about while he was looking at his collection of polaroids. But when you moaned his name against his lips and stroked him through his jeans, he pulled away. "Baby. Later, okay? Later."

"Okay," you said breathlessly, still reaching for him.

--------------------------

You sat in the Bronco on the way to get Noah with your hands tucked under your thighs. Bradley was stealing glances at you at every stoplight, and you were doing the same.

"Princess," he grunted, turning to face forward as a light turned green.

But you couldn't help it. You felt a million times better than you had this morning. If the video with Meredith was never kept intentionally, then you could get past it. And if Bradley was willing to shield you and Noah with his life, then you could stop questioning him about everything else. It was like the floodgates of your apprehension finally opened up, and you wanted everything with him again. His time, attention, love and care. The fun and the physical intimacy.

When he parked at the daycare, you crawled across the seat in your ridiculously wrinkly scrubs, and he welcomed you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and said, "Thank you for today."

He kissed your cheek and asked, "What did I do?"

"Everything," you told him right away. "You made me feel comfortable with you paying Tracy. And you didn't get mad that I was upset about that video. And then you had a real conversation with me about us. And you never let anyone treat me like a child. I love you."

"I love you, too," he promised, and you kissed him before you reached for his door handle.

You still weren't sure what he had been expecting last night, but he didn't seem annoyed with you one bit. He never did. But you wanted to make it clear anyway. "And later, after Noah goes to bed, I want to have sex with you."

He stopped you from climbing out of his door with his big hands at your waist. "Only if that's what you want. The last few weeks were rough for you. For both of us. We don't have to rush getting back into that, even if you and I are turned on right now, okay?"

You met his eyes and shook your head slowly as the image of Greyson popped into your mind. "You're perfect," you told him, and then the two of you walked inside to get Noah. Casey was still there, just like earlier this morning, and you felt smug as Bradley kept his left arm draped over your shoulders while he signed Noah out for the day.

Then he bundled you up in his arms with his lips and mustache pressed to your temple for all the world to see while Casey turned away with an eye roll and went to get Noah.

"Daddy! Princess!" he called, carrying some new artwork in his hand as he bounded toward you both. You didn't think you'd ever get tired of watching the way Bradley effortlessly scooped his son up into his arms and held him so you could get a hug and a kiss from Noah.

"Did you have a good day?" you asked brushing your thumb along his cheek while he handed you a painting of a dinosaur.

"Yeah. I'm hungry."

"Oh," you said, looking at the two of them. "Today was a little crazy, and I didn't plan dinner."

"Let's get pizza," Bradley replied easily, barely saying goodbye to Casey as she hovered near the desk and called out to him.

You were smiling as you buckled Noah in while Bradley called in the order, and then the three of you went to pick it up. He ordered from the pizzeria on the same block as his preferred coffee place, and when you moaned, "I love when you bring me coffee from that shop," he chuckled as he parked.

"That's why I ordered the pizza from this location. Figured nobody was bringing you French vanilla coffee on a regular basis while I was away." Then he paused and raised one eyebrow. "Nobody else was spoiling you with overpriced luxury coffee drinks, right?" he asked playfully.

"Nobody," you confirmed. "They might write my actual name on the cup if they tried. And I would hate that."

Bradley carried Noah inside and you hooked your fingers through his belt loop as you waited in line. "No," Bradley mused. "That would be absolutely unfit for a Princess."

When the drinks were ready, the barista slid them toward Bradley along with a marker, and he handed Noah to you. Then you watched him write Princess on your cup.

"Am I still allowed to be the Knight?" he rasped softly, looking up at you for permission. When you nodded, he jotted that down on his own coffee cup. But before he could hand the marker back, the barista slid another cup across the counter.

"Something sweet for the little guy. He's so cute!" she said with a smile at Noah. Bradley shoved five dollars into the tip container before writing Prince Noah on the small cup filled with whipped cream and a plastic spoon.

He had it all over his face as you held him while Bradley opened the door to the pizza shop, and then you watched your boyfriend juggle a pizza box, a container of salad and two coffees on the way back to the Bronco.

"You're very coordinated for someone so old," you told him softly, and Bradley carried you around to the other door while you squealed with delight.

"The slander," he growled playfully. "I won't tolerate it."

"What do you plan to do about it?" you asked, cupping his handsome face in both hands as you kissed him.

"I'll kiss you until you learn to respect your elders."

You laughed with your head tossed back as he kissed your neck. "I think it's great that you don't know the difference between a punishment and a reward. You must have forgotten in your old age."

He groaned and said, "You're just making it worse for yourself for later, Baby."

"Excellent."

---------------------------------

Bradley watched you cut up a slice of pizza for Noah while he liberally dumped the dressing onto the salad and mixed it up. You seemed more relaxed now. He did too. The destroyed USB drive and the open conversation and all the little touches and kisses made today almost perfect. Sure, there had been the details about Meredith and your landlord to contend with, but Bradley would do that shit any day as long as you were here.

"It's still pretty hot, Noah," you said, putting the plate in front of him.

Yes, you should absolutely stay here forever. The desire to have another child with you was always strong for Bradley, but it got so much more intense when you took care of Noah. He wanted to talk to you about it, but today already felt overloaded with feelings. So he would wait.

"This is good," you said in between bites of salad. "I like this dressing," you told him with a grin.

Bradley looked back and forth between you and Noah. Your palm was still covered in a bandage, and he knew you were tired based on the way you'd slept so soundly on him last night. The deployment had been a lot for you, but of course you did everything just right. Of course Noah was happier than ever and asking if he could call you his mom.

"We should take a vacation," Bradley said absentmindedly.

"We should?" you asked as your eyes met his. "Where?"

He smiled as Noah asked for more pizza. "I have some ideas. We can talk about it later."

You pressed your lips together. "I thought we were going to do other things later?"

Bradley laughed. "With age comes experience, Princess. And I'm pretty good at multitasking as long as nobody asks me to cook anything."

"Multitasking?" you asked, eyes wide as Bradley got more pizza ready for Noah.

"Yeah," he replied. "You want me to show you later?"

You hid your smile behind a slice of pizza. "Sure do."

Bradley let you and Noah off the hook after dinner, and he cleaned up the kitchen, not that there was much to do. Then he joined you outside on the driveway where you'd drawn a gigantic crown with purple sidewalk chalk in front of your car. While you helped Noah color a rainbow dinosaur, Bradley took the time to write Daddy loves Princess in huge lettering, and when he was done, you rewarded him with a kiss.

"You boys play while I take a shower?" you asked, wiping orange chalk on your scrubs.

"Of course. Or take a bath if you want to. Go relax."

He wasn't sure what you ended up doing, but you were in the shower or bath for a long time. Bradley got Noah ready for bed after he put the chalk away, and when you walked into the bedroom wrapped up in a towel, he was getting himself undressed.

You took a deep breath and blurted out, "Just one more thing from our conversation earlier? About that video?"

"Of course," he said, his hands frozen at the hem of his undershirt, not sure what to expect.

You ran your fingers along the bedpost and said, "I know I'm here now and she's not. And I know there's nothing I can do with you that you haven't already done before... but is there any way we can buy a new bed? That's only ever going to be ours?"

Bradley's heart was pounding. "That sounds like a commitment? You planning on staying forever?"

"Yes, Daddy," you whispered with a smile.

He tugged his shirt off and told you, "Pick out a new bed. Whatever you want."

Your fingers grazed your purple crown as you smirked and asked, "Now why don't you show me some of your multitasking?"

He smirked. "Sure you can handle it?" he asked, tossing his undershirt into the hamper. Did anything feel as good as the way you joked around with him? You were grinning nonstop when he wrapped his arms around you, holding you and the damp towel against him.

"Yeah, I can handle it."

"You say that now..." he replied softly, unwrapping the towel and letting his hands skim along your soft skin. "God, I missed you when I was gone." He watched you preen for him, and it was like night and day how much better you obviously felt since this morning. He pressed his lips to your ear and whispered, "When something's bothering you, I want you to tell me right away from now on."

The soft nod of your head had him tossing the towel aside and holding you against him as you shivered in the cool air. "Yes, Daddy."

He grunted and said, "You know I'll always take care of you."

Your eyes were so needy as they met his, and he watched your head tip slowly back as his thumb stroked your nipple to a hard peak. He worked you up slowly, always coaxing your gaze back to his as he spoke in a very matter of fact voice.

"Now, let's talk about this little family vacation. I think we could all use a break, yeah?"

"Yeah," you moaned.

"Eyes on me, Princess. There's a lake house that Mav and Penny mentioned wanting to take a trip up to, and there are a lot of extra bedrooms. Do you want me to get more information about that?" His hand was sliding down toward your pussy now, and he chuckled as you tried to rub yourself against his fingers. "Well? Do you?"

"Yes!" you gasped, grabbing at his shoulders. "Whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" he murmured, grinning as he slid one finger along your wet slit.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, eyes half lidded as he teased you.

While he figured he could get you to agree to almost anything, he knew exactly what he wanted. And tonight was too perfect to waste on anything except the sweetest words and just the right touches. "I want to take my family away for a few days. I want to spoil the hell out of you."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and moaned, "Yes," while you pulled him toward the bed. You were perfect, easing yourself back on the pillows, naked and needy as he took his jeans off.

When he eased his body on top of yours, he let you reach for him first and pull him closer where you wanted him. "Let me spoil you every day? Show you how good I can be? Make you never want to leave?"

You combed your fingers back through his hair as you looked up at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

-------------------------------

Daddy is fixing it. And Daddy is going to spoil his family. Hope you enjoy your babysitter story @beyondthesefourwalls and thank you @mak-32

PART 34

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peachiejeongin · 2 months ago

Text

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice! | Han Jisung

Synopsis: 30 years ago, you agreed to marry some sort of demonic, yet incredibly handsome creature in order to save the spiritual family whom haunted your attic; when the former was banished back to the afterlife, you figured you would never see him again. little did you know, an unlikely yet realistic relationship between the two of you would spark as he became the key in a journey to save your daughter...

Pairing: Beetlejuice!Han X fem!reader (reader resembles Lydia Deetz from 'Beetlejuice')

Genre: Dark Comedy AU, Fluff Towards the End

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: MAJOR BEETLEJUICE 2 SPOILERS AHEAD (The plot is edited at some points), Swearing, Mentions of Death, some gore depictions, mentions of a poor mother-daughter dynamic at some points, coerced marriage (sort of?), I turned Beetlejuice into a loverboy, NOT proofread

Notice: Hello, my loves! I have recently watched 'Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!' and it gave me the inspiration for this fan fiction! Obviously, multiple aspects of the original plot have been changed to fit the description of this story, such as the year the original tale takes place changing by a few years, additional dialogue, and a complete revamp of the dynamic between "Beetlejuice" (Han) and "Lydia" (Y/N), which I do apologize for. I would also like to put forth this statement: I do NOT own the rights to 'Beetlejuice,' nor any of its characters! I only hold the copyright to the scenes I create! Without further ado, enjoy the story! :)

"I can't believe I'm doing this," you whisper with pure dread and anxiety coating your voice as you stood in the attic of your old home. The model of your town constructed by the married couple that had lived there prior seemed to tremble along with your hands. 'I have to. It's my only choice,' you mouthed to nobody in particular; truly, you were correct. If you had another option, you would resort to it rather than being in the stance you were currently.

However, your daughter's life was at stake, and this was the only way you knew how to save her.

You thought Astrid was going on a normal date; she had just met a boy not even a couple of blocks away from your old family home. His name was Jeongin, and he seemed like a typical neighborhood boy when you dropped your daughter off; he was sweet, shy, and homebody-ish. You had only just learned the truth because of your close friend; she came over to prep your family home for marketing following your father's death and unknowingly revealed the boy's true intentions.

The address in which you had dropped Astrid off, 125 Jefferson Street to be specific, had infamously become known as the "Murder House." The young son who had resided in the home two and a half decades prior had slaughtered his parents in cold blood and evaded police for hours on end in the treehouse constructed in his backyard. When the cops had finally caught up to him, he slipped in attempts to escape, falling on the hard ground several feet below and snapping his neck almost instantly. The young boy's name?

Jeongin. The same Jeongin in which your daughter was currently, "on a date," with.

He was, conclusively, a ghost, only being visible to you due to your spiritual mediation abilities. It all made sense now; why the street-goers and tricker-treaters had glanced at you and Astrid strangely when Astrid was dropped off, why Jeongin refused to let you come inside, and why he took a sudden keen interest in Astrid after only knowing her for three days.

Trouble was brewing.

Yet, Jeongin had failed to recollect that you had possessed your spiritual abilities for decades, which had initially allowed you to visualize the being you were attempting to summon. You remembered 1994's events all too well, from the moment you had discovered the ghostly couple in your attic, to meeting the demon that called himself, 'Beetlejuice,' although his real name was Han, who would proceed to give your family hell for the next several days, to the coercion he placed upon you to marry him if he helped you save the couple from an exorcism.

After the latter event had come to a halt after a situation involving a sandworm swallowing Han whole, you believed you were rid of the demonic soul; however, Han had been making himself more and more present in your life lately. You saw him everywhere, whether it was on the set of your reality ghost hunting show, outside of your house, even lurking around your father's gravesite. You did not want to summon him and tried to search the inner macamations of your mind for a way to help your daughter that did not involve him.

Yet, there was a part of you deep inside that knew Han would be the only reasonable solution to the problem at hand; hell, you could even go as far as to say the same part of you wanted Han to come back. Sure, he was batshit crazy, for lack of a better term, but you could not deny that he was the best looking demon you had ever laid your eyes upon. Perhaps it was that same part of you that felt bummed that the marriage between the two of you never truly consemated, and maybe it now thought that this could be the second chance for the both of you.

You pushed those thoughts aside, quickly refocusing on rescuing Astrid, the more important issue at stake. You took another deep breath, closing your eyes tightly before muttering three words that would once again change the course of your life.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!"

On cue, the replica of the small down began to crack straight down the middle; buildings and model objects fell in the split, never to be seen again. The star of the show slowly rose from the ground, illuminated by shades of turquoise and lime-green lighting. He looked exactly the same as he did thirty years ago, with longer, shaggy green hair that framed his pale white skin; his eyes were encircled by pure blackness, and what looked like patches of moss were ever so present on the sides of his sharp jawline. He still wore the black and white pinstriped suit that was loose around his thin waist. He naturally looked abnormal, creepy even; of course he did, he was dead! Yet, you thought he still looked abnormally handsome, even after all of these years. Your eyes widened in awe as he threw up his hands in a jazz-like motion.

"The Juice is loose!" Han screamed in excitement. He vanished from sight, only to reappear behind you and put his hands on your shoulders, slightly startling you.

"Hi, Doll," he smiled, his pale squirrel cheeks ever so prominent. "How ya been? It's been a long time. You haven't called, so what's up with-" you cut off Han's ramble by shoving a book titled, 'Handbook for the Recently Deceased,' in his face; you had recently acquired it from the "Murder House" during your futile first attempt at saving Astrid.

"I need you to tell me what this means!" you frantically commanded as Han snatched the book from your hands. He pulled a small magnifying glass from seemingly out of nowhere as he analyzed the line you were inherently motioning to with your pointer finger.

"Let's take a look, shall we?" he inquired, leaning closer to the book in order to read the section. He skimmed over the line before widening his eyes and grimacing. "To make a long story short, your daughter is screwed." Your eyes widened as he spoke, mouth slightly agaping in sorrow. "Yeah, looks like she decided to trade lives with the boy. He gets to come back, while she's stuck on the other side permanently. One-way ticket on the Soul Train." Han ended the explanation by tugging his arm downwards, as if he were pulling on a train whistle. You shook your head at him in disbelief.

"Soul train?" you repeated in a murmur.

"That's right," Han instantly responded. "Last stop: The Great Beyond!" 'The Great Beyond,' he was referring to essentially translated to eternity, that being either Heaven or Hell. Han looked at you before continuing to ramble. "Y'know, she really should have been our daughter. I would have been a great father if you had taken me up on my offer and-" You sighed in frustration.

"Han, that doesn't matter right now!" you snapped. "What does matter is the fact that Astrid can't get on that train!" You lunged forward, grasping the front of Han's shirt in a desperate attempt to plead for his help. "You've gotta get me in there so I can get her out!" Han gripped onto your wrists, slowly lowering them as he spoke.

"Well, I can get you in, but it's going to take a quid pro quo." You rolled your eyes at his response.

"Of course there is," you groaned. "What do you want?"

"Well," he began by scratching the nape of his neck. "I've got this ex-wife, and she's kind of a whack-job. First of all, we are THROUGH," he emphasized as if you would outrage at the fact of him having an unmentioned spouse; you did not feel anger, though. After all, the two of you were not ever married nor officially even together, yet you did feel a bit confused at the fact of Han previously being committed. "She's kind of clingy, and if I could just keep her away from me somehow-"

"You want me to marry you, I presume?" you moved your hands in a 'get-on-with-it' motion as Han tilted his head to the right a bit whilst raising his eyebrows.

"I thought you would never ask!" A smile swiftly plastered onto his face as he shuffled his feet like a child. "Finally realizing how things were supposed to be, aye?" he teased, managing to reignite the same fire in your heart from thirty years ago.

"Whatever," you dismissed his apparent flirting, trying your best to conceal a prying smile. "How do I know you're going to keep your word? That you aren't using me for your own gain?"

"Sweetheart," Han dragged out the word, sounding sarcastically offended. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

"You aren't a person, you're a demon."

"Fair point," Han commented. "I swear on my dead mother's soul," he promised, moving his hands in a Catholic cross symbol. Suddenly, he burst into flames, which made you contemplate if it was a binding of his word or a sign that he was a flat out liar. Nevertheless, you agreed to his conditions, with part of it being out of concern for your daughter and the other part stemming from repressed feelings resurfacing.

"Okay, fine! I will marry you if you help save my daughter!" you felt a hint of fear, but also a sense of relief finally being able to solidify the marriage that failed to become so many years ago. Han smirked, unrolling a marriage contract that he had materialized, similar to how he had done the magnifying glass.

"I'm going to need that in writing." Han made a grab at your hand. "Give me that," he sing-song demanded as he pricked your pointer finger on an unusually sharp quill pen. You screeched in protest as he used the pen to forge your signature onto the contract, throwing it down as swiftly as he made it appear. He exhaled and cusped your cheeks, pouting adorably. "I am going to make you so happy!"

"Jesus!" you exclaimed, clutching onto your throbbing, injured finger. "What's the plan on getting in?" Han smirked, eyeing the wall behind you. You looked behind you, seeing where Han had now appeared drawing a chalk outline of an explosive on the grey brick wall; you still felt his hands caressing your cheeks, however, yet as soon as you turned back around, Han had vanished, his only form now being that of the one sketching the outline. You whipped your head back around and made your way over to Han's current position. You looked at him in everfound confusion, contrasting to dopey grin he had upon his face.

"Well, you can't exactly go in through the front door!" Han responded to your perplexation; he did not alot time for a response, instead lighting a spawned match and placing it near the chalked fuse. It lit instantaneously, as if it were a real explosive. As the spark neared the wall, you instinctively clutched to Han's forearm, eliciting a sly smirk from the taller. The wall detonated in a flash, allowing you to walk through to the other side.

Quite literally.

The first thing you were met with was a shroud of shrinkers gasping, eyeing you both with uncertainty.

"You never saw us," Han commanded the shrinkers, the demand sounding more like a factual statement. "¿Comprende?" You figured the reason for the command had something to do with the, "whackjob," ex-wife Han had mentioned. A short tap on Han's shoulder turned him around at the speed of light. "Bob!" He addressed the shrinker, who was notably disguised as Han himself. "You and the boys stand guard. Nobody gets through." Bob nodded as Han snapped his fingers, causing an entrance on the other side of the room to open up.

"Let's go, Honey," he growled to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to the opening. The pet name sent sparks through your body, but you persisted onwards instead of acknowledging it. Before you knew it, you were venturing down twisted hallways, nearly falling down illusive corridors, and making one too many wrong turns at times.

Yet, you never let go of Han's hand during the entire journey.

It was not long before the afterlife police, as you decided to refer to them, had discovered that a living being had illegally crossed into the afterlife, prompting an automated voice to blare, " Warning: 6-9-9 Violation," multiple times over. Furthermore, you had lost count on how many times you and Han had to maneuver your way into tight corridors or plainly defy the laws pf physics to conceal yourselves. That is exactly how you ended up, quite literally, on the ceiling. You only dropped down once the crowd of cops had made their rounds, calling, "All clear!"

"We're like Bonnie and Clyde, you and I," Han remarked as he dusted off his suit and retook hold of your hand. "Without the bullet holes, of course." You nodded your head in agitation, feeling a bit irritated at the circumstance; after all, you still wanted your daughter back.

"Do you even know where we're going?" you motioned to the hallway in front of you, allowing for Han to take the lead once more.

"You go right down this hallway, take three rights, through the ninth door, and right to the Soul Train!" Han once again made the whistle-pulling movement before letting go of your hand; the only thing was he was going in the opposite direction of what he had just described.

"And where are you going?!" you interrobanged, crossing your arms towards the demon.

"I have to go to the little boy's room first," he replied casually, making your face scrunch up in grotesque. He could detect your nervousness, so he clasped a hand onto your shoulder. "We'll get Astrid back, don't worry. I promise on Bob's soul." This time, Han did not catch on fire, allowing you to conclude that the earlier circumstance had indeed been a lie. Yet, the honesty he now possessed ignited a passionate fire within your heart; you sensed the care he felt for Astrid, and it was just as strong as the amount in which you possessed.

You nodded in response, moving your hand to hold the one currently placed on your shoulder. You heard footsteps coming down the hallway, so you quickly scurried off in opposite directions assuming that it was the cops.

Little did you know how wrong you were...

---

Neon lights illuminated the air as you cascaded down a flight of stairs. There were multiple souls near the train tracks, dancing a never-ending choreographing, acting as if they were alive once more. Yet, past all of those energetic souls, you spotted a glum, frightened girl being hoisted to the Soul Train against her better judgement.

"ASTRID!" you screamed out, your callings drowned by the lively music that was blasting. You watched against your will as your daughter was thrown into the train, instantly becoming swallowed into a crowd of party-goers now making their respective ventures onto the locomotive. You rushed down the steps as fast as your legs would let you and pushed through the crowd of dancers filling the train.

"Astrid!" you called once again, only this time she heard your desperate cries and made her way towards you. You gripped onto her hand firmly and pulled her off of the Soul Train just in time as the doors closed and the train made its departure for The Great Beyond. You engulfed Astrid in a tight bear hug, holding onto her for dear life; the sweet moment was short-lived, however, as the afterlife police began to surround the area, slowly enclosing on you and Astrid.

You looked around, hoping to find some sort of escape as Astrid trembled in your arms. You pointed to a door with a red neon sign above it reading, "Emergency Exit." You and Astrid made your way to the door, Astrid holding up the skirt of her Halloween costume so that it would not slow her down.

"By the way," she began breathlessly. "I saw dad!" Your face lit up in delight; the scenario revolving around your ex-husband's departure to the afterlife had been shrouded in mystery. Years ago, he had went on an expedition in the Amazon River; several days afterwards, they could not find his body. You had tried to reach out to him several times, but you were never able to, and you never knew the reason as to why. Hearing that Astrid had seen him put all of your worries to rest.

However, you barely had time to react to her statement as you pushed the door open. Instead of your feet making their next steps out of the afterlife, they began freefalling and landed in a pile of sand. You looked around at your surroundings, and you found yourself in a desert-esque wasteland. The only objects in sight besides sand granules were weirdly shaped rock carvings.

