#don’t want to wake him up or make him made or anything like that if it’s nothing and I dont want them to know just how much I’m freaking out

[alvojake]

Just You | C.SN

���pairing」 : san x fem!reader 「word count」 : 7.3k

「synopsis」 : he was just your annoying roommate that you just couldn't wait to get away from. all of his late night rendezvous started to get under your skin so you just avoided him like the plague. that was until you needed his help getting to class and of course he wanted something in return.

「genre」 : smut, fluff, roommate!san, roommate au, enemies to lovers(ish)

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, teasing, san acts like a doucebag but is actually pretty sweet, kinda mixed signals, kissing, rough and messy makeout, manhandling, petnames (princess, baby, darling, sweetheart...), dom!san x sub!reader, big dick!san, kinda inexperienced reader, praising, unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, biting/marking, breast play, dirty talk, hickies, creampie, slight dumbification, rough sex, sickly sweet aftercare, mentions of a sex tape at the end, lmk if I missed anything!

A chill ran down your spine as you followed your best friend, Harper, into the school’s main building. The storm from the night before brought a cold front along with it, making the air even more chilly than it’s normally been since fall started. Shaking off the chill, you looked around the hall, noticing that there were fewer people than usual.

“Oh yeah, y/n, did you hear about the science wing?” Harper asked as she fastened the strap around her umbrella after closing it.

You rubbed your hands together, trying to gain some warmth back into them before looking over at her confused, “I haven’t heard anything; what happened?”

“The whole building flooded, apparently, so they moved most of the classes to different buildings.” She explained as the two of you maneuvered your way down the hallway. However, she could tell by the panic in your eyes that you hadn’t heard anything. Stopping, she turned to look at you with a hint of worry: " Didn’t you get the email this morning?”

“No, the storm knocked the power out in the entire apartment complex, so my phone didn’t charge,” You started to panic a little as you pulled the device from your back pocket, and just as you thought the screen would turn on, meaning that it was dead, “it also reset my alarm clock when it came back on this morning so I woke up late and rushed to even get here on time and—”

“Y/n. Girl, please take a breath,” Harper grabbed your arm softly, making you look over at her, “Why didn’t San wake you up? You guys have chem together.” Her question was innocent, but the mention of your douchebag roommate made your mood sour so much more.

“San, wake me up? That’s funny, actually.” You scoffed, shoving your phone back into your pocket and running your fingers through your hair, “No, he was out late at night, probably getting his dick wet per usual.”

Harper couldn’t help but grimace at your vulgar words, but she knew you were right. San was the residential fuck boy, after all.

“I’m sure there’s someone from your class here, just ask them.” She asked as she looked around the hall, trying to stop a familiar face, but came up blank, and so had you.

“Son of a bitch.” You cursed lowly, looking around the hall once more, hoping by some miracle that you would see someone, but again, you couldn’t find a single familiar face. Then, an idea popped into your head, causing you to look back at Harper with wide eyes, “Harp, can I use your phone?”

Harper looked at the time before turning to look at you with a solemn look, “Sorry, babes, I’ve gotta get to class.” She patted your arm before a familiar face caught her eye, “isn’t that San? Why don’t you ask him?” She asked, pointing over your shoulder, and when you turned, sure enough, standing there on the other side of the hall was none other than Choi San, your douchebag roommate. 

Watching him chat and laugh with his friends like he didn’t have class in twenty minutes made your blood boil, it pissed you off. However, it pisses you off even more that you care enough to get upset. His carefree attitude and his self-righteousness were probably some of his more annoying traits, yet… it was also insanely attractive to you, and you hated it.

“Hey, earth to y/n.” Harper waved her hand in front of your face, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, “Go ask him.”

“Fuck me.” You groaned, and Harper patted your shoulder with an apologetic smile. After a few moments of contemplating if you really wanted to ask San for help, you just let out a sigh, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice. “Alright, I’ll see you later, Harper. That is if I don’t get arrested for attempted murder.”

Harper laughed softly with a shake of her head, “Good luck, girl.” Then she made her way down the hall towards her classroom, leaving you standing there.

Mustering up enough willpower to ask your attractive annoying roommate where your class had moved to. Hiking your bag higher up your shoulder, you turned and made your way over to where he was still talking to two of his friends. Once you were within eyesight, a smirk tugged on the male’s lips, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his letterman jacket. Your mind then started to wonder if it smelled like his cologne that you had grown attached to or how warm it was.

“What brings you here, roomie?” San asked, pulling you from your thoughts. Heat rushed up your neck, warming your cheeks. His feline-like eyes trailed the length of your body, which only irritated you further, seeing as you thought it was a bright idea to wear a skirt.

“San.” Your tone was curt as you looked at him, arms crossed over your chest as you tried with all your might to keep your voice steady despite the heat from his gaze. “Do you know where they moved chem?” The sas in your tone caused both of San’s buddies to laugh; one, who you recognized as Song Mingi, hit San’s arm as they looked down at you.

“Yeah, I do, why? Need help getting there?” He asked smugly, a knowing gleam in his eyes that told you that he was already sure that you did, in fact, need his help.

You inhaled sharply, trying to fight the urge to tell him no and walk away just so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of knowing that you needed his help. However, you knew that if you did that, you would just end up being late to your class or missing it altogether. So you licked your lips before rolling your eyes and nodding.

“Yes, I do. My phone is dead, and there’s no one else from our class here," you told him, a small glare adorning your features, causing San to chuckle. The sound alone was enough to make you weak in your knees, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach.

“All you have to do is ask princess.” San’s lip quirked into a sly smirk as he pushed himself off of the wall, taking a step towards you. His teasing tone made you wanna punch him in his stupidly attractive face because you would rather be caught dead than ask him straightforwardly. 

Dropping your hands to your sides, you glared up at him, “Fine, I’ll just figure it out myself.” With that, you turned and started walking down the hall, trying to ignore the fit of laughter behind you.

San shook his head before looking back at his friends with a dimpled smile, “I’ll catch you guys later.” 

You grumbled angrily to yourself as you made your way back out of the building, head on a swivel, hoping to spot anyone from your chem class to ask for the whereabouts of the building. The cold, harsh wind swept across your body, and you couldn’t help but shiver.

“You sure today was a good day to wear a skirt?” San teased as he stopped right next to you, his voice making you jump slightly. His eyes trailed along the length of your body once more, noticing the layer of goosebumps that covered your legs and how you were starting to shake.

You crossed your arms over your chest once more, trying to warm yourself up, “what do you want, San?”

“I'm taking you to class, of course.” He flashed you his signature dimpled smile, and you had to turn away as heat rushed to your cheek, turning your face red. For once, you were thankful for the chilly wind. “Come on, my car is this way.” San motioned over to the parking lot before he walked off.

You wanted to just tell him to screw off, but you couldn’t not unless you wanted to freeze out in the cold while you tried to find your class that you would inevitably be late for. So, swallowing your pride, you made sure no cars were driving by before jogging across the street and to San’s side.

San glanced over at you as you walked next to him, the small pout that was on your lip made his hands itch, wanting nothing more than to kiss it off. But he decided against it and just reached over, poking your cheek, causing you to swat his hand away and glare up at him.

“Don’t touch me.” You hissed, turning back to face away from him, causing him to chuckle.

“You’re cute when you’re all pouty.” He teases, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and unlocking his car. 

You bit the inside of your cheek at his remark, trying to ease the swarm of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

Once you got to his car, you didn’t say a word as you walked over to the passenger side, but San was quicker and opened the door for you. You looked over at him skeptically and he just smiled at you with an unreadable gleam in his eye.

“Ladies first.” He mocked a bow as he gestured to the open door, and your eyes narrowed, trying to read him but to no avail, so you just let out a huff before stepping into the car.

San shut the door after making sure you were in completely before rounding the car and climbing into the driver's seat. He started the car and turned the heat on, making sure some of the vents were facing you before putting the car in reverse.

Your heart nearly stopped when he put his hand on the back of your headrest, turning his head to look behind him as he backed out of the parking spot. You couldn’t help but stare as he did so, and noticing your gaze, he turned back around and winked at you in the process. Heat rushed to your face making your ears ring in embarrassment from being caught. San chuckled softly as he threw the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. 

The drive over to the new building was filled with the hum of San’s car engine and the quiet music that spilled from the radio. Your leg bounced as you stared out the window, the little voice in the back of your mind reminding you of who you were sitting in the car with.

“Did you not check your email this morning?” San asked, glancing over at you just as you turned your head to look at him with a deadpan expression.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, you shook your head, “No, the power went out. Which you would have known if you weren’t so busy sticking your dick in some random bitch.”

Your snarky response made San smirk, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he turned into a parking lot. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous.”

A scoff escaped your lips as you looked at him in disgust despite the rapid beating of your heart. There was no way in hell that you would be jealous that he was fucking some random girl almost every week. Rolling your eyes, “Why would I be jealous? Who knows what you have.”

Parking the car, San looked over at you with a smug smirk, leaning over the center console until he was inches away from you. Your breath hitched in your throat when you turned to find him so close, wide eyes staring into his eyes.

“Who said I was talking about me?” He quipped, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes once more.

Your face felt as if it were on fire as you stumbled over your words, none of which made any sense the moment they fell from your lips. San, of course, was enjoying every second of it as he continued to lean closer to you, watching in amusement as you backed away until you couldn’t anymore.

“S-San.” Your tone held a warning as you got ready to push him away, but he reached over to the door, pulling his student ID out of the compartment.

“What’s wrong, princess? You didn’t think I was gonna kiss you, did you?” He raised an eyebrow as he slowly sat back down in his seat.

Annoyance flowed through your veins as he continued to stare at you with that stupid smirk. Your jaw tightens as you unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your bag from the floorboard. Just as you were about to open the door, San locked them, causing you to look at him with a glare.

“What the hell San?”

“I’m going to be out late with the guys, so make sure to leave some dinner for me," he told you before turning the car off and unlocking the doors.

You just stared at him in disbelief, trying to find where the hell he got the audacity to try to order you around. Running your tongue over your teeth, you pushed the car door open, “You’re such an ass.”

San watched as you got out of the car, slamming the door behind you before storming off to the building, not even giving him a chance to catch up. He sighed before getting out of the car and following after you.

During class, no matter how many times San tried to grab your attention or even talk to you, you would just ignore him. Once the professor was done lecturing and left you to do your class work, you quickly pulled out your headphones, hoping to drown out any and all of San’s attempts with music. This worked until class was over.

“Hey, y/n, did you need—”

“No.” Your response was curt as you pushed past San and right out of the classroom because you weren’t about to be stuck in the car with him once again, not after the stunt he pulled before.

San had to bite back the smirk that was fighting to spread across his lips as he watched the tips of your ears turn red any time he got even remotely close to you. Though he knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, not when the two of you lived together.

You did owe him, after all.

—

Later that night, you found yourself standing in the kitchen waiting for the last of dinner to finish up. Watching with tired eyes as the time counted down before finally going off, you pulled the food out of the oven before plating everything on two separate plates and cleaning off all of the dishes that you had used to cook dinner.

Just as you stuck your own plate of food into the fridge, you heard the front door open, and your eyebrows furrowed. San wasn’t supposed to be back for at least another hour or so, you thought. Shrugging, you just grabbed his plate and sat it down on the table before making your way to the hallway, only to run right into San.

“Fancy meeting you here,” San teased, grabbing your arms softly as you pulled away from him. You looked up at him with a half-tired, half-annoyed expression before you noticed that he was alone, which was a surprise.

“We live together, San,” you said before moving to step around him. "Your food is on the table.” 

Noticing that you didn’t have a plate or anything with you, he quickly reached over and grabbed your arm, pulling you back towards him. A small gasp of surprise fell from your lips as you stumbled back into him once more.

“Where’s your food?” He asked softly as you started rubbing your temples, just ready to escape back into your bedroom, not wanting to deal with any more of his mixed signal bullshit.

“I’m not hungry.” 

“You need to eat, y/n," San said before moving down to grab your wrist and pulling you into the dining room, ignoring all of your protests.

“San, seriously, I can eat later.” You groaned, trying to slip out of his grip, but his hold was far too strong.

He ignored you as he pushed you to sit down in the chair with his food in front of it. You opened your mouth to say something, but he fixed you with a stern gaze, and you quickly shut your mouth. Sighing, you grabbed the chopsticks and started eating slowly as San watched you for a moment before turning and going into the kitchen to grab the other plate.

When he sat back down, the two of you ate in silence, and you weren’t sure how much more awkward silence you could take before you went insane. So you finished your bite and went to push away from the table, but San’s voice stopped you.

“So, about what you owe me.” He started, setting his chopsticks down to look over at you, finding your confused expression. “Don’t tell me you already forgot about me helping you get to class.” He smirked, intertwining his fingers together to rest his chin on top of them.

You inhaled sharply as you figured out what he meant. Of course, he wanted something in return. Rolling your eyes, you leaned back in your chair, ready to hear whatever it was that he wanted in return. “What do you want, San?”

“You.” His response was curt, and you almost choked on the air as you looked at him with wide eyes. After a few moments, the shock wore off, replaced by annoyance.

Standing from your seat, you shoved the chair back under the table, “Yeah, no.” You huffed as you went to grab your plate, but San grabbed your wrist, tugging until you were standing next to him.

“I’m serious, y/n.” He looked up at you, and you couldn’t tell if he really was being serious or not. The last thing that you wanted was to become another notch on his belt.

“So am I San. I’m not becoming another one of your little playthings.” You stated, pulling your arm from his grasp and grabbing your plate.

You walked into the kitchen, narrowly missing his attempt to grab you once more, and rinsed your plate off. Annoyance radiated off of you in waves as you scrubbed the plate in your hands; you knew that being anywhere near San would only piss you off. Now, with his outrageous proposition, you couldn’t help but feel a bit upset by it. 

Sure, San was hot and was almost everything a girl looked for when looking for a boyfriend, but the only downside is that he never settles. You’re pretty sure that’s what bugs you the most because even if you said yes in hopes of something more happening, the chances were slim to none. So you just put your pride first and decided that you wouldn’t let it happen despite the growing heat that pooled in your core at the thought of San actually wanting you like that.

You had become so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed that San walked into the room until the water was turned off and hands were placed on either side of your body.

“San—” Your breath hitched in your throat as you turned to find him merely inches away. His grip on the counter was tight enough to let you know that you wouldn’t be going anywhere until he moved.

Looking up at him you scanned his face as his eyes flickered down to your lips once again. Dipping his head down, he moved until he was a breath away from your lips, and you were sure that your heart was in your throat at this point.

“San…” Your voice shook as you tried to back away, but the counter behind you left you little to no room to do so. 

“I want you y/n. Just you.” He whispered, his warm breath fanning your face causing your eyes to flutter, but you fought against the urge to give into him. Placing your hands on his shoulders to push away but he moved closer to you, his lips ghosting over your cheek. “Let me prove it to you, please.”

A whine fell from your lips when his breath blew over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The small noise was enough to drive San insane as he pressed against your body and moved to look down at you.

“Fine,” You released a breath as you looked up at him with a hooded gaze, “but I swear to go if you’re lying to me.”

San didn’t need to hear anymore before he reached up to grab the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “I’m not.”

Then his lips were on your with an almost bruising force, stealing all of the air from your lungs. A meek whimper fell from your lips as you tried your best to keep up with his pace, but it was impossible. San’s other hand moved from the counter to grab your waist, pulling you even closer, leaving absolutely no space between your bodies.

“San.” You let out a breathy moan as his lips trailed down your jaw before latching onto the burning skin of your neck. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders tightly, trying to ground yourself, but your mind was slowly slipping as San left dark purple and red marks along your jugular.

“Don’t slip away from me yet, darling; we’re nowhere near started.” His voice was husky as his lips grazed over your ear before nipping at the shell, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

His hands trailed down the length of your body as he captured your lips once more, finding the back of your thighs and hoisting you onto the countertop. A gasp fell from your lips, muffled by his as your hands clutched onto his shoulders.

Slotting his body between your thighs, he grabbed the back of your neck once more, pulling you down to kiss him once more. His tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you obey, parting your lips and allowing his tongue to explore every inch of your warm cavern. 

He soaked in all of the little sounds that you made as he continued to play with your body until you were shaking in his hold from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. His fingers danced along the hem of your sleep shorts, igniting a fire in the pit of your gut, and a whine fell from your swollen lips when he moved away.

“As hot as it would be, I’m not gonna fuck you in the kitchen. Not this time, at least.” He chuckled, watching the way your doe eyes stared up at him, a silent plea gleaming in your orbs. Reaching down, he grabbed the back of your thighs once more before hoisting you onto his waist.

“Shit.” You groaned when you felt his hands cup your ass after your legs wrapped around him. The way his scent was surrounding you like this was making you dizzy, your nose buried in his neck as he carried you out of the kitchen. “You smell so good, Sannie…”

A chill ran down San’s spine when he felt your lips press against the sensitive skin right under his ear. He tried to keep his composure as you left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck. There were sure to be marks in the morning.

“Princess…” San warned as you snaked your hand under the collar of his shirt, raking your nails down the taunt skin of his back. A loud gasp fell from your lips when his hand made contact with your ass, the skin stinging from the force, “don’t be a brat now.” He growled, but you only responded by latching onto his neck, biting down harshly, threatening to break the skin. “Fuckkk.” 

San was losing his composure by the minute, and the moment he finally made it to his bedroom, he was on his last strand of sanity. Throwing you onto his bed, he quickly crawled over you, trapping your body underneath his once more.

You looked up at him, focusing on how his eyes trailed all over your face before settling on your lips. His hips were pressed firmly against yours, and you could feel his bulge pressing right against your clothed core. You rolled your hips in search of some kind of friction, but San was quick to halt your movements, his grip tight on your hip as he moved a breath away from your face.

“Such a needy little thing. Weren’t you just saying today that you didn’t want me?” He teased, and your face grew warm as you recalled your conversation in the car, “but don’t worry, sweetheart, as long as you’re a good girl, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want.” San smirked as he took in your lust-filled expression, your hips trying to move despite his firm grip.

“I’ll be good, Sannie, please.” You begged, hands grabbing at his shirt, causing him to chuckle darkly.

He then moved his hand from your hip, fingers hooking around the band of your shorts, tugging the fabric down your legs harshly, leaving your bottom half completely bare.

As soon as the cool air hit your heated center a whine fell from your lips, tears already pricking at your eyes. San watched you intently as he moved his fingers down your navel, slipping between your folds, collecting some of your slick on his digits before pressing down on your clit. A choked moan tore through your lips, back arching off of the bed.

“So wet and so sensitive, aren’t you, princess.” San chuckled as he slowly circled your clit, watching your jaw fall slack. Moving from your clit he traced along your slit before plunging one of his fingers into your warm heat.

“San!” You cried out at the sudden intrusion, tears already spilling from the corner of your eyes.

“You’re so fucking tight, fuck when was the last time you got laid?” San groaned, not missing the way you covered your lower face, and turned away from his gaze. Chuckling, he bent down, peppering kisses along your exposed collarbone, “No need to get shy on me now, darling, plus you won’t have to worry about that after today.”

Heat rushed up your neck at what his words implied, but any thoughts were wiped away the moment he interested a second digit, his thumb pressing down on your clit. Your back arched off of the bed, pressing your chest against his when he brushed over that spongy spot deep inside of your cunt. Taking note of your reaction, San continued to abuse that spot, relishing in all of the lewd, wet noises that were coming from your cunt the wetter you got.

“San– fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You cried out, eyes squeezing shut as your legs started to tremble, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening by the second, threatening to snap any moment.

“Go ahead, baby, make a mess of my fingers.” San cooed, nipping at your jaw as your high came crashing down, your whole body trembling in his hold while he worked you through your orgasm. Once the high faded, it was replaced with oversensitivity, making you whine, grabbing at his wrist.

“San–” You choked on a moan as he curled his fingers in you once more, a sadistic smirk playing on his lips. 

He so desperately wanted to absolutely demolish you, leave you ruined for any other man, so you had no choice but to come back to him. But he didn’t want to scare you away when he finally had you right where he wanted you. So he decided to leave his more sadistic tendencies for another time.

With one last stroke of his finger, he pulled them from your soaping cunt, causing you to whine from the empty feeling. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, making your body turn into putty in his hands.

“Don’t worry, princess, I won’t leave you empty for too long.” He slurred, lips trailing down your jaw once more before he pulled away to discard his clothes.

Your eyes were glued to his body, watching as he stripped himself. The sight left your mouth watering the more skin he showed. His perfectly chiseled abs were covered in a thin layer of sweat making his honey skin glow under the dim lighting. Noticing your gaze, he smirked, tugging his sweats off of his legs and letting his cock spring free.

The sight of his angry red tip made you swallow hard. Sure, you have been with a few guys in the past, but none of them were this big. Sensing your unease, San shot you a reassuring smile before climbing onto the bed, his back resting against the headboard. He then motioned you over, and you slowly climbed onto your shaky knees, making your way over to him.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart. We’ll go slow.” His voice was soft as you climbed into his lap, hands tight on his shoulders as you leaned against him. "And if at any point you feel uncomfortable, we can stop, okay?” he asked, fingers rubbing your thighs soothingly. You nodded, but San wasn’t satisfied with just that. He grabbed your jaw gently to pull your attention to his face. “Words, princess.”

“O-Okay.” You stumbled over your words when you felt him press against your bare heat, making your whole body shiver.

“Good girl.” He praised you, hands finding the ends of your t-shirt and pulling it swiftly over your head, leaving you in your bra. You started to rock your hips against his, dragging your soaping cunt along his dick, making him hiss through his teeth. His hands trailed from your thighs up your back until he reached the clasp of your bra, quickly undoing it and throwing it away, letting your breast pop free. “So pretty.” San groaned, hands moving up to cup your soft mounds while you continued to rock against him.

“Sannie…” You whined when he started to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples, another high already close. 

“Fuck you’re so hot like this.” San groaned as he watched you grind against him with fever, chasing another high, your hands gripping onto his shoulders tightly. He then slapped your ass once more, causing you to yelp and your movements to falter.

He then grabbed both of your ass cheeks and pulled you flush against him, another choked moan tearing from your lungs when your clit pressed against his pelvic bone. Using his strength, he guided your hips against his until you were a whining, trembling mess as another orgasm washed over you.

“F-Fuck San.” You choked out another moan as he continued to rock your hips, prolonging your orgasm. Your nails dug into his skin, threatening to break it as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

After a few more moments, he let up on his grip, allowing you to just lay against him, but the feeling of his throbbing cock under you made your mind reel, wondering what it would feel like to be stuffed full.

“Come on, princess, ride me.” He nipped at your shoulder, causing you to shudder, but you lifted yourself from his neck nonetheless.

San leaned back, watching as you rose on shaky legs and reached behind you to grab his cock. Swallowing thickly, you started to jerk him off, earning yourself a low groan from the male, watching the translucent precum spill from the slit before you moved to slide the head between your slick folds.

You whimpered as you slowly started to sink down on his length, head becoming fuzzy from the stretch while San bit the inside of his cheek to keep from pulling you down all of the way. He didn’t want to hurt you, so he let you take your time, for now, watching with hooded eyes as you let yourself sink deeper and deeper on his cock.

You both moaned simultaneously, him from the way your tight cunt squeezed around him and you from the way he stretched you wide open. Tears dripped from your eyelashes as you tried your best to sit down fully, but you were starting to think you couldn’t fit him, making you whine. San chuckled, his hands squeezing your hips gently.

“Come on, princess," he cooed at you, watching you intently as you continued to try and sink deeper. "You’re almost there; you can do it, can’t you?”

You nodded vigorously, eye meeting his with a pleading look, and he tightened his grip on your hips, helping you sink down his length until he was fully bottomed out. He hissed through gritted teeth, eyes squeezing shut from how tight you were, and you let out a loud whine before your head dropped down into the crook of his neck.

You could feel him in all of the right places making your brain turn into mush, even more tears spilling from your eyes. It took you a few moments to get used to the new stretch before you even attempted to roll your hips against his. San groaned at the way your cunt continued to squeeze around him, your pace almost painfully slow, and he had to steel himself so he wouldn’t take over, but his sanity was hanging on by a thin string.

All of your sweet sounds were muffled by his neck as you continued to rock against him. The feeling of his tip brushing over your sweet spot with every roll of your hips made stars dance along your vision. San let you continue your treacherous pace while his hands continued to roam your body, squeezing at every inch of skin he could reach, soaking in all of the soft noises you were making.

Soon enough you were able to lift yourself up before dropping back down, all of your slick making it easier to glide along his length. San groaned as you kept your slow pace, his grip tight on your hip, trying his best to keep up, but he was slowly slipping away.

“Sannie.” You whined as he pulled your face out of his neck, crashing his lips into yours, swallowing all of your noises as you continued to ride him. His hands guided your hips, positioning you into a new angle that left you gasping for air, your pace faltering altogether.

San groaned as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, “Fuck princess, I’m sorry.” He apologized, and before you could even ask what he meant, he planted his feet behind you and stilled your hips before bucking his hips up into you.

A choked moan tore from your lungs as he set a brutal pace, his tip hitting all of the right places to leave you seeing stars. Incoherent moans and cries of his name fell from your lips as your back arched against him. San took the chance to latch his lip onto your chest, sucking and biting at the skin, leaving behind dark marks, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Your hand flew to his head, fingers combing through his hair as he continued to suck on your breast.

White spots started to cloud your vision as you felt your high creep up on you, a loud whine was pulled from you as San bit down on your nipple. You couldn’t even warn him as your body tipped over the edge, your body convulsing in his hold, broken and incoherent babbles being the only thing that came from your mouth as San continued to fuck into you.

“Fuck baby,” He groaned loudly from how tightly you were squeezing around him, and he knew he couldn’t last much longer, not with the way your sweet little cunt was sucking him in, “‘M close– fuck, where do you want me to cum princess?” 

You whined as your head fell back from the overstimulation, your thighs burning, begging to relax. You didn’t even register his question until he nipped at your collarbone.

“Inside.” You whined, and San could have sworn he died and gone to heaven, “I’m on the pill, inside, please, Sannie.” Your begging only brought San even closer to his end, and with a few more thrusts, he brought your hips flush against his, spilling deep into your womb.

The warmth was a new feeling making you squirm in San’s lap, your walls spazzing around him as you came once again, milking his cock for all that he was worth. Your body shook in his hold as you buried your face in his shoulder once more, a strangled whine muffled by his skin.

San wrapped his arms around your body as you both came down from your highs, his fingers tracing shapes on your skin to help soothe you. After a few moments, he pulled your face from his neck, making you look up at him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, princess, and then we can sleep," he whispered as he peppered your face with soft kisses, causing you to giggle.

So he slipped out of your spent cunt before helping you clean up and handing you one of his shirts to slip on, even if your room was just across the hall. Then, once you were both back in the bed with the lights out, he pulled you close to him, his face buried in your neck, pressing gentle kisses all along your skin.

“God, I love you.” He spoke quietly, unsure if you had even heard him until you shifted around to face him.

Your hand cupped his face gently as you pulled him down for a kiss, this one completely different from the ones before. It was sweet, gentle, and filled with longing like the both of you had waited an eternity to share it.

“I love you too, even if you get on my last nerve.” You smiled as he chuckled and nuzzled his head into your chest. And that’s how the two of you fell asleep, content and happy in one another's arms.

–

The next morning, you woke up to the sun shining on your face. Groaning, you moved your arm to cover your face. The sun never came through your window this early in the morning, so confused, you cracked your eyes open and looked around.

Your heart then dropped when you realized that this wasn’t your room but San’s. Swallowing thickly, you looked down, seeing that you were wearing his shirt. All of the events from the night before flashed in your mind, making your face heat up.

Looking over, you found the spot next to you empty, making your heart sink. You couldn’t help but think of the worst: that he had been lying to you the entire time, and you felt stupid for even thinking that he was being genuine.

“Stupid.” You grumbled as you caught sight of your phone plugged in by his bed. Reaching over, you grabbed it and turned the screen on. Seeing the time, you almost had a heart attack until you saw the date, seeing that you didn’t have any classes today.

Then, your attention was brought to the few messages you had: one from Harper, one from a project partner, and one from San. You debated opening the one from San, but despite your better judgment, you clicked on it.

‘Had to get to class this morning, but there’s breakfast in the fridge. I’ll see you after class, princess.’

Your cheeks flushed red as you reread the message multiple times, hoping that you weren’t just hallucinating. Biting back a smile you typed a quick message saying that you’ll see him after class and thank you for the breakfast before backing out of his message.

Throwing the blankets off your body, you moved to stand, only to have to sit right back down as your legs shook. The tips of your ears turned red as you remembered how rough San had been the night before, and butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach.

Once you were able to stand on your wobbly legs, you made your way out of the room and towards the kitchen, messaging Harper. She then called you so you propped your phone up on the counter so she could still see you as you grabbed your food.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty– are those hickeys?!” She exclaimed, nearly making you drop your plate as you quickly turned to look at her like a deer caught in headlights. “Wait… is that San’s shirt?”

Swallowing thickly, you closed the fridge before walking over to the counter. "Maybe… " you trailed on nervously, and Harper just fell silent for a few moments.

“Wooyoung owes me twenty bucks.” She cheered, and you couldn’t help but look at her with a raised eyebrow, “We bet on how soon you two would just fuck it out.”

“You– what?” You choked on the air as you looked at her with wide eyes causing her to erupt in a fit of giggles, wiping fake tears from the corner of her eyes after she calmed down.

“Girl, please. We all could sense the sexual tension between you two.” She shook her head as you just looked at her dumbfounded. “So… how was it? Pretty good if those hickeys are anything to go by.” 

Your face started to burn once more as you shoved your mouth full of food to avoid the conversation. Grabbing your phone, you walked into the dining room and sat down at the table. Harper watched you with a smirk getting a kick out of how flustered you were.

Swallowing the food, you opened your mouth to start talking, but thankfully, you heard the sound of the front door opening and let out a relieved sigh.

“San’s back. I’ll talk to you later.” You quickly told Harper, getting ready to hang up the call.

“Okay, okay, but I want the deets later!” She said hurriedly before you ended the call just as San rounded the corner.

Seeing him made you shift in your seat a little, and when he flashed you his signature dimpled smile, you were sure you would melt in the very chair you sat in.

“Morning, beautiful.” He walked over, pressing a light kiss on your cheek before making his way into the kitchen, your eyes never leaving his form. “I have another class but needed to grab a snack," he told you as he walked back into the room.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, knowing that he had plenty of snack options on campus and only came back to see you. Chuckling at your reaction, he made his way to the door once more.

“I’ll see you tonight, princess," he told you as you walked out of the dining room to watch him slip his shoes back on. "Maybe we can watch a movie?” He suggested, and you nodded softly, wrapping your arms around your body.

“Sure,” You smiled at him as you walked over, and he grabbed his school bag from the coat rack.

Turning, he grabbed your waist, pulled you flush against him, and kissed you deeply, “or maybe we can make our own.” He teased, his feline-like eyes narrowing as he watched red dust your cheeks, and you slapped his shoulder.

“Weirdo, go to class.” You pouted, trying to hide your embarrassment, but more so how much his words turned you on.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 3

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of sex, non-sexual nudity

series masterlist │my masterlist

logan sleeps in your bed now. night after night you found him on the hard floor, until you couldn’t deal with the thought of him being so uncomfortable just because he wanted to be near you. so you forced him into your bed, though you’re not sure if forced is the right word to use given how willingly he slipped in next to you - as if he’d done it a million times before, as if it was normal.

he’s a walking heater - you swear there’s a fire burning under his skin, working through his veins to spread throughout his body. you naturally run cold, you always have, so cuddling up to his warmth is a luxury. even in the beginning, when you didn’t want to fall asleep in his arms for fear of what it would mean for your relationship, you would wake bundled up in his arms, safe and protected and wanted in a way that made you never want to leave the bed.

it’s nice, really nice.

and it simultaneously sucks, because you’ve started having dreams of logan, of kissing him, calling him your husband, watching him rock a baby. and you’ve had other dreams too, the ones you’re sure logan can smell on you, with his advanced senses. he’s always awake watching you when you wake up from those dreams, his body still curled against yours, hard dick pressed against you. but he never does anything.

it’s horribly endearing. he’s obviously affected but won’t leave you, knows how much comfort you’ve found in his arms. so he grits his teeth and bears it. despite being half-animal, he’s more of a gentleman than most of the men you’ve met.

and you love knowing that you affect him, knowing that your feelings for him are not completely one-sided, even if you can only be sure of the physical component. when you leave the room to start on your morning routine, he stays behind.

you can’t be certain, but you imagine him taking his dick in his hand, stroking himself to completion, hard and desperate and quick, muffling the sound of his groans with a hand pressed to his mouth.

you’re not used to being woken up like this, however. logan hovers over you, face twisted into a snarl so full of hatred it brings tears to your eyes. his claws are out and have ripped holes in the sheets and the mattress, locking you in a makeshift cage.

his eyes are glazed over, like he’s not quite present in the moment. he’s somewhere else right now, lost somewhere in his mind where you can’t reach him.

this isn’t a slow awakening where you can take time to blink the sleep from your eyes, letting them flutter shut for two more minutes to enjoy the bliss of being not-quite awake. the adrenaline hits you hard and fast, your heartbeat pounding loud in your ears.

you’re trembling, can feel it with every breath you take, shaky exhales and sharp inhales. you’re careful not to make any sudden moves, worried about what logan may do to you.

you know him, know he wouldn’t hurt you. but he doesn’t see you right now, you don’t know who or what he’s seeing in your place. but he’s never looked at you with these eyes, with this level of anger - in fact, you can’t remember a time when he’s truly been angry at you. scared, cautious, tense, maybe. but not fury like this.