"Where are we?" Astrid worriedly asked as she looked frantically at the sight.

"I don't know!" you replied with just as much worry, if not more. Suddenly, Astrid tapped your shoulder and pointed towards a nearby planet.

"Look! That's Saturn! So we must be on one of its moons!" she shook her head in disbelief. "I swear, the afterlife is so random!" You were not able to formulate a response before the sand arounds you began to shift; a puff of tan dust appeared suddenly, and you and Astrid found yourselves faced with a black and white striped monstronsity arising from the depths of the wasteland. It had beady red eyes that were glaring hungrily at you both.

"Sandworm!" you instantly remembered the creature, both from your multiple paranormal books and from the events that transpired so long ago. You grabbed Astrid's hand and ran at the speed of light across the deserted wasteland. The sandworm was about to catch up to you both when you heard a familiar voice:

"Take my hand!" Mirroring the statement, a hand dropped down and swiftly pulled Astrid up onto a ledge. The sandworm had began to rear its second ugly head as the hand reached back down to grab you; the mystery being pulled you up onto the surface as well, shutting the door harshly behind you three before the sandworm had a chance to strike. It was here in which you finally came into contact with the face that belonged to the limb:

Astrid's father.

He looked much different than you remembered, naturally. His skin was a seafoam green shade, most likely resulting from the waterlogging of his body. He had sores all over his body, exposing parts of his muscle from the forehead down. Finally, the most humorous feature, he had tiny blue pirhannas nibling on every sector of his body.

The three of you spoke for a long time over respective cups of coffee. He had complimented Astrid's Halloween costume; she was dressed as Marie Curie after she had been poisoned by radiation. Furthermore, he commented how he was always watching over you guys, although neither of you were able to visualize him. He ended the conversation with a hug before the automated voice sounded another warning about the 6-9-9 violation.

"We've got to get back to Winter River," you stated as your body lurched up, ready to take action.

"We can't leave until Astrid gets her life back," your widower replied, standing up from his chair. "Follow me." The three of you sped for quite sometime until you had reached the ticket booth. Here, you saw Jeongin, smirking deviously in your direction with a voucher in hand, no doubt a passport to venture back into the living world.

"Don't stamp that passport!" Astrid's father yelled out in desperation, but the operator at the ticket window had already done the unthinkable.

"You're too late," Jeongin smugly commented as he waited for his passport to be returned. Jeongin was right; time had ran out.

Or so you thought.

"I think it was Doestoevsky who said," a moderate voice began as the "operator" slid Jeongin back his passport. Jeongin's sly grin slowly faded as he read the stamp marking:

Shit Out of Luck.

The operator lifted his head up to reveal a pale, squirrel like face with messy green hair entracing the sides.

"Later, fucker!" Han's hand gripped onto a lever beside him as Jeongin glanced up at him with worry. Before he could protest, Han's hand had yanked the lever down, opening up a trap-door into a fiery inferno. Jeongin fell down into eternal torture, never to cause harm to anyone again.

"You don't mess with the daughter of the love of my afterlife!" Han screamed into the entrance to Hell. You only caught a glimpse of his words, but they still fluttered your heart, nevertheless.

Before you knew it, Han was standing right beside you, Astrid, and Astrid's father.

"I've got it from here, big guy," Han winked at Astrid's father, causing him to mumble a quick, 'I love you,' to Astrid before speeding off.

"This way, follow me!" Han led the two of you back down the same twisting corridors you had traveled earlier in the venture until you reached a room with dark blue walls and a ladder in the dead center. "This is as far as I go for now," he commented, a look of regret replacing the one of smugness that was usually present

"Mom, is this-"

"Beetlejuice? The one and only, Honey!" Han interupted Astrid's inquiry, holding out a ghostly hand to shake. "But you can call me Han. Or dad if you'd prefer." You waved your hand across your neck in a, 'stop-talking,' motion, causing Han to clear his throat. "Well, carry on then!" He held steadily onto the ladder, helping Astrid climb up with you prepared to follow.

"I'll see you soon, Wifey," Han remarked as his hands snaked around your waist. You quickly embraced his hug, not caring how twisted it may have seemed. You held his words close to your heart as you let go, clutching onto the ladder as you exited the afterlife.

---

You climbed, and climbed, and climbed until your arms were sick of doing so. Eventually, you reached an opening which led to the Winter River Cemetary.

You were home at last.

Astrid turned around to face you, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Thank you for saving my life," her voice trembled as she expressed her gratitude. "I'm so sorry I never belived that you saw ghosts and...I don't know, I'm just sorry for all of it!"

There were only two situations you can say you ever felt your heart truly beat. The first was when you met Han for the first time; the second was this exact moment.

You and Astrid's relationship was subpar, at best. Ever since her father's passing, she had refused to interact with you, especially where the paranormal was concerned. Until tonight, Astrid thought the entire concept of spirits, witches, demons, and all things supernatural was a load of hullabaloo. She never wanted to claim you as her mother.

Until tonight that was, when you had earned her trust back.

You inched forward in preparation to give a response; however, your train of thought derailed when you heard someone calling your name repeatedly, insisting upon the fact that you were, 'late,' for something. You glanced over Astrid's shoulder and noticed that it was the town pastor calling your name. That is when it hit you:

"Oh my gosh, my wedding!" you yelled as you rushed towards the church building, Astrid trailing your feet close behind.

"Wait, mom, after everything that's happened tonight, you know you don't have to do this, right?" Astrid asked earnestly. Your mind flashed back to the events of tonight; the pet names Han had called you, how tightly he had held your hand, how he referred to you as, "the love of his afterlife." You knew by all means those were not the events Astrid was talking about by a long shot; however, they sunk the truth into her words.

"I know, but if I don't do it now, I'm never going to do it!"

"Are you really sure about this?" Astrid could sense the unsincerity in your tone. You let out an aggravated sigh.

You were not actually sure, that was the truth. I mean, who truly is sure about marrying a man they have been committed to for less than a year, let alone a man who proposed on the same day as your father's funeral?!

You answered, hesitance prominent in your voice, yet giving a response in attempts to convince both your daughter and yourself that this marriage was a good thing: "Hyun loves me, and that's got to be enough!"

Ah yes, Hyun. Short for Hyunjin. The tragic fiancé you had met at a widow's resort. He had told you his sob story of a tale, how his fiancé had perished in a skiing accident, and as you would have put it, the two of you just clicked.

You agreed to the marriage on his accord rather than your own, truly; you felt pressured by the crowd of people watching his proposal at your father's funeral and by his desperate pleas. You knew this was not what was in the tarot cards for you, yet you tried to claim that it was.

You had finally reached the entrance of the church when you ran into the aforementioned fellow. He lazily embraced you, your arms suddenly becoming doubtful to wrap around him in return.

"I thought you got cold feet," Hyunjin confessed as he removed his arms from around you.

"No, blame me," Astrid piped up. "She just saved me from my date from hell."

"Who are all of these people?" you failed to acknowledge either statement, instead taking notice of all the unfamilarity present within the crowd of attendees.

"Just a couple of influencers; nobody under five million followers, and I think we have a Netflix executive in there," Hyunjin smiled as he said this, but you could only groan in frustration.

You see, along with being your husband to be, Hyunjin was also your manager. He partnered alongside you for every media project you participated in, most specifically your new hit show, "Ghost House." Hyunjin loved the attention.

You did not. Hence, your disapproval of the wedding guests.

Your anxious thinking once again halted, this time as a result of Astrid snapping her fingers repeatedly.

"Are we doing this or what?" she asked impatiently.

"Right, yes, of course," Hyunjin agreed before eyeing you up and down. "Where is your dress?" You waved your hands slightly in dismissal.

"All that matters is that I am here now, so let's just skip straight to the vows," you did not make eye contact for a second as you spoke to him.

"Wait, where's Delia?" Astrid quieried about your step-mother. A flash of light and a rumble of thunder caused everyone to turn their attention to the front of the church pew.

"Yo!" a voice boomed across the audience, and you glanced forward to see the one and only. "She's right here," he responded to Astrid's question, pointed to the red-haired lady standing beside him.

One thing about Han: he was excellent at keeping his promises.

"She was helping me calm down before the wedding," Han continued. "I was feeling a little jittery." He chuckled arduously before pushing Delia aside.

"You!" Hyunjin thundered as he sped across the aisle. "You're that thing from my dream!" He was referring to an earlier occurance in which he had muttered the legendary three-word encantation and found himself in a dreamlike state encountering Han.

"Well, I'm really more nightmare material, but thanks!" You stifled a chuckle at Han's comeback.

"Whats up, Be-" Astrid attempted to call Han's real name; however, her voice was quickly stifled, accompanied by a tsking from Han.

"Part of the deal is you can never ever say my name, ever!" Han explained the reasoning behind the sudden silencing as Astrid rubbed her throat; Han held up the handbook for the dead from earlier.

"What deal?" Astrid asked in return.

"The deal she," Han pointed at you, "made to save you," he moved his pointer finger to Astrid. "That's why I said you can call me dad earlier."

"Y/n." Delia stated your name bluntly. "You agreed to marry him?!" Saying Delia was outraged was a complete understatement. She looked at you with horror present in your eyes, terrified as to how the next events would unfold. You began to stumble over your words.

"Well, uh. You see I did, but I was, um," you felt desperate prying at your words. Han looked at you with intrigued intent; both he and you knew the real reason why you had chosen to marry him, yet he also knew you were trying to find a way to hide your true intentions. The glares he was sending your way did not aid your cause; they were sultry, yet agitating, as if they were encouraging you to tell how you fell in love with a demon and that was why you were so quick to agree to a marriage in order to save your daughter.

"Y/n, what is really going on here?" Hyunjin interrogated, his annoyed gaze boring into yours. Your stare instead found Han's, your eyes pleading for his help.

"Wow!" Han exclaimed as he threw the handbook onto the altar. "Talk about awkward!" He had suddenly appeared behind Hyunjin, an arm slung around his shoulders and causing the crowd to gasp. "You haven't made much progress since our last session, so I'm going to go ahead and recommend some drug therapy." Han was once again referring to the "dream" Hyunjin had prior in the day. He pulled out a filled syringe labeled, 'truth serum,' and injected the liquid straight into Hyunjin's neck.

"Don't be afraid to share when you're ready!" he told Hyunjin with a cheeky grin on his face. Hyunjin's body betrayed him in this moment, shifting towards you with blown out eyes and quivering lips, as if he was trying to hold back from saying something. Han had appeared behind you now, the same smug arm snug around your shoulders.

"Let's see what your, "lover," truly thinks, shall we?" Han whispered against your neck. You and Astrid's expressions were contorted into confusion.

"I always thought your whole act was bullshit," Hyunjin suddenly confessed, causing your eyebrows to heighten and your lips to mouth, 'what?' "I never believed in ghosts, spirits, or any of it."

"What?" you inquired, extremely taken aback by his truthfull confession. "All this time? Why the hell did you want to get married then?"

"Money!" Hyunjin outbursted. "I knew I could make more money as your husband than as your manager!" He tried to cusp a hand over his mouth to keep the truth from overflowing but failed tremendously; meanwhile, your mouth was agape at the words he was spilling. "And I never had a dead fiancé. I just went to that survivor's retreat to try and pick up a girl," he winced at his last confession. You could feel nothing in your heart but anger and disgust; Han, on the other hand felt immense pleasure in seeing your realization of what an absolute scumbag your ex soon-to-be-wed was.

"How about a little physical therapy?" Han gently grasped your fist and lifted it up, taking the action straight out of your mind. Before a rational thought could cross your mind, you had knocked Hyunjin clean in the nose, the force of the impact catapulting him backwards. Han clapped forcefully and joyously at the incident, and you did something that shocked yourself; you smiled. For once in your life, you had stood up for yourself, and you took pride in that. In the midst of your self-glory, Han began to address the crowd.

"We'd like to thank you all for coming, but right now, we'd like a little privacy." He snapped his fingers, and the crowd subconsciously turned their phones around so the camera faced them. Their faces began to morph into grotesque shapes as they were pulled into their cellular cameras. In a flash, every unfamiliar face in the audience had vanished, leaving only you, Han, Astrid, Delia, Hyunjin, and the church's pastor. The latter of the six attempted to make his escape through the back entrance; however, his efforts were for nothing as Han was two steps in front of him, standing square in the middle of the doorframe.

"Where ya going, Padre?" Han asked rhetorically; he snapped his fingers once more, and the pastor appeared at the front of the altar, his Bible in hand. Han subsequently poofed on the left side in front of the pastor, reaching out a hand for you to join him on the right. An undead symphony began to play a surprisingly harmonious melody as the two of you linked arms. You looked up at him, slightly hesitant at the suddenness of the events at hand. The remaining few in the crowd began to sing along to the melody that was playing, notably doing so under hypnosis. Han took your hand in his and brought you closer to him, beginning to slow dance with you under the radiant light of the church's chandelier.

You would have been lying if you said there was not a part of you that did not like this experience. Sure, Han was a demon who had done questionable things and was downright psychotic at certain points. Yet, you could not stop thinking about what he had done and subsequently said earlier: "You don't mess with the daughter of the love of my afterlife!"

It made you realize: he truly cared about you. Unlike most demons, he had some semblance of a heart, even if he had a funny way of showing it. Not only this, but he cared about your daughter like she was his own, and that won your heart straight away.

The lights dimmed as you leaned into his embrace, beginning to slow-dance. He smiled as he looked down at you, wrapping a loose arm around your waist to hold you there and planting a small kiss on the top of your forehead.

"I knew you knew who you belonged with." Before you could respond, you were floating; you had found that ghosts tended to do that when they demonstrated affection. Although the experience was supernatural, you did not want it any other way. You stared deep into Han's eyes and he reciprocated. You contemplated leaning in for a kiss, knowing what that would mean for Han but the mere thought of it being more exhilerating than nerve-wracking.

That is why it was such a pain whenever the afterlife police crashed the wedding. They broke in through the windows, fell from the chandeliers, and some even came out of the spot where the symphony was playing. The music came to a halt, and the low lights came back up.

"Mr. Juice!" the lead of the afterlife police named Wolf Jackson boomed. "You have violated code 6-9-9!" Wolf did not get to finish, as Han took out a megaphone and shouted the word, 'Freeze,' causing the guards to do just that. You had hoped that was the last of the night's problems.

You found out that you were sorely mistaken.

The church doors flew open, and there stood a ghostly young woman; her skin was somehow paler than Han's. Her hair, eyes, nails, clothing, and shoes were all as black as ebony, and staples adorned what seemed to be a never-ending scar cascading down her body.

"BEETLEJUICE!" she thundered across the church pews, slowly making her way towards the demon. Han looked absolutely astounded in negativity.

"Sweetheart!" He grimaced as he spoke the pet name. "You look amazing!" From these four words alone, you came to the conclusion that this was Delores, Han's ex-wife that he had mentioned in passing. All of a sudden, Delores moved her hand in a swift motion, flinging you away from Han as she drew closer to him. He sputtered out multiple things about going through a lot of changes, how it was not her but him, and something about a mid-afterlife crisis.

"Your soul belongs to me, my love. For eternity," she did not take into account anything Han had said, only focused on sucking the remainder of his living soul out of him.

"You don't wanna spend your eternity with me!" Han retaliated nervously. "I'm not the one for you. You need a soulmate. Somebody who really sees you. For instance," he stepped out of the way, revealing an unfrozen Hyunjin. He snapped his fingers, changing the tuxedo top Hyunjin was wearing into a T-shirt stating, "I <3 Delores." This captivated her attention, more with confusion than arousal albeit.

You, on the other hand, were still splayed on the ground where Delores had played human ping pong with you. You glanced over to your right and saw Astrid drawing a symbol on the ground with Delia's lipstick. She knocked on it three times; you were not sure what it was until her knocks caused it to open like a trapdoor. It was a gateway to the same deserted area you and Astrid had been in earlier. Coming to a swift realization, the three of you moved out of the trapdoor's vicinity just in time to narrowly miss the large sandworm that erupted through the opening.

After an entanglement of Han leading the sandworm on where to go with a red cloth like a matador, the sandworm had swallowed both Delores and Hyunjin whole. Funnily enough, the pastor used this time to make his legitimate escape while Han was concerned with commanding the sandworm.

You sighed out of relief. 'This is the end of it,' you truly believed. Astrid and Deliah helped you up as you glanced at Han, mouthing a 'thank you' to him.

"No problem, my love," he replied, sadness slightly tinging his voice. "See you on the other side."

And as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.

---

"I want to thank all of you ghosties out there for your support over all of these years." Thunder clapped as you spoke solumly into the camera. "This is my last show. I have spent so much time talking to the dead. It's time I start living and make memories with the people I love, rather than be haunted by them later." The tape stopped rolling automatically, and you let out a sigh of relief. You stood up from your filming chair, which was truly just the recliner in your attic, and walked over to the replica of Winter River. It was still split in half from a certain visitor; however, you felt there was no need in repairing it as you sat on your knees, especially not with what you were about to do.

You had been thinking a lot lately. You knew what your heart longed to do, and it was time to put that motion into effect. As such, you closed your eyes, took in a deep breath, and muttered the same name three times.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

Han did not make much of a scene as he appeared this time; he had been watching over you the last few days, and knew the intensity of a typical arrival would be too much.

"Well, well, well," he remarked slowly. You opened your eyes and saw the ghost directly in front of you, sitting in a similar position to your own. The sight of him made you smile with pure joy, and he could not help but return it. "I'm glad to see the second marriage has made you finally pick up the phone," he teased you and you let out a small giggle.

"I've been thinking," you muttered. "And as I think, my mind keeps wondering back to one particular moment when we were together last. You really pulled through for me and Astrid," you spoke kindly, truthfully, your heart picking up the pace with every word you spoke towards him. "I know you told the ex-wife that she needed a soulmate. Someone who understands her." You reached out to grab Han's cold, pale hand. "I know you weren't talking to me, but," you took a brief pause to contemplate your next words. "I think that's what you are to me."

Your words caused Han's mouth to go agape, his eyes wide in astonishment. "Are you saying..."

Instead of saying anything, you showed him. You cupped his snow-white chipmunk cheeks and brought his face to your own, capturing him in a daring kiss. It was full of passion, romanticism, and overall, love.

Everything you would expect a demon not to possess.

You only pulled away from the kiss when you heard the sound of Han's heart beating. You softly opened your eyes where an incredulous image awaited you:

Han's skin had darkened into a light, peachy color. The dark black rings around his eyes had vanquished, and the shaggy green hair he once possessed had now morphed into healthy brown locks. His eyes, for once, looked as if they contained life.

Because they did.

You knew kissing Han in addition to signing that marriage contract would bring him back to life; however, you had decided that was the life you wanted. Countless times, he had shown how he would pull through for you, how he would best his demon status and do anything you asked.

You were confident he was your purpose.

"Woah," Han glanced down at himself, astounded by the sight of himself alive once more. "You brought me back to life." He could not express his thoughts in mere words; therefore, he did so by engulfing you in the tightest hug known to mankind. Against his chest, you mumbled a sentence that made his beating heart pound:

"Han, you brought me back to life."

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drunk-person · 3 months ago

Text

The tomb of liars (The Gossip) P.10

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: One of the most talked about gossips among the lower class servants in Kings Landing is the fact (or not) that Aemond Targaryen got involved with his cousin Y/n Targaryen when they were both teenagers. Mainly due to the fact that at the age of 17 she was sent to Old Town overnight. Some employees claim that Aemond was caught between her legs. Some say that, like her father, she had had a horrible fight with her uncle and aunt and was sent away. And other than that none of this happened, she just became interested in the course offered at the Old Town conservatory. But now five years later, Y/n Targaryen is back, and rumors haunt those who favor them.

This chapter is a part of a main story The gossip, you can find the previous chapter, summary and general tags by accessing the link.

Summary of the chapter: Back five years ago, to the tragic night that changed a life and forever altered every dream.

Warnings of the chapter: 18+, pounds and pounds of teenage romance, teenagers being totally crazy and hormonal, teenagers discovering themselves, young love, family fights, dysfunctional family, severe trauma, mentions of depression, religious guilt, mention of purification rituals, no description for reader.

Word count: 16.500 k

A/n: I hope you enjoy the new chapter. For those who want the songs of the chapter: Demons by Boyce Avenue and You've Got A Way by Shania

*The author strongly advises using a tissue box

"Good morning Kings Landing, it seems that Y/n Targaryen, known daughter of Prince Rouge, left our city for an indefinite period of time the night before. The Targaryen family did not inform the reason, the only thing that is known is that apparently she decided to spend some time in Old Town with her aunt's family. Doesn't look much like our girl, does it?"

❦❦❦

After the first time they made love, it became an addiction for Aemond and Y/n that neither of them could give up. It was like when they learned to kiss a few years before, but much worse. And after a few times using condoms, the two decided together that they would like to try without, with that in mind they went stealthily to a pharmacy in the Flea Basin after class to buy birth control pills for Y/n without even looking properly at the pharmacist in the process for fear of being recognized by someone.

Everything got even better if that was possible, neither of them could keep their hands to themselves no matter how hard they tried, their brains seemed to be controlled exclusively by crazy hormones that made them jump on each other whenever they had the chance. Like on a particularly boring night when they went to dinner at the luxurious restaurant of the Aegon's Fort hotel and during dinner the two of them ran off to make out in the hidden bathroom, exchanging kisses uncontrollably amid euphoric laughter.

Little by little they were discovering things about each other's bodies, they became wilder about it and less careful. Like when on a trip to Harrenhall in the ancient history seminar everyone decided to go to a party and as the two of them danced too close to each other, Aemond started saying dirty things in Y/n's ear and caressing her in a way that was too intimate for a dance floor in a public place full of acquaintances. When the club's lights went out during a small power outage, he had two fingers buried deep in her heat, and she sighed against his neck, grabbing him shamelessly.

Every time Viserys traveled on business and took Alicent with him, the two of them do whatever they wanted with the peace of mind that they would not be caught. Like the day they stole a bottle of wine from the cellar and drank it to the end, having gotten terribly drunk for the first time in their lives, alone and hidden in the attic of the mansion.

Dancing to an old song that neither of them knew, but that Aemond had put on to play on the old record player that had been stored away for years. Spinning around on the wooden floor until they could no longer stand and fell onto the carpet, hugging each other and just laughing like idiots lying on the floor while they admired each other, exchanging sweet kisses and soft caresses, talking in characteristic voices with alcohol slurred voices.

-Aemond? - S/n's laughing, alcohol-slurred voice sounded as she stared at him, slightly cross-eyed.

-Hmm? - He stared back at her, laughing, his eyes slightly lost.

-The roof is spinning for me. Is it spinning for you too? - She asked, holding back her laughter and looking up again.

-Yeah. Fucking spinning. - The oldest confirmed, dragging his own hand across the floor until he reached hers and held it affectionately between his fingers.

-How does Aegon manage to do this all the time? - She laid her head to the side, looking at him and laughing at her own dizziness.

-I have no idea, but I'm sure I can't get up from the floor without falling. - Aemond murmured, laughing, caressing the palm of her hand, tracing the lines delicately.

-Do you think they really tell destiny? - Y/n bit her lips curved in a questioning and slightly silly smile. - Hel thinks so.

-Nonsense. - Aemond rolled his eyes a little credulous and his voice slurred. - We chose our own destiny, I chose you to be mine. - He left a kiss on their intertwined hands. - But if they did, your name would definitely be written on mine.

-And yours in mine. - Her eyes shining as she gently pulled him into a kiss full of innocent affection, gently brushing her nose against his while Aemond held her hand firmly next to his.

They both got really good at not getting caught. The problem is that when you get really good at something you tend to underestimate the intelligence of the people around you.

Like the night Aegon found out everything by catching Aemond sucking on S/n's nipple while he fucked her in the pool on a particularly hot midnight, when Viserys and Alicent were traveling once again. It started innocently enough, just like everything else in their lives, the two were just watching a movie cuddled up on the couch when S/n suggested that he could take a dip in the pool since they were alone, making Aemond agree.

They were just swimming around each other while cooling off, splashing each other and laughing. Until when they were both almost at their peak, Aegon's shrill scream echoed throughout the garden along with the sound of the table with an umbrella that was in the pool area falling to the ground when the oldest leaned on it in shock, knocking it over in process.

-You shouldn't be home! - Aemond shouted with his eyes slightly wide as he and Y/n readjusted their underwear to cover themselves. - It should be in your house! What the fuck are you doing here?

-And you two shouldn't be fucking in the fucking pool! - Aegon shouted with his hands on his head, looking around in shock as Aemond got out of the water and went towards him.

-Stop screaming! - Y/n hissed in a whisper and followed Aemond out of the pool with her entire body red with embarrassment, feeling her cheeks burning. - Someone is going to hear you, you idiot!

-You can't tell your mother anything about this! - Aemond spoke very seriously, but with his skin equally flushed, staring at his older brother. - Seriously, Aegon!

-Do you think I'm stupid? - He chuckled ironically, turning his body backwards while rolling his eyes. -Fuck, she’s going to go so crazy when she finds out about this. - The oldest of the three put his hands on his head while cursing visibly in panic. - Damn. Damn. Fuck.

-She won't find out anything! - Aemond hissed. - We're going to tell her! But only in a few years when no one can do anything about it.

-How long have you been doing this? - The oldest whispered, looking from one to the other, still shocked.

-Some time. - Y/n murmured, looking at the back of Aemond's head as she tried to cover herself by wearing his shirt, as she was only wearing her panties and bra when the two jumped into the pool.

-Oh shit! - Aegon made an instant grimace of shock when he heard that.

-What are you doing here anyway? - Aemond hissed, changing the subject as he put on the black shorts he was wearing earlier.

-Jaehaerys forgot that weird stuffed caterpillar Hel gave him here. - Aegon rolled his eyes, momentarily distracted as he spoke about his son. - He doesn't sleep without her.

-You left Jaehaerys alone? - Y/n widened her eyes at the suddenly shrill voice.

-Yes, I left my two-year-old baby alone in my apartment. - The eldest rolled his eyes ironically. - Obviously not Y/n, my maid, Mr. Dancil is with him.

-By the Gods. - Aegon grumbled one last time, looking from his brother to his cousin in deep shock before entering the mansion in search of the stuffed caterpillar with his hands clasped behind his neck.

Just as promised, Aegon didn't say anything about what he had seen in the pool. After the scare that night, both Y/n and Aemond had become more careful about touching in public. But that didn't stop Aemond from leaving love notes or openly depraved notes signed with just an "A" in Y/n's locker every time he passed by on his way to advanced calculus class. Or that he would place his hands on her thighs as they studied at a picnic table tucked away on the school grounds.

-I'm worried, Aem. - She mumbled with a frown, leaning over her books as she felt him caressing soft circles under the hem of her cheer uniform skirt, absentmindedly, while he wrote something in his own notebook with his other hand.

-Mmmm. - He mumbled, frowning, putting the pen aside and staring at her. - What is it?

-I barely understand this subject with your help, I have no idea what I'm going to do in my senior year when you're in college. - She huffed resignedly, making a loose strand of hair fly over her eye.

-You'll do fine either way. - Aemond laughed when he saw a caricature of the calculus teacher with a lightning bolt striking him in the head in the upper corner of Y/n's book and smiled drumming his fingers gently on her leg. - You shouldn't underestimate yourself so much. You got a good grade on the last test.

-You know very well that I looked at Elyrio's answers on that test Aem. - She sighed laughingly, looking at him from under her eyelashes.

-And you know very well that that's cheating. - He murmured ironically, drawing a gentle circle on her thigh with his fingertips.

-Only if I get caught! - She rolled her eyes, biting her lower lip as she arched her eyebrow at him laughingly.

-I can't wait to be free of all this and be able to do only what I want. - She smiled, still lying her head on the picnic table, imagining the future.

-Just a year and a half. - Aemond murmured with a slight smile on his lips, lightly squeezing her thigh under her skirt. - And we will be far from all this, starting our own lives.

Her eyes lit up instantly when she heard him say those words, and with a smile Aemond guided his free hand to her hair, leaving a gentle caress on her scalp, continuing to speak in a low and cheerful voice.

-I've even looked at some apartments for us, temporary of course. Just until we finish the college, so we can get rid of all this madness and buy our own home. - He smiled beautifully at her. - You'll love one of them, it's in Aegon's building, but it has a beautiful view.

Y/n had to restrain herself with all her strength not to jump on him and kiss him right there when she heard him talking so lovingly about the plans he had for the two of them.

-I'll make everything beautiful! - She smiled excitedly, looking at him, already lifting her head from the table. - We could paint the walls yellow, what do you think? It would bring joy to the environment, buildings are so sad. - She curled her lips thoughtfully. - And plants! - Y/n smiled even more, closing her eyes and imagining. - I'll put several of them everywhere, with lots of flowers.

-Don't put plants near my books, Highness. - He rolled his eyes. - Or it will make them grow mold.

-Okay. - Y/n was barely listening as she imagined everything with excitement and Aemond couldn't help but smile just by seeing her smiling.

-I have to go to fencing. - He rolled his eyes when he saw that free time was almost over.

-Oh you won't believe it… - She smiled mischievously biting her lower lip and staring at him.

-What did you do?

-I convinced the student council that the fencing team needs cheerleaders as much as any other team in the school… this means... - She winked at Aemond gracefully making him laugh and shake his head negatively. - Saturday I'll be there courtside with my pom poms cheering for you!

-The correct term is piste. - He smiled ironically, unable to stop himself from pulling her into a hug and murmuring against her hair.

-Whatever, I'll root for you to destroy them all anyway. - She laughed, rolling her eyes and placing a kiss on his cheek that left a pink lipstick mark.

❦❦❦

The months seemed to fly by, Aemond's 18th birthday had arrived and with it the end of summer vacation. Y/n and he had taken a month-long trip to Dorne with the excuse of visiting Helaena at college together, the two of them actually visited her but obviously did a lot more in their free time. With Y/n driving Aemond crazy and buying almost half the clothes in the city. While he rolled his eyes and said that if she was good and had the kindness to go with him to the main bookstore he could let her play designer with him.

It had been an incredible month, the two of them living alone in Dorne doing only what they wanted, he almost forgot that there was a life beyond that. It was almost like in their dreams where there was only love and happiness, but now they were home again and reality called.

Aemond was lying on the bed motionless, stared at the ceiling. He was going to college on Monday, and had seriously thought about staying at home for another year and moving out only the following year, but the reason would be too obvious and they didn't want to raise any more suspicions.

He and Y/n could do this, they would see each other whenever possible since he was going to KLU (Kings Landing University). When they asked if he didn't want to study abroad, Aemond promptly replied that he would like to study in Kings Landing, since one of the best and oldest universities was in the city and he could do an internship at the family company. Omitting the main reason, Y/n was in Kings Landing, and he wouldn't go anywhere without her.

The sound of the door slowly opening took him out of his thoughts and he smiled when he saw Y/n entering his room wearing a pearly satin cardigan down to her knees. She locked the door behind her and with a smile ran towards Aemond's bed, throwing the cardigan aside, jumping on the sheets and crawling under the duvet.

-Come here. - Aemond pulled her into a side hug and she laid her head against his bare chest.

Y/n caressed his hand and looked at him from under her eyelashes, Aemond immediately knew that she wanted something and was not finding the words to tell him.

-What happened? - He asked, caressing her cheek with his fingertips.

And Y/n, still unable to find words, brought her hand to his chin and pulled him in for a kiss. The two continued kissing languidly in sync, and she climbed onto Aemond's lap, sitting on his thighs, making the grayish nightgown she was wearing rise up her own thighs.

She stared at Aemond as she bit her lower lip gently and nervously reached for the hem of her nightgown, pulling it up and revealing her completely naked body underneath. And even though by now Aemond had seen her naked hundreds of times, he was still mesmerized by the sight of her beautiful body.

-Happy birthday. - She said, looking at him slightly shyly, which was confusing Aemond since Y/n hadn't been shy around him for a while. She walked around naked in front of him as if it were nothing, she was confident in her own body because she knew Aemond idolized it. And suddenly he worried that he had done something that had made her insecure.

-Did I do something that made you uncomfortable? - He asked as he gently stroked her waist and looked into her eyes.

-No, I just want to do something different today. - She sighed, looking into his eyes. - Something we've never done before.

-What? - He asked curiously, still caressing her waist.

Y/n placed her hands over Aemond's, removing them from her waist and guiding them to her ass, and sighing when she felt Aemond squeeze her gently.

-Y/n. - Aemond looked at her very seriously as he began to understand the connotation of what she meant.

-This is your gift. The last part of me that hasn't been yours yet. - She said against his neck with a soft and gentle voice as she left a gentle kiss on the scar on his shoulder.

-You don't need to do that. - He sighed against her soft hair, feeling that sweet and soft scent that made his soul happy. - I never asked you to do that. - Aemond looked into her eyes with nothing but affection as he caressed her bare back with his fingertips. - You don't need to feel like you have to do anything to please me, you know that.

-I want Aem. - She smiled with her hands against his cheeks, caressing him sweetly with the tips of her thumbs, tracing every mark and every line on Aemond's skin. - I want you in every way and in every possible way. - She murmured, looking into his eyes with such a passionate glow that Aemond almost lost his breath.

-I would let you do anything to me, and however you wanted because I know that with you it will always be good. - She slowly traced his soft lips with the tip of her index finger, smiling with a candid look that did not match at all the situation they were in. - Please Aemond, accept my gift.

-I love you. - He murmured very quietly close to her, his lips almost touching the shell of her ear.

That night, like every part of herself that Y/n had ever offered him, Aemond accepted willingly, taking her for himself with passion and desire, completely aware of the fact that Y/n was totally and entirely his, with every piece of herself that she was able to give him.

❦❦❦

It was being harder than they both imagined to get through that year. Aemond had no idea how bad it would be not to see Y/n every day and night and how much he would miss her. The two exchanged calls and messages, but it still wasn't enough. They met religiously in the meadow near Kings Wood every Saturday morning and would lie on the flowers talking for hours to kill the longing, laughing hugging each other while looking at the white clouds in the sky.

-I'm going to stay in the dorm until the end of the year, I don't want to move without you. - He whispered to her in the second week, when after he complained about the noise the other students were making, Y/n suggested that he leave right away and go to the apartment, making her roll her eyes and hug him tightly.

Aemond took advantage of those moments to help Y/n with the work and tasks that she couldn't understand, and almost always ended up doing her calculus homework while rolling his eyes and saying that this was the last time, as he always did every time he did her homework since they were both children.

One of the days after Aemond said that he would probably have to give up fighting or fencing for a while while he adapted to college, the two ended up once again with Aemond trying to teach some moves to Y/n, who just smiled and left occasional kisses on his chin, making him roll his eyes.

-Every time we do this I feel like I'm in kung fu panda. - She laughed, biting her lower lip and looking at him, not taking it seriously. - It's like I'm Po and you're Master Shi-fu.

-First of all, this drawing doesn't make sense. - Aemond rolled his eyes, grabbing her arm and gently turning her around, keeping her trapped against his body. - And if we were there, I'd definitely be Po and you'd be Tigress.

-I like that! - She laughed without caring about being trapped by his arms looking at him over her shoulder. - I want a stuffed panda bear now to name him Aemond!

-Mmmmm. - Aemond rolled his eyes deeply, throwing his head back as he moaned at her words.

-You're the one who gave me the idea. - She laughed, kissing his neck.

On the days when Aemond arrived first to the meadow, which was almost every time, Y/n would find him waiting for her with a smile and a bouquet of freshly picked colorful flowers in his hand, always telling her how much he had missed her during the week while leaving a soft kiss on the younger girl's forehead and pulling her into a hug soon after.

-Bad week? - He smiled against Y/n's hair who sighed with her head lying against his chest holding the bouquet in her hands as she gently ran her fingers over the petals.

-I think you'd better not be too close to me today. - She pulled away when she coughed a little, and then rolled her eyes. - I did a biology project with Pia Rosby and she was sick, she probably passed it on to me.

-You better go to the doctor soon. - Aemond frowned. - You almost never get sick.

-I know! - Y/n rolled her eyes even deeper with a slightly shrill voice. - Damn Pia Rosby!

Aemond just laughed, pulling her back to him.

-Aemond! - She scolded, pushing him by the shoulders. - I told you, you're going to get sick!

-I don't care much, I can only see you once a week, I'm not going to waste it. If I get sick, it's the will of the gods. - He murmured laughing and kissed her again making Y/n roll her eyes and reluctantly returned the kiss.

She did get sick, but Aemond didn't; something he made a point of mocking by stating how good his immunity was, making Y/n deeply roll her eyes at the phone during the call in which the two talked about it. They were both really excited since Y/n was better after almost a week, and at the weekend the family would travel together for Corlys Velaryon's birthday in Driftmark and the two could finally spend more than a few hours together.

Practically all the important families of Westeros were present when the night of the ball finally arrived. Aemond and Y/n didn't care at all, the two were just too busy around each other, laughing and talking in the corners while they thought no one was watching them.

-Alicent, don't you think all this closeness between Aemond and Y/n is strange? - Oto asked with serrated lips and a frown as he watched the two dancing together around the room.

-Nonsense. - The youngest waved her hand at her father with a dismissive look, more concerned with watching Aegon who was drinking and laughing with some acquaintances.

-They're just friends. - She shrugged, looking at them briefly and then looking away back at her eldest son. - They both have difficulty getting close to people, they became friends right away. Y/n is a good girl, she's innocent, she always goes with me to the sept, I don't see any problems.

-Last week I heard her telling the septa that she hadn't even had her first kiss yet. - Alicent murmured, making light of the matter and with a hint of pride in her voice.

-I think it's best to keep your eyes open about what Aemond and that girl might be doing, you know, my daughter, tongues talk, and the apple usually doesn't fall far from the tree. - Oto grumbled between his teeth, staring fixedly at Aemond and Y/n. - We don't want another problem.

Alicent looked once more in the direction of her son and niece, frowning softly as she watched Aemond spin her around and then lay her back while they both laughed, looking at each other happily, but with a strange glint in their eyes that suddenly made a new wrinkle appear on her forehead.

-Did you know that this…

-Was one of your mother's favorite songs? - Aemond concluded for her with an arched eyebrow and a sideways smile, making the youngest laugh and throw her head back.

-Yeah, you know. - She laughed even more when he spun her around and turned her back towards him.

-And that this is your favorite too? - He asked, still with the smug sideways smile on his lips, making Y/n roll her eyes deeply and restrain herself with all her might not to kiss him right there in response.

-I think it suits us. - She shrugged her shoulders smiling. - You make me feel that way. - Y/n looked down at her feet before looking at Aemond again and continuing. - Hopeful… beloved…

-Because I love you. - He murmured with his heart racing, sweetly caressing the base of her back with the tips of his fingers making her smile.

-I love you too, Aem. - She whispered only for him to hear, her eyes shining with joy.

-I think this circus will never end so I can love you right. - He rolled his eyes, snorting and looking around the party, which seemed far from over. - It's been two months.

-Last week. - She rolled her eyes, laughing as the two went further and further into the corner, away from the dance floor.

-That day in the meadow doesn't count. - He whispered, rolling his eyes. - We both didn't even take off our clothes. I want to take good care of you, the way I know you like it. - He smiled against her ear, making her blush, and then he twirled her around one last time before the song ended.

Both Y/n and Aemond couldn't wait for the celebrations to end, but as Corlys was a man who liked to demonstrate his status, the party seemed to never end. It was well after midnight when hundreds of fireworks were launched into the sky from barges at sea, forming the shape of a flaming seahorse in the night sky. According to him, the seahorse was for him and the fire was for his beloved wife Rhaenys.

Aemond and Y/n just looked at each other to know that the two were thinking about the same thing, and while everyone was distracted admiring the fireworks on the beach, the two ran to Y/n's room while laughing and kissing in the slightly dark hallways, since there was no one there at the time.

They had just fallen onto the bed, still dressed, when Y/n's cell phone alarm went off and she groaned angrily, getting up and taking a medicine pack from her bag.

-Is it the contraceptive? - Aemond frowned when he saw the yellow pill, different from the usual one.

-No, it's the disgusting antibiotic that tastes like rotten fruit that I'm having to take. - She grimaced before putting the medicine in her mouth and swallowing it with some water in pure disgust.

-Thank you again Pia Rosby! - She muttered ironically, rolling her eyes as she pulled the zipper of her dress that was already open to the middle of her back and walked towards him again.

-Are you eating right? - He frowned very seriously as he asked while gently holding her behind her thighs. - This kind of medicine is really strong.

-Yeah. - Y/n smiled, rolling her eyes and nodding. - I even cut out sugar this week, and you didn't even have to pay Daeron to keep bothering me.

-I didn't need it? - He raised his eyebrows, pulling her by thighs and making her fall on top of him.

-Okay, maybe needed a little. - She laughed, pouting and kissing him, tangling her hands in his cousin's silver hair.

Hours later Aemond was lying on Y/n's naked body with his head resting in the valley between her breasts breathing slowly as he felt the rhythmic beats of her heart. His right hand was resting on her belly, gently caressing the area with his fingertips.

-I can't wait for us to be married. - He smiled, leaving a chaste kiss on the soft skin between her breasts. - And that you're pregnant with our children.

-Do you think we should wait? - Y/n sighed, feeling his touch. - Until we finish college? I don't know if I can wait that long! - She smiled, looking at him, biting her lower lip while her eyes sparkled with joy.

-Maybe a year or two. - He shrugged, smiling and looking at her from under his eyelashes. - Just until we've adjusted.

-And then. - He left another sweet kiss between her breasts and then went down to her belly, placing a loving kiss there. - We'll have our child.

Y/n practically vibrated with joy below Aemond, a smile from ear to ear on her lips. Overcome by joy, she pulled him up again, leaning forward and leaving a kiss of pure love on Aemond's soft lips.

-I love you! - She sighed after the kiss, brushing her nose against his.

-I love you too. - He murmured with his eyes closed, lost in the caress of her arms, the curtain of his silver silky hair falling over them both.

The sun was already rising when Aemond got dressed and returned to his own room after leaving a few kisses on Y/n's sleepy face, who only laughed and grumbled. The two barely heard the conversations at the family breakfast table, Y/n was too busy trying to make Jaehaerys eat some mashed fruit, since Aegon stared into space, sprawled with the coffee cup in his hand, while Aemond was too busy watching her take care of her nephew while smiling.

-What do you think, Aemond? - Viserys's voice sounded excited, pulling him into the conversation at the table and making him look at his father with a confused look.

-I'm sorry, I was a little distracted. - He cleared his throat and adjusting his posture in the chair under his mother's attentive gaze. - What was the question?

-Corlys and I are going to travel to Vale to close a deal with Jane. - Viserys smiled, taking a sip of juice and cutting the eggs on the plate. - Maybe you should take advantage of the break and come along. It's like my father used to say, college is good, but nothing like real life to learn business.

-That would be great, father. - Aemond smiled slightly and he didn't know if his heart was racing for the opportunity or for the look of pride Y/n gave him as she held Jaehaerys in her arms.

❦❦❦

The trip lasted longer than Viserys expected, and what was supposed to be a week turned into a fruitful trip lasting almost 20 days; since they had gone down to Rune Stone to settle some business with Y/n's uncle who had taken over the company after Rhea's death years ago. Aemond's excitement at being there was almost palpable even though he tried to hide it, looking fondly at the green meadow that Y/n had described to him so many times when they were both children as being her favorite place to play, or just lie down while her mother told her a story and they ate cookies together.

Thinking about it only made his heart ache with longing for her, because since they had met that was the longest amount of time the two had spent apart. Aemond had already found it bad that they only saw each other on Saturdays, but spending all those days without being able to see her, without being able to hear her laugh in person and without being able to touch her… was almost killing him. The calls and messages did very little to help them both.

The afternoon they finally returned to Kings Landing, Aemond didn't even set foot in his college dorm. He went to the mansion with his father smiling and eager to see Y/n in person and tell her about the trip.

-Son, I'm glad you stopped by here before returning to campus. - Alicent caressed his hair, carefully placing a crooked strand in the appropriate place. - I missed you, I hope everything went well.

-Everything went great, Corlys really has a lot to teach. - He murmured, shifting his eyes to the stairs unconsciously. - I just came to pick up a book that I think will be useful. If you'll excuse me mom. - He smiled and left a kiss on Alicent's hand before walking up the stairs, making her roll her eyes at her son's always so gentle manner, but then frown in distrust immediately after seeing him go up the stairs so quickly.

As soon as he opened the door to Y/n's room, he saw her sitting on the bench near the window, looking out over the mansion's wide garden, turning around at the same moment he heard the door click.

-Aemond! - She jumped on him with a huge smile on her lips as soon as she saw him, her heart racing in her chest with longing and anxiety after almost a whole month away as she hugged him affectionately. - How was the trip?

-Absurdly instructive in every way it should be, but totally boring without you. - He kissed her on the lips as he said this. - You know, all this made me think that I can't wait for us to be together next year. - Aemond pulled her even closer to him. - Without having to hide from my mother, so you can run to me and wait for me at the door whenever I come home.

-We'll just hide from everyone else on campus. - He rolled his eyes ironically, leaving a small peck on his lips.

-Mmm, they find our whole family strangely disturbed. They won't be that shocked unless we exchange kisses in public. - He shrugged, making her laugh and throw her head back.

-I can't wait to move in with you either, and you know it! - She stood on tiptoe, giving him a kiss on the nose.

-I brought some gifts for you. - He murmured, hugging her with devotion while he felt her practically rubbing her cheek against his neck.

-I love gifts. - She sighed, smiling close to his ear, making him tighten the hug even more.

-I know that. - Aemond smiled against her hair, leaving a kiss there.

-I brought a dress from one of those stores you're always talking about. - He left a kiss against her ear as he spoke, making Y/n laugh and tilt her head towards his lips with a spasm.

-What color?

-White.

-Did you buy me a wedding dress? - She pulled away, looking at him laughing and arching her eyebrows as she bit her lower lip.

-Not yet. - Aemond sighed and left a soft kiss on her lips.

Little by little the two walked, until they fell sitting together on the same bench below the window, with Y/n sitting on Aemond's lap while he held her firmly close to him.

-How are things in Rune Stone? - She asked quietly, her head resting on his shoulder. - Did my uncle ask about me?

-Yes. - Aemond smiled slightly as he said that, his heart relieved that the man had asked about Y/n's well-being, since he knew she would be upset if he hadn't even remembered and Aemond couldn't lie to her, even if it was for a reason like that.

-He said he would like to come to the capital to see you but he doesn't have time since business is booming with the trade agreements your mother had made years ago that have started to pay off.

-Really? - Y/n smiled, hugging him even tighter and smiling against his chest, feeling a warmth in her chest when she heard those words along with a devastating feeling of pride at knowing that the work her mother had done in life was still thriving.

-Mmm. - Aemond nodded softly, stroking her hair carefully so as not to mess it up. - Rune Stone is really beautiful.