“logan,” you whisper.

the sound has barely left your throat when he pulls one clawed hand away from the mattress, tearing more of it in the process, before punching his claws towards your chest. you cry out, instinctually, and that snaps him out of it.

you feel the sharp sting of his metal claws dragging over your skin as he pulls away. it’s only a scratch, and not a terribly deep one at that. you’re used to small injuries, pricking yourself in the garden or accidentally cutting your thumb while cooking or any other stupid way to draw blood to the surface of your skin.

but it’s not the pain that matters, it’s the thought that if it took him a second longer to break out of his nightmare he could have pierced your heart, killed you. 

“logan,” you ask, shaky, “are you okay?”

he’s staring at you, eyes wide and frightened, but the hatred that was there is gone. his claws retract back into his skin. he nods, slow, never breaking eye contact with you.

and then you burst into tears.

you can’t stop, your cries hysterical. logan sits on the bed, moving away from you with every cry that rakes your body, but you grab at his arms desperately, needing him. somehow, despite logan being the reason for your fear, he’s the only thing you want, your mind calling out his name like a prayer.

he hesitates to touch you at first, but you beg him with a broken “please”, and then he’s all over you, pulling you into his lap, nuzzling his face into your neck. he kisses you softly on the skin there, a habit he’s taken up that you don’t mind. you probably should mind, but you’re unable to care about that when it feels so right.

you fall asleep crying in his arms, the exhaustion pulling you under. you wake up again with the sun, logan looking haggard and pale, still holding you. it seems he didn’t fall back asleep when you had.

your throat feels raw from crying, and you can feel the tear tracks where they dried on your skin.

“what was the nightmare about?” you try to ask him.

he shakes his head, every line around his face pulled taunt, “no.”

you’d expected such an answer, something short and succinct where he refuses to lay his problems on you. still, you’d hoped he might share some information, even a sliver of his story that could help you help him.

you’re still worried about logan, but there’s not much you can do if he won’t speak to you, so you leave the bed to wash the dried tears from your face. you go on with your routine as usual, keeping a closer eye on logan, waiting for possible signs to help you uncover the mystery of whatever the fuck is happening with him.

there are none, of course - he’s very difficult to read when he wants to be.

he doesn’t touch you as much, a step further behind you than usual. but otherwise his behaviour doesn’t change too greatly. he’s still sweet and grumpy and lovely.

you teach him how to cook your favourite breakfast foods, and to your surprise, it comes naturally to him. he works by your side like he’s always been there, listening to your instructions perfectly every time. the cuts on your chest still burn slightly, but simply feeling his presence by your side makes everything better.

you’re reading a book on the couch when logan returns from hunting. he never brings anything from his hunt into the house, for which you’re grateful, but he does drag in a lot of dirt. 

you have a routine by now, or at least the bones of one. he likes it when you help him clean up after a hunt or a run in the forest, and so do you. it’s the kind of moment you imagine you’d find in a book, with a couple so deeply in love that they can hardly stand to be apart for a second.

you’re still not completely comfortable with the idea of stripping naked in front of him, but logan has no such qualms. in the bathroom, he pushes his pants and boxers down in one motion.

you blush as he steps into the shower, so unashamed of his body. there’s a wild edge to him that you notice more in moments like these, where you realise the impact of not having those human memories, the socialisation that teaches you to dislike yourself, teaches you that confidence is a negative thing, makes you vain and egotistical.

the water soaks him in an instant, flattening his cute hair tufts against his scalp and you giggle at the way he looks like a wet kitten, though less disgruntled.

he tilts his head expectantly, waiting for you. his gaze is dark and heady, intense as you pull off your shirt, leaving you in only a bra. your face warms as you take off your skirt next, watching logan’s face the entire time, the way his eyes linger on your panties for a long, long moment.

it’s not the first time you’ve undressed in front of him, but every time the effect is the same. warmth pools in your stomach, a mix of arousal and nerves. he’s intoxicating, and that’s terrifying to you.

you don’t take off your bra and panties. they feel like armour, protecting you from being fully defenceless in front of him. it’s not like he couldn’t see the full shape of you, every curve of your body, the parts that you love about yourself, that make you smile at the mirror, and those you hate. 

still, it makes you feel like the one in control - he’s completely naked and you’re not - though you know that he’s larger and stronger than you, that really he’s letting you be in control of the situation, not moving too much as you wash the blood and grime from his body. 

he cares so much about your comfort. sometimes it makes you want to cry. 

“you, now,” he grunts.

“what?”

you’re taken aback at the break in the quiet. it always shocks you a little when he speaks, his voice rough from disuse. 

“i will clean you, now,” he gestures at you and you laugh nervously, taking a step back, as far as you can until you hit the tiled wall. it’s not a very large shower, there’s not really anywhere to go.

“logan,” you whisper, heart in your throat, “no. not right now, okay? finish up your shower, i think- yeah i’m going to go now.”

you practically run out of the steam-filled bathroom, feeling like you’re going to collapse at any second. the thought of him stripping you out of your remaining clothes, unclasping your bra, pulling your panties down your legs and tossing them aside, his hands running over your body, even for something as innocent as washing you, something you’ve done with him a dozen or so times.

you’re having enough sex fantasies about him as it is, you don’t need to add more fuel to the fire. and the thing is, you want it. you want him. you want those fantasies to come to life. but you can’t help but fear that logan’s only clinging to you because you’re the one who found him when he was at his most vulnerable.

when he goes out into the world, whether that’s sometime soon or if it takes years, will he start to resent you? will he find someone better? will the soft intimacy that’s been growing between you collapse like a house of cards?

you’re in your bedroom, laying on top of the sheets, staring up at the ceiling when logan enters.

“you’re upset?” he asks, and at the tone of his voice, the pain that you hear reflected in each syllable, your head turns his way. he looks devastated, like the idea that you might be upset at him is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him in his life. you’re very certain that’s incorrect.

he looks so innocent like this, not a wild animal with claws that rip through flesh like butter, but a man, anxious and unsure and pleading. you can’t help the smile that rises to your lips. you shake your head as much as you can against the mattress and reach your arms out towards him, a wordless beckoning.

“never,” you say.

within moments he’s in your arms, hugging you tight, his face pressed into your chest. it’s nice, the solid weight of him, like a very heavy weighted blanket. minutes pass, and then logan shifts his body just enough to look up at you.

he makes eye contact with you, and in his eyes you see a raging storm. his face is blank as it often is, a mask that you can’t read, but you can feel his muscles tense as if preparing for a fight, can catch a glimpse of several different emotions in the hazel staring back at you.

he leans up, until his face is barely a centimetre away from yours, and your breath catches. you’re scared to hope, terrified, even if all signs point in one direction, so you don’t move closer but you don’t move away, eyes fluttering shut as if it’ll all become easier, as if the butterflies in your stomach will recede, if you’re not looking directly at him.

he closes the distance between you, mouth meeting yours in a chaste, soft kiss. it’s nothing like you expected from logan, feral and intense in everything he does. but he’s waiting for a response from you, scared in the way you’ve only ever seen him once, when you’d first found him in the barn.

he pulls away and you grab onto him desperately, forcing him to crash back into you. you share open-mouthed kisses, hot and urgent yet so loving. it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed about, perfect in the way little else can be, and you feel tears prickling in your eyes, a sob catching in your throat.

you’re absolutely fucked, your heart stolen by him, and you can only hope logan meets you where you are and doesn’t hurt you.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

[strang3lov3]

Under the Table

Roman takes you to dinner. You eat pasta and he eats you (4k)

Tags - smut, stepcest, stepdaddy!roman, age gap, dom!roman, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), public sex, teasing, emotional boners, you make daddy blush and get all bashful so he reminds you who calls the shots, like Dennis Reynolds, Roman has feelings again but he’s still disgustinggggg, does he want to be your father or your daddy, oh he is getting so soft. But someone else is too 🫵 implied almond/alcoholic mom + other mommy issues,,,planting some seeds here don’t mind me,,, Fic help - @beefrobeefcal thank you for brainstorming with me and for giving me your eyeballs! @endlessthxxghts, ditto!! A/N - yeah I wrote a birthday fic for my birthday to my birthday party on my birthday with a birthday gift. shut the fuck up about it. I love you. I think next time we see him he’ll fuck your ass maybe. I don’t know. Someone jump into my inbox and tell me something gross they should do because I need to cancel out this goddamn sweetness. Rotting the teeth right out of my skull smh. also, I know we waited a while for more stepdaddy. I appreciate your patience more than you know 🩷 updates may continue to be slow this month because we’re getting down to the wire with school and all that stuff.

Stepdaddy!Roman Roy

7:34 AM. You wake to texts from old friends and relatives wishing you another happy year around the sun, don’t party too hard and so on and so forth. It does warm your heart to know that people are thinking of you. Your past birthdays haven’t felt much like the birthdays you had when you were younger, when you were so excited to celebrate your day you couldn’t sleep. 

You pull on a sweatshirt over your thin pajamas and head downstairs to make yourself a bowl of cereal, and find Roman in the kitchen. “Morning, sunshine. Go sit down in the dining room.”

“Mm,” you grumble, voice gravelly from sleep. Your eyes are droopy and you still look tired, barely conscious. 

Roman eyes you as you sit down. You rest your head on the table, and you’re wearing his sweatshirt. He’s not entirely sure how you wound up with it. He doesn’t say anything, though, only smirks to himself. 

Roman goes back into the kitchen to plate some blueberry pancakes he made for you, just like he’s done since you were young. Roman’s not much of a cook, but this is one meal he can make and that he can make well. He wouldn’t do it for just anyone, but you asked him once when you were a kid and he didn’t have it in his heart to tell you no. Roman remembers how crappy that first batch came out, but how you didn’t complain. Honestly, you probably didn’t even notice with your pancakes covered in so much butter and syrup and whipped cream. You probably couldn’t even taste the blueberries. But thus, tradition stuck, and Roman’s blueberry pancake game vastly improved over the years. He liked making them for you as much as you liked eating them.

Roman returns to you with the plate of blueberry pancakes and sets it down in front of you. “Voilà.”

You lift your head up and grin when you see the pancakes Roman made for you. It’s straight out of a commercial, melted butter and syrup dripping down the edges with a dollop of whipped cream right on top. “Aww. You remembered,” you beam. You didn’t ask Roman for the pancakes this year. 

Roman blushes, and he feels his heart beat harder. It’s been so long since you’ve smiled at him like that, and it makes him nervous. “No. I made them for myself, actually, but I was feeling generous. This is my good deed for the week.”

“You still remembered.”

Roman ignores the accusation. “I gave you all the fucked up ones, just so you know. And I spit in the batter.”

“Mm. Tasty.”

Fuck. Your eyes are sparkling, your smile is so warm. Roman can’t stomach it, how you make him feel sometimes. “Oh, shut up and eat your fucking pancakes, birthday girl,” he snaps, contorting his face to fight his smile. “I hate you. You’re welcome.”

You roll your eyes and eat your pancakes, humming at the delicious flavor. Roman grabs your favorite mug and sets it down next to you, then fills it with the coffee he made. Before you can thank him, the clattering of high heels on the hardwood floor interrupts you. Your mom is on the phone and stops briefly in the dining room when she smells the pancakes Roman made for you. She leans over your shoulder and takes your fork from your hand and cuts off a bite for herself. “Mom,” you complain. 

“You can share,” she scolds, covering the mic on her phone.  

Roman speaks, “Wait, don’t. I made those special for -”

Your mom smiles and kisses Roman on the cheek before he can finish his sentence, and then she’s out the door while still talking with Erica. 

Roman looks to you for your reaction, and your face falls. That beautiful smile on your lips just moments ago, snuffed out like a candle. “I don’t think she remembered,” you tell Roman, defeated. 

“Oh no, I don’t think that’s true,” Roman lies. “I’m sure she just - I don’t know,” he sighs, resigning to the reality of the situation. You can expect some mushy and emotional text from her later, probably tomorrow. “No, you’re right - that was bullshit.” Roman squeezes your shoulder affectionately and tells you he’s sorry. 

Roman means it. He knows exactly how it feels to have a parent forget your birthday. His dad only remembered a handful of times, and every present always felt empty. It’s part of why Roman’s always put effort into making your day special each year. He never got the birthday he wanted or deserved, but he could give that to you.

“Listen,” Roman says, “I gotta run to work now. Don’t party too hard. Or do. I don’t care. It’s your day. Just don’t snort coke in my bathroom, okay? Anywhere else. And don’t do it before, like, four in the afternoon.” Roman pats your shoulder. “Just basic human decency.”

“I’m not gonna do coke in your bathroom, Roman.”

“I just feel the need to say it after the Uncle Ken incident, you know?” You laugh at that, though you shouldn’t. Roman continues, “Anyway, I want you to eat up all of your highly nutritious breakfast and when I come home tonight, you better be in your favorite dress.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m taking you out.”

“You are?” 

“Duh, genius. Like me and you always do on your birthday, remember? Or are you forgetting as you approach your crone years?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off. You’re closer to senile than I am. Pushing fifty there, aren’t you, Roman?”

“Maybe. I’ve got some years left, so watch it,” he warns, then kisses the top of your head. “I fuck like I’m thirty, anyway.”

-

The rest of the day drags on, truthfully. You finish your pancakes, then go upstairs and treat yourself to a bubble bath, your vibrator joining you. Afterwards, you dress yourself in comfortable clothes and drive yourself around the city, picking up birthday freebies from different stores and fast food restaurants. When you come home, you do your hair and makeup in the way that makes you feel prettiest, then look through your closet for your favorite dress, just like Roman said. 

Your favorite dress. It’s not an easy decision. You have a favorite dress that’s comfortable, a favorite dress on your body, a favorite patterned dress. You slide the hangers across the closet rod, contemplating, contemplating…until you come across that one purple dress. 

You remember Roman pulling the zipper of that dress up your spine, his warm hands on your waist. How he fucked you in that closet, bent you over the vanity and split you open. You watched him in the mirror as you gushed on his cock. You wear that dress tonight, then pick out some shoes to match. 

Roman presses his horn repeatedly to call you outside. He’s fucking obnoxious, but you laugh. You rush downstairs and out the door, and when Roman sees you he gets out of the driver’s seat and rounds the front of his car to open up the passenger side door for you. “Look at you, birthday girl,” he says, chewing minty gum. “You look so grown up.”

“Ew. Don’t, please.”

“So that’s your favorite dress, huh?”

Knowing Roman recognizes your dress makes your cheeks warm. “Yeah,” you mumble softly. 

“Mm. Mine too,” he whispers, then shuts the door. He gets back into the driver’s seat and presses buttons on the screen until his car’s Bluetooth connects to your phone. “I think your birthday earns you DJ rights, yeah?” Roman pulls the gear shifter into drive. 

“I’d say so,” you agree, picking out your favorite playlist on Spotify. Roman puts his hand on your thigh, inching it up and under your skirt. He doesn’t do more than an occasional squeeze, and tapping his fingertips on your skin. Still, it excites you. 

Once at the restaurant, Roman takes your hand and helps you out of the car. You read the sign of the restaurant, Adalina, and Roman leads you inside. You notice he’s holding a little gift bag. “Reservation for Roy,” he tells the host, who then ushers you both to a corner booth. The lights are dim, tables covered in floor-length white cloths. There’s people chatting at tables and at the bar, someone softly playing piano. Once seated, the host lights a candle at your table. 