-We could travel there in the summer. - Y/n suggested very excitedly, leaning on Aemond's shoulders to sit better on his thighs.

-I think that would be great. - He murmured, leaving a soft caress on her hand. - By the way, I brought you something from Rune Stone.

-What?

-A teddy bear. - He laughed, holding her waist firmly. - Guess which one.

-A rabbit?

-No, Mr. Bunny would be jealous if he had to share you with another rabbit. - Aemond rolled his eyes, kissing her neck. - He took after me in that aspect.

-I don't know, then. - She laughed, clinging to him. - A cat maybe? Or a bird?

-No and no. - He laughed, hugging her tightly. - The chances are over.

-What was it then? - She smiled anxiously, leaving a kiss on his chin and neck.

-A panda.

Y/n stood still instantly with her eyes shining in a laughing smile.

-No way. - She got up, adjusting her slightly wrinkled clothes.

-Where are you going? - Aemond raised his eyebrow, looking at her.

-I want my dress and my bear. - She smiled, heading towards the door as if it were obvious, and rolling his eyes, he followed her.

The two of them were walking down the stairs laughing when they found Alicent halfway down, looking at them with a strange look on her face, and for a moment Y/n felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, as if the temperature had dropped 10 degrees in 10 seconds.

-Were you together already? - She asked, raising her eyebrow.

Y/n didn't know what to say at that moment, since her aunt had never cared about the amount of time the two spent together.

-I went to call Y/n to come down. - Aemond took the lead with a carefree voice as he shrugged. - I brought her something from Rune Stone.

-Very kind of you, isn't it Y/n? - Alicent smiled at her and momentarily Y/n managed to breathe again.

-Yes, aunt, but Aemond is always very attentive. - She smiled, looking away at the oldest. - It's in his nature to be like that.

-Not with everyone. - Alicent slightly narrowed her eyes. - Let's all go down, dinner is served. You can give her a gift later, Aemond.

Leaving no room for discussion, Alicent turned around, going down the stairs and waiting for the two on the last steps. With no escape, they went straight down to the dining room, where Viserys was already sitting at the table while the servants made the final adjustments.

-Aegon isn't coming to dinner today? - The patriarch asked, looking toward the door with a frown. - I would like to see Jaehaerys.

-Lyan is in town and asked to see Jaehaerys. - Alicent muttered irritably, pulling the chair to sit down. - As if she really cared about the boy!

Dinner went smoothly after that, until Alicent noticed Y/n who was just moving the food from side to side on the plate instead of eating, since dinner was usually the meal where she ate the most with everyone together at the table talking.

-Darling, is everything okay? - Alicent asked sweetly, looking at her worriedly. - You barely ate breakfast today.

The moment Alicent said that, Aemond raised his eyebrows and looked at Y/n, because he had already told her at least a hundred times not to skip breakfast or eat junk food early in the morning, since she always got sick in the afternoon when she did that.

-Yes, I am, auntie. - She laughed embarrassedly, playing with the food on her plate. - I just shouldn't have eaten all that chocolate earlier.

-Y/n, you're an adult now, I don't need to tell you anymore that you can't eat sugar out of hours. - Alicent murmured with a frown. - I don't want you to end up getting sick.

-Sorry, aunt. - She smiled. - I know you're worried, it's just that Rhaenyra brought those from Essos that I love.

-I already told Rhaenyra not to bring that junk home or she'll end up killing one of you. - Alicent muttered irritably, looking at her own plate, while Aemond continued to stare at Y/n.

-She doesn't mean anything wrong, my dear, she just wants to be kind. - Viserys smiled at his wife, gently taking her hand.

-She does it to affront me because I've told her a million times not to! - She hissed, glaring at her husband.

-I had brought a box of madeleines for you from the Vale, we can open them tomorrow. - Aemond muttered, taking advantage of his parents' argument.

-By the Gods, I never want to see madeleines in front of me again. - She muttered with a slightly disgusted look, making Aemond frown, since the youngest had been crazy about this sweet since they were both children.

-Are you sure you're okay?

-Yes, I just ate a little too much. - She whispered, rolling her eyes. - I was really craving it, so Daeron and I went to the flour street, bought two boxes and ate them while watching TV, but I must have eaten too much because I felt a little sick afterwards.

-I'll have to stay with my mother on this one. - Aemond rolled his eyes, gently stroking her hand under the tablecloth. - You can't eat that much sugar, you know that diabetes is hereditary.

-I know. - She murmured, biting her lower lip and tilting her head to the side with a subtle side smile. - I swear I'll take it easy with the sweets.

-What are you talking about? - Alicent's voice sounded, interrupting the conversation, making Aemond frown in confusion at the strange way his mother was suddenly acting.

-I'm just telling Y/n to cut down on the sugar. - He replied with an arched eyebrow. - Where's Daeron? I haven't seen him since I arrived.

-He's studying at a friend's house, he must be in home soon. - Alicent muttered, looking at her golden wristwatch.

Shortly after the servants began to clear the table, the housekeeper came to Alicent, warning her that Oto was on the phone waiting for her, making the older woman get up and leave them, followed by Viserys, who still had some travel paperwork to organize.

-You have a knack for business, Aemond. - He muttered as he left the room, making Y/n give her cousin a bright smile, who rolled his eyes and pulled her by the hand towards the back living room where their bags were, taking advantage of the fact that Alicent had finally left them alone.

-Have you noticed my mother? - He muttered, pulling the zipper of the suitcase and staring at her. - She's been acting strange.

-She was normal until this morning. - Y/n frowned in confusion. - We went to the sept together yesterday as we always do, nothing extraordinary. Do you think something's wrong?

-I must be just being paranoid. - He shrugged, finally opening the suitcase and taking some things out.

-It wouldn't be the first time. - She laughed, rolling her eyes and then widening them when she saw the teddy bear that Aemond took out of a blue bag.

-Gods, he's so cute. - She smiled, taking it from Aemond's hand with a soft pout on her lips, lowering her voice to almost a whisper before speaking. - I could kiss you right now, you know?

Looking around quickly, Aemond pulled her by the cheeks and placed a soft kiss on her lips, making the younger girl smile against his lips, kissing him back languidly while holding the bear tightly with one hand. The two broke off the kiss, jumping away from each other the moment they heard the sound of the back garden door opening, both with wide eyes, relaxing gently when they saw Daeron come in whistling and throwing his sneakers to the corner before jumping onto the couch, laughing.

-So, how was your trip, big bro? - The younger smiled, lying down on the couch and looking at Y/n and Aemond upside down, frowning when he saw their red faces. - Are you two okay?

-Yup.

-Of course, why wouldn't I be?

The two spoke in a jumbled way at the same time, leaving Daeron even more confused.

-Okay, you guys are weirder than normal today and your normal is already bizarre. - Daeron raised his eyebrows, still staring at the two upside down, until his eyes focused on the stuffed panda in Y/n's hands and he stood up with his eyes shining.

-Where did this bear come from?

-Aemond brought it for me from his trip. - Y/n smiled, inevitably looking at the eldest with a look so passionate that anyone who looked closely could notice.

-And what did I get? - Daeron raised his eyebrow, looking at his older brother very seriously, making Aemond hold his breath for a moment.

-Mmmm…..- After a few moments of thinking he saw the ornate box of madeleines inside the suitcase and smiled pulling it towards the youngest.

-A box of madeleines.

Daeron smiled mischievously, accepting the box of fine sweets from his brother's hands.

-I know this wasn't for me, but I'll accept it anyway because of your lack of consideration for your little brother. - Daeron said laughingly, then jumping over the back of the sofa and running out of the room laughing before Aemond could reach him.

-I'll be in my room playing video games, just make me take off my headphones if someone dies! - He yelled from the stairs.

-Little pest. - The older man muttered, rolling his eyes with a small sideways smile, as he took a package wrapped in purple tissue paper from his suitcase, looking in Y/n's direction right after and handing it to her, who received it eagerly.

-Aem… it's beautiful. - She smiled exultantly when she saw the white dress that should reach her knees.

-It's just like the one you said you wanted the other day. - He smiled, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. - Did you like it?

-I loved it! - She smiled, hugging him and leaving a kiss on his neck.

-Put it on for me then. - He murmured against her hair, and Y/n nodded positively, still smiling, already standing up and pulling Aemond's hands with her.

The two went up to the rooms via the back service stairs, laughing and occasionally exchanging kisses, almost dying of fright when one of the maids appeared at the end of the hallway and almost caught the two in the middle of a kiss, but it wasn't the first time that had happened, so the two just entered Aemond's room in a hurry, gently slamming the door behind them.

-Ok, turn your back. - She asked holding the dress to her chest, leaving the bear on her cousin's coffee table. Aemond frowned, slightly arching his eyebrow as he looked at her ironically.

-That's not the point. - Y/n rolled her eyes at him, grabbing him by the shoulders and turning his back while he smiled. - It's supposed to surprise you.

-I'll be surprised anyway. - He murmured with a small smile on his lips, making her leave the little kiss on them before going to the other side of the room to change her clothes.

-You can look. – You can look. - She murmured softly a few moments later and Aemond turned around almost at the same moment, seeing her wearing the beautiful white dress that whether he wanted to or not, made him think about how beautiful she would look wearing a wedding dress.

-Do you like it? - She asked, smiling and smoothing the skirt of the dress carefully.

-Really need to ask? - He curved his eyebrow with a look of enchantment, admiring her, then gently taking her hand and turning it around, making the skirt of the dress flow softly around her as he watched her with devotion.

-You're beautiful.

Y/n just laughed throwing her head back as she spun around and felt Aemond's gentle touch against her skin.

-What are you thinking about? - She whispered with her lips smiling close to his ear, hugging him closer and closer.

-How beautiful you'll look wearing a wedding dress for me. - He murmured against her hair, hugging her back and pulling her towards him, making Y/n smile even more against his neck.

-And you? - He whispered back to her. - What are you thinking about?

-How much I love you. - She murmured, kissing his neck softly. - How much I want to marry you soon, to be yours forever.

-You're mine forever. - He whispered, brushing his lips against hers. - Love you. - He murmured before finally kissing her properly, drawing a sigh from Y/n's lips and making her almost melt against his arms.

-I miss you. - Aemond sighed against her ear, pulling her closer and closer until they both fell onto his made bed.

-Me too. - Y/n mounted him, placing one leg on each side and kissing him languidly while Aemond moved his hands up and down her back, waist and hips, squeezing her with devotion.

In pure affection and adoration, he undid the satin ties that held the dress to her shoulders, gently pulling it down little by little, exposing Y/n's beautiful skin, on which he distributed soft kisses.

-So beautiful, my love. - He sighed, putting his head between her breasts. - So beautiful to me.

-Wait… - She gasped under his touch, making Aemond stop kissing and look at her confused.

-You're going to wrinkle my new dress. - Y/n complained, making him laugh softly in a nasal way, supporting himself on the mattress with his hands while she got up and finished taking off her dress, folding it carefully and placing it on top of the stuffed bear.

-Protecting those poor innocent eyes? - Aemond joked since Y/n always covered Mr. Bunny's eyes when they made love in her room, while he pulled her by the thighs to climb on top of him again, making her roll her eyes, pulling the hem of his shirt and throwing it carelessly on the bed.

The two rolled around in the sheets lost in each other's touch, Aemond didn't even realize when he had taken off his pants, but he knew he was only in his underwear between Y/n's legs, who was completely naked for him, while he kissed her more and more deeply.

-Be careful, they are a bit sensitive. - Y/n sighed when he kissed her breasts, and Aemond nodded gently, kissing her even more.

Y/n panted and sighed, every touch from Aemond was a wave of happiness in her body and she was always yearning for more. Her back arched against the sheets amidst slight tremors of pleasure as Aemond tortured her with his mouth between her thighs, occasionally murmuring dirty things, or how much he loved her, making her throw her head back in ecstasy, feeling her legs tremble on the verge of climax.

Lost amidst the euphoria, neither of them heard the sound of the door opening and the light footsteps entering the room. It was there, at that moment that suddenly everything went to hell as the door to Aemond's room opened without warning and Alicent entered distractedly calling him.

-Aemond, your father asked… - She didn't finish the question before emitting a horrified scream that echoed through the walls of the room, when she saw her son between Y/n's legs while the girl was lying among the pillows with her eyes closed and clinging to him.

Aemond instantly got off of Y/n while trying to cover both of their nakedness with a sheet as fast as he could, hiding Y/n's body behind his own. The two of them looked scared like two deer caught in the headlights, motionless and unable to form a word that made sense.

-Mom… what. - Aemond could barely form a coherent sentence, his heart racing in panic while he could feel Y/n's heart racing against his back. - Both of us… we..

-By the Gods, everyone told me something was wrong, everyone did. - Alicent scolded with bloodshot eyes and her hands resting on her head looking in the direction of the two. - But I said no.

-Aunt. - Y/n cried to Alicent wrapped in Aemond's sheets, still hidden behind his body trying to hide her own nakedness.

-Don't call me aunt! I took you in as a daughter when you were nothing more than a poisonous viper. - Alicent screamed lividly, going towards the bed and stopping when she saw the dress and the teddy bear on the table, her eyes burning even more with anger at that moment.

Aemond didn't even get dressed, he just grabbed the shirt that Y/n had thrown on the bed moments ago, and with trembling hands he put it over his cousin's head trying to preserve it, while she shrank closer and closer to him, barely able to move to put on her panties under the sheets with Alicent's shrill screams echoing through the room.

-This is an affront to the seven, an affront to our family! - Alicent screamed louder and louder. - Do you have the slightest idea what would happen if someone found out about this?

-Aemond, my son, how could you let yourself be corrupted by this… this… tramp! - Her voice dripped venom and anger.

Y/n felt those words as if they were a slap in her face. Her sweet aunt, who had taken such good care of her throughout her life, looking at her with disgust, as if she were the lowest trash she had ever seen in her life, and addressing her in such a cruel way.

-That's enough, mother! - Aemond hissed back with a deadly look, putting on the pants that were thrown on the floor, briefly moving away from Y/n to do so. - You're not going to talk about her like that!

Alicent found herself even more horrified, if that was possible. Aemond had never raised his voice to her in his entire life. Never, not once had he done anything other than obey. And now here he was, yelling at her while standing in front of Y/n defensively.

Y/n in turn felt exposed, barely able to move on the bed, tightly holding onto Aemond's arm, who was standing in front of her, staring at her mother. The once safe environment of the room now felt cold and hateful, with the walls seeming to compact on them with each passing second.

-Get your hands off him, you manipulative snake! - Alicent shouted angrily, walking quickly towards the bed and pulling Y/n's arm tightly away from Aemond's protective touch, pulling her out of the bed, making Y/n squeal with the sudden pull, trying to move her arm away. from the angry touch of the aunt.

-Don't touch her! - Aemond shouted, trying to make Alicent let go of Y/n, his hands were shaking as were his lips.

-Auntie… please stop it! - Y/n begged through tears, feeling Alicent's unshakable grip compressing her arm as the older woman tried to pull her away from Aemond, who in turn tried to hold his mother in desperation.

-What in the seven hells is happening here? - Viserys' voice thundered through the room, leaving everything suddenly silent, making Alicent finally let go of Y/n's arm, who was hugged by Aemond at the same time as the two walked away from Alicent, trembling and with frightened eyes.

-Viserys, this girl has desecrated our home! - Alicent screeched, going towards her husband with bloodshot eyes. - You don't know the filthy act that I witnessed when I entered this room!

Viserys barely breathed as he looked in the direction of Aemond and Y/n, finding them half-naked, she only wearing Aemond's shirt and panties and he only wearing his pants still unbuttoned. Both disheveled and clinging to each other, Y/n crying and Aemond looking on the verge of tears as he hovered in front of Y/n protectively. The messy bed further evidenced what kind of unholy activities Alicent was referring to.

-What did you two do. - Viserys muttered tiredly, bringing his hand to his forehead and then sliding it to the bridge of his nose, his tone not a question, it was almost a disgusted statement.

-It was her! - Alicent scolded. - She did! I shouldn't have accepted this idea of yours of bringing this girl here knowing who her father is! She corrupted my son!

-That's enough mom! - Aemond shouted again when he heard her talk that way about Y/n and when he felt his cousin sobbing softly against his skin. -Father, that's not true. - He looked very seriously at Viserys.

-Madam, is everything ok here? - A maid's voice echoed through the hallway, making Alicent's eyes widen and she practically ran towards the door, slamming it hard.

-Get out of here! - She shouted at the woman before she reached the bedroom door. - I don't want anyone out of the kitchen until further notice, anyone who leaves there without being called will be thrown into the street!

-Alicent… do you think it's sensible… - Viserys started but was interrupted by her at the same moment.

-What is sensible, Viserys? Let the employees see this depravity and go around spreading what happened here everywhere? - She scoffed rolling her eyes at her husband. - No, absolutely not! I will not let Aemond be tarnished like this in front of everyone!

-For the love of the gods, Alicent, let's at least talk about this somewhere else. - Viserys said, looking around where the dress Y/n had worn to dinner was still visible discarded on the floor next to the table, as well as the strong smell still present in the air in the stuffy room.

Alicent's eyes went in the same direction as Viserys', hovering again over the white dress and the teddy bear, which she clutched tightly under the watchful eye of Aemond, who was still paralyzed on the other side of the room, holding Y/n tightly against him.

Y/n only had time to put on a pair of shorts and Aemond a shirt, before they were taken by the elders to Viserys' office, both without making a sound, just holding on to each other exchanging frightened looks, feeling a weight so heavy in their hearts that it almost suffocated them both.

The path to the office seemed to be hundreds of miles long while the ground beneath them seemed to burn them as much as Alicent's glare against their backs, the sound of the door closing behind them sounded more like the sound of a saddle than anything else in the world.

-When did this start? - Viserys finally asked firmly, looking at the two very seriously with Alicent at his side.

-Father, it wasn't like that my mother is making it out to be. - Aemond took the lead, taking a deep breath before caressing Y/n's arm protectively. - It's not a dirty thing… it's not like that… we… - He took another breath before continuing. - We both love each other, father. I love Y/n. I always did.

There was no uncertainty in Aemond's voice, much less in his gaze. Everything about him emanated determination and strength, as he openly declared his love and tried to reassure Y/n through soft touches.

-We were going to tell the truth eventually. -He murmured, pulling Y/n even closer to him. - Father, I want to marry Y/n.

Alicent thought she was going to die when she heard those words. The pieces slowly fell into place in Alicent's head as she looked from the two of them to the white dress and that damn bear she had brought with her. The gifts he had brought for her from his trip, and without blinking she threw both into the fireplace, covering the room with the smell of burnt fabric.

-No! - Y/n screamed, running towards the fireplace, grabbing the poker in an attempt to pull what was left of the beautiful dress and the bear away from the fire, but it was too late. The flames had already consumed everything they touched.

Tears ran down her face uncontrollably as a horrible feeling of nausea made her stomach churn with bile rising in her throat. Aemond's arms wrapped around her, holding her in the midst of her broken sobs. His voice said something softly in an attempt to calm her, but she could barely hear him, too lost in the feeling of pain and fear. She could barely speak, mute with panic.

-You will only marry her over my dead body, Aemond! - She shouted, glaring at them both. - I will not let you disgrace your name and ours!

-I don't care about my name! I don't care about any of that! I will marry Y/n, whether you like it or not! - He shouted, standing up from his cousin's side and walking towards his parents in a rage, making the room fall into a deadly silence, only Y/n's sobs being heard.

-Hey, what's going on? Where's everybody? - Aegon's relaxed voice came down the hallway, muffled by the door, which soon opened and revealed him smiling. The smile slowly faded from his face when he saw Y/n with bloodshot eyes crying while Aemond had a look that made it seem like he was being slaughtered alive.

-Shit. - He muttered motionless in the doorway, making his mother's look of fury turn to him, with the realization that the oldest was already aware of these facts.

-Did you know about this? - Alicent shouted, making Aegon flinch under his mother's shrill voice, and under the burning slap she delivered to his left cheek. - You idiot!

-Where did I go wrong in creating you? - She scolded more than angrily, looking like she was about to explode with fury. - What did I do to deserve this?

-Alicent, the best thing now is to stay calm to resolve all this and…

-Not! - She interrupted Viserys strongly again. - Viserys, I will not tolerate this! I demand that something be done about this immediately!

-And what do you expect me to do? - He asked tiredly, looking from his wife to his children and niece. Aegon further away, watching everything with a glazed look, and Aemond and Y/n hugged each other, slightly trembling with scared eyes.

-I want her out of my house right now! Far away from my children! - The older woman looked even more angrily in direction where Y/n was next to Aemond.

-Wife Y/n is under our guardianship until she is 22 years old, we cannot simply send her away. - Viserys murmured thoughtfully. - Unless we send her to stay with her father in Pentos.

Y/n and Aemond's eyes widened simultaneously upon hearing that. Pentos was miles away, even by plane, it would take weeks for them to be able to see each other in person again, even if they were in hiding.

Alicent, on the other hand, scoffed at her husband's idea, putting her hands on her hips as she spoke.

-Sending her to stay in that den of perversion with that demon of a father will only make things worse! - Alicent and Viserys spoke as if the rest of them weren't in the room, as if they weren't deciding the future they had dreamed of and planned for without their consent.

-Then what do you suggest? - Viserys asked and Y/n and Aemond held their breath.

-I want her to spend some time in Old Town. - Alicent demanded firmly, staring at her husband. - The conservatory of the septas will help her regain her composure and dignity.

-What? No! - Y/n squealed in panic when she heard those words. - No, please, aunt, I don't want to go there! My whole life is here! - And unconsciously she looked at Aemond as she said those words, irritating Alicent even more.

-Viserys either you send her to Old Town until dawn or I leave this house! - She hissed in the direction of her husband, who seemed to be on the verge of a heart attack.

-Uncle… uncle, please. - She begged, crying and walking towards her uncle, taking his hands in hers as she always did when she wanted to ask him for something. - Please, don't let her do this to me… Please!

-Y/n, my dear, you know I love you, but I can't leave things this way. Maybe it would be good for both of you to take some time apart. You are still too young to make such important decisions that could change both of your lives forever. - He muttered in an exhausted voice, looking from Y/n to Aemond. - You are too young for all this. You shouldn't even be involved in this kind of relationship yet!

-Father, by the gods, don't do this! - Aemond finally came to his senses after the shock that his mother's words caused him, practically begging, while he felt a pain so strong that it was almost physical when he saw the desperation in Y/n's eyes. - By the Gods… I swear I won't touch her again… I swear. Please don’t do that.

-Aemond… - Viserys barely had time to finish and the younger had already interrupted him, his eyes wide with fear.

-It only happened once! - Aemond lied, his eyes shining with unshed tears, aware that neither his father, much less his mother, believed it. - It was only once! I… I promise it won't happen again, please let her stay.

-You're blatantly lying to me, Aemond! - Alicent screeched. - You've been lying for who knows how long! And it's all because of her influence!

-It's my fault! - He screamed in despair, his hands on his head. - It was me! I asked to sleep with her, it was all my idea, she was innocent until I started all this, I swear… she didn't even know what she was doing. I forced myself on her! - He hissed on the verge of tears. - Punish me, not her! Please, father!

-No! - Y/n screamed with a high-pitched voice in horror through tears upon hearing Aemond say those things and upon seeing Viserys' disappointed look in his direction.

-No, no, no! Uncle, that's not true! Stop saying things like that! - She held Aemond's face between her palms, looking at him in despair. - You can't say those things, Aemond!

-I can't let them do this to you. - He murmured, staring at her with teary eyes filled with pain.