“Your uh - your boy toy from a while ago. Is this where he took you? I thought you said something about not liking it,” Roman asks, unfolding his napkin and placing it on his thigh. 

You shake your head. “No,” you answer. “I’ve never been here.”

“Good, that’s good…you guys still talk?”

You shoot him a look at the same time your server comes by to place a plate of bread and oil at your table and to pour water in your glasses. “Can I start you off with some wine, something else to drink?”

You look at Roman, who shrugs. “All you,” he says. 

“I’m fine with water.” 

Roman says the same. He figured you’d forgo drinking tonight, even if it was just one little glass of wine. That’s why he had you make the decision - he doesn’t want you feeling pulled in either direction. You’re not much of a drinker, with your mom being the opposite. It makes sense. 

Your server leaves to give you a little while to browse the menu and pick out appetizers and dinner. Roman places that gift bag from earlier in front of you. 

“For me?” You reach for the bag. 

“For you,” Roman replies, mocking your tone. 

You pull the tissue paper out of the bag before pulling out the gift itself - it’s…you don’t know what you’re looking at. It’s some bizarre figure of a frog dressed as a cowboy, riding…a bearded dragon? Baffled and wearing a smile, you turn it over in your hand. You wonder where on god’s green earth Roman even found something like this. 

“I thought of you,” Roman says. “Has your name written all over it.”

“Oh Roman,” you sigh dramatically, “You shouldn’t have.”

“I know, I know.”

You examine the weird little toy some more, giggling at all of the details. Roman’s fucking with you, but you do love the figurine. He knew you would. 

Roman reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a fancy leather box, then slides it across the tablecloth quietly. “What..?”

“Shush. Just open it.”

You put down your figurine and open the box, gasping at the sight. A gorgeous, multi-stone sapphire pendant sparkles above black velvet. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, the design very intentional. Unique. “Roman…”

“Umm,” Roman hums nervously, hovering over you to point at the pendant, “They’re sapphires, so blue- they’re like blueberries,” he stutters, gesturing to the multiple round-cut stones. “‘Cause of the pancakes I make you…uh…sometimes.” Roman points to the little diamonds between the sapphires, “And the diamonds, I don’t know. I thought it was a nice accent sort of thing. And you’re a girl, you know. You like sparkles.”

You’re touched. Not only is the piece gorgeous, but the thought Roman put into it warms your heart and makes it all the more special. There’s no way he just walked into a jeweler’s and picked this out of the display case. He thought up the design and had it custom made, probably weeks or months ago. Had to have. Carefully, you remove the pendant and its box chain from the box. 

“If you don’t l-” You put the piece of jewelry in Roman’s hand and turn your back to him. Roman smiles to himself. He puts the necklace over your chest and brings the chain around your neck, his nervously shaking fingers tickling your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “God, fuck - sorry, hang on,” he whispers, losing and finding his grip on the small clasp before successfully securing it. “There.” Excitedly, you pull out your phone and turn on your front-facing camera to admire the pendant on your skin. 

You turn off your phone and put it in your purse, then fling yourself at Roman, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. Roman freezes at first, then hugs you back gingerly, before finally squeezing you just as tightly, chuckling quietly at your palpable excitement. You pull away from the hug just enough to kiss him quickly on his lips, startling both yourself and Roman. “Yeah, so…” He rubs the back of his neck and blushes wildly, his cock quickly hardening in his pants. Roman coughs and adjusts his napkin over his lap, still feeling the pressure of your lips on his despite their absence. “Happy birthday, kiddo,” he whispers. 

“I love it. Thank you.” You look at Roman with sparkling eyes, pupils blown wide as you beam at him. It makes him blush even harder, his ears and neck turning red too. 

“Stop it, don’t - quit looking at me like that,” Roman scolds, avoiding eye contact. “It - it’s nothing.”

“I don’t know,” you reply, “I think it’s something.”

“Yeah, of course you think that. Because that’s the problem with your generation. You put labels on everything and think you’re all so special. Snowflakes,” he rants. “God, I can’t stand you people. You especially. I’d get that necklace for anyone.”

Defensive. He’s so fucking comically defensive, and it tickles you. “Hey, Roman,” you purr, in the mood to tease. 

Roman looks at you wearing a seemingly permanent smile on your lips as you touch and toy with your pendant. “What? What now?” he asks, flustered and impatient. 

“You’re kinda pink.”

“I’m not…pink,” Roman mumbles.

“You are. You’re blushing.”

“Shut the fuck up. I am not blushing.”

“No, you’re totally blushing. Your cheeks are all rosy.”

Roman buries his face in his hands and groans, eliciting a sweet giggle from you. The way you look at him, how you’re acting and making him feel. Tripping over his words, his heart hasn’t stopped pounding, cock achingly hard since you pecked his lips. You make him feel weak, and you’re not supposed to. Not like this. 

Your server returns then. “Are we ready to order?”

“Yes,” Roman quickly answers. “I’ll have the…fuck. One - one sec.” Roman raises a finger as he browses the menu. Sorry, you mouth to the server. “Entrees, entrees…” he mumbles.

“It’s right here,” you whisper, pointing to the entree section of Roman’s menu. His large bulge catches your eye, and you smile mischievously. When did that happen?

“Okay. Yeah. I think I’ll have the charred fil- fuck.”

Your server’s eyes widen at Roman, who quickly apologizes. Your hand is on his bulge, squeezing him through the fabric of his pants. 

“He wants the charred filet,” you cut in, answering for Roman. “I’ll have the gnocchi. Thank you,” you smile sweetly at the waiter, stroking Roman’s bulge over his pants. Silently, Roman gives the man a thumbs up and waves him away. Roman bites his lip as he waits for him to go back to the kitchen. “Alright, fuck this,” Roman snaps, squeezing your wrist and forcibly removing your hand from his lap. “You’re out of line.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’re being weird. Are you feeling okay?” 

“We’ve had a nice night, you know. Do you really wanna do this?”

“Do what?”

“Cute.” Roman wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his side. “I give you an inch and you take a mile.” 

“You’re still so flushed,” you tease. This time, Roman doesn’t smile bashfully. Instead, he wears a frown and puts his hand on your knee, under the skirt of your dress. His palm slides up your thigh until his fingers meet your panties, and he teases you over the fabric. “Ooh. Look who’s wet,” he mocks, feeling your sticky dampness. Roman hooks his fingers under your panties and pulls them, sliding them down your thighs. “Lift up. They’re coming off.” 

“What are you doing?” you hiss. You hold his forearm in both of your hands, attempting to pry his hand away from your lap. His muscles flex beneath your palm as he fights against you. Roman’s taking this much farther than you did.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You have to stop. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Not like this, not here, not - Jesus Christ.” Roman tugs your panties down to your knees, then lifts your legs over his lap so he can remove them the rest of the way. It’s not long before you’ll be soaking through your dress.

“You’re not behind the wheel anymore.” Roman stuffs your soaked panties into his pocket and spreads your legs wide, one of your thighs still resting on his. “Shouldn’t have been in the first place.” You’re completely exposed right now, anyone could see what Roman’s doing to you. What you’re letting him do to you. He wriggles his fingers underneath the skirt of your dress and presses his thumb against your sensitive clit, causing you to gasp and jerk your body, hitting your free leg against the table. The utensils on your plate clatter loudly, and Roman’s glass of water spills over and onto the tablecloth. Another guest at the restaurant looks at you, and you force a smile at them. “Ooh, nice one,” Roman taunts.

Roman’s rubbing you in circles now, using his free hand to tug your dress up and look at your bare pussy under the warm light of the candles at your table. You look at him with pleading eyes, begging him, “We shouldn’t be doing this, Roman. Not here. Not like this.”

“Yes, here, and yes, like this. Don’t fucking argue with me.” Roman buries two fingers into your cunt, pushing them in and out of you slowly, collecting your arousal. “You didn’t think this one through, did you?” 

He drags his slick fingers up and down your folds, feeling you becoming wetter by the second. He circles your clit lazily, rubbing it gently, listening closely to the wet noises you make. Your waiter returns with your meals, and just like you did to Roman, Roman keeps his hands on you. “Better keep it together,” he murmurs in your ear, pulling your skirt back over the front of your thighs. 

Your server sets Roman’s filet in front of him, then your gnocchi down in front of you. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Yeah, actually,” Roman answers. His demeanor has totally shifted. He’s cool, he’s back in control. “What are your desserts tonight? This one here has a pretty severe sweet tooth.”

“Dessert specials,” the server repeats. “I have to think. They change them up on us a lot.”

“Oh, take your time. We’ve got all night. Don’t we, kiddo?” 

“Mhm. Yep.” 

Roman takes a spoonful of his mashed potato side as your waiter thinks. “Tiramisu, of course,” he says. 

“Oh, well. Naturally.” Roman’s fingers slide down until he’s pressing them right against your slick little hole. 

“We have a cookie plate, too. A chocolate and hazelnut mousse cake. And a pineapple angel cake. And gelato.” 

Roman slides his fingers into your tight pussy, pressing them up to search for that spongy spot inside of you. “What flavors?”

“We have caramel butter cake, chocolate cashew raspberry…” 

The server’s voice becomes distant as he recites flavors. You squeak when Roman reaches your g-spot, swallowing your moans as he curls his fingers repeatedly against it. 

“We have sorbets, too.” 

“What sorbets?” Roman asks.

“Mango calamansi, cantaloupe, and lemongrass.” 

“Quite a dessert menu. Well, what do you think, birthday girl?”

“Tiramisu,” you mumble. 

“I didn’t catch that,” the server replies. “What was that?”

Roman answers for you, “She says she wants tiramisu. She’s just shy sometimes. Aren’t you?”

You glare at Roman, who smiles at you, flashing those perfect little teeth of his. His fingers stop suddenly - he has an idea. He cocks an eyebrow when your hips follow his hand, bucking into his palm, “Interesting,” he says, smiling fondly at your desperation. Your face feels hot and you feel out of your depth here. Roman was right to warn you about getting into this, about it being a nice night.

It worries you to see Roman scanning the room and biting his lip. He’s thinking, which is never good. “Roman. Whatever you’re thinking of doing - don’t.” 

Roman ignores your warning. “Keep telling me no and watch what happens,” he warns, then slides under the table with seamless ease. Once under the table, he pushes your thighs apart and pulls you close to the edge of your seat, putting one of your legs over his shoulder. 

He licks your inner thighs, his scruff abrasive against your damp skin. Roman licks you higher and higher, pulling you closer to his waiting mouth where you can feel his hot breath against your core. His head bulges a bit under the white tablecloth, and then you feel it - one long, fat lick of his tongue up your seam. “Ohhh my god,” you moan, garnering a look from someone at a nearby table. You smile and take a sip of your water with shaky hands. 

Roman starts small with little licks, sucking your labia into his mouth. First one side, then the other. His hands rest on your thighs, hot against your skin and squeezing your flesh. He licks over your clit next, then sucks it between his lips. He alternates between those two actions, stopping and starting all over again and again. You want more and less of it, of Roman, all at once.

Roman gently tugs the hood of your clit up, exposing your most sensitive part of yourself to his lips and tongue. He slides his two fingers inside you once more, fucking you on those digits as he sloppily licks your clit. You arch into his touch and reach under the table to hold his head and tug on his hair. “Roman,” you whimper. 

He coaxes release from you effortlessly, patiently using his tongue to draw steady circles on your clit as he curls those long, bony fingers inside you. You bite your lip so hard it breaks skin, squeezing Roman’s head with your thighs and whimpering softly as you feel the beginning of your climax begin to take over. 

Fuck. Your server is back with the tiramisu Roman had ordered for you. “The tiramisu,” he says, placing it on the table. “I apologize, I forgot to ask - do you and your date want coffee to go with dessert?”

“N- nah- no-” you stutter, though it comes out more as a moan as Roman fucks you with his tongue through your orgasm. Roman slaps your thigh and you jump in your seat, earning yourself a strange look from your server. Wrong answer. “Sor - yeah - yes. Yes.” Roman kisses your inner thigh in approval. 

Your poor fucking waiter. He nods wordlessly to go back into the kitchen and retrieve coffee for you and Roman. At the same time, Roman emerges from under the table with his cheeks flushed and his hair mussed and out of place, which is entirely your fault. “Fuck,” you whisper. Hastily, you finger-comb his hair into place. 

Roman grabs a spoon and takes the first bite of the tiramisu. “Mm,” he hums. “Sorry, birthday girl. Dad tax.”

Roman scoops up another bite of tiramisu, then brings the spoon to your lips. You take the bite, your cheeks warming when you taste your arousal on the metal. 

-

It’s quiet in the house when you and Roman come home. He stops briefly in the kitchen to put your leftovers away, then follows you up the steps and into your bedroom. “Need help with your zipper?” 

“Mhm. Please” 

Roman pulls your zipper down your back, then turns you around. Before you can think, he cups your face with both hands and kisses you, really kisses you. It’s no accidental peck on the lips, no. It’s intentional, deep and deliberate. His lips are soft, his tongue melding perfectly together with yours. When he pulls away, you look at him with knitted brows.

“You kissed me first, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but–”

“Then it’s on the table.” 

Roman kisses you once more, then pulls away again. His eyes are dark and sparkling, and warm, too. He touches the pendant on your chest, holding it between his fingers before rubbing his thumb across the stones. It’s so intimate, and it leaves you breathless and confused. “Good birthday?” 

You nod. Roman smiles at you. 

“I’m glad. Goodnight, kiddo.” 

tysm for reading!! please scream nice and horny things at me if you enjoyed ♡ reblogs, comments, and asks are so appreciated and keep me motivated to write for you guys

tags (lmk if you wanna be added or removed)

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson

@moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@romanarose @kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamili @verstappensrealwife

@thesummerpetrichor @lilipads @luiscarrutherss @pastelpinkflowerlife @baronessvonglitter

@myromeow @ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh

[hairiths]

𝘼 𝘿𝘼𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙀𝙍’𝙎 𝙋𝙍𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝘽𝙀𝙂𝙄𝙉𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 𝜗𝜚 (part one)

Cecilia has always been a daughter of God; her family, her past, and her future will always include Him.

However, her family despises her, treating her poorly simply because she is a woman. “They’ve always dreamed of having a boy,” she says, staring at the floor and playing with the fabric of her vest. She then looks up, adding, “and then they got me.” A tear falls down her rosy cheek.

It was mid-June when the Jones family moved to this small town in America, seeking peace after their chaotic life in New York—no more city noise or drama. Cecilia brings her suitcases into her room before running downstairs, where the food is already on the table, ready to be eaten. She sits down and takes her mother’s and sister’s hands, all of them holding each other for a prayer. “May God bless our food. Amen,” her father says. “Amen,” they all repeat.

Gwen, her sister, has never been obedient; she is anything but ordinary. She hates the church, her family, and her life. While chewing the exquisite lasagna their mother made, she is glued to her phone. “Gwen,” Cecilia whispers, referring to the phone and how their parents are looking at her, “put that down.”

“Girls, eat quickly and get ready for bed. I don’t want to be late for church tomorrow morning,” their mother instructs. “And Cecilia, please compose yourself; you’ll look like a boy if you sit like that.”

“Yes, Mother.” Cecilia looks down, straightening her posture.

The sun is shining when Cecilia wakes up and walks to her bathroom to wash her face and do her makeup. She starts with a small amount of concealer, softly patting it onto her face, followed by some blush and brown mascara, finishing with a touch of gloss on her rosy lips.

While getting dressed and doing her hair, the door to her room suddenly bangs open, making her jump. “Where’s my fucking eyeliner?” Gwen screams, rummaging through Cecilia's makeup bag. “Gosh, Gwen, you scared me,” Cecilia whispers. “Here.” She rolls her eyes and hands Gwen the makeup product as her sister snatches it and quickly leaves.

After a little while, both sisters are ready and head to the exit, where their parents are already waiting. Their mother hugs them with a huge smile, while their father opens the door for the three women.

Once in the church, they take a seat and listen to Father Charlie’s sermon. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Gwen whispers. “Shut up, Gwen,” Cecilia replies, smiling at her.

Cecilia quickly wipes away her tears. “Then my sister came to life and saved me. Even though we had conflicts, we always stood by each other,” she begins to sob. “I miss her.”

Father Charlie looks down. “Is this the reason you haven’t been attending my sermons anymore?” he asks, looking through the privacy screen. She nods. “I see,” he continues, “you’ve missed many of my lessons as well. But I understand; you’ve been through a lot. However, it’s been months already, Cecilia, and you need to be on the same page as the other girls, or you’ll never become a nun.”