-Not saying things like that about yourself. - She sobbed, bringing her hand to his face.

-That's enough! - Alicent shouted angrily. - There's no decision to be made, Y/n is going to Old Town! It's already decided!

There was no more waiting, no more warnings, Y/n couldn't even go to her own room to pack her bags. Even when the two begged for her to be taken to Pentos, Alicent would not accept, Y/n was only sent to Old Town in the early hours of that day, before dawn was complete. She didn't even go to the airport to avoid even more gossip, she left by helicopter from the mansion's gardens.

She and Aemond didn't want to let go of each other, and they had to call Criston, one of the security guards, to hold Aemond while Harold, the general head of security, took Y/n to the helicopter while she cried copiously, hugging herself, feeling her heart tearing more and more with each step she took further away from Aemond.

To Alicent's complete and utter disgust, Aemond broke free from Criston, ran to Y/n, and without even being embarrassed by that perversion in public, he pulled her into a kiss in the middle of the gardens.

Y/n, when she saw him running towards her, immediately let go of Harold to throw herself into Aemond's arms one last time, and return the most painful kiss the two had ever shared in their lives.

Tears of pure pain ran down their faces and the kiss tasted of sadness and salt. Their hearts were broken with pure, sharp pain, their trembling lips slowly parting as more tears flowed.

-I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. - He murmured with a voice full of pain, holding her tightly against him.

-It's not your fault, Aem. - She sniffled, her eyes bloodshot with tears, trying to contain her tears, but failing and feeling her emotions completely out of control.

-I love you. - Aemond declared, leaning his forehead against hers and closing his eyes as the tears fell, unable to bear looking at Y/n's eyes full of pain and tears staring back at him. - Forever.

-I love you too, Aem. - She replied amidst her sobs, almost brushing her trembling lips against his again, feeling that she had only not collapsed right there because his arms were holding her. - Forever.

-Viserys! - Alicent's shrill scream came from behind them and they were both forced to let go of each other, with Y/n being carried by Harold, bursting into tears towards the helicopter, while Criston held Aemond firmly by the shoulders to prevent him from running to her again.

Aemond's knees gradually weakened as Harold guided her towards the helicopter. When the aircraft finally took off, he barely felt it when he collapsed onto the lawn of the garden, while he watched Y/n disappear like just another dot in the immensity of stars in the sky.

The universe around him seemed to go silent at that moment, or maybe his ears had gone deaf. Aemond couldn't say which, the only thing he knew at that moment was that a part of him seemed to have died.

He didn't know if minutes or hours had passed when he felt someone's hands pulling him up, and when he looked back he found Aegon staring at him with eyes full of pity next to Criston who was staring at the ground.

-Come with me, brother. - Aegon pulled him firmly. - It's starting to rain.

Aemond didn’t want it. He never wanted to move again in his life, he wanted to stay there, motionless, until she returned to his arms. But he was so numb from the pain that he barely felt when Aegon and Criston practically dragged him into the mansion again.

Aemond felt shattered, his vision blurred, his lips trembling, he could barely see the path in front of him. His eyes only came back into focus when they passed through the upstairs hallway and he saw the door to Y/n's room open. Letting go of both of them at the same moment and entering furiously when he saw his mother removing all her things and placing them in boxes on the bed.

-What are you doing? - Aemond hissed in pure despair when he saw her tearing each of Y/n's drawings from the mural, crumpling them and throwing them away like trash.

-All this wicked story ends now! - Alicent screamed lividly, staring at him. - It's over! You'll never see her again! Not if I can prevent it.

-I don't care if days pass, weeks, months, fucking decades pass! - He yelled back with wild eyes. - I'll still love her!

-Don't ever say that word again! - Alicent hissed even more furiously than before, taking firm steps towards her son. - Never again, Aemond! Love is something sacred, something that comes from the seven! That's not love, it's a terrible sin!

-So I don't want to have anything sacred! - He shouted, walking around the room, feeling suffocated by Y/n's presence that emanated from every little thing in that place. - I just want to have her! That's the only thing I want!

-That's enough! - A slap stung Aemond's cheek at that same moment, making him look at his mother even more painfully. - This will all go in the trash! And you'll forget all about this story, Aemond!

-Father! - Aemond shouted, going towards Viserys, completely exasperated, his eyes bloodshot and his hands shaking, as soon as he saw him stop at the bedroom door. - You can't let her do that!

-Aemond… - He began, being interrupted by his son's uncontrolled voice.

-These are Y/n's things. Her things! – Aemond practically screamed. - My mother can't just throw all this away, I won't allow it!

-Cole, take my son to his room. - Viserys asked the security guard very seriously, making Aemond even angrier.

-Could you listen to me at least once in your life, father? - He shouted furiously, walking in the opposite direction, feeling his heart ache when he saw the lilac dress that Y/n liked so much thrown on the floor, completely crumpled.

-I'm begging you… - He looked away from the lilac fabric to his father, his eyes shining with sadness and tears. - Please.. don't do that to her things.

-Alicent… - Viserys looked very seriously at his wife, feeling his son's anguish in the midst of all that. - That's enough for today, leave Y/n's things where they are.

-Viserys… - Alicent looked at him in denial.

-At least for now. - He muttered. - It's happened enough for today, look at the state the boy is in!

Aemond's eyes ran around the room until they landed on something very specific thrown carelessly on the bed. The notebook. The notebook with the drawing of the house. Aemond couldn't lose it. And while his mother wasn't looking too distracted arguing with Viserys, he quickly opened it and tore out the page with the drawing of the future of the two together, tucking it into the waistband of his pants anyhow. With pain in his heart he had to leave the rest behind, but at least the most important of all was safe.

-No one is going to touch Y/n's things for now! - Viserys gave the final word seriously, then grumbled in Aemond's direction, nodding his head towards the door. - Now go to your room, Aemond.

Still feeling torn apart, Aemond took a deep breath with at least a small drop of temporary relief. Aegon and Criston were still at the door, watching everything, but Aemond didn't stop. He just walked past them and went towards his own room next door, slamming it hard behind him, feeling almost collapse when he found the scene of his worst nightmare once again before his eyes.

The sun was shining through the window, but Aemond didn't even feel able to feel its heat. Nothing seemed to be able to warm him from the cold that had contaminated his soul that night. He didn't know how long he had been sitting on the floor when he reached into his pants and pulled out the slightly crumpled paper and stared at it, feeling the pain ravage him once again when he saw the beautiful dream drawn there.

❦❦❦

The days passed and Aemond felt more and more overcome by pain. It was as if someone had come and, without warning, cut his body in half and dragged one of the parts away. He barely ate, and refused to leave the room for anything. Also refusing to let them take the sheets off the bed, the smell of her perfume was still ingrained in them and it seemed to be the only thing capable of making him sleep even for a few minutes, just to dream about Y/n and wake up feeling still worse.

-Aemond I asked them to make potato rosti for dinner. - Aegon murmured near the bed, looking at him with a frown. - Eat some, it's your favorite.

-I don't want it. - He murmured without even looking in his brother's direction. Just the thought of food made his stomach turn, memories of Y/n laughing while eating, always saying that she needed even more cheese no matter how much she already had, made him want to never eat that again in his life.

Two days later, Helaena appeared in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking Aemond's hair like she used to do when he was a little boy. For the first time, he looked away from the ceiling and looked someone in the eyes after that night.

-Hi, little brother. - She smiled melancholy, still gently stroking his greasy, messy hair.

-What are you doing here? - Aemond murmured very quietly, his eyes dull and lifeless. - You should be in Dorne.

-Aegon called me, told me what happened. - She sighed, slightly pressing her eyes as she spoke. - He's worried about you, Daeron is too. You need to eat, Aemond. Aegon said you haven't eaten anything for a week.

-I don't want to. - He murmured, moving away from Helaena and returning to the corner of the bed where he always stayed. - I just want them to bring Y/n back home. That's not fair to her.

His eyes were once again lost and unfocused, staring into space while he pressed his nails firmly against his palms, leaving red half-moon-shaped marks on his hands, almost tearing the thin skin.

-Helaena, please… ask them to send me away, anywhere. - Aemond begged without looking at his sister, a tear running down the side of his face to his neck. - I swear I'll go without complaining! I'll even go to Winterfell if our mother wants. But take Y/n away from that place, they can't leave her there alone.

Helaena's heart broke when she saw her sweet brother destroyed like that. And even worse in a way that she couldn't help him. There was no cure for what Aemond was feeling, she couldn't sit there and say that the pain would go away when she could see in his broken eyes that it wouldn't.

-What if she's not eating right? - He sighed melancholy with a trembling voice. - What if she gets anemia like she did when we were children?

The older sister frowned at the irony in that, he was so worried about Y/n's health when he himself was slowly wasting away on that bed.

❦❦❦

-I want to go home! - Y/n shouted to the septa through tears.

-This is your home now, child. The sooner you accept that, the better.

-Call my dad! - She pleaded. - Ask him to come get me!

-Nobody come get you Targaryen! - The woman scolded with a very serious look. - Now eat.

-I'm not hungry. - She muttered, climbing onto the bed without looking at the woman.

-You look at me while I'm talking to you girl! And now eat at once.

Y/n's eyes burned and in pure anger, with a mix of uncontrolled feelings, she threw the plate against the door with all the strength she could muster.

-I don't want to! - She shouted, turning around furiously and facing the woman, feeling a metallic taste in his mouth immediately after the firm slap he received on the cheek.

-If you don't want to eat, then that's fine with me! - The septa glared at her. - No food for a week!

-Screw you! - She shouted back as she heard the door slam behind the older woman.

The days passed and Y/n felt weaker and weaker. She didn't eat, she barely drank water, she just sat on the single bed in the room, staring at the wall with a specific focus on a blurry stain that had probably been made with a blue ink pen. Her stomach churned and the little she ate didn't seem to want to stay inside.

She cried herself to sleep every night, overcome by sadness, and in her dreams Aemond haunted her with his beautiful smile, his gentle touches and his sweet words. Only for her to feel even worse when she woke up the next day, still locked in that place, miles away from him.

The paleness on her face was so visible after a few days that the septa insisted that she eat again, but without success. Her lips, which were once red and lush, were now white and cracked, and this, combined with her dull and lifeless eyes, left her with a ghostly appearance lying motionless on the bed.

A few more days passed and the septa dragged Y/n screaming into the shower, forcing her to take a bath. Y/n only stopped screaming when halfway there she was overcome by such strong dizziness that she almost collapsed on the floor, holding on tightly to the walls to keep from falling.

-You're going straight to the infirmary! - The septa, whose name Y/n hadn't even made a point of memorizing, spoke very seriously, looking at her with wide eyes. - You're clearly anemic because of all this stubbornness.

-I am fine. - She mumbled sleepily, still holding on to the wall. - There's nothing wrong with me, you're not going to take me anywhere.

Feeling a little better after the bath, Y/n lay down on the bed, tightly hugging Aemond's shirt, the only thing she had left of him besides the necklace around his neck. His scent was still there, and she prayed every night that it would never go away, because she would die if she lost that only touch she had left of his love.

❦❦❦

The night was cold and rainy in Kings Landing, the angry water lashed against the windows with such force that it made them seem like small stones, the wind blew furiously against the trees making it seem like it would destroy everything in its path.

Maybe that was why Aemond had finally slept that night after Helaena practically shoved a cup of tea down his throat. The world around him seemed to be just as furious and destructive as he was.

The sleep did not last long, as a few hours later Aemond woke up with sweat running down his body, panting and barely able to breathe as he felt the bile rising in his throat, burning everything in its path. He spent a few moments just standing there on the bed trying to breathe again with his eyes glassy, fearing that if he closed them the horrible vision of his dream would become even more vivid.

He could still see before his eyes, as clearly as the lightning that shone through the windows in the darkness. Y/n alone in a dark room, so thin that her shoulder bones were visible, her sunken eyes full of dark circles, her body curled up as she trembled, screamed and cried tears of bright red blood. The moment she screamed his name, as if asking for help, he woke up.

Goosebumps ran across his skin, and an inexplicable pain took over his entire being to the point that Aemond felt that his bones were painful. He didn't even stop to think for another second, he just got up in bed, still trembling and barely able to stand, heading towards Helaena's room in despair.

He didn't knock on the door, he didn't announce himself, he just staggered inside with glazed eyes.

-Aemond, what's wrong? - Came the soft and worried voice of the older sister, who stood up at the same time and ran to support him.

-Helaena, please. - Aemond looked into his older sister's eyes in despair. - I'm begging you… for a way to talk to someone in that place to know if Y/n is okay. Please, sister.

Seeing the look on the younger's face, totally scared and almost lost in the midst of panic, Helaena couldn't deny it. The day had barely dawned when she called the conservatory in Old Town pretending to be Y/n's stepmother, Laena, and asking about her well-being.

The answer that came from the phone it was simple, but it didn't bring peace to Aemond, who seemed on the verge of a breakdown.

"Your stepdaughter has a very difficult temperament, but she is being treated in the best possible way and is in excellent health."

-There's something wrong, I can feel it, Helaena. - Aemond murmured, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched as he spoke, while watching through the window the torrential rain that continued to fall on the capital.

Helaena just serrated her lips, staring at the youngest, the woman's strange tone didn't convince her at all and she was always excellent at judging people's character. But she would never say that to Aemond, her poor brother shouldn't have this incentive to fall into madness anymore, not after a whole month in that cycle of endless pain that he found himself in.

❦❦❦

The next morning seemed cold, dull and for some reason completely lifeless. The rain had stopped and there wasn't even a breeze outside, the trees were completely stagnant, not even the leaves seemed to be falling. Aemond lay still on the bed, thinking of a thousand ways to do something to see Y/n and snorting slightly when he heard the creak of the door, trying to guess which of his brothers would be there now.

-Hi big bro. - Daeron spoke in a melancholic voice without getting any answers from the older man, who just blinked his eyes, still looking in the same direction.

-Mom and dad had to go out, and I took this from mom's things without her seeing. - Daeron raised his hand in front of Aemond, and his eyes instantly focused on the small key with colorful crystal charms. The key to Y/n's room.

-How did you get this? - He smiled for the first time in days, taking the key from Daeron's hands and sitting up at the same time. Aemond thought about jumping from the balcony of his own room to Y/n's balcony, as he had done hundreds of times before when he slept in Y/n's room and left the next morning, but it would be useless with the window locked.

-Mom wouldn't suspect me, so I picked it up for you. - He shrugged, happy to see the eldest getting up. - I need to put it back when she comes back, so be quick. Hel and Aegon won't be able to keep her out for long.

Aemond walked to the door next to his with trembling hands, barely able to put the keys in the lock. Daeron gave him privacy by standing in the hallway, according to him, keeping watch.

The older man closed the door carefully so as not to make any noise, slowly turning back and feeling his heart burn when he saw Y/n's things thrown out of place again. Every little detail she had put into her room over the years, messed up. He almost froze, not knowing exactly what to do at that moment.

After a few moments of breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself, Aemond began to gather his favorite drawings that Y/n had already made. With his hands even more trembling, he bent down and took out the drawer of the dressing table, where he knew she kept the photos that the two of them had taken together.

Tears rolled down his face when he touched them and the first one was a photo of the two of them smiling and exchanging a kiss lying on the attic carpet. He couldn't take everything, but at least he would keep this safe with him. No one would destroy his memories with Y/n.

When he was about to leave the room he saw him there, alone lying on the floor at the foot of the bed among some clothes. Mr. Bunny, the worn-out plush toy that Y/n had grown fond of while the two of them were playing house. Feeling a tear roll down his cheek Aemond picked him up from the floor, realizing that her scent was still ingrained in him and almost losing his breath and suffocating in pain with the memories that came to him at that moment. He could almost hear Y/n's laughter as she rocked the little bunny in her arms, pretending he was her son, and a feeling of irreparable loss crossed his heart, almost leaving him breathless.

He didn't dare leave any of those things in his room at the mansion. While Daeron went to put the keys back in their place, Aemond went down to the garage and carefully put everything in the trunk of the car, where no one would suspect, where no one would mess with it, locking it right after.

-Thank you. - Aemond muttered looking at the floor when he found Daeron sitting on the counter in the living room.

-We're brothers. - He shrugged, looking at him with a sad side smile. - We look after each other, isn't that what you always say?

-Yes, we are. - A wave of renewed guilt took over Aemond at that exact moment. Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron were taking care of him, but he wasn't taking care of his brothers.

It wasn’t fair that Helaena was missing an entire month of classes to bring him tea in bed every night and make sure he had eaten. It wasn’t fair that Aegon had to skip spending time with Jaehaerys and go over there every day to drag him to the bathroom and make him bathe and shave. It wasn’t fair that Daeron was with deep dark circles under his eyes at such a young age from sitting in an armchair in his room all night monitoring him.

Life wasn't being fair to him, but he wasn't being fair to his brothers by making them go through all this just because he was in pain. His gaze crossed the huge mirror on the counter in which Daeron stood perched, and for the first time in weeks he noticed how bad he looked, how much more dead than alive he looked. And in contrast to that the look of concern the youngest directed at him made his lungs constrict without oxygen.

-When Helaena and Aegon arrive, tell them I want to talk, ok? - He sighed with a tired voice, looking away, no longer able to look at the youngest and then heading up the stairs.

❦❦❦

Aemond felt like hours had passed when finally the bedroom door opened and his brothers entered with visible concern in their eyes. It was then that he noticed how tired Helaena looked and how Aegon, always calm, looked tense as he stared at him as if he were a bomb ready to explode.

-Helaena, you need to go back to college. - He sat straighter in the chair as he spoke while trying to keep his voice steady after so many days of speaking only what was necessary, feeling his throat scratching with each word.

-I thought about this a lot today, you are all exhausted and it is my fault! - He murmured, staring at them intently. - I didn't want things to be like this, you don't deserve them to be like this.

-Aemond, none of us are going anywhere. You need us! - Helaena bowed her head to the side in worry.

-I'll be fine, sister. I swear to you that I already feel better. - He lied, looking down at the floor.

-You are not well and I can feel it! - The oldest shook her head, approaching the bed. - I see how you look every time our mother comes here to talk to you. Why do you think I'm here, Aemond? I won't leave you alone!

Helaena held his hands tightly between hers.

-You need me, you need us by your side. - She nodded to Daeron and Aegon who were further back, equally worried.

-If I leave here, will you go back to Dorne? - He asked reluctantly. - It's not fair, Helaena, it only makes me feel worse.

-And where are you going? - She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

-You can stay in the apartment you bought a few months ago. - Aegon suggested with a shrug. - It's below mine, you won't have any problems with the change and you can see Jaehaerys whenever you want.

The mere mention of the apartment almost made him break down, Y/n hadn't even gotten to see the apartment, and he was going to surprise her on the day of the prom. Maybe it was better this way, he would never be able to enter it if she had already been there.

-That's it… - He murmured, barely looking at Helaena so she wouldn't see the tears welling up in his eyes at that mere thought. - But please, sister, go back to Dorne. It will bring me more joy than anything else right now.

-Will you go back to college? - She looked at him melancholy, sweetly stroking his hair that was washed, but dry and unkempt.

-No, I… I can't do that right now. - He sighed. - But I will eat, bathe and sleep from time to time. - He rolled his eyes, not really planning to do any of those things, but Helaena didn't need to know that.

-I'll keep an eye on him. - Aegon murmured to Helaena as the two walked away from him along with Daeron, and Aemond rolled his eyes at them treating him like a three-year-old child. After much reluctance and discussion, Helaena finally agreed to return to Dorne five days later.

But a week after the oldest's departure, Aemond still hadn't moved. Every day Daeron and Aegon talked about it with him, and every day he avoided leaving his room as always. Feeling like he didn't have the energy to get up from that bed, barely able to breathe at the thought of leaving the house, leaving the memories, that even darkened by all the pain of the last few weeks, he had there with Y/n.

Thoughts gnawed at Aemond's mind as he hugged the faded blue scarf that Y/n had used to cover the floor dozens of times while they had a picnic. Sometimes he thought that if he stayed quiet enough he could hear her voice echoing through the room, and sometimes he thought he was going crazy because of it.

The sound of the door opening woke him from his thoughts and he quickly put the scarf under his pillow.

-Not today, Aegon… we can talk about this tomorrow. - He muttered without even looking at the door.

-It's not Aegon. - Alicent's voice sounded through the room, making him sit up straight on the bed when he saw her. His mother came every day, but only at night; it was still too early for her to be there.

-I'm worried, Aemond. - She sighed, slowly approaching the bed. - Are you thinking of dropping out of college for such a vile reason?

-I have no desire to continue. - He practically whispered, looking in another direction. - There's no point in continuing.

-Aemond, do you realize what you're saying? - Alicent raised her tone an octave as she spoke.

- Do you think this kind of reaction is healthy? This is all a mistake, she contaminated you with her and her father's dirt, but I have the solution. - She spoke quickly, barely giving Aemond a chance to reply.

-You're going to talk to the septon. I've already talked to him, explained the whole situation, he'll help you resolve all of this and put your mind in the right place. - She smiled, holding his hand, but Aemond pulled it away at the same time, his eyes wide.

-I'm not going to any septon! - He glared at her angrily. - My mind is in perfect condition, but yours isn't if you think this will change the way I feel about her!

-Aemond, I've already heard all this and I'm already tired of all this nonsense! - The eldest stood up impatiently with her hands on her hips.

-But I decided to be kind to you and give you some encouragement… - She looked at him in a strange way that made Aemond feel like a small beetle under a magnifying glass.

-If you go back to college and consider talking to the septon, I might consider letting her return to Kings Landing. - Alicent murmured very seriously and Aemond looked back at her, suddenly very interested.

-Are you serious about this? - He asked, standing up and walking towards his mother apprehensively, almost getting lost in the middle of the words.

-Very serious. - Alicent looked him in the eyes and lied. - If you do that, I might think about letting her come back, obviously you'll be away from each other, but she might come back.

Aemond's heart burned in his chest at that idea, he would never consider talking to a septon, as if what he and Y/n had was something wrong and dirty. And the mere idea of going back to college among all those people made him sick, but if that could maybe make his mother let her go back, even if he couldn't get close to her, that's what he would do.

❦❦❦

Shortly after that day, Aemond returned to college, barely looking at anyone who spoke to him. And fulfilling his mother's demands, he began to go to the septon every week to have a conversation, where the man would talk for hours about the problem of the sinful act he had been involved in and how much it was repudiated by the seven.

Aemond would leave the sept with his head throbbing with pain and feeling almost zombified every time, barely able to hear the thoughts in his own mind while waves of repulsion ran through his body, almost making him vomit.

After all that, he really left the mansion, taking all his belongings with him this time, since there was no longer any reason to return there periodically, and moved to the apartment below Aegon's, not wanting to be near the college campus and the gossip that was whispered there.

Aemond didn't paint the walls, he didn't put up any pictures, he didn't even choose the furniture. He just asked a decorator to leave the place clean and habitable. It didn't seem right to do it without Y/n, it wouldn't be fun to do it without her. The apartment was how Aemond felt without Y/n, cold and lifeless, without any color to cheer him up. The only thing there that he had chosen was the wooden chest in the corner of the living room, where he kept the memories he had managed to save of Y/n.

Some days in the self-imposed solitude of his apartment, he would find himself talking to Y/n in his mind, almost as if she could hear his voice. Often whispering words he used to whisper in her ears only to himself, the words sounding like an empty echo through the gray and icy walls of the apartment. And almost always as he said them, the Septon's voice echoed in the back of his mind, in a deadly whisper of sinner.

As time passed, the hope that the two would be together again died inside Aemond, giving way to anger and bitterness. And even though he was without hope, he could never give up the things stored in the chest in the living room, he could never stop sitting on the floor and admiring her beauty and sweetness through the photos while he was bathed in the moonlight and the splendor of the hills of Visenya.

Opening that chest was like digging his nails into an open wound, but Aemond could not stop doing it. Deep in his heart there was that spark of hope that one day they would be able to be together, that they would fulfill all their promises, that they would be happy forever together.

Maybe what they said was true, maybe the absence made his heart grow even fonder, because he didn't notice his love for Y/n diminishing as the years passed, it only grew and the desire to be with her grew every day, as did the guilt for such desires.

The voices of his mother and the Septon constantly echoed in his head, telling him how wrong those feelings were, how much the seven would disapprove of a union between cousins.

But even with such thoughts screaming in his mind, Aemond knew well that he would not be strong enough, he knew well that if he laid eyes on Y/n one more time he would not hesitate to jump over the same cliff again, even if he destroyed himself in the process.

tag list: @afro-hispwriter @fan-goddess @strangersunghoon @zenka69 @callsignwidow @amanda08319 @alesswift-blog @marialikescherries @palomavz

Final notes: It was extremely difficult to write this chapter because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to properly capture the characters' feelings in writing. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, I still can't believe I managed to translate all of this in one day, I'm happy!!! In the next one we'll return to the present time. 💖💖💖

*Shania song is the song they dancing in Corlys Birthday. 😭🥺

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maretinelli · 13 days ago

Text

TEARS OF A SAD PAST

Oscar Piastri X Wife!fem!reader

Summary: When Y/n finds old photos of her in her father's house, all the emotions come flooding back when she remembers how hard it was for them to survive back then. Telling all the sad stories, now to her husband, Oscar.

Words: 5.2K+

Warnings: This hurts, it hurts a lot. Anguish, anguish and a lot of anguish, mentions of family death, tears of sadness (Y/N, Oscar and probably reader haha), financial difficulties, survival, poor childhood, humble, can cause triggers in people who may have experienced a similar problem. But in compensation, a present father and an Osc very sweet, kind and great husband.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any mistakes that may be in the story. I want to apologize and comfort the hearts of people who don't have a good family life or who don't have a mother. I have a good family, and nothing that was written was based on me. But if you feel alone, you can talk to me, I will give you some sweet words that can help you. ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

⚠️SENSITIVE CONTENT⚠️

Oscar Piastri always said that his childhood was peaceful, almost perfect. He grew up in a stable home, surrounded by love, comfort, opportunities and sisters. His parents made a point of supporting him in everything, especially his passion for racing. He never had to worry about what he would have to eat or whether he would have clothes to wear. For Oscar, the difficulties were an abstraction, something he only knew from the news or distant stories.

His wife, on the other hand, grew up in a completely different world. Her mother died the day she was born, leaving a hole that her father tried to fill as best he could. Deciding that he would raise his daughter with love. With two jobs and endless nights of work, he did everything he could to keep food on the table and give Y/n a home, even if it was humble. But financial difficulties were inevitable. She often wore hand-me-downs from cousins or bought at cheap department stores. Toys were rare, and anything new, like shoes or clothes, was a precious gift.

But now everything was fine. She had overcome all obstacles together with her father, she had graduated from a university, she had a job that gave her an excellent salary and she had a husband who gave her love, affection and everything she needed - even what she didn't need.

But then, memories of the past came back when old photos were taken out of the attic.

It was summer vacation, Oscar and Y/n had decided that they would visit the journalist's father in London. Where he currently lived. It was a peaceful afternoon, full of laughter and conversations around the table. Y/n's father - Ben, was excited, talking about how his company was currently going and exchanging ideas with Oscar and Y/n's uncles about races that his son-in-law participates in.

While everyone was busy exchanging ideas, Y/n was in the attic, a space that was rarely visited. She knew that there was a piece of her family history there, memories that her father carefully packed when he moved into that house.

She had an old album on top of her legs, the photos brought a sense of nostalgia. Making her smile and laugh.

Sitting on the cold attic floor, she began flipping through the pages. The journalist smiled when she found a photo from her parents' wedding. His mother was stunning, wearing an elegant dress and a smile so kind it seemed to light up the room. Her father, young and full of hope, looked at her as if the whole world were before his eyes.

Y/n had always heard stories about her mother: a sweet, polite woman with a huge heart. Even though he had never met her, those stories were enough to make Y/n feel like he knew her deeply.

As he flipped through the pages, one particular photo caught his eye.

It was of her, at age five, holding her foot up in the air to show off a pair of bright pink sneakers with beads dangling from them. She was beaming, her smile so big it seemed impossible that it could come from a child who had faced so many hardships. These were the first new sneakers she had ever received, a birthday present her father had gone to great lengths to buy.

She held the photo tightly, remembering what life was like back then.

After his mother left, the family's financial condition changed drastically. His father did everything he could to provide the essentials, but it wasn't easy. Y/n often wore clothes handed down from cousins or cheap department stores. But in that photo, with those new sneakers, the little girl's happiness was genuine. Despite the circumstances, she was happy.

And when she looked in the box in front of her, there was the sneaker. Now quite old because of the time and how much she had used it as a child. She picked it up smiling, but already feeling tears falling.

Y/n began to cry, a cry of pain as she remembered the struggles she and her father faced, but also of gratitude for those precious moments, for that pink sneaker that meant so much more than it seemed.

"Here you are, my girl!! I thought you had run away from me" Oscar said in a light tone, but his voice soon changed when he noticed his wife's tears. He quickly approached, kneeling beside her. "Y/n, my love? What happened? Is everything okay?"

He saw the photo she was holding and the pair of pink sneakers in front of her. The faraway look in her eyes. Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

Oscar also looked around, seeing the boxes full of old things, each one carrying a piece of his wife's history. His heart sank as he imagined the little girl she had been, facing so many hardships with a smile on her face.

Oscar wiped the tears from Y/n's face carefully, his eyes carrying a mixture of concern and affection. He didn't want to rush her, but he also couldn't bear to see her in pain.

"Honey, tell me... why are you crying?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he was afraid of breaking something delicate in the air between them.

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to contain the tremor in her voice. "I... I was looking at these pictures. My childhood, my father... everything. And it hurts, Oscar. Not a physical pain, but an emotional one. Seeing these pictures reminds me of how hard things were. And as much as you know about my story, there are things I've never been able to tell you."

The McLaren driver looked at her intently, his brown eyes full of understanding. He didn't press her, just waited, holding her hand firmly. Y/n looked down at the album in his lap, running his finger along the worn edges of the pages.

"I... I didn't tell you everything because I felt embarrassed," she confessed quietly, as if the admission itself weighed too much. "The difference between our childhoods... You, your sisters, your parents... always telling such happy, excited stories. Like everything was perfect. I felt so... small. Helpless. Inadequate." Y/n hesitated for a moment, before continuing. "Even when your sisters asked me about my childhood, I lied a little. Not because I didn't trust them, but because... because I didn't want to seem so different from you. So inferior."

His chest tightened at that. He pulled Y/n into a tight hug, resting his chin on her head. "Oh, love..." He closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair as he held her close. "You should never have felt this way. Never."

Y/n held his shirt tightly, as if she needed to anchor herself in that moment. "I know, but it was impossible not to feel."

Oscar leaned in slightly, cupping her face in his hands so she would look at him.

"Y/n, love, listen to me. None of this makes you inferior, small, or inadequate. Nothing. All of this just shows how amazing you are. How strong, persistent, and admirable you were to go through all of this and still become the wonderful woman you are today. I'm so proud of you. SO MUCH." He smiled softly, his eyes brimming with tears. "And one day, when we have children of our own, I hope they'll be at least half as strong as you. Because honestly, that would be more than enough to make them amazing."

Y/n started crying again, but this time, her tears were of relief.

"Thank you, Osc. For always making me feel this way. For loving me so much."

He kissed her on the forehead before whispering, "Always."

As she calmed down in his arms, Y/n began flipping through the album again. She pointed to one photo in particular and, with a shaky smile, began to tell him more about her childhood.

In the photo, a little girl in a simple dress held a doll with a missing leg. "That was my favorite doll," Y/n explained with a light laugh. "I got it from a cousin. It was used, but I loved it so much. My dad sewed its leg back on once, but it didn't hold up very well, so I ended up losing it again."

Y/n at 4 years old.

The doll, which she affectionately called “Lina,” was in her hands as she played in the small dirt yard. The simple dress she wore was already stained with dirt, but she didn’t care. The world around her seemed to disappear as her imagination took over.

"Come on, Lina" she said with conviction, her childish voice carrying a strength that seemed far beyond her years. "You're a warrior! You don't need two legs to be strong. We'll win this battle together!" One of the doll's legs was about to fall off.

With a piece of branch she found in the backyard, Y/n improvised a sword for Lina. In the scenario she created in her head, the doll was facing enormous monsters, creatures that represented everything that seemed unfair in the world.

Lina was invincible, and Y/n wanted to believe that she was too.

Suddenly, the fragile stitching on Lina’s leg gave way again, and the piece her father had attached fell to the ground. Y/n paused for a moment, staring at the loose leg. Her expression hardened, but not in sadness. Instead, she picked Lina up, holding her in front of her face, and said firmly,

"It's okay, Lina. You're still the strongest of them all. Real warriors don't need to be perfect."

She hugged the doll tightly, feeling a kind of comfort in having Lina as her adventure companion. Even without fully knowing why, that small broken object represented something important to her. Lina was resilient, and Y/n wanted to be too.

Later, when he entered the house, her father noticed his daughter's determined look and the doll in her arms.

"What happened, dear?" He asked, pointing to the fallen leg that Y/n was holding along with Lina.

Y/n shrugged, a small smile on her face. "Lina doesn't need this, Daddy. She's still strong. Like us."

The father smiled sadly, but also with pride. He took the doll and said, "Even so, we will try to sew it again, just to make sure it continues in its battles."

Y/n nodded, sitting next to him as he pulled out the needle and thread. And as he worked, she thought that maybe she could be fixed too, every now and then. After all, warriors need help too.

Y/n sighed, a faint smile crossing her lips as she discreetly wiped away a tear that had fallen. "I remember how it felt... so big to me. It was just a doll, but somehow she was all I needed to feel like I wasn't alone."

Oscar smiled, and we ran our hands over his wife's back in comfort. He knew that Y/n had faced many things in her childhood, but hearing this specific story and imagining his wife, so small and already carrying such a heavy burden, made his heart ache.

She picks up another photo. Oscar's journalist wife started crying again, this memory came back every time she had a birthday.

The photo showed Y/n sitting at a wooden table, a small makeshift cake in front of her. The candles were made of matches with small pieces of aluminum foil wrapped around them.

"That was my sixth birthday," she said, her voice cracking. "My dad only had enough money to buy a cake or candles. He apologized so much, but to me, it was one of the best cakes of my life. Because he never let me feel like I was missing out, even when I was."

Oscar ran his hand through her hair, his heart breaking at the thought of it. He began to cry quietly.

Y/n at 6 years old.

It was a simple afternoon, like any other, but for Y/n, that was a special day. She was turning six. The smell of chocolate cake filled the small kitchen, while her father finished setting the table carefully.

Y/n walked into the kitchen, her eyes shining with anticipation. She knew there wouldn't be any expensive gifts or big parties like she saw in her schoolmates' stories, but for her, what mattered was her father's effort.

"It's ready, honey," Ben said, with a tired but warm smile. He placed the cake in the center of the table. It was small and had no elaborate frosting, just a few chocolate shavings on top.

"Wow, Daddy! It's beautiful!" Y/n said, climbing up on a chair to take a closer look.

Ben smiled awkwardly. "Well, there's one thing... I couldn't buy candles, so I improvised." He pulled out a small matchbox and showed off the little candles he'd made by wrapping little pieces of aluminum foil around the matches.

Y/n looked at the makeshift 'candles' and smiled widely. "These are amazing, Daddy! I've never seen candles like this before!"

He laughed, relieved by his daughter's positive reaction. "Let's light it up, then."

He placed the matches on the cake and lit them carefully. The small flames flickered, casting a soft light on Y/n's face. They sang and little Y/n always had a smile on her face.

"Now, make a wish, my warrior," Ben said, bending down to her level.

Y/n closed her eyes tightly, holding her little hands together. In a low voice, she made her wish: "I wish that daddy never gets sad. And that we always have cake on birthdays,"

She opened her eyes, blew out the makeshift candles, and Ben began to clap, cheering her on. "Well done! Happy birthday, sweet Y/n!" He leaned down to kiss her forehead.

Afterwards, they sat down to eat the cake. Each slice felt like a treasure. Ben chatted with Y/n, asking about school stuff, and she excitedly talked about how she had painted a picture for him.

At that moment, Y/n didn't see the difficulties, nor the lack of purchased candles or a bigger party. All she felt was love. And that cake, with its improvised candles, became one of the most precious memories of her life.

Back in the present, Y/n wiped away some tears as she held the photo. "I don't know how he did it, Oscar. How he always made it seem like everything was okay, even when I knew it wasn't."

Oscar wrapped an arm around her, kissing her cheek tenderly. "It's because he loves you! And you deserve every bit of that love and mine. He taught you to be strong, and look where that got you today."

She smiles shyly, feeling warm in her husband's arms, as she always has. Oscar's arms were always a safe haven where she could run whenever something went wrong. It was like that, ever since they started dating. 6 years ago.

The journalist takes another photo. She was sitting around the table with a blanket and in the background, through the window, she could see heavy rain. And that's when she remembered what had happened that day.

Y/n at 7 years old.

The sky was gray and heavy, and the rain fell like a thick curtain as Y/n walked down the street. Her backpack, already a little worn, was soaked, and her school uniform clung to her small body. She held her books against her chest, trying to protect them from the water, but without much success. There was no umbrella, and there was no money for the bus that day, as on so many others.

The walk seemed endless, each step heavy with fatigue and cold. When she finally arrived home, shivering and wet, her father greeted her at the door with a worried look.

"My girl, I was just coming for you!" he exclaimed, looking worried, quickly pulling out a towel to wrap her in. He took her to the bedroom, waiting outside for her to change her clothes and wrap her in a thick blanket. "Come here, I'll make you something warm," he said, as he ran to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Y/n was sitting at the kitchen table, holding a mug of hot tea in her hands. A plate with rice, salad and egg was in front of them. It was simple but comforting. As she ate, she looked at her father, who was sitting in the living room with his back to her.

He was quiet, but Y/n could hear the small sobs he was trying to hide. He ran his hand over his face, as if he wanted to erase the tiredness and sadness that were taking over him. Even at such a young age, Y/n knew why. She knew he fought every day to give her the best, but sometimes he felt like it wasn't enough.

Y/n finished her food and ran to him, hugging him from behind. "I love you, daddy," she said, her voice sweet and small. He turned around, surprised, wiping his eyes quickly.

"I love you too, my warrior. More than anything in this world."

Y/n was now leaning against Oscar's chest, sobbing with the tears that fell, while he also cried.

"That week I got so sick that I spent a few days in the hospital," she says between sobs and puts away the photo, turning the page of the album.

Y/n at 10 years old.

Y/n was standing in front of the small mirror in her room, adjusting her new school uniform. The clothes were hand-me-downs, but she wore them carefully, running her hands over the fabric to smooth them out. Her hair was impeccably combed, with a clip that she loved. On her wrist, a faint scent of the sweet perfume she had gotten from her grandmother wafted through the air.

She looked in the mirror and smiled at herself. "You look beautiful!" She murmured, as if trying to convince herself of it. She grabbed her backpack and left the house alone, since her father had left for work too early.

The walk to school was long, but she kept going. When she arrived, she saw the playground full of children accompanied by their parents. Some mothers kissed their children goodbye and hugs, adjusting their new backpacks and telling them to 'behave'. The children were impeccably groomed, their clothes and shoes clearly new.

Y/n paused for a moment, taking in the scene. A pang of sadness gripped her heart as she imagined what it would be like if her mother were there. She wondered what it would be like to hear her mother telling her to "Have a nice day" or adjusting her hair before entering school.

A silent tear ran down her face, but she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand. "Don't cry, Y/n. Today is supposed to be a good day, new school!" She said to herself, straightening her shoulders. With a brave smile, she walked to the school entrance, ready to face the new challenge. She had no one to hold her hand, but she decided that was enough. After all, her father always said: "You are strong, my girl. Stronger than you think."

Back in the present, Y/n held the photo and sighed, the memories as vivid as if they had happened yesterday.

"I'll never forget how he made it seem like everything was okay, even when it wasn't. He always said that even without my mom, I wasn't alone, because he was with me. But sometimes it was so hard..."

Oscar held her close to his chest, kissing her head. His tears fell into her hair.

"You've been through so much, Y/n, and yet you're still the most incredible woman I know. Your father is so proud of who you've become. I know I am too."

Y/n at 15 years old.

Y/n sat in one of the chairs at the back of the classroom during her first week of high school, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The school was bigger and more modern than she was used to, but the differences went far beyond the facilities. She soon realized that most of her classmates came from wealthier families, with brand-name backpacks, new cell phones, and stories of vacations in places she only knew from television.

During the break, as she ate what she had managed to bring from home—a chicken, lettuce, and mayonnaise sandwich made on yesterday morning’s bread—she heard whispers around her. “Have you seen her shoes?” one girl whispered to another. “I think they’re from a thrift store.”

Y/n swallowed hard, pretending not to hear, but the words hit her like a punch. It was true that her shoes were used; they had been bought at a second-hand store. She felt the gaze of her classmates as if it were an invisible chain pulling her down, trying to shame her for something she could not change.

But that afternoon, during a history class, the teacher proposed a group presentation. And that's when she met her best friend, the sweet girl who didn't care about Y/n's financial situation and who she still kept in touch with today.

She was also Y/n's maid of honor. She owes Ceci a lot of good things.

Each student had to explain a historical topic to the class. Y/n volunteered to speak, even though she knew it would be the first time her classmates would pay attention to her.

She spent the night studying, reading the old books her father had bought from an old library. Y/n held her head high and presented her topic with confidence. Her passion for learning was clear, and her firm, determined voice made everyone in the room fall silent.

After the presentation, the teacher praised her in front of everyone. "That, my students, is dedication! An example of how, with effort, we can overcome anything." Some of the classmates who had whispered about her before now looked at her with respect, but Y/n knew that the most important thing was how she felt. She had proven that her financial situation did not define her.

She smiled as she told him, but she could hear a sob escaping Oscar. She turned, with that sweet smile she always gave Oscar, placing a hand on his cheek.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to cry and make you feel even sadder."

"No, no." She smiles wider. "I'm fine. And do you know why? Because now I have you here, to complete the love my father always gave. I have two such brilliant men in my life, that all the pain I once felt is minuscule compared to the love I receive from you."

Oscar sobs again, kissing his wife's cheek, where tears are slowly streaming down.

The last photo in the album was of a young Y/n, but not too long ago. A little before she met Oscar.

There were several suitcases around her and she smiled excitedly. She was moving to study. She had gotten accepted into the university she had always dreamed of.

Y/n at 17 years old.

The day her college acceptance letter arrived was one of the happiest moments of Y/n's life. The envelope was a little wrinkled, but when she opened it, she felt like her whole world had lit up. She had made it: a place at the college she had always dreamed of.

Her father came home that night exhausted from work, but Y/n ran to him, holding the paper with shaking hands. "Daddy, I did it! I'm going to college!"

His eyes widened, and a huge smile formed on his face. "My girl... I knew you could do it! I always knew!" He hugged her tightly, but when he pulled away, the smile gave way to a worried expression.

"Y/n... I want you to go so much, but..." He sighed, looking away. "I don't know if I can help you with this. I've already taken out so many loans... I don't know if it's possible to take out more. I don't want you to have to give up on your dream because of me."

She took his hands in hers, squeezing them affectionately. "Daddy, it's okay. I've already taken care of this."

He frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

“I’ve got a job near the university,” he explained with a determined smile. “It’s a modest salary, but enough to support myself and buy food. And the accommodation I’ll be staying in is free for low-income students. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

His eyes filled with tears, and he pulled Y/n into another hug. "My girl... You're so strong. So incredible. I always knew you were special, but... seeing you grow into this determined woman... I can't describe how proud I am of you."

His words made Y/n cry, but this time it was a cry of relief and love. She knew the path would be difficult, but she was ready to face it. After all, she was the daughter of the strongest man she had ever known.

Y/n laughs softly. "That day was magical," she says, and Oscar smiles, seeing that his wife was calmer now with all the sad feelings that had enveloped her minutes before. "I confess that, even though the years at university were a little difficult, they were easier compared to childhood." She smiles, and then turns to Oscar. "And do you know why? Because in the first year I went to do an internship at F3 and met the love of my life."

Piastri smiles and then the two kiss, sealing their lips in a sweet and comforting kiss.

"I love you so much, my Piastri girl!" She smiles at the nickname.

They were hugging each other, still looking at the various boxes, until the pilot's eyes fell on that bright pink, beaded sneaker. Oscar smiles and leans over to hold it.

"Look, how cute!" He smiles. "And very authentic and original!"

Y/n lets out a sincere and genuine laugh. "Did you like it? I decorated it" she smiles.

She felt freer now, the past didn't haunt her so much, she was fine now. Great house, excellent salary, comfortable vacations, her father had a company that made him earn 100 times more than before and she had Oscar. Her calm, attentive and helpful husband. A man who came out of a fairy tale. And who was hers!

Only hers...and of course, her future children. Because the babies will also be very lucky to have Oscar Piastri as their daddy.

"Do you want to tell me about the history of sneakers?" He holds the small pair of shoes in his hands. "Of course, only if you feel comfortable."

Y/n smiled in agreement. Standing straighter and crossing her legs, she watched Oscar admire her shoes.

"These were my first new sneakers." She smiles. "Really new, in the box and with that brand new leather smell." Y/n laughs. "And I was so excited about them that my dad let me put glitter and beads on them. They were so special to me that when they didn't fit anymore I kept them as a fond memory," she says. "They're worn out from so much use and also from being stored away for so many years, but they're still as shiny as new."

Oscar laughs, still looking at the little boy in pink sneakers.

"I wonder..." he begins, smiling. "Can I keep them?" Oscar asks, a tear falling across the smile on his face.

Y/n frowns a little, but nods. "Sure! But why?"

Oscar held the small pair of sneakers with an almost reverent care, as if they were an heirloom. He ran his fingers over the faded beads, the shine still visible despite the years.

"I want to take you to our home in Monaco." Oscar begins, his voice slightly cracking.

Y/n tilted her head in surprise. He looked up at her, his gaze full of love and admiration.

"Because I want to leave them on display there. In a special place, where I can see them every day. Those sneakers aren't just a reminder of your childhood, Y/n. They're a symbol of everything you are. A woman who, from a young age, turned the little she had into something extraordinary. I want to remember that always, and I want anyone who walks into our home to know the incredible story of the person you are."

Y/n felt her eyes well up as she absorbed those words. She took a deep breath, trying to contain her emotion, but a single tear escaped and ran down her cheek. "Osc..."

The pilot placed the sneakers on his lap and leaned over to hold her hands. "I know you treasure them, and if you'd rather they stay here, I'll understand. But to me, they represent everything I admire about you. Your strength, your resilience... and the fact that even with so little, you found ways to shine." She smiled, feeling her heart overflow with love for this man who always knew the right words to say.

“You can take them,” she said, her voice breaking. “To know that you want them on display, that they mean as much to you as they do to me… it makes me so happy, Oscar.”