“I know…” she nods. “What can I do?”

He looks up again. “Hear me out: you can come here any time after my sermons, and I can give you private lessons. How does that sound?” he speaks softly.

Cecilia’s smile widens at his words. “Yes,” she nods. “Thank you, Father.”

“8 P.M. here, okay? I’ll be waiting.”

EXPLORE THE ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS HERE🤍

© hairiths 2024 — I own only this story and some characters I have created, including Sister Cecilia Jones, Gwen Jones (Cecilia's sister), Lenny Jones (Cecilia's mother), and William Jones (Cecilia's father), among others. I give credit for the remaining content to the series "Grotesquerie" by Ryan Murphy. This is the only platform where I have published the story. Please do not copy or translate it without permission or proper attribution.

[kokomyass]

sleepless nights

it is one of those days when you can't seem to slumber and toji can see through your disguise >3<

The night was still, and the only sound in the room was the steady rhythm of Toji’s breathing. You lay beside him, nestled under the thick, warm blankets, eyes squeezed shut, trying your hardest to look like you were fast asleep. But you knew he’d see right through it if he turned his attention your way. Toji could always tell.

You’d struggled with insomnia for as long as you could remember. You hated nights like this—lying in the dark, counting seconds, trying not to disturb the peace of Toji’s deep, effortless sleep. He looked so comfortable, led on his back! one arm covering his forehead and the other outstretched under your head, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. The thought of accidentally waking him up made you feel guilty.

Maybe if you stayed still enough, he wouldn’t notice.

But then you felt him stir beside you. His arm shifted slightly, and you tensed, trying not to breathe too loudly. You heard him take a deeper breath, and then a low, sleepy murmur followed.

“Y/N.”

Your heart skipped. Maybe if you didn’t answer, he’d just go back to sleep. You held your breath, hoping he’d buy your act.

Toji’s voice came again, rough around the edges but unmissably alert now. “Stop pretending. I know you’re awake.”

A sigh escaped you before you could stop it. “I was trying not to wake you.”

He made a sound between a scoff and a chuckle, pulling himself up onto one elbow. His dark hair fell a little messily over his face, and his eyes were heavy-lidded but sharp as ever. "You think you can fool me?” he murmured, reaching over to brush his knuckles lightly along your cheek. “You’re tossing and turning like you’re fighting someone in your dreams.”

You bit your lip, feeling the warmth of his touch. He was so close now that you could see his soft, but subtle gaze on you. You shrugged, looking away. “It’s just… hard to fall asleep sometimes.”

He studied you for a moment, expression unreadable, then huffed softly. “Then you should’ve woken me up.”

You turned back to him, surprised. “I didn’t want to bother you. You need your sleep.”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulled the blanket down a bit, gathering you close so that you were snug against his bare chest. He was so warm, so solid, and his large, muscular arm wrapped around you protectively. The heat radiating from him felt like a blanket all on its own.

“Sleep doesn’t matter if you’re lying here suffering,” he said, his voice low. “Got it?”

The warmth in his voice surprised you. Toji rarely showed this side, the gentle, unguarded part of him. You couldn’t help but smile softly, letting yourself relax a little against him. “You make it sound like I’m suffering so much.”

He narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “You are if you’re lying here pretending to sleep.”

You let out a soft laugh, and Toji’s expression softened further, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hand came up to gently trace small circles on your back, his touch soothing and steady. The roughness of his calloused fingers was grounding, and the slow motion began to ease the tension from your muscles.

“Just close your eyes,” he murmured, his breath warm against the top of your head. “Don’t think about anything. Just feel my hand.”

You followed his instructions, letting your eyes drift shut, trying to focus on the comforting, repetitive motion of his hand on your back, the sound of his breathing in your ear. Toji’s presence was grounding, reassuring, a silent promise that he’d keep you safe, even from the restless thoughts that tended to keep you awake.

After a while, you felt his fingers pause, his arm tightening slightly around you as if he was testing to see if you’d finally dozed off.

“…Still awake?” he murmured.

“Mm,” you hummed, too comfortable to answer fully.

Toji huffed, amused but determined. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You smiled, eyes still closed, letting your head rest against his chest. His steady heartbeat thumped beneath your ear, creating a soft, grounding rhythm that finally started to lull you. The feeling of his strong arm around you, his warmth surrounding you, began to blur the line between wakefulness and sleep.

After a few quiet moments, you felt him shift again, his fingers now gently brushing through your hair in long, slow strokes. His touch was more delicate than you ever thought possible, and the small, tender gestures made your heart swell.

“Thank you, Toji,” you murmured, voice heavy with sleep now. “For… staying up with me.”

He just grunted, his hand still trailing through your hair. “S’not a big deal.”

But you knew it was. You knew Toji wasn’t one to lose sleep for anyone else. And you knew that this side of him—the side that held you so protectively, that stroked your hair and made sure you felt safe—was a part of him he shared only with you.

You felt yourself drifting off at last, warmth and comfort seeping through every inch of you. Just before you slipped completely into sleep, you heard his voice, soft and low, barely more than a whisper.

“Sleep, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere.”

With him there beside you, his large, warm body holding you close, you finally found peace. The night stretched on, calm and quiet, and for the first time in a long time, you felt yourself relax completely, letting sleep finally carry you away in his arms.

[bullet-prooflove]

Jamie Dutton

“We can’t ignore this forever”

Tagging: @kmc1989 @yousigned-upforthis @trublu2u @gatefleet @wabi-sabi1090

Companion piece to:

Sugarplum - Jamie gives his unborn daughter a nickname.

Promises - Jamie makes a promise to your baby.

Trick or Treat - A surprise guest throws Jamie into turmoil.

Jamie isn’t in bed when you wake up at three in the morning. You can tell he hasn’t been there for a while by how cold the sheets are when your palm skates across them. You glance at the baby monitor on his nightstand, only to find it turned off. He does that sometimes, when he wants to make sure you get enough sleep. He goes into Opal’s room and sits in the nursing chair, listening to his daughter as she babbles to the stars on the mobile above her crib.

That’s where you find him tonight. Only the baby is clasped to his arms, tucked up into the safety of his chest. John Dutton’s appearance at your front door has triggered his anxiety, made him upset, overwrought.

“Jamie…” You say as you lean against the doorframe. “We can’t ignore this forever. Your father-”

“He’s going to try to take her from us.” He murmurs as he looks down at his daughter. “I just know it.”

“You don’t know that.” You say quietly as you step into the room and crouch down alongside of him. Your hand comes to rest on his knee, your thumb stroking soothing circles upon his skin. “Jamie, why do you think that he was here tonight?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care, I just…” He trails off as Opal’s tiny hand grasps his finger. “I have never loved anything the way that I love the two of you, you’re the air that I breath, the colour in my world, the thought of not having that, it terrifies me.”

“Jamie,” You say firmly, recounting the conversation you had with John Dutton on the porch after Jamie slammed the door in his face. “Your father wasn’t here tonight to snatch Opal away, he wanted to meet her. He just didn’t know the right way to do that because the two of you aren’t talking.”

“Dani, you don’t know how insidious he is.” Jamie tells you as he lightly rocks Opal against him. “If we let him into her life he’ll ruin her, the same way he did me, Lee, Kayce, even Beth. I don’t want that for her, I want her to grow up happy, to know how loved she is, how treasured.”

“Then that’s what’ll happen.” You assure him, reaching up, your fingertips carding lightly through his hair. “We’ll tell your father to go fuck himself and she’ll grow up with her own daddy teaching her to ride horses on our own little ranch.”

“Would you really do that?” Jamie asks you, his gaze fixated on Opal. “Tell him to go fuck himself?”

“Is that what you want me to do?” You ask him and he shakes his head.

“No.” He tells you, his voice resolute. “That… that is something I need to do myself.”

Love Jamie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[elianamarie-blog]

The Things You Give Pt. 35

OH MY GOD I'm so sorry! I never intended for this to take as long as it did! I did work on it almost everyday, I promise! I just got caught up with work, baby, and then sickness! I hope ya'll didn't forget about me. To be fair, I did make this chapter super long because the next chapter will be the finale! I can't believe I've been doing this for three or four years, guys! It's been a wild ride and I enjoyed every minute of it. I hope you enjoy it! Leave a like and a comment if you kindly could. Thank you for the ride so far. You guys have been amazing <3

Steven sat right outside the room, hunched over in his seat while he fiddled with his wedding ring. He was trying his hardest to keep tears from surfacing and spilling over, but knowing that his wife was possibly dying, he couldn’t handle it. He hid his red rimmed eyes behind his aviators as he focused solely on his hands.

“Hey,” Red’s gentle voice pulled him out of his thoughts as he approached him.

“Hey,” Steven responded, voice gravelly and sniffed.

“Have you heard anything?”

He shook his head. “No, they’re still in there with her.”

“Have you seen the twins?”

“No, not yet. I haven’t gotten a chance to even hold them yet,” Steven responded, his voice growing weaker. “It all just happened so fast.”

“They’re in the nursery,” Red explained and gently sat next to Hyde. “They’re beautiful, Steven. Congratulations.”

“Don’t congratulate me if I’m about to become a widower.”

“C’mon,” Red said under his breath. “Nothing’s going to happen to her. She’s going to be okay.”

“You didn’t see her the way I did,” Steven whispered. “She became unconscious…so fast…I couldn’t even register what was happening.” He put his face in his hands and took a deep breath. “I can’t lose her, Red.”

Red placed a comforting hand on Steven’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “You’re not going to. She’s going to be just fine, son.”

“Yeah,” Steven said shortly and sniffed before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. When he opened it up, he pulled out the polaroid picture from the day at the carnival all those months ago.

He stared down at picture, down at her beautiful face remembering that day. How he didn’t want that picture taken of them because he was afraid it would get published in the paper and everyone would find out. How stupid he was. If he knew then what he knows now, he wouldn’t have been so aloof about taking a stupid picture.

“You know I didn’t want to have this picture taken,” Steven told Red. “I was so afraid that we would get caught I didn’t want any ‘evidence’ of our relationship. Can you believe that?” he sniffed again. “I didn’t want any proof that we were together in fear of everyone finding out.” He shook his head and looked back down at the picture. “God, I was such an ass.”

Red looked down at the photo fondly and then back to his son-in-law. “Come take a walk with me.”

Hyde shook his head. “I need to be here when they come out.”

“This won’t take long.”

Hyde sniffed before nodding and stood. “Okay.”

Red led him down the hall and made a left. When Hyde looked up, he was staring through a window to a room full of babies. Some crying, some sleeping, and some lying there while staring up at the ceiling.

“Look, do you see them?” Red asked quietly, as if he was afraid that he was going to wake up the sleeping babies.

It took Hyde a minute, but after a bit of searching the room, he finally saw his babies laying in their own individual bassinets that were labeled “Baby Boy Hyde” and “Baby Girl Hyde.”

“Are those my—?”

“Those are your children,” Red answered with a certain adorning look in his eye.

“They’re amazing,” Steven whispered, feeling a lump form in his throat.

“They really are.”

“They look just like Y/n. We haven’t even named them yet. We didn’t get a chance to…”

Red placed a hand on his son-in-law’s shoulder. “You will. Together.”

Steven didn’t respond, but continued to stare at the miracle of his babies. He was completely awe struck by just looking at their features; he could see so much of his beautiful wife in them, but when he looked at his boy, he saw himself when he was baby. Edna hadn’t been a complete monster growing up. She had at least baby pictures of him scattered around the house—granted it wasn’t many, but she still had taken some of him when he was just a baby and he swore his son was a carbon copy of him.

But when he looked at his baby girl, all he saw was Y/n and oh, was she perfect.

He wasn’t sure how long he was standing there before Eric came up behind them.

“Hey, man, I heard about Y/n. Is she okay?!”

“I don’t know,” Hyde responded without looking up. “She’s still in surgery.”

“How long as she been in surgery?” Donna asked.

“Bout an hour,” Red answered.

“That’s a while,” Donna commented and placed a hand on Steven’s shoulder. “Are you doing okay?”

He shook his head and looked away from the babies. “No. No, I’m not.”

Before he let anyone say another word, he walked away to get back to the room he was waiting outside of.

After a minute of silence, Donna turned to the glass and laid eyes on the cutest babies she’s ever seen. “Oh, my God…are these the twins?”

“Yes, they are,” Red said proudly.

“They’re so tiny,” Donna whispered. “And cute. They’re so cute.”

Red and Eric quickly exchanged panicked glances.

“Uh, Donna…” Eric whined.

“I want one,” she said.

“CRAP!” Red and Eric said in unison.

                                                                           ∞∞∞

Hyde wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at the white wall ahead of him before it looked like it started to warp and move in front of him. He quickly rubbed at his eyes and sniffed before standing to start pacing.

How much longer was she going to be in there? Being in there for this long certainly couldn’t be a good sign if it has taken them over an hour to save her life.

“Steven,” another voice called from behind him.

When he turned, he rolled his eyes and turned back around. “Now’s not a good time, Edna.”

“I’m not here to start anything. I just want to be here for you and Y/n.”

“Sure, you are. How did you even find out? Did Mrs. Forman call you again?”

“No, I called the house phone and some loud-mouthed girl picked up.”

Hyde sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damn it, Jackie.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that I’m here and I can help.”

That made him turn sharply towards her. “Help with what, exactly? I don’t know if you remember, but you weren’t exactly ‘helpful’ raising me.”

“Oh, Steven, let’s not hash out the past.”

“Okay, I’m not having this conversation with you in the middle of the hospital. You can go now.”

“But Steven—”

“I said go,” he said sternly, this time making direct eye contact with her. “I don’t know what you think I mean when I say I don’t want you in mine or my children’s lives, but it sure as hell doesn’t mean to stay. I will not allow you to treat my family the same way you treated me.”

“But that’s why I’m here—to make things right!”

Steven was about to open his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by Dr. Lee walking up to him. “Mr. Hyde?”

He spun so fast to meet the doctor. “Yes?”

“They’re finished if you want to come to see her.”

“Is she okay?”

The doctor gave him a gentle smile. “She’s going to be fine. She’s still out of it from the anesthesia but you’re welcome to come see her.”

“Yeah, one second,” he said and turned back to Edna. “You wanna make things right? Stay out of my life.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer as he turned back around and followed the doctor, leaving a quiet and irritated Edna.

Once they reached the room, the doctor stopped him from entering.

“Before you go in, there’s some things we’d like you to know.”

“Okay?”

“She lost a lot of blood while in the OR,” Dr. Lee said. “While she is stable, she’s going to take some time to recover. So, any nausea, lightheadedness, or dizzy is normal. Definitely will feel weakness. She may feel anxious, but I assure you this is all completely normal. We have her hooked up with fluids to help the recovery process speed up.

“But the biggest thing I wanted to explain is: if you two decide to get pregnant again, there is a chance this could happen again. Especially, if she gets pregnant right after this birth.”

“Are you saying she could possibly die next time?” Hyde whispered, his heart pounding.

“That is always a possibility,” Dr. Lee answered carefully. “But not always either. The next pregnancy could be fine and ideal, but we do need to be aware of the risks for next time.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“And we’ll bring the babies once she’s awake and alert.”

“Of course. Thank you,” he said under his breath and quietly let himself in the room. Seeing the love of his life lay there unconscious made him feel weak in the knees as he approached her. Seeing her chest move from her gently breathing brought a huge wave of relief as he listened to her heart monitor give out a steady beep.

He took a seat next to her and clasped his hands together, resting his chin against his fist. This reminded him of the first time she was in the hospital, right after she collapsed in the driveway. He was there for her, too. Now, she lays once again in another hospital bed after nearly knocking on death’s door.

A sharp breath through the nose made Hyde’s attention snap towards her. She was finally waking up.

“Steven?”

“Oh, my God, Y/n,” Steven said, nearly choking and quickly grabbed her hand.

“How are the babies?” she asked, groggily.

“They’re great,” he responded, fighting back tears. “They’re really, really great.”

She smiled sleepily at him. “What do they look like?”

“Well,” he started and swallowed hard. “Our daughter looks just like you—beautiful,” he responded, caressing her head. “And our son, I see a lot of me.”

She chuckled lightly. “So, he’s handsome just like his daddy.”

He chuckled with her and kissed her forehead. “I guess you can say that.”

“I want to see them.”

“Y-yeah, of course you’ll see them. They’ll bring them in a second. We just need to have the drugs wear off first. You lost a lot of blood.”