He smiled and pulled her into a warm hug. "Thank you, my love. I promise to take care of them as well as you did."

As Oscar carefully put away the sneakers, Y/n watched, feeling grateful to have someone who saw beauty and strength in even the simplest objects in her story.

For her, those sneakers were a reminder of her difficult childhood, but for Oscar, they were a celebration of everything she had achieved.

She didn't know how to react, but her tears continued to fall, this time accompanied by a shy smile.

"I... I never imagined that one day I could have someone like you, Osc," she said, her voice breaking again. "Someone who truly understood me, who would be there for me no matter what. Someone who would look at me and see the good in me, even when I couldn't see it myself."

Oscar pulled her closer, cuddling her against his chest again, as if he wanted to protect her from the world and the past, now so distant, but still so vivid in her memory.

"I will give you the best, Y/n. I want you to know that now you will never be alone. You have me. And of course, your father. And together we will build something better. Not only for us, but for future children. I promise they will never know the struggle you went through. They will grow up with the love, security and opportunities they deserve. Just like you, because you deserve the world and so much more!"

Those words broke the last shred of restraint in Y/n. She hugged Oscar tighter, pain and relief mixing together. But the happiness of being with him for the rest of her life outweighed the pain.

For the first time, she felt that her story no longer needed to be one of solitary struggles. Now, she had someone to share her scars and heal her pain, and most importantly, to build a different future with. And this made her cry, but with happiness, knowing that her future children would have a much more peaceful life full of love.

That love she received from Oscar and her father. Because she never doubted that Oscar would be an excellent father and Ben a great grandfather.

Author: Sorry about this, I know it's heavy. I cried writing it and when I was revising it😭

#fanfiction #y/n #romance #imagines #marriage #one shot #formula one #formula 1 #fem reader #sensitive content #imagines oscar piastri #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader

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heartfullofleeches · 10 months ago

Text

Liu [Yandere Butcher] tending to an injured Reader. [Commission 1/2]

Word Count: 1.7K

No mentioned Pronouns for Reader, They/She/He used for Liu.

Warnings: Minor Injury

Dinnertime in the Bishop household.

As things stand, so far it's been just you and the house's owner residing within these four corners as of recent. Liu has yet to tell you much about their family or their time growing up within the residency. Their questions about your adolescence had no end, yet when inquiries concerning their own upbringing arose the subject would change as swiftly as it was directed towards them. Regardless of how dodgey they were to reveal the finer details of their past, Liu did just about everything they could to make this house as much of a home as it was all those years ago.

Cool water drips from your fingertips as you shut off the bathroom sink, shaking your hands over the bowl to remove some of the excess moisture from your palms. You grab a hand towel from the wall behind you to dry off what's left, returning the cloth to its hook as you face the door - flicking off the light as you exit.

Most nights, you had two options when it came to helping with dinner. Making sure things didn't burn, or setting the table- Your partner’s desire for your assistance perfectly rivaled their fears in relation to allowing you to step foot in their kitchen when it came to cooking. Sure, they knew their way around a stovetop before they could even count, and you likely had a similar range of knowledge considering you had to fend for yourself before meeting them, but in their mind their anxieties were well justified.

The house Liu now owned was quite old. It's been in their family's possession from the day it was constructed, and only began to show its age when they were a child. Liu recalls the day the attic entrance was sealed off for good after their father had nearly fallen through. On top of that, the butcher had the awful habit of purchasing any cutlery their eye fell upon. Liu could vividly picture you welding one of their prized steak knives only to trip over a tear in the floorboards- The idea alone scared them so when it first came to them they refused to let you into the kitchen for several days - even to grab a glass of water.

Bit by bit, your partner gradually worked towards letting you play a bigger role in meal prep. Cooking with others has always been an enriching experience for them- food for the soul, as one might say. For now though, it was plate duty for you till they inevitably came to their senses.

Scaling the hallway leading back to the living room, you climb the two steps separating the carpeted floor of the room from the smooth, wooden files of the kitchen entryway. Liu stands in front of the stove where they had been moments ago when they asked you to wash up. Their head turns in your direction, but their eyes do not fall upon you.

“Mind those cupboards, Sweet.”

“Huh-”

Seconds before your head rams straight into them, the shadows of the cupboard’s swaying doors cast over you. You freeze as it grazes your skin. With how fast you were walking it would have been quite the nasty bump, had she not warned. How Liu had noticed it was open with his back turned- Brushing it off, you quickly join Liu’s side.

“Troublesome, even for myself sometimes. Some won't stay shut, others can withstand the wrath of a hurricane. Been meaning to call someone to take care of a lotta things going on around here, but- you know how things are….”

That much was true. For as long as you've known them, it was easy to see Liu was a person who valued their privacy. The butcher retrieves a pair of oven mitts from the counter as they finally turn to face you.

“Everything's just about ready. Was waiting for you to get back before I turned off the oven. Trusting you to grab the plates while I finish up over here. Third door to your right.”

That's already a step up from previous arrangements. Normally, Liu already had the plates and utensils left on the table for you. A clear sign of changing times.

“On it.” Counting each door on your right as you walk over, you reach for the fourth cabinet in the row - fingers clasping onto the silver knob of its handle. You gingerly pull at the door, anticipating it to give with ease. It does not. Trying again, you grip the handle with both hands - tugging harder. The door parts way by a sliver, snapping back into frame before you could slide your fingers through the gap as the oven door slams shut.

“Having trouble? If you need-”

“Don't worry, I almost got it.” You plant your foot firmly against the wall, leveraging all your weight onto it as you pull. The knob begins to turn as you apply more force- Is it supposed to? Pouring all of your energy into freeing the door, you fail to realize how loose it had become, but not in the way you had intended. Liu quietly takes off their oven mitts, deliberately removing each glove as leisurely as possible as their ears pick up on something. Ever so faintly, the muffled screech of splintering wood grows louder- “Y/n, I really think you should back away from that door-”

The desperation in their voice is all you can hear. “Just a sec, I almost-”

Snap!-

“Y/N!”

The last thing you feel before everything goes dark is the wind leaving your chest as your body collides with the kitchen floor. . . .

“120….121….123…..”

Your head is pounding….

“124…125…126…”

Goosebumps riddle your skin from the icy mass pressed to the back of your skull. A familiar hand holds it in place - gray hair sprawled over your blanketed chest. Toning their ears to the gradual beat of your heart, Liu remains perfectly still - eyes closed. Only sign they were awake was the occasional twitch of their lips as they muttered to themselves, squeezing your hand tighter. You stir against the thick wool of the blanket you're beneath. Liu stiffens.

“129…..Uh….Oh…Sorry about that..” Liu lifts their head from your chest, dabbing their face with their apron as they greet you with a worried smile. They set the ice pack aside on the coffee table, combining their fingers through your damp hair as if searching for something.

“No visible injuries so far….How are you feeling?”

The softened serene of their voice soothes the dull ache pulling you from unconsciousness. “My head hurts….How long was I out for?”

“About two minutes, give or take. Would've carried you down to the hospital had you been out a second longer….Careful..” Liu offers you her arm for support as you sit up on what you now realize to be the couch. Another realization comes to you as you notice the odd, marble coloring of what you had previously assumed to be a normal ice pack.

“Is…that a frozen steak? Maybe I hit my head harder than it feels…”

Liu struggles to keep their concerns forefront as their smile cracks into one of slight amusement. “On the bright side, it's good that you're able to bounce back so quickly. I don't use ice on a regular basis myself and to be frank I was too worried about you to think about what I was grabbing. Moving on to more important matters, could you tell me what you remember happening before the fall?”

“I was grabbing some plates for us, but the door got stuck. I kept pulling and.. I think the door knob came off?…”

Liu nods, clutching the broken knob hidden in their apron pocket. “Correct. Looks like your memory is working just fine too. Luckily I was able to catch you, but for a second there as you fell I just…froze.”

“Hey, Liu?… Question..”

“What is it?”

“I didn't do that, did I?…”

You point over their shoulder, eyes glued to the kitchen. The cabin door had been ripped clean off its hinges, chunks of wood and glass scattered across the floor panels. Surely, you couldn't have done that - not without a single cut on you. Far as you can recall, all that came down with you was the door handle itself. The door appears to have been smashed to pieces than anything else. Liu glances in just about every direction beyond where your finger aims.

“Oh… That? I removed the door from the wall while you were out, but the darn thing was so heavy it just slipped right through my fingers! Can I get you some water? You look like you could use a glass of water. I'll go get you that glass. Don't move a muscle while I'm gone.”

Liu climbs to their feet, grabbing one of the couch pillows as they pull you closer to them. They place the pillow behind your neck, guiding your head against it as they fix the blanket over your shoulders. Liu takes your hand, kissing your palm as they bring it to their face, cupping your fingers around their cheek. Though it is to help you, Liu seems reluctant to leave you - afraid of what might happen if they take their eyes off of you.

“I'm so glad you're okay… I'm not sure what I'd do if your injuries had been worse. It's bad enough you got hurt while I was in the same room….”

“It wasn't your fault…”

Liu kisses your hand again. “Wasn't your fault either. This old house has it out for us both, it seems. Could be it's afraid of new faces after so many years alone. I know I was…but you helped me realize there's nothing to be scared of…Still, it's probably best have someone come over by morning to change out those doors…”

“Sounds like a plan…. May I have that water now, please?”

“Oh! Of course, anything you need and I'll grab it for you right away. I don't want to see you off this couch for the rest of the night…unless you'd prefer me to carry you off to the bedroom.”

#Liu my oc #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #soft yandere #yandere fluff

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silassinclair · 10 months ago

Text

Introduction!!

Yandere Ghost x Reader

CW// Suicidal Thoughts, Paranormal Activity, Murder Mention

My other yand OC Maddox was a hit with ya’ll so here’s a short introduction of a new oc!! Hope you like him as much as I do. This is gonna be very boring because it’s an introduction but I’ll make a oneshot right after this one!!

Masterlist!!

“This key unlocks every door in the manor. Except the door to the attic for some reason, but there’s nothing of importance up there. Apparently it’s just some old junk the first owner left.” The agent said with a tight lipped smile. Her matte red lipstick was as bright as a stop sign.

Taking the key from her hand you’re surprised to feel how heavy it is. “Thank you.” You mutter.

“All the legalities are settled so she’s all yours. I recommend blasting that ivy off the side wall of the house though. The roots can mess up the brick.” The agent adds.

“Alright, I appreciate the tip.” You say and shut the door in her face, leaving you alone in your new home.

Maria was a total pain in the ass, like all people who work with selling things. Oh and for the record, you like the ivy that grows on the side of your new home. Makes it look pretty and natural. Anyways, her being gone was like a breath of fresh air. All was good now that you finally had a place to call home.

Your Grandfather died and in the will he left you his summer home in Italy. It was a grand manor that was located on a hilltop surrounded by forrest. It was perfect for your hermit self. Never in your life would you imagine leaving the states to come live in Italy but here you were. After all the manor was handed to you on a silver platter, the offer would be foolish to refuse.

There was nothing for you in the states. Your life was miserable, draining, and filled with nothing but painful repetition. Being worked like a machine and stepped on like a doormat. Having a horrid and overly possessive ex boyfriend who was a serial cheater didn’t help either. You were so close to ending your miserable existence until a woman named Maria gave you a call.

And now you were here, standing in the foyer of your new home. Some work would need to be done. Floors needed polishing, corners dusting, windows wiping. Maybe you should make a checklist?

"This is gonna be a long day.." You think to yourself.

"There she is again. She must be the new owner." I think to myself as I watch the young woman clean the floor.

The past owner, Lorenzo, must have passed away and put the ownership of the manor into this girl's hands. It has been a while since I’ve seen the old man. But did he have to put my home in the hands of some uncultured American? I find this terribly irresponsible of him, I mean look at her!

She's using a bleach based product on the hardwood! Lorenzo was a good owner of the Verona manor. He hired staff to keep it well maintained and he rarely ever visited. But this girl... she's an utter buffoon. Before she can torture the hardwood any longer I swiftly hover behind her and move the bottle a few feet away from her while she isn't looking.

"Huh?" When she reaches for the bottle she finds it has moved away. I snicker at her confused reaction.

"It was just right here..."

She reaches over and grabs it again but before she does I kick it, sending it flying across the foyer and hitting the front door.

“Any minute now she’ll run away screaming, she won’t even look back.” I think to myself with a devious grin.

But when I hover in front of her I only see an annoyed expression on her face.

“Uhm… Did I do something wrong?” She says.

I freeze, is she not afraid? Why was she talking as if she were talking to someone? Can she see me?

“I asked if I did something to upset you.”

And then her eyes move up and look right into mine. For the first time in centuries I feel as if I have ignited, that I am alive and that my heart once again beats like all other human beings.

“You… Can you see me?” I ask hesitantly, afraid that if I may speak too loudly she’ll scamper away like a mouse.

Her soft lips part slightly as she nods.

He told me his name was Dante Verona. He was the original owner of the Verona manor and he comes from an Italian royal family. But he was assassinated centuries ago in this very manor during a masquerade party. So I assume that his spirit is trapped here. He was wearing an intricate black, red, and white Venetian mask that hid his face. He wore matching black and red noble attire and his hair was a curly dark chocolate brown that went down to his neck.

Overall he was a total mystery. His entire existence was perplexing to me. Yes I do believe in the paranormal but never would I think I’d meet a real life ghost.

“I assume your grand father is Lorenzo? Has he passed on?” Dante asks, cutting through the thick silence.

I blink a few times, maybe if I blink hard enough he’ll disappear and that’ll confirm that this was all just my imagination. So I blink, but Dante’s translucent self is still hovering in front of me. The blank expression of his mask makes me slightly uneasy. I couldn’t get a read on the guy at all.

Coughing, I finally answer, “Uhm yeah… He was my grand father. He left me this manor in his will. And he didn’t mention any ghosts or anything like that.” I add.

“Lorenzo couldn’t see me. You’re the first to see me actually.” Dante says. His voice sounded smooth but the mask muffled it slightly. But he also sounded like he was in pain. I wonder how long he’s been here, trapped in this manor.

“So this whole time you were all alone?”

“Yes.” He softly replies. “Just me. Only my spirit is here.”

“That must be hard.” I say, but not in a pitying sounding way. The last thing he wants is pity probably.

Dante hovers away and I follow him into the living room. Looking up I see him hover up to the chandelier. He looks down at me, I can see his dark green irises through the black holes of the mask.

“Every day is hard. God has cursed me, rejected my entry into the heavens.” His voice cracks. "My death occurred in the very room we are in."

I look around the oriental room we are in. It has been modernized over the years, but I can imagine how it looked in his century. The masked party people, music, drinks, lies and deception. All of it in the room we are in but centuries before.

"My killer has not been found but I know they are long dead. Knowing that they burn in hell brings me peace. And I have learned to accept that I am to remain here.”

Then he rambles on about his life story. The tragedies he lived through, the friends he made and lost, wars and battles faced, and lovers went and gone. But I don't mind that this conversation is one sided. He has had no one to talk to for centuries so he deserves a listener.

"I apologize my lady. I have droned on for far too long. It's impolite..." Dante says in a dejected tone. But I reassure him.

"Y-You're okay! I understand. You haven't had someone to talk to in a long time I imagine. Besides, I found your life story very interesting."

Dante hovers down to where I'm sat on the couch. He also sits beside me. Leaning in close he tilts his masked face to the side as he comes closer to mine. I move away slightly; his body emits an eerie chill.

"Tell me about you. What is your name?" He asks, his eyes twinkle with an emotion unknown to me.

"I'm Y/n L/n. I originally lived in the United States, but I moved here as you know." I mutter. I've never been one to talk a lot anyways.

Dante looks me up and down. His fingers reach out causing me to flinch back, but he goes to touch the fabric of my black dress rather than my skin. To my surprise his fingers can touch the fabric, they don’t phase through it.

"Why do you wear black? Are you a widow? Has your husband passed on?" He asks softly.

I feel myself giggle slightly and he looks up at me with probably a confused expression.

"I've never been married silly, I'm only 23 years old.”

Dante’s emerald eyes widen. “23 and unmarried? Has the societal norm changed? Because my sister was married off to her husband when she was 16.”

I cringe physically. “Oooh yeah, lots of things have changed. But also I’m wearing black because it’s just my style. It’s called goth, it’s a music based style. I can tell you about it sometime.”

Dante looks at me like I’ve grown three heads. I can see it in his eyes.

“Ahem- Anyways. Why do you wear that mask?” I ask.

Dante breaks the eye contact and looks down at the side. “It does not come off. No matter how hard I try to remove it, it only stays. I cannot remove the clothing either.”

I nod. “Is it because it was the last thing you wore before you died?”

He nods in return.

“I assume so.”

He moves closer to me ever so slightly. His gloved hands caress my h/c locks of hair and then he brushes his fingers across my cheeks and jawline.

“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.

Dante’s hooded eyes shine with an emotion I cannot read. But I feel like my life from this day forward will never be the same. Can the living and the dead co exist?

Dante Verona. Will we be able to share the same roof?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #obsession #yandere ghost x reader #yandere ghost #dante verona

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petra-creat0r · 6 months ago

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Deltarune: Fool's Fate Chapter 1 Shopkeep

Okay so this should be the last important character ref for Chapter 1, aka the Attic World. (i need a better name for this Dark World.) After this my plan is to post the minor characters like enemies, NPCs, and Minibosses but once those are out, I'm not sure what to start on next. I have many things I could work on, it's just a matter of choosing. Thus why shortly after posting this, I'll be putting up a poll. Anyways! Onto Jeanie!

The shopkeep of the first area, aka the Dusty Plains, Jeanie (like the spirit) is a mystic snake who lives alone in her tent and tells the fortunes of whoever enters. If we're to think in terms of mapping parts of the Attic World to Chapter 1 of Deltarune proper, imagine Jeanie as the Seam of the chapter. Some of her dialogue even makes mention to the cat plush, even though the two have never met proper.

Her name is a play on "genie", being said the same, just spelled differently, and tying to her mystic, fortune-teller vibe and occupation. As for inspiration, asides from taking on the appearance of a hooded cobra (a lot of the Attic World has some snake ties because of Broadway), Jeanie is an old fortune telling machine. I'm not sure if she's the full machine, or just a part of it, but that is her Light World counterpart. Her connection to tarot cards is likely due to the machine incorporating them into it's gimmick.

Being the first shopkeep, Jeanie's wares are rather basic. A healing item found a few times prior to meeting her, aka the Fortune Cookie, a stronger healing item in the Stitched Stew, a basic armor in the Crystal Lace, and a weapon for Chicago in the Fortune Cutters. I have descriptions for each of those items incase anyone's interested.

For a better look at her character, here's a quote from her shop dialogue when you ask Jeanie about herself.

"The name is Jeanie, like the spirit. Mystical Serpent of Mystery. This tent is my where I sell mystical charms and read palms, paws, and tails. I've seen quite a lot in my time telling fortunes. The past, the present... Perhaps even the future. Hee hee hee..."

Aside from asking about herself, during their first encounter with Jeanie, the player would be able to ask Jeanie about the Magician, ask for a Card Reading, or ask Jeanie how she was expecting the party based on her shop enter dialogue (depicted in the image above). Some of her dialogue will change later in the chapter, mostly after running into her a second time in the second area (the Feathered Forest) or once encountering Dorothy (the secret boss) both before and after fighting her. Under the cut is a list of what Jeanie has to say in her talk options.

You were expecting us?

"Legends have spread far and wide of Lightners who will come to seal fountains. Three legendary heroes who will save both light and dark from calamity. More recently, there have been tales and rumors among the Upper Choir of three young heroes destined to replace the Blue Knight and dethrone the High Priestess.

Call it premotion, call it fate, if you will... I simply call it inevitable that we would meet."

The Magician?

"Hmm? I'm afraid I do not know of the cat you speak off." She grins "Hee hee hee. Just kidding. You mean Magico, correct? He is quite the trickster, isn't he? I heard he's been trying capture the Lightners who've come to seal the Fountain. All in the name of the High Priestess. He wasn't always under her reign. None of us were. Our land did not have a singular, set ruler until recently. We were ruled by a collective choir. Until one day, a mysterious knight appeared, and appointed the highest Choir member, the Priestess, into power. After which, she appointed Magico the Head Magician and her right hand. It's been quite some time since this land has seen such upset in the Choir. Not since... Well, perhaps it's better you not learn of that just yet."

Card Reading (Beginning of Chapter, before Broadway joins party)

"The Fool, The Magician, and The High Priestess. It seems your journey is just beginning, young heroes. Yet I sense great potiental and power shining within you. Perhaps such potential will aid you in the facing the powers and entities yet unknown. Even still, buying a small protection charm wouldn't hurt."

Reading (Encountering Jeanie outside of her shop in Feathered Forest with Broadway)

"I left my cards back at my tent, but I can still read your fate through the vibrations of your soul. Hmm... Interesting. I sense a lack of control. A slipping of string. Perhaps brought on by someone close to you interfering with your prior norm? ... I suggest you talk things out with them, young hero."

Card Reading (Back tracking after CK and Remie re-join the party again but before the Chapel)

"Three of Cups, Eight of Swords, and Five of Wands. It seems the rest of your party has returned to you. Though you've been apart for a time, it's important to remember the value of working as a team. Especially since a great challenge still awaits you all on the path ahead. The Chapel and Priestess still lie ahead, young heroes. Be weary not to let your own ambition and feelings get in the way of your collective goal."

Card Reading (Back tracking after entering the Choral Chapel)

"The High Priestess, reversed Nine of Swords, and Nine of Wands. It seems the final leg of this journey lays before you, young ones. Soon you shall duel with the Priestess to end her tyrannical reign. Bringing a new light to this land. However such a battle can wait for a little while. Your adventure has been long and tiring, has it not? Why not take a short rest? I can make some tea and read the leaves before you must set off once more."

Odd Doll (After first talking to Dorothy)

"I sense you three have come across a strange presence oddly familiar but which you've never known. A strange prisoner whom speaks in stitched together tongue? ... So I see. Seems the Magician couldn't hide her from all eyes forever. ... I see many paths if you chose to go down this route more, yet oddly enough... The one in which you try and release her holds the most promise. It would not be my personal advice but... The stars have yet to steer me wrong yet. Perhaps dealing with the doll once and for all will yield a brighter future for everyone. ... Perhaps it was wrong to lock her away to begin with. A key? I do not hold it, but I have a sense as to were the Magician hid it. Hidden among the trees, in the thicket of the dark. You'll find the path you seek, if you chose to take the lark. That's all the advice I can give, so I would advise turning to the Magician if you get stuck further. I wish you luck on your journey, young ones, and my the stars guide your path."

"Gate blocking your path? As I said, I can offer no more advise. Perhaps seek the Magician for assistance."

Odd Doll (After opening Dorothy's cell)

"So you say you've opened the door? That explains the wrathful energy I feel far away..." I'm afraid can't see where your future leads from here. Do tell me how this plays out, if you can. Or don't. I merely predict your path, only you can decide it."

About DOROTHY (After defeating Dorothy)

"Judgment, Reversed six of wands, and The Chariot. I may not have known that doll for long, but I knew her cards, her fate, the path the stars laid out for her. Or perhaps the path she forged herself… Once she was nothing more than a blank doll. No face, no name, no path. She was a fool just as you are. Yet one day, she came across a strange someone and it seemed her stars had finally aligned. She had been gifted an identity and purpose from some higher power, she said. To this day, I still don't quite understand what she meant by that. Rambling on about the Truth, or our purpose, of creating our own stars…Yet I didn't NOT understand at the same time… At some point she was let into the Upper Choir, but even they eventually grew annoyed with her ramblings. And so they cast her out. Exiled her back to these dust ridden plains. She grew enraged, filled with an anger and hatred for all that betrayed her. She had to be locked away before she could hurt anyone else. It shames me that I had to be the one to call the guard… Ever since, I've mulled over the cards and stars, seeking answers to what she said. Yet the skies shone dark and the cards even darker. The only thing I've come back with are more questions than when I started. It makes one wonder…How much of the universe and fate can be understood and predicated… And how much can only be navigated by the blind?"