“Well, that explains why I feel like crap.” She sighed and winced when she tried to sit herself up.

“Whoa, take it easy. I got you,” Hyde said gently and helped her sit up. “You’re going to be a little out of it until the anesthesia wears off.”

“’A little out of it’ is putting it lightly,” she responded and leaned against the bed. “How’re you doing?”

Hyde scoffed at her. “I should be asking you that. You just pushed out two people and lost a lot of blood in the process.”

“Well, I’m fine, but I want to know how my husband doing.”

Hyde sighed and grabbed her hand, kissing it. “Better now.”

“Better now?” she repeated.

“How do you expect me to react when my wife was dying?”

“Oh, Steven, I’m so sorry,” she whispered and rubbed his hand.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” He was quiet for a second, avoiding her eyes. “But there is something I need to tell you.”

Y/n’s face fell at his seriousness, her heart dropping. “What?”

He sighed before continuing. “My mom is here.”

She closed her eyes and sighed in relief. “That’s it? I thought there was something wrong with the babies.”

“No, no,” he chuckled, relieved that she wasn’t upset. “I just wanted to warn you in case she came in.”

“How did she find out?”

“She called the house.”

Y/n sighed. “Jackie.”

“Yep,” he responded. “But I sent her away.”

“Well, if you think that’s best.”

“It is,” he said firmly. “I don’t need her stressing you out while you’re in this state.”

“I’m surprised she even showed up.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Same here. She couldn’t bother herself to show up to my graduation, let alone my entire upbringing, but she’ll show up for our children.”

“Maybe she wants to do things differently,” Y/n defended gently.

He shrugged. “That’s what she said, but I don’t know. Not that it matters. Right now, I just want to focus on you and the babies.”

Y/n hummed and grabbed his hand. “You know…we still have names to think of.”

He smiled gently at her, rubbing circles with his thumb on her hand. “I think I’ve got an idea.”

                                                            --Meanwhile-

“Have you heard from Y/n’s doctor?” Kitty asked Red as they sat in the waiting room. She checked her watch. “It’s been a while.”

When Red didn’t respond, Kitty looked over to her husband who was asleep in the chair next to her, snoring.

“Red!”

“What?!” he startled awake.

“How can you be sleeping at a time like this?”

“Kitty, she’s fine,” he grunted as he sat up in his chair. “The doctor came out and confirmed it. Steven is with her right now.”

“What’s even worse is that their friends couldn’t even be here to make sure she’s okay!” Kitty continued.

“Kitty, it’s two o’ clock in the morning, it’s okay that they went home to get some rest. Which we should do, too.”

“I’m not leaving until I see my baby and meet my grandbabies,” she said stubbornly.

“Hey, do either of you have any cash for the vending machine?” Eric asked.

“Sorry, my cash is reserved for those that are staying in the country,” Kitty responded.

Eric groaned. “Are we going to do this now?”

“No better time while we wait!” Kitty answered. “Why Africa? Why do you have to leave?”

“You know why, Mom.”

“No! No, I don’t! You’re leaving behind not only me and your father, but your sisters and now niece and nephew! You’re going to miss so much!”

“What do you expect me to do, huh?” Eric asked, feeling exhausted and frustrated. “Put my entire life on hold because you don’t want me to leave Point Place?”

“Well, no,” she responded, sputtering a bit. “I just mean…you can have your life here in Point Place.”

“What life?!” Eric almost shouted. “There’s nothing for me here. This town doesn’t offer me anything. If I want to do anything with my life I need to leave.”

“This town has been home to you for almost nineteen years. You need to respect it.”

“Respect what?” he challenged. “Just because I was born and raised here means I’m bounded here? I’m not going to stay stuck here just because you feel like I should feel obligated to stay here!” It was quiet between them for a second before Eric spoke up again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want to do bigger things than this town can offer. I can’t grow here if I don’t. It’s not like I’m leaving and never coming back. I can always come back. But I’m not going to know what’s out there for me if I don’t leave.”

Kitty opened her mouth to respond when Hyde popped around the corner, exhausted, but upbeat.

“Steven? Is everything okay?” Kitty asked, pushing past Eric. “Please tell me it is.”

He smiled tiredly at her. “Yeah, everyone is great.”

“Oh, good,” she sighed in relief.

“Did you guys want to meet them?”

Kitty’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling.

“What kind of twins are they?” Red asked, beginning to feel excited.

“A boy and a girl.”

“Oh, my God!” Kitty almost exclaimed and turned to Eric. “Just like you guys!”

“Come on, I can’t wait for you to meet them,” Steven responded and led them back to the room.

                                          --A few minutes later—

Y/n sat in the bed holding her newborns in each arm, staring at them in awe when the door quietly opened.

“Hey,” Kitty, Red, and Eric all greeted gently as they entered the room.

“I hope it’s okay that we’re all here,” Kitty said.

“Of course. Come on in,” Y/n practically whispered, grinning from ear to ear.

As the new grandparents and uncle neared closer to the babies, they could all feel their hearts begin to swell.

“Oh, my God,” Kitty whispered, putting her purse down beside the bed. “They are so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Y/n beamed and looked up to Steven who had seated himself beside her on the bed and looked down fondly on his new family.

“How’re you feeling, kiddo?” Red asked.

“I’m okay,” Y/n answered honestly. “Sore, exhausted, but I’m okay. I’m just happy that they’re here.” She looked down to her children and smiled as they grunted and cooed at her. “I’m so in love.”

“Can I hold one of them?” Kitty asked, fighting back tears.

“Yeah, of course,” Y/n answered. “You can take her.”

Kitty sniffed and gingerly picked up her granddaughter in her arms. “She’s perfect. What’re their names?”

“Well,” Y/n started. “We decided to name her Katerina Donna.”

“Katerina?” Kitty asked, her eyes widening.

Y/n nodded. “We thought the nickname ‘Kat’ fit her nicely.”

“Oh,” Kitty sighed, tears starting to form at the corner of her eyes. “Just like Kitty.”

“And of course, Donna, because she’s so great and the godmother,” Y/n finished.

“That’s beautiful, honey,” Red said, resting a hand on his wife’s shoulder as he looked down to his granddaughter.  

“Y/n, Donna is going to love that,” Eric said, looking down at his new niece.

“And the little tyke?” Red asked.

“Leonard ‘Leo’ Reginald Hyde,” Steven responded, watching Red’s expression carefully.

Red snapped his gaze to his daughter and son-in-law. “Really?”

Hyde nodded. “I thought we would honor the people that stepped in and helped me when I needed it the most.”

Red could feel his eyes starting to get misty, but he cleared his throat and sniffed before pulling Steven into a hug. “Thank you.”

“Yeah…well,” Steven sniffed and cleared his throat.

“Can I hold him?” Red asked.

Y/n nodded, smiling wide, and handed her son over to her father who was fighting tears back.

“Wow,” he whispered, a proud smile beaming his face.

“I know,” Kitty choked out without looking up. “They’re perfect.”

“Okay, okay, my turn,” Eric said and turned to Kitty. “Can I hold her?”

She handed Katerina to Eric’s welcoming arms. “Hey, little baby,” he cooed. “You’re so cute.”

She looked up at him with a familiar looking grumpy face. Eric chuckled.

“Y/n, she has your grumpy face,” he laughed gently.

“Oh, no, we’re in trouble,” Y/n joked and leaned over to look at her daughter.

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing the nurse. “Hello,” she greeted. “Don’t mind me, I’m just here to check everyone’s vitals.”

“Alright, we’ll leave you guys alone,” Kitty said as Red and Eric set down the babies in the basinets.

“We’ll come by later,” Eric informed. “I have to anyway. I’m getting my shots for Africa.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Y/n responded, slightly disappointed. “You’re still going, huh?”

“Just for a little while. It’s not like it’s forever,” Eric said, trying his best to comfort his sister.

“We can have this conversation later. The new family needs to rest,” Kitty said, ushering everyone out. “Love you, sweetie. We’ll see you guys in a few hours.”

Y/n nodded before leaning back and allowing the nurse to do what she needed, while all concealing the hurt she was feeling.

                                        --Later That Day—

“You guys aren’t going to believe this!” Jackie exclaimed excitedly as she skipped into the basement where Eric, Donna, and Kelso were hanging out. Markus was right behind her, however, looking unhappy and disappointed. “I got offered a job in Chicago!”

“What?” Eric and Donna asked unison.

“Why were you offered a job in Chicago?” Donna asked.

“Well, you remember that tv show I did a while back?” Jackie began to explain and sat down on the adjacent chair from the couch.

“The incredibly degrading one? That I, for whatever reason, helped you air? Yeah, I remember,” Donna replied.

“Well, a station in Chicago reached out to me saying they loved my public access show and wants to offer me a position over there.”

“No way, that’s awesome,” Eric said. “Are you going to take it?”

“Well, that’s the problem,” she continued. “Markus doesn’t know if he can come with me.”

“What do you mean? Why not?” Eric asked.

“I have my family here,” Markus answered. “I mean we moved here to be closer to my grandparents who aren’t doing too well. They need my help.”  

“And I told you we can do long distance,” Jackie said, a little frustrated.

“And I said that long distances rarely work out,” he responded, matching her frustration.

“This sounds like a couple problem. So, if you two don’t mind…” Eric said, and waved his hand towards the door.

Jackie rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Eric.” She turned back to Markus. “Look, baby, I already told you the one thing that can make me stay.”

“Jackie, we’ve only been going out for a few months. How can you expect me to marry you?”

“Because I love you…” Jackie whispered in disappointment.

“Oh, this is serious,” Eric mumbled to Donna.

“Yeah, we should probably go,” Donna responded and followed Eric up the stairs.

“Markus, this is my dream,” Jackie continued. “But you are the most important thing in the world to me. I’m willing to give it all up and stay here with you, but I need to know that we have a future together.”

“Jackie, I thought we agreed not to talk about our future right now,” Markus said. “Look, I love you too, but we haven’t even been going out for a full year. If we can find a place here first and live together for a while, then—”

“I might never get another opportunity like this again,” she argued, standing up. “The future is happening now, Markus, and the station needs an answer by noon on Sunday. And so do I.”

Markus stood across from her with his hands on his hips. “You already have your answer…you’re just not willing to accept it.”

It was silent between them as Jackie didn’t know what to say next.

“If I may,” Kelo said, opening the door. “Offer some advice: RUN!”

                                              --The Next Day—

Y/n and Steven relaxed quietly in their hospital room, one each carrying a twin.

“I still think Katerina looks more like you than me,” Y/n said.

“Not when she is as beautiful as you,” he responded cheekily.

“You’re just trying to butter me up so that I don’t tear you a new one for almost missing the birth of your children.”

“No, I wasn’t, but have I mentioned how gorgeous you look today, Darling?” he asked, batting his eyes at her.

She squinted her eyes at him. “Can it, Hyde.” She couldn’t help the small laugh that erupted from her. “It’s okay. You ended up making it on time anyway.”

Steven let out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding. “So, we’re good?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” she responded. “Although—”

“Crap!”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation—and Hyde was grateful for it.

“Come in,” they said in unison.

Donna peeked her head. “Hey, you guys,” she said gently. “Is this a good time?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect, come on in,” Y/n said and look down to Kat. “You wanna meet your Auntie Donna?”

“And Auntie Jackie!” Jackie announced. “And I come bearing gifts!”

“Jackie, I thought we agreed that you can’t talk around the babies,” Hyde said, irritated.

“What? We didn’t have that conversation,” she said, confused.

“Oh, sorry, I meant to,” Steven mumbled. “I decided to make a rule. No talking around the babies.”

“Well, then, how are we ever going to talk?”

“We don’t. In fact, why don’t we get started right now and you be quiet and just leave, yeah?” Hyde asked.

“Steven,” Y/n chided. “Come on in, guys.”

“Wow,” the two girls squealed gently as to not wake the babies.

“Oh, my God you guys!” Jackie gushed. Her eyes landed on Steven who was gently cradling his son’s body to his own. Something about the image in front of her made her smile. “I knew you could do it.”

“Do what?” Hyde asked.

“Be a dad,” Jackie said. “I always knew you were going to be a good one.”

“Jackie, I’ve only been a dad for a day and a half.”

Jackie shrugged. “Pretty sure a bad dad doesn’t look at his kid like that.”

Before Hyde could respond, Donna cut in. “So, what kind of twins are they? And what are their names?”

“That’s a boy,” Y/n responded, pointing to her son. “His name is Leonard ‘Leo’ Reginald.” Donna and Jackie awed and cooed at the name.

“I bet your dad loved that,” Donna said.

“He did,” Y/n said and pointed to her daughter. “And this is a girl, Katerina Donna.”

“Katerina Do—did you name her after me?” Donna asked, choking up.

Tears started to well in Y/n’s eyes as she nodded. “Yeah. You’ve been like a sister to me this whole time, even before all this.”

“Oh, my God, Y/n!” Donna sobbed and squeezed her arms Y/n’s shoulders.

“Um, WHAT?!” Jackie shrieked.

“Ow, Jackie, please. I don’t want my babies’ hearing to be affected by your shrilly voice,” Hyde snarked.

“What the hell is this, Y/n?” Jackie demanded. “Why didn’t you name your daughter after me? What’s wrong with Jackie? It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl!”

“Well, thank you for thinking my daughter is beautiful, but—”

“I’m not talking about her, I’m talking about me!” Jackie cut in. “I’m the beautiful girl with a stunning name! You should be grateful I allow myself to be seen with you.”

Y/n looked at her, unimpressed. “Yes, I am so, so lucky,” she deadpanned. “Jackie, Donna and I have been friends forever. And she’s been there for me for years. She’s family at this point.”

“You’re acting like I haven’t done stuff for you either!”

“You have, but—”

“Ah, to hell with you!” Jackie snapped and stormed out. “Last time I’m nice to any of you!”

As she slammed the door, Y/n turned to her best friend and husband. “This whole time she thinks she was being nice?! That’s her being NICE?!”

                                      --Two Days Later--

“Red, what’re you doing sitting down?” Kitty asked as she walked in the kitchen.

Red was sitting in his green chair, peacefully watching TV. “How else am I supposed to watch the Packers game?”

“We’re going to go see Y/n and Steven in the hospital. Why are you watching the game?”

“We just got back three hours ago and you want to go back?”

Kitty placed her fists on her hips. “Yes! You act like it’s such an inconvenience to go see your daughter and her children.”

“It’s not that. It’s just..I…” Red stuttered. “They’re down five to two and I need to see them win.”

“Red!”

“Ugh! Fine!” he groaned and turned off the TV while glaring at his wife. “But if they lose, I’m blaming you!”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s my fault,” Kitty grumbled, rolling her eyes and turned to get her purse. “I want to get there at a decent time before the parking lot gets too full—”

The front door opened suddenly, revealing Y/n and Hyde walking through.

“Hi!” Y/n sang-song as she held one car seat and Hyde held the other.

“Oh, my gosh!” Kitty yelped in surprise and practically jumped on Y/n with a hug. “What’re you guys doing home so early? Here, let me take—which one is this?”

“Leo,” Y/n answered and handed the car seat to her mom. “They were going to keep us for a couple more days, but we were all doing so well I requested we come home.”

“Oh, honey, you both look exhausted. Have you gotten any sleep?” Kitty asked.

“Well, it’s a hospital,” Steven explained. “If you expect to get any sleep, might as well get a hotel room.”

“That would’ve been nice,” Y/n commented. “I just want to go upstairs and sleep for twenty hours.”

“Well, why don’t you?” Kitty asked.

“What?” Y/n and Red asked. Y/n shocked, Red pissed that he’d be having to help Kitty watch babies instead of watching the game.

“You’re going to need all the energy to raise these babies. Let me help,” Kitty offered. “Really, it’s okay.”

Hyde and Y/n looked at each other with exhaustion and relief.

Y/n shrugged, nodding. “That does sound nice.”

“Okay, well, go take a couple hour nap and Red and I will watch the babies.”

Y/n hugged her mom. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Forman,” Steven said and kissed her on the cheek. “We’ll only be a couple hours.”

“It better be,” Red piped up and held up his wrist, staring at his watch. “I’m counting down starting…now.”

“Oh, Dad,” Y/n chuckled.

“Now, you have an hour and fifty-nine minutes left.”

“Dad, come on.”

“Fifty-eight!”

“Okay, okay, we’re going!” Hyde said and directed Y/n and himself upstairs to their bedroom.