We Won (After defeating Dorothy)

"The six of wands, the Tower, and the Devil. So, it is true? You really defeated her? Then you three truly must be the heroes of legend after all… However be warned, DOROTHY is merely the first step in your fool's journey. There is still a long way to go, and many more obstacles to face. And one day soon… even the most darkest evil of all. Hee hee hee… Well, I can only wish you luck. Perhaps once you reach that point You can come back here and I shall read your scattered destiny once more."

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31 39s 38, 27 6 7 4 50 39 44, 15 19t 21ly

31 39s 38, 27 6 7 5 50 39 44, 16 6 9

31 39s 38, 27 6 7 1 50 39 44, 41 re49 39

31 39s 38, 27 6 7 3 50 39 44, 40 6 2 25

31 39s 38, 27 48 8st 50 50 39 23, 35 32 27 13

31 39s 35 32, 27 34 4feated. 50 39 35 32, 46s 10 47ed.

31 33s 34 39, 27 34 & 29 50r 18, yet 6 2 45ed

31 28s 22, can 35t 6 11ed 50 28 36, of 26 this 10 20s

31 43s the 24, 27 43s 15 in 47, 30 & 42ess, 34ly 14.

31 39s 38, 24ish 27 39ed 6. 50r 47 37 32. 17 39, will 35t 50?

#deltarune #deltarune fan character #Deltarune: Fool's Fate #dr atticworld #dr:ff atticworld #deltarune oc #petra's deltarune take #deltarune au #petra art #fool's fate #jeanie #deltarune shopkeep oc

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sammysficfactory · 2 years ago

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Gone and Back Again

Clark Kent x blackcoded!reader

tags: angst, hurt/eventual comfort, fluff

summary: clark chose the world over you, and comes to regret his decision.

wc: 4.7k words

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abandonment

notes: bruce wayne cameo🤭, clark is a coward, reader is a MOTHA..NO DRAMA, yes the baby is named jonathan, feedback is welcome

beta reader comments: damn 6 years a secret?? them glasses work wonders

"Clark is that you? Why are you up?" Clark freezes when he hears your sleepy voice. He pushes what looks like a large bag out of your line of sight.

“Go back to bed sweetheart, I’m just going for a drive. I’ll be back in the morning.” Clark walks through the dark and places a kiss on your forehead and your large belly. You nod sleepily.

“Alright, be safe. I love you.” Is all you say before you find yourself drifting off to sleep again. Clark sighs in relief, he never planned on leaving his wife and coming child, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made.

The next morning, you wake up to a cold and empty half of the bed. It seems that Clark hadn’t come back from his late night drive. You don’t think much of it, writing it off as him losing track of time. But when hours start to go by and Clark hasn't returned, you find yourself getting antsy. You pull out your phone and call your husband.

“Come on, pick up..” You murmur, pacing around your living room floor. Clark doesn’t answer, even when you call a second and third time. This wasn’t like him at all, even when Clark was at work he made sure to pick up if you called a second time. You begin making calls, starting with his job.

"Good morning, Daily Planet. May I ask who's calling?" a woman answers.

“This is Y/N Kent, Clark Kent’s wife. Has Clark come in to work today?” You ask, doing your best to keep your voice level. You hear some typing before the woman on the other end answers.

"I've just checked the schedule, and he's not on it...He didn't give any warning either. Did something happen?" You sigh, that was definitely not the answer you were hoping for.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you for letting me know.” You sigh heavily.

“No problem, Mrs. Kent. If anything comes up I’ll call you back.” She replies before hanging up. You make a few more calls, calling some friends to no avail. You pace around the house in a panic, trying to think of places where Clark could possibly be. After a few minutes, you grab your car keys and drive around the city, looking in all of the places you think Clark could possibly be, all to no avail. You sigh, deciding to call your last resort. The only person you know with the resources to find your husband.

"Hello? This is Bruce Wayne..." You sigh in relief when he picks up.

“Bruce, it’s Y/N. Clark is missing.” You cut straight to the point, there was no time for formalities in your mind. You can hear Bruce move around on the phone.

“Are you sure? How do you know?” He asks, not wanting to jump to conclusions just yet, but the panic in your voice was unmistakable.

“Last night he said he was going for a drive and that he’d be back by morning, but he hasn’t shown up. I’ve done everything, I’ve looked everywhere. I even called his job. I don’t know what to do, and I’m starting to panic.” You quickly run through the events, tapping your fingers on your steering wheel as you drive back home.

"It's okay, just calm down. I'll get some people in the area to search for him." He says, trying to ease your worries.

“He said he’d be back by morning. It’s already past noon. What if he’s…” You trail off.

"Hey, hey. Calm down. Let's not jump to conclusions. He'll be alright, trust me. I'm doing everything in my power." Bruce is already setting things in motion, and that much comforts you slightly.

"I'll get in touch with you soon, okay? I gotta go." Bruce hangs up and you walk into your home. You check every corner of the house, every room, closet, and the attic. Nothing. Your phone rings and you pick it up, not caring to check who it is.

“Clark?” You answer nervously.

“Hi, honey.” Your husband’s voice comes through the phone and you sigh in relief. Your worry quickly turns into concern.

“Clark, where the hell are you?! I’ve been worried sick about you!” You exclaim. Clark sighs, his voice tense.

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me very closely. Are you in the house?” He asks, his tone tense and urgent. You sense something amiss, so you sit on your couch, listening intently.

“Yeah, I just got back.” You answer, you can feel his distress through the phone.

“I’m gonna tell you something important, you have to listen.” He sounds serious.

“I’m listening, go ahead.” You hear Clark go silent for a few moments, creating a tense and thick silence before speaking up again.

“I’m…Superman.” He confesses. You’re silent with disbelief before you reply.

“Clark, do not lie to me right now. I swear on everything holy if you’re lying to me-” You warn before your husband cuts you off.

“Y/N, I'm not lying! I always wanted to tell you, but I was scared..." Clark was telling the truth, and he can't deny the hurt he was about to cause you.

“I…Clark. This is a lot.” You sigh.

"Look, I know this is too much, I'm sorry, I wish I told you earlier. I just... couldn't say it. How do you expect someone to say -‘hey, I'm Superman’ to someone they love." Clark remarks.

“Clark, we’ve been together for six years, and we’ve been married for three of them. You’re telling me that you couldn’t have told me before?” You feel yourself growing angry and frustrated.

"I never wanted to keep secrets from you, I just didn’t know how to tell you." All Clark feels is guilt and shame.

"I love you, Y/N..."

“Clark, just come home.” Your voice wavers, for the first time the entire day you can feel yourself about to cry.

"I want to, more than anything..." Clark's heart hurts when he hears how distraught you are.

"It's not that simple, Y/N. If I come back, I'm putting you in danger..." He tries to sound reasonable, but he can feel his own resolve weakening.

“Clark, honey, please. I can’t do this on my own. We’re about to have a baby! You can’t just leave.” You plead over the phone. Clark's eyes start to well up as he hears you beg him to return. He hates hurting you.

"I have to keep you and the baby safe." He'd do anything to be with you... and yet, his fears still dominate him.

“We can still be together, we can still be a family.” You try to appeal to him through your tears.

"You don't understand." Clark can't control it as the hurt and guilt comes out as anger.

"I can't be with you or the baby. The world needs Superman. It's my responsibility." He immediately regrets his tone as soon as he finishes his sentence.

“Clark…” Is all you can manage to say, hurt and shocked by his tone. Clark takes a deep breath.

"Y/N, let me explain. I love you. I don't just love you, I’m in love with you. It's taken me a long time to know who I am... but this I know. I know I love you, Y/N. But the world needs me." The honesty in his voice catches you off guard.

"I was afraid of what you would think. I was afraid of hurting you by telling you. But, I had to tell you the truth. I couldn’t keep lying to you." His voice is as pained as his expression that you don’t see.

“How am I gonna take care of the baby when it grows up? What if it has powers like you do? Clark, I can’t do this on my own.” You sob.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. But the truth is I can't be with you. You and the baby deserve better than me. This is the kind of choice that comes with having the powers I do." The shame he feels is overwhelming. Clark can't believe what he says. He never meant for this to happen, but here he is, tearing his own home apart...all for the greater good.

"It's not your fault. I swear. You're amazing. I just... I can't do this." He hangs up the phone and you sob. The “greater good” had just ripped the love of your life out of your hands, and the crushing weight of having to give birth and raise a baby alone felt almost too much to bear. Your vision blurred by tears, you call Bruce to give him the news.

“Did something happen?” Bruce asks, but when he hears your soft cries he knows the news he’s about to receive isn’t good.

“You can call off the search, he told me everything. He told me that he’s Superman, and that he’s not coming back.” You feel yourself unravel the longer you have to speak. Bruce sighs.

“So he told you.” Is all he says in response.

“You knew?” You ask, feeling angry. Bruce takes a breath as he figures out how to explain his knowledge.

“I did know. I’m Batman, so we work together often.” He confesses, guilt and sympathy translating through his tone. You’re silent save for the occasional sniffle or hitch of your breath.

"Are you going to be okay?" There's a pause, no response from you.

"Y/N?" he calls for you.

“I don’t know. I’m eight months pregnant with a baby that might get superpowers when it gets older, and the only person who can help them won’t be there.” You exhale shakily, feeling absolutely helpless at the moment.

“Y/N…” Is all he says.

“I don’t know if I can do this…” You reveal weakly.

"Y/N, you're strong and you can do this. I know you can." Bruce tries to stay positive, but his encouragement is unconvincing. He can't help but worry for you and your baby.

"Can you... just tell me you'll be okay?" Bruce asks you, wanting you to hear yourself say it. You stay silent, not really believing him but decide to oblige him anyway.

“I’ll…be okay.” You say, your confidence wavering at best. You can hear his small smile over the phone.

“That’s right, you’ll be perfectly okay." Bruce's tone is filled with confidence once again, even if his heart is worried for you. He knows it's not going to be easy, but he knows that you’re stronger than your doubts are trying to convince you are.

"If you need anything, call me. Okay? I'll do whatever I can to help. You're not alone in this." Bruce reminds you, but it goes in one ear and out of the other. You can’t help but feel completely and utterly alone.

“Thank you, Bruce. Thank you for being a good friend.” You sniffle, giving him a satisfying enough answer.

“Always.” Bruce replies before hanging up, leaving you alone in your home.

After Clark left, you decided to focus all of your energy on giving birth and working to raise your son. The years have passed and your son has grown.

You shop around with your five year old Jonathan, your hand in his small one. His face looks just like Clark, with jet black hair and large, kind eyes. Jonathan is bouncing with energy, he seems as excited as a five year old can get.

“Jonathan, you can’t bounce around too much in the store. You might knock something over and hurt yourself.” You warn your son lightly, but your tone is firm.

"Sorry, mommy." Jonathan says with an apologetic shrug. As you walk through the aisle, your eyes settle on a familiar tall figure. You hope Clark doesn't see you, but it appears he already has. Clark stops at the shelf next to the two of you. He notices you and Jonathan, and he can feel the tension.

"Hello, Y/N." Clark's quiet and polite greeting punches you straight in the gut. The realization of his presence happens all too quickly.

He's right in front of you.

And it's surreal.

Clark looks just as handsome as you remember him, his eyes still full of kindness and joy. Your heart races as you look away, and you aren’t sure if it’s out of anger or love.

“Clark.” You greet him curtly, bitterness rearing its ugly head and making itself known. Clark's eyes search yours, looking for even a sliver of love.

"Y/N, I missed you..." He's holding back. It's a struggle.

"I know it's been a long time, and I've hurt you... But I need you." He starts.

"I want to try again. I want to be with you, I want to be with my family. I made a mistake, and I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you." He looks at you, his eyes full of regret. You look away from Clark, diverting your attention to your son.

“Jonathan, go choose a cereal. Mommy will be watching from right here.” You suggest to your son. Jonathan nods and runs a little further down the aisle and you turn back to Clark.

“It’s been five years, Clark. I gave birth in that delivery room alone when you were supposed to be there. You missed every milestone, and left me alone to take care of our child.” You say calmly, but there’s an unmistakable edge in your voce.

"You're right. But I just wanted to protect you, I wanted to keep you and Jonathan safe. I was scared that if I was here with the two of you, it would’ve put you in danger. If something would’ve happened to you, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself." Clark looks at you. He can't bear to see you like this, to see your broken heart on display, showing him just how much pain he had caused.

"I made a mistake, I know... but I love you. I want to make this right. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I didn’t regret leaving you and our son behind. You and Jonathan, you're the people I want to wake up beside. Please, just let me make this right." He pleads.

“You don’t think I was scared? You don’t think that every night that I was pregnant with your baby, I was scared? When you left, I had no one to rely on except for myself. I was supposed to bring that little boy into this world with you by my side, but you abandoned us.” You clench your jaw, doing your best to stay quiet and not make a scene.

“You chose the world over your wife, and you chose the world over your son, I’m not giving you the chance to do it again.” You poke his chest angrily, and you can see Clark’s heart break right in front of you. It doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would, even after all that time you still hated seeing him hurt. Clark watches you in your quiet fury, his eyes searching yours.

"Y/N. I messed up... I know." His eyes are wide, his voice is desperate.

"I'm terrified I'll lose you again. I'm terrified this is my last chance. That I won't get another." His heart is tearing in two, he wants his family back.

"Y/N, please... for Jonathan." Clark is trying to be strong, to be better... and it's breaking him to see you so upset.

“You lost me when you left, Clark. But your son deserves to have a father, so I’ll allow you that. Come over Saturday afternoon so I can properly introduce you to him. I still live in our house, so you know where to find me.” You brush past Clark, wiping a tear away when you walk to Jonathan.

It's a small step, but Clark knows that everything has to start somewhere. He watches you walk away with his son, and he knows that he can't lose you again. He needs to prove himself and make it right.

Time passes, and Saturday arrives. He can't stop himself, he knocks on the door. There's a tension and Clark's heart is racing. He wants everything back... to be with the woman he loves and the child that needs him.

A few moments later, you answer the door.

“Hey.” You greet him.

"Hi." he replies awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck.

"May I come in?" You nod.

“Yeah, come in. I’ll grab Jonathan from upstairs.” You usher him inside before calling Jonathan from the bottom of the stairs. Jonathan all but runs down the steps. When he sees Clark, Jonathan hides behind your legs as you introduce them to each other.

“Jonathan, this is your dad.” You say, trying to coax your son from behind you. Clark waves at him, but doesn’t say anything.

“Can you say hi to your dad, Jonathan?” You ask, squatting down to Jonathan’s height, trying to reassure him that everything was okay.

"Hi..." Jonathan's voice is shaking, he's frightened by the strange man. He slowly moves out from behind your legs and stands in front of you. You keep your hand on his shoulder to remind him that you’re right behind him, and that he doesn’t have to worry.

“He looks just like you, Jonathan. You two have the same hair, same smile, same eyes.” You continue to try and help Jonathan warm up to Clark. Your son steps out a little more and looks up at Clark, shuffling his feet out of nervousness. He sees the similarities between him and his father and decides to take a step closer.

“Do you want to give your dad a hug?” You ask Jonathan, noticing how Clark desperately wants to hold him. Clark has never seen Jonathan until that day in the grocery store, and wants to immediately start making up for lost time.

"Umm..." Jonathan looks between his mother and his father and hesitates. It's all new and scary to him, and understandably so. He walks towards Clark and puts his arms out. It's the first hug of many to come for Clark and Jonathan. Clark's heart nearly explodes from affection, he has been waiting for this forever. He holds onto Jonathan tight, not wanting to ever let go.

You smile at the image before you, but can’t help the pang of sadness that hits you when you think about the day he left. Jonathan and Clark look happy, hugging each other tightly.

"Jonathan..." Clark holds him tight, and vows to himself that he'll never miss another day, another moment of his son's life.

"Y/N, I love you. I'm so sorry for leaving you. I love you." He says to you, still holding onto his son tight. You struggle to find what you want to say, opening and closing your mouth like a goldfish.

"Tell me what you’re feeling, Y/N." Clark says quietly. He's still holding onto Jonathan tight, but he doesn't want you to be upset with him. He feels his heart breaking, as you seem unable to speak. He knows he hurt you. He's so desperate to make it right.

“We need to talk in private then.” You reply, not wanting Jonathan to hear you say anything bad about Clark. You send Jonathan upstairs to his room.

"Okay, Y/N." Clark's anxiety is building, he knows you still have a lot of anger toward him. He knows he deserves that. However, he wants to fix all the problems the two of you have. He loves you, and he wants you back.

"Talk to me." He says gently. You sigh, sitting in a nearby chair, gesturing for Clark to do the same.

“I don’t have a problem with you spending time with Jonathan, but I’m not sure if I can get into a relationship with you again.” You admit.

"Y/N, I made a huge mistake. But I swear to you that I won't ever leave again." Clark's voice is desperate and longing, he wants just one more chance. He wants to be the best he can, by being a father and now a husband.

"Jonathan needs us, he needs his mom and his dad." Clark's voice has a pleading in it, all he wants is for his family to be together.

"Y/N, let's give it a chance. Just one chance." He implores.

“How do I know that, Clark? How do I know that when shit gets tough, you won’t just up and leave? I went through that, and I don’t want Jonathan to go through it too.” You ask. Clark winces, he knows that your fears are valid, but he can’t help but get hurt by your tone.

"You can't know, I guess." He's being honest with you.

"But I want to prove to you... to Jonathan... that I’ve changed." Clark's eyes still have that same desperate pleading in them.

"Please Y/N, you don't understand how much I regret what I did." He holds onto your eyes, willing you to believe him.

"And I will never leave Jonathan... I promise. Never again." You shake your head.

“Clark, you don’t understand. When you left, I was so alone. I was so scared. I had to give birth alone. When the doctors and nurses asked where you were, I couldn’t give them an answer. When Jonathan started school last year, he started seeing other kids with their dads. Do you know what he asked me? He asked me where his dad was, and I couldn’t give him an answer.” You tell him everything you had been feeling up to this point, the weight of it being lifted from you as you speak. Clark can feel his heart breaking as you tell him about your struggles. He didn't realize how the decision he made affected you and your son.

"Y/N, honey, I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you... for Jonathan. Please, give me... give us a chance." His voice is genuine, filled with regret and pain.

“It took you five years, Clark. I wanna give us another try, but how do I know you won’t leave?” Your eyes well up with tears as you speak, your once firm voice beginning to waver.

"You can't know... You can't know if I'll ever leave again. But what I can promise you is that I won't give up. I won't give up on you, and I won't give up on Jonathan." Clark holds onto your hands, his voice filled with love and compassion.

"Please Y/N, just... just give us another chance." He wants you back, he needs you back. He can't cope without you.

“If I do this…you have to promise me that you won’t run. That you won’t run away when stuff gets stressful.” You sniffle.

"I give you my word, Y/N." Clark's voice is filled with sincerity and determination.

"I'll never run away, not again. The one time that I did it... I destroyed everything. I won't ever do it again." He looks at you longingly, he knows that he needs you. He needs your love, your warmth, your affection. He can't live without you.

"Please, Y/N. Please give us another chance. I'll do anything.” You stay silent for some time, trying to figure out how you feel.

“Okay.” You nod hesitantly. Clark immediately wraps his arms around you in a gentle hug, he's been yearning for this moment for years. He holds you tight, unwilling to let go.

"Y/N, I love you so much. I love you. I love you." A tear rolls down his face as he holds onto you, the pain and fear, the regret and hurt, it all subsides in an instant.

"I love you." He repeats. He'll never run again. He holds onto you, his hand rubbing your back.

"I can't believe I put us in this position, Y/N. I was stupid. But I won't let it happen again. We have to be there for each other, Y/N. We have to communicate. We have to trust each other to share our fears." He smiles, you’re finally back in his life.

"I'm going to spend every day making it up to both of you." He promises you.

“Let’s start slow. I don’t want to change Jonathan’s life anymore than I already have with you meeting him.” You suggest. Clark nods in agreement.

"Of course, Jonathan is still so little, and this is a big change. Slow and steady, that's how I'll repair everything." He kisses the top of your head.

"Jonathan deserves to have a mother and a father. Let's work together to give him the best life possible." He's happy because you’re back in his life. The pain, the tears, the sleepless nights, they're all over. It's time for a new start, he can't imagine himself being with anyone else but you.

"I don't want to push too hard... and I want to earn your trust back. It's all about you and Jonathan, all of... this." He points to you, then to himself, then to Jonathan's room.

"Jonathan is going to be so happy when he sees all of us together. He needs a family Y/N... and I’m ready to give that to him." Clark pulls back from the hug, looking you in the eyes as he makes this promise. You place your hands on his broad chest, looking up at him and allowing yourself to relish in the familiar and comfortable hold of Clark.

“Can I…kiss you, Y/N?” Clark asks, this is all still fresh and he doesn’t want to move too fast, but he can’t help the urge to press his lips to yours.

“Yeah, you can.” You nod, feeling Clark lift your chin gently and bring your lips to his. The kiss doesn’t feel like fireworks or explosions like you’d expect it to. It feels more like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a fire, like sleeping after days of insomnia, or finding water after walking through a desert for an excruciating amount of time. You don’t understand why, until you realize it. When you kiss Clark, you’re finally giving yourself the love you had been deprived of for so long. The two of you reluctantly break the kiss.

“Thank you. For all of this.” Clark smiles breathlessly at you. You nod.

“Don’t make me regret this, Clark.” You warn, holding his face in your hands.

It’s been about a year since your reconnection and ultimately rekindled romance with Clark, and he hasn’t let you down. He’s done everything he can to prove just how willing he is to stay with you and Jonathan. He’s been by your side as much as he can, occasionally stepping away for his heroic duties, but making sure not to miss any milestones.

“Daddy, mommy, look at me!” Jonathan does a flip on his trampoline as you and Clark watch him from your back porch. You and your not-really-but-still-legal husband smile in amusement.

“Be careful, buddy. Don’t hurt yourself, your mother already told you to be careful.” Clark warns, and Jonathan nods. You look at Clark impressed.

“Okay, Mr. I-mean-business. You need to do that more often.” You chuckle as Clark rolls his eyes playfully, pressing a quick kiss to your lips with a smile.

“Whatever. I reprimand Jonathan when I feel he needs it.” He tries to justify himself, but you give him a knowing look.

“Clark, please. Jonathan has you wrapped around his finger.” You snort, and he looks away sheepishly. Clark spoils your son, especially recently after Jonathan’s powers began to show up. Clark has been helping Jonathan control his newfound powers, especially his enhanced strength. Just a few days ago, Clark had to talk Jonathan down from pulling the kitchen door off the hinges after you told him he couldn’t eat ice cream for dinner.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately, honey?” You ask Clark. He shakes his head, looking at you.

“What?” You take his hand in yours.

“I guess you did choose us in the end, just not in the way we would’ve wanted. You chose to save the world, and technically Jonathan and I are part of that world.” You answer, rubbing his knuckles as you’re deep in thought.

“You’re right. But I like this choice best, don’t you agree?” Clark tilts his head slightly. You nod.

“Yeah, this is definitely the better option.”

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