                                      --Two Days Later—

“Good morning,” Kitty greeted everyone as she walked in the kitchen. Y/n and Steven had been sat at the table since before the sun came up, feeding the babies, Red was sitting at the table reading the daily paper and Eric had just walked in a few minutes prior, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

“Morning,” the Hydes greeted sleepily as they each held a feeding baby.

“How’d you two sleep?” Kitty asked, grabbing a cup of coffee.

Y/n was so tired that she barley could form a sentence, so all she could do was grunt in response and blink slowly.

“I heard the little rascals screaming so cutely all night,” Red responded with a forced smile.

“Really? I slept like, well, like a baby,” Eric laughed and stretched his arms above his head.

“Shut up, Forman,” Hyde grumbled before yawning.

“I don’t think I will,” Eric replied cheerily.

“Kitty, what’s for breakfast?” Red asked, changing the subject.

“Well, I was thinking I could make some rainbow sprinkle pancakes,” she responded.

“Oh, that’s great!” Eric said excitedly.

“Oh, Eric, I didn’t realize you still lived here. I thought you left for Africa,” Kitty said bitterly.

“No, I’ve been sitting here for, like, ten minutes,” he whined.

“Then you better get going or you’re going to be late for Africa!”

The look of realization crossed Eric’s face. “Oh, I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to make me feel bad for leaving.”

“You’re still here? I thought you were in Africa!”

“Mom, what’re you doing?” Y/n asked. “By repeating ‘Africa’ is not going to make Eric stay. Try taking on a different approach. Like this—” She raised her fist that wasn’t holding a baby and hit him hard in the shoulder. “Don’t go to Africa, dillhole!”

“Ow!” Eric whined and rubbed where his twin’s fist connected to his shoulder. “You’re mean now as a mom.”

“I think she was mean before she got pregnant,” Hyde grumbled as he casually popped the bottle out of his newborn’s mouth to check the measurements.

Y/n glared at him. “You’re lucky you’re holding our daughter right now or I’d slug you, too.”

“Women usually are,” Red mumbled as he flipped a page.

“What was that, Red?” Kitty asked with an eyebrow raised.

Red gave her tight lipped smile. “Nothing, dear.”

Kitty hummed and got to work with making breakfast.

The sliding door opened, revealing Donna.

“Hey,” she greeted everyone before turning to the babies with a giant smile on her face. “And hello to my baby godchildren who look so adorable this morning. Oh, why, yes you do.” She played with their toes while avoiding eye contact to Eric. “I still can’t believe you named her after me. I’m going to be riding that high for a while.”

“Well, her middle name is your name. While my name is her first name,” Kitty said smugly.

“Correction, your full name is Katherine while hers is Katerina. Close, but not her name,” Red corrected.

Kitty’s smirk fell into a grimace. “Dream killer,” she muttered before sharply turning around to finish cooking.

“Oh, yeah they were real cute last night when they were both screaming keeping everyone up,” Hyde mentioned, moving Kat to his shoulder to burp her.

“I slept great,” Eric repeated, smugly.

“How?” Donna asked.

“Earplugs,” he responded.

“You got any extra?” Hyde asked. When Y/n whipped her head at him, glaring, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he shrugged and moved Kat to his shoulder for burping.

If Y/n wasn’t so tired, she would’ve had his head. But instead, she handed him Leo.

“Where you going?” he asked her.

“To find me some earplugs,” she responded over her shoulder as she walked out.

                                    --Later that day—

“Hey, you guys,” Markus said as he entered the basement where everyone was hanging out, minus Jackie. “I really need your help with this whole Jackie thing.”

“What ‘whole Jackie thing?’” Y/n asked as she tended to the twins in their bouncers.

“She got a job offer in Chicago and she’s threatening to go unless Markus marries her,” Eric answered.

“Yep, sounds like Jackie,” Y/n quipped. “What do you need help with exactly?”

“I really do love her, but I don’t know if I’m ready to marry her. For God’s sake, we’re only eighteen!”

“Says the guy telling this to nineteen-year-old married parents,” Donna chuckled.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Y/n assured. “Having kids and getting married at our age definitely wasn’t in our plans, but it’s something that happened and to be honest, I have no regrets.”

“So, you’re saying if I marry Jackie, I won’t have any regrets?”

“Oh, no, you’ll have a lot of regrets,” Y/n laughed. “I’m just saying age isn’t always the factor.”

Markus sighed and slumped down into the lawn chair. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to lose her either.”

“Why?” Hyde asked. “That’s usually the best part.”

“Thanks, man,” Markus deadpanned.

“Look, Jackie is complicated. She does this sorta thing all the time,” Y/n explained. “When she was with Kelso, she threatened him all the time to marry her.”

“Yeah, all the way to California,” Eric chuckled.

“Wait, Jackie does?” Markus questioned.

“Well, to every boyfriend she’s had. All three exes here can testify,” Donna chuckled and looked at Hyde, Kelso, and Fez.

“Who?” Kelso asked with a dumb smile on his face.

Everyone turned to look at him with stoic expressions.

Kelso put his hands in the air. “What? It was just a quest—oh.”

“There we go,” Eric said casually.

“Hey, be nice. I haven’t slept in a week,” Kelso whined.

“I was wondering why your usual porcelain skin looked so dull and tired,” Fez commented and looked offended when everyone stared at him. “What? Is it a crime to notice?!”

“Uh, okay,” Kelso continued, slightly distracted. “I just found out Brooke and Betsy are moving to Chicago and I’m thinking about joining them.”

“What?!” Everyone shouted.

“First Eric, now you?!” Y/n asked.

“I need to go where my kid is,” he confessed. “If I don’t go, I’ll only see her a few times a year, whereas I’ll be able to see her every other week.”

 “Man, I don’t know what’s freakier: Kelso being a responsible parent or that he just said ‘whereas’,” Steven said.

“What’re you going to do there? Do you have a job?” Donna asked.

“I do, actually. I got a security job at a strip club.”

“You lucky son of a bitch!” Fez said excitedly. “Now I have even a more reason to visit you.”

“Uh, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you need a passport to come to Chicago and—and foreigners can’t get passports.”

“Kelso, that makes zero sense,” Y/n cut in.

“Hey, it’s what my new boss said,” Kelso defended.

“When do you leave?” Donna asked.

“Two weeks.”

“That soon?” Eric asked.

“Hey, you’re leaving in a few days!” Y/n snapped.

“Okay, you guys have got to quit doing this!” Markus shouted in frustration. “Can we focus on my problem please?!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Y/n said. “Markus, do you love her?”

“Yes.”

“You want to stay with her?”

“Yes.”

“You see a future with her?”

“Yes.”

“Looks like you’re moving to Chicago,” Y/n said before turning to Kat who started fussing in her bouncer.

“But I can’t.”

“Okay, then don’t,” Hyde said.

“But I love her.”

“Then go,” Donna said.

“But—”

“Markus, in case you haven’t caught on by now, we’re bored of this conversation,” Eric quipped.

A look of frustration flashed across his face. “Great, thanks. You guys were helpful.”

“You’re welcome!” Everyone cheered as Markus stormed out the basement.

“If you can convince Jackie to move with you, that’ll be making it up for leaving,” Hyde said to Kelso with a smug look.

                                    --Later that night—

“How dare she give me an ultimatum?!” Markus drunkenly vented as he, Eric, Hyde, Fez, and Kelso sat at the bar. “I mean, t-this is my life she’s—” he hiccupped. “She’s messing with!”

“You know, Forman, when you said let’s go out to the bar for a guy’s night, this isn’t what I had in mind,” Hyde said as he nursed his beer.

“I didn’t think we’d be coming to a bitching session, alright?” Eric defended.

“She can go to hell!” Markus continued, his words beginning to slur. “I’ll see her in hell!”

“Well, since you’re with Jackie, I think you’re already there,” Hyde commented.

“One more couldn’t hurt,” Markus said again and waved the bartender over. “Another round for me and the boys!”

“Maybe we should keep him around if he and Jackie break up,” Fez said with a hopeful smile. “So, Eric, Y/n told me that Donna had a date tonight?”

“What?” Hyde and Kelso said in unison.

“Oh, you know what, man? I don’t care,” Eric responded and took a sip of his beer. “She just wants me to come running after her and I’m not going to do that.”

“You know what? That is totally the right move man,” Kelso said. “Plus, it’s like 9:00, so if you go over there now, you'll probably walk in on her and that guy sliding all over each other. And if I know Donna, she's moaning like a ghost.”

“Okay, Donna does not moan like a ghost,” Eric said, almost offended and glared down at the bar. “I can make her moan like a ghost.”

“You know what, guys?” Markus piped up, slurring his words. “I love you guys. Really, really love you guys. You guys can be my groomsmen when I marry Jackie.”

All the guys whipped their head at Markus.

“So, you’re going to do it?” Eric asked. “You’re going to marry Jackie?”

“I’m going to be Mrs. Jackie Scott!”

“His last name is Scott?” Kelso whispered to Hyde.

Steven shrugged and sipped his beer. “I guess so.”

“Cheers to my boys! I’m getting married!”

No one moved or had a reaction until Markus said, “Second round is on me.”

“Hooray!” All the boys cheered with their beers in the air.

“He’s so screwed,” Hyde chuckled as he watched Markus talk to the bartender.

                                           --The Next Day—

Eric, Hyde, and Y/n all sat in the basement, watching TV while the babies slept in their arms.

“Man, I still can’t believe they had Fonzie jump over that damn shark,” Y/n complained as they watched Happy Days. “Really ruined the rest of the series for me.”

“How long are you going to complain about this?” Steven asked.

“They ruined one of my favorite TV shows!”

“Speaking of ruining things, like lives, guess who’s getting married?” Eric piped up.

“Did you purpose again?!” Y/n screeched. “How you got that woman to say yes the first time—”

“It’s not me!” he defended, feeling insulted.

“Oh,” she said quietly and looked to her husband who was biting back a smirk. “My bad.”

Eric sighed annoyed. “No, it’s not me. Markus is going to purpose to Jackie.”

“No freaking way!” she exclaimed. “What made him decide to do that?”

“A lot of beer,” Hyde sneered and shook his head. “The poor bastard.”

“Well, wait, does this mean Jackie is staying then?” Y/n asked, sitting up.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t she?” her husband asked her.

“Because I talked to her this morning and she was packing up, getting ready to leave.”

“Um…oh, no?” Eric questioned.

“Shut up, Eric! If Markus means this, he doesn’t have much time! I need to go call both of them.” She turned to her brother. “Here, take the baby. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, what do I do if they start crying?” he asked, panicked.

“I won’t be that long,” she promised before running up the stairs.

As Y/n left the basement, Donna entered it through the door. Eric’s face hardened at seeing his girlfriend.

“Crawling back to me after your date so soon, huh?” he sneered.

She crossed her arms at him and made a face at him. “What?”

“Yeah, you heard me. Used to be you have to buy a girl dinner, if you wanted her to slide all over you moaning like a ghost.”

Donna rolled her eyes at him. “Okay, you know what? I didn't have a date, but I should've.”

“Wait,” Eric said, incredulous and stood up—carefully as to not wake Leo. “You lied?”

“Yeah, I was pissed.” Her face dropped as she stared into his eyes. “I mean, all of a sudden you’re leaving me.”

Eric’s face softened. “Oh…well, look, I'm only gonna be gone for a year.”

“I don’t care, I don’t want you to go,” she replied, fighting back tears.

Eric knew where this conversation was headed and turned to Hyde was listening to the entire fight. “Hey, Hyde, can I have a minute with Donna?”

“What? No way,” he said, clearly entertained. “You always had to watch mine and Y/n’s talks. It’s only fair I get to watch yours.”

“Hy-y-yde!” Eric whined, not having it.

“Fine, if you’re going to be a girl about it,” he responded and carefully stood with Kat in his arms and scooped Leo with the other before walking upstairs.

“Look, Donna, I’m only going to be gone for a year,” Eric explained as he guided them both onto to the couch.

“You've always been, like, 20 steps away from me my entire life. What am I supposed to do without you?” she asked him with tears in her eyes.

“Look, Donna, this is gonna be really tough for both of us,” he started. “But, hey, you know what? The good news is, when I come back, we're gonna spend all this time together because, you know, you're probably gonna have to nurse me back to health from some horrible African disease.”

Donna chuckled.

“Look, you know I love you,” he continued. “And we're wasting our time fighting.”

“You're right. We should just enjoy the time we have left.” She wrapped her arms around Eric’s neck and pressed her body tightly against his. “I’m going to miss you, Eric.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Donna.”

As they were caught up in their embrace, neither one heard the basement door open revealing Jackie.

“Wait, Eric, you're back,” she said. “Where’s Markus?”

“Fez drove him home from the bar. He was pretty drunk,” he answered.

“You mean he’s not coming?” Jackie asked and sunk down onto the lawn chair. “He's gonna say no. Oh, my God.” She put her head in her hands, stifling a sob.

“Oh, Jackie, I'm sorry,” Donna whispered and broke free from Eric’s grasp to give her friend a hug.

                                                The Next Day…

“Where are the babies?” Fez asked as Markus, Eric, Hyde, Y/n, and Donna sat in the driveway,

“Inside sleeping,” Y/n responded from Hyde’s lap and yawned. She tucked her head in the crook of her husband’s neck and sighed. “Maybe I should be, too.”

“They’re all by themselves?” Kelso asked. “I may have only been dad for less than a year, but I don’t think you’re allowed to leave babies by themselves.”

“Chill out, will you?” Hyde asked annoyed. “They’re sleeping in the den and we have the door open so we can hear them.”

“Besides, we have the baby monitor here,” Y/n answered more patiently and waved the fancy gadget in her hand.

“Babies didn’t let you sleep?” Donna asked.

“No,” Hyde responded. “It’s like they have a weird twin radar thing, man. When one stops crying, the other starts. And it’s like they’re competing on who can be the loudest.”

“I can’t wait to not hear that at night when I leave,” Eric said.

“It’s better than getting some African disease,” Y/n taunted.

“Donna?!” Eric whined. “Do you have to tell her every single conversation we have?”

“Hey, she’s all I’m gonna have left when you leave! Besides, that’s what girls do.”

“She also told me when you guys had sex the first time,” Y/n continued her taunting. “I expected more from you.”

Eric whipped his head at his girlfriend. “SERIOUSLY?! I told you not to tell her about—” He looked around his friend group who were all giving him amused looks. “About when I—you know—when Eric Jr. wouldn’t wake up.”

Donna chuckled and shook her head. “I didn’t.”

“But you just did!” Y/n laughed, making everyone else join in.

“Y/n!” Eric whined.

“Hey, I gotta get my fun in before you leave us for a year,” she replied and heard the doorbell ring. “I’ll go get that. Hopefully, it didn’t wake the babies.”

She slid off Steven’s lap before disappearing into the house.

“Well, it’s almost noon,” Markus said, checking his watch. “I better go talk to Jackie.”

“What are you gonna tell her?” Fez asked.

Markus ran a hand through his long hair. “I don’t know, man. I’m thinking about taking my dad’s mustang and letting it make the final decision.”

“Like, how?” Kelso asked.

Markus shrugged. “If it pulls to the left, marriage, pulls to the right, nudie bar.”

“So, you haven’t made a decision yet?” Donna asked.

Markus gave her a little smirk before answering. “Oh, I’ve made my decision.”

“Markus,” Y/n called as she walked back out, holding a piece of folded paper. “Jackie stopped by and asked me to give you this note.”

“Oh,” he replied and took the note from her. With his heart suddenly pounding, he carefully unfolded the paper as to not rip it and read it.

“What’s it say?” Y/n asked.

“It-it says she took the job in Chicago and she left this morning,” he whispered, eyes never wavering from the note.

“Oh, Markus, I’m so sorry,” Y/n said and wrapped her arms around his torso, but he stood still like a statue.

“Yeah, man, so sorry,” everyone muttered, not knowing what to say.

The room went quiet as Markus fought back tears and reluctantly reciprocated the hug.

                                                --The Next Morning—

“Tell me why again we’re up so early?” Hyde complained as he got dressed. “The babies actually let us sleep last night and you want to wake up early.”

“We’re taking Markus out today to help him feel better,” Y/n responded, as she put on the finishing touches to her makeup in her vanity mirror. “Starting off taking him out to breakfast.”

Steven groaned as he put his belt on. “This is going to be a long day.”

“Come on, wouldn’t you want to be surrounded by your friends who love and support you if Jackie did this to you?”

“No. I’d go off to Vegas and drink and gamble my pain away,” he responded and walked over to the vanity, grabbing his watch. “That’s my plan if you ever decide to divorce me.”

She gave him an amused smile and stood up. “I’d kill you before I divorce you.” She kissed him on the cheek before walking over to grab her shoes from the closet.

“Well,” he replied, clicking his tongue. “Don’t I feel safe.”

Y/n giggled and slipped on some comfortable flats. “Come on, let’s grab the babies and go downstairs. Everyone is meeting us here.”

As she bent down to grab Leo, Hyde couldn’t help himself by checking her out. “How much longer until your six week check up?”

“Three weeks,” she answered, innocently and turned back to face him. “Why?”

She turned to him just as he was eyeing her up and down.

“No reason,” he said casually, shrugging.

She picked up what he was putting down and lightly punched his shoulder, laughing. “Pervert.”

He put his hands in surrender as he bent down and picked up Kat. “Can’t blame a guy.”

“Come on, let’s go before everyone gets here,” she chuckled.

                                    --Scene Transition—

Once the Hydes were downstairs and sitting at the table, feeding the babies, Donna, Fez, Kelso and Markus walked in.

“Good morning!” Fez sang. “Today is a beautiful day to have some fun!” He turned to Markus who wasn’t doing anything to hide his misery. “Right, buddy?”

Markus shrugged. “Sure.”

“Oh, Mark, I know it’s hard, but we’re here for you,” Y/n comforted. “As soon as we’re done feeding the babies, we’re going to start this day of fun.”

“And I get to babysit my grandbabies!” Kitty sang-song through the kitchen.

“So, what are we doing exactly?” Markus asked, uninterested, but didn’t want to be rude. Even though he was one grumpy, miserable bastard, didn’t mean he had to be unappreciative to his friends who were trying to help him.

“I was thinking we take to your favorite breakfast joint first—” Y/n began.

“The Pancake House is out of town, though,” Markus interjected.

“Yes, but it is also on the way to…Fez, drum roll please,” she said and Fez started tapping on the table. “Funland!”

“Funland?” Hyde asked, unenthused.

“Yes, Funland!” she repeated with a giant grin on her face, waiting for Markus—and Steven—to show excitement.

When neither returned her excitement and enthusiasm, she quickly dropped her smile. “Why aren’t you guys more excited?”

“Funland is for babies,” Hyde commented.

“We went, like, almost two years ago,” Y/n responded, a little disappointed. She had racketed her brain all day the day before trying to come up with a fun plan for Markus to get his mind off the break up. When she remembered what everyone tried to do for Eric when Donna broke up with him, they all went to Funland and they had a blast—even though they lost Kelso and he had to hitch a ride with a random lady and her obnoxious twins. Or so he said. “It was fun then, it can be fun now!”

“Yeah, we were kids. We’re adults now,” he argued.

“Look, Y/n, I really appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t think anything is going to cheer me up,” Markus said and plopped himself down at the table. “Jackie is gone. I mean, who the hell is she to give me an ultimatum and then leave before I can give her an answer?”

“Speaking of Jackie: have you heard from her?” Donna asked.

“Nope,” he replied, glaring at the table. “Not like it matters anyways.”

“Look, man, she let you off the hook,” Kelso said and walked over to the fridge to grab some orange juice. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is she didn’t give me a chance to answer her!” Markus responded and stood abruptly, angrily. “She didn’t let me tell her that…” He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face.

“Tell her what?” Y/n asked before her eyes widened in excitement. “Oh, my God. Were you going to say ‘yes?!’”

“No!” he replied quickly. “Well…maybe…” He looked up to see everyone, including Kitty, eyeing him. “Yeah…yeah, I was.”

“Oh, my God!” Y/n and Eric exclaimed at the same time.

“Awe, you love her,” Donna teased and tickled his ear.

Markus shoved her hand away. “I shouldn’t love her. This whole time—this whole relationship—she’s been such a huge pain in my ass. With her shallow, materialistic, self-centered, conceited attitude, everything we did always had to be about her. We always had to do things she wanted and was like pulling teeth to do things I wanted. I always had to apologize for when she was rude or mean to people—I mean, God, it was like teaching a five-year-old! But you know what?” he ranted and sat back down at the table. “It’s my fault. I was warned about her and like an idiot, I fell for her anyway. You know what love is? Love is for losers who don’t want to be alone. Well, I don’t care. I don’t care if I’m alone because I never want to fall in love again.”

When everyone was sure his rant was over, Fez quickly spoke up. “I-I think you’re thinking about kittens.”

“Shut up, Fez,” Hyde sighed. “Listen, man, I think the best thing you should do is go to Vegas and drink and gamble and sleep with whores…you know, a deep cleanse.” He didn’t miss Y/n’s glare at him. “Also, you should take me and we can take the El Camino.”

“Nice try, Steven,” Y/n said, irritated and turned back to Markus. “Markus, what do you want to do today? We don’t have to go to Funland. We can do anything you want.”

“I don’t…I don’t know. I think I’m just going to go home. I’m sorry everyone,” he responded before walking out.

“Man, he’s really taking this hard,” Eric said.

“I don’t blame him,” Kitty interjected. “Break ups at your age always feel like the end of the world.”

“Yeah…anyway, I gotta do,” Eric announced and stood from his seat and turned to Donna. “I gotta go wrap your going away present.”

Donna chuckled. “You do realize that I’m the one that’s supposed to get you a going away present? Not the other way around.”

He smiled at her and gently touched her arm. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

She returned the smile and cocked her head to the side. “Well, I wanted to. I knew you were going to get me something.”

“Well, I don’t want this to be awkward again, like Christmas.”

“Well, I did get you something,” she said cheerily and leaned over to kiss him before he left. Her demeanor dropped once that door closed and she turned to everyone, panicked. “Oh, crap, I didn’t get him anything! He leaves in three days!”

“Well, you can give him an ultimatum,” Hyde commented. “It’s free and it’ll make him want to kill himself.”

“I gotta go find him something. Hopefully, the mall has something for him,” she said and rushed out the door.

Y/n huffed out as she turned Leo to her shoulder to burp him. “Well, our plans went to hell.”

“Great! I’m going back to bed,” Steven announced and stood with Kat in his arms. “Let’s go catch some more Z’s, baby girl. Our day has just been cancelled.”

“Or!” Y/n called after him. “You can go be with Markus and be with him during this time.”

Hyde groaned. “Why me?”

“Because you’re his friend,” she reminded him and grabbed Kat from him. “Now git.”

                                   --Later that day—

“Hey, guys,” Jackie greeted everyone in the driveway. The girls sat in the chairs holding the babies while the guys played basketball. “Is Markus here?”

“No, he’s at work,” Hyde responded. "Oh, but before he left, he was throwing around everything you’ve ever gave him. It was like a hailstorm of stuffed animals and ABBA records.”

“What’re you doing here, anyway?” Y/n asked. “I thought you were in Chicago.”

“I would have, but my mom took the car to Tijuana and won’t be back until Cinco De Mayo. Whenever that is,” Jackie responded, rolling her eyes. Everyone didn’t do anything to hide their snickers. “So, until then, I need you guys to help me avoid the horrors of seeing Markus until I figure out a way out of here.”

“Well, that’s too bad because I think I see him coming right now,” Hyde said, eyeing down the road.

“Oh, my God. What do I do?!” Jackie asked, panicking.

“Here, hide under the blanket in the bed of the El Camino!” he offered.

Jackie dived into the bed and ripped the blanket over her body.

“Oh, by the way, Jackie, I lied,” Hyde said, smiling.

“Ugh!” she groaned and jerked the blanket off her. “Why does this blanket smell like sex?”

“Oh, that’s mine and Y/n’s car blanket,” he responded casually.

Jackie screamed and threw herself off the car’s bed. The guys cackled at her as they watched her freak out.

“Really, Steven? You had to throw that out there?” Y/n asked, unpleased.

“Eh. It was funny,” Fez said, earning a grin from Steven.

“Uh, oh, Jackie, he’s coming for real this time!” Kelso announced.

“Get down!” Fez shouted and pushed a screaming Jackie back in the El Camino and forcibly wrapped the blanket around her. “I got her! I got her!”

“I’m going to kick you both in the nads,” Jackie threatened as she shoved Fez off her.

“You’re going to have to do it later because here he comes now,” Fez said.

“Yeah, now I just don’t believe you,” she responded, smoothing down her shirt.

“Hey, Mark!” Fez said to no one. “Good to see you.”

Jackie screamed once again and ran into the garage and out the back door, leaving everyone laughing.

Leo suddenly started squirming in Y/n’s arms and as she looked down, she noticed an odor emitting from him.

“Oh, Leo,” she chuckled and stood. “I’ll be right back. I need to change his diaper.”

“I’ll come with you,” Donna said, carrying Kat inside. Once inside and out of ear range, she set Kat down in the bassinet and turned to Y/n who set Leo down on the couch to change his diaper. “I didn’t want to say anything to you with Eric out there, but I figured out the perfect going away gift.”

“Oh, really? That’s great! What is it?”

“A paper and pen writing set!”

Y/n paused briefly before returning changing the diaper. “A-a paper and pen writing set?”

“Yeah!” Donna said, her enthusiasm not fading. “So that he can write to me while in Africa!”

Y/n finished up Leo’s diaper before standing back up to meet her. “Well, Donna, that sounds so—” she abruptly cut herself off to let out an exaggerated snore.

“Y/n!”

“I’m sorry, Donna, but a going away gift should be something meaningful, personal,” she responded. “Like, one time I was going through my mom’s closet—”

“Why were you going through her closet?”

“Because I was looking for her throw over sweater for a date. It was from her high school years and I thought it was so cute. Anyway, I saw a box and when I opened it I saw some boudoir photos.” She shuttered at the memory.

“Okay, do I want to hear the rest of the story?” Donna asked, disgusted.

“Yes, sorry,” Y/n said and shook off the vivid picture from her mind. “Anyway, when I asked my mom about it, she said—well, first she got mad that I went looking through her closet without her permission. Now I see why…and second, she said she sent those out to my dad before he went off to Korea.”

“Ew…too much information, Y/n.”

“But you see my point?”

“Grossly, yeah,” Donna said in deep thought.

“Oh, and if you’re thinking that boudoir shoot was ‘sexy’, it wasn’t,” Y/n responded, shaking her head. “It was really just my mom wearing booty shorts and a crop top. But then again, showing a lot of ankle was sexy.”

“It was the 1800’s after all,” Donna joked.

                                                --Meanwhile—

The guys had moved from the driveway to the basement to gather around for circle time. As the air quickly filled with smoke and everyone started to feel good, Eric looked at his watch.

“Oh, man, I gotta go over to Donna’s and get my going away present.”

“Why do you make it sound like it’s the worse thing ever?” Hyde asked.

“Because Donna sucks at gift giving, okay? Do you remember that awful sweater vest and big ugly man ring? Now, I gotta get excited over some over lame thing. ‘Oh, wow, Donna, clown shoes. Thanks so much.’”

“I dated a clown once,” Kelso said nonchalantly, lighting up an incense stick. “But once I learned how to make balloon animals I dumped her.”

                                                --Later—

Everyone minus Donna, Eric, and Markus were hanging out in the basement while the twins slept in their room. The TV was on playing Scooby-Doo, Hyde and Fez were wrestling and Kelso was watching intently, keeping score while Y/n sat reading a magazine, and Jackie sat filing her nails.

“You can’t beat me this time, Hyde!” Fez gloated as he attempted to get Hyde in a headlock. “I’ve been training for this and I—ah, ah!”

Hyde had maneuvered himself out of Fez’s grip and flipped him around onto the ground, belly down and pushed his left arm up to his shoulder blades.

“What was that?” Hyde taunted.

“I fold! I fold!” Fez cried out, tapping out.

“Point goes to Hyde!” Kelso shouted and laughed. “Fez, you wuss.”

“He had a hold on me!” Fez whined.

Hyde laughed at his friend’s misfortune and glanced out the door window. “Uh, hey, Jackie, Markus is coming for real this time. Quick, drink this old root beer!”

“You know what, Steven, I’m sick of you lying to me about Markus and trying to humiliate me,” Jackie retorted.

“You’re right,” Hyde said. “Let me make it up to you and offer you this different, not old root beer.” He pretended to swap out the soda with a new one from behind the shower.

“It’s the same one, you idiot!” Jackie shrieked.

“Jackie, Markus is coming right now,” Kelso warned.

“You know what, Michael? But I’m not playing your little games anymore,” she huffed and went back to her nails.

She heard the door open and close, but refused to give her idiot friends (and exes) the benefit of looking up. She assumed they had opened the door and closed it just to mess with her until,

“Jackie?”

Her gaze snapped up to meet a shocked and angry, familiar face.

                                                  Markus.

                                          

--Meanwhile—

Over at the Pinciotti’s house, Donna sat in her room, waiting for Eric to come over his surprise. She wore Princess Leia’s white robe with her hair in side buns, just like the movie.

“Hey,” Eric greeted as he walked through the door. “Alright, Donna, I’m here for my surprise and I—holy mother of Skywalker.”

Donna smiled at Eric before getting off the bed and sauntering over to him. “You can do whatever you want to Princess Leia. Her force field is down.”

Eric looked at her with the most adorned look. “Donna, this is the best thing—wait a second.” He pulled away to look at her. “Leia doesn’t have a force field—you know what, I’m too excited to quibble. Come here!”

Donna laughed as Eric attacked her with kisses, both going down onto the bed.

                                    --At the Forman’s House—

“Jackie, what’re you doing here?” Markus asked, clearly upset. “Why aren’t you in Chicago? I thought you left town?”

“Why? Because you’re so amazing and incredible that I simply couldn’t exist in the same town as you knowing you couldn’t make a commitment?” Jackie rambled, her heart pounding in her chest.

“No, because you left me a note saying you left town,” he responded slowly. His response was too calm and it unnerved everyone in the room, except for Hyde.

“Well, that, Markus, was a metaphor, a metaphor for the fact that my heart and mind are gone, but my body is still here, in this very awkward situation!”

“Want a root beer?” Fez asked after a minute of silence.

Markus gave Fez a dirty look.

“Hey, Fez, I think Mark wants some alone time,” Hyde said.

“Right, right,” Fez replied.

“You know what? Perfect timing because I have to get that—that thing you know, ready for that thing,” Y/n stammered.

“Yeah, I know what think you’re talking about. Let’s go,” Hyde said.

“I’ll help,” Donna said, rushing up the stairs.

“I’m going to listen through the vent,” Kelso announced.

“Me, too!” Fez said excitedly and slammed the door.

Once they were alone Markus turned back to Jackie. “So, what are you doing here, Jackie? You got something you wanna say to me?”

“Yes. I wanted to say that I'm leaving for real this time.”

“So, you came back to tell me that you're leaving again?”

“Yes, but this is goodbye.”

Markus clicked his tongue. “All right, I'll see you tomorrow then.”

“Markus, I'm serious!”

Markus sat down and spread his arms behind the couch, making himself comfortable. “Wanna hang out next week?”

“I'm going. Unless...Unless, Markus, there's something you'd like to say, in which case, I'm listening.”

She stared at Markus with wide, hopeful eyes, praying that she got the answer that she so desperately wanted.

“Yeah,” he said calmly and stood to meet her. “Have a nice trip.”

She could feel her heart break all over again, fighting back tears. She nodded and avoided his cold stare. “I will.”

“Can you guys stand closer to the vent and speak louder?” Fez shouted into the vents.

Jackie scoffed before stomping out the basement, leaving Markus by himself.

                                                --Donna’s Room—

Eric sat staring at Donna who sat awkwardly in the white robe. “Wow, so, it's like, I can do anything I want? Can I touch your buns?”

“What? You wanna touch my butt?” Donna asked, confused.

“No, not those buns. You know, the buns.”

“Eric, that’s kind of weird.”

“Yeah. You know what? That is, like, a little weird,” he responded. “Maybe I'll just rub my face up against one of them?”

Donna chuckled. “Yeah.”

His eyes fluttered close as he slowly brought his cheek to her hair and rubbed it like a cat.

“Okay,” Donna said after a minute, accepting the weirdness from her boyfriend.

“Leia, oh, Leia,” Eric moaned.

“Hey, Donna,” Bob said, knocking on the door. “Meet me downstairs T-minus 20 seconds for some fried shrimp. And wear an old T-shirt, these things get greasy.” He shut the door before Donna could respond.

“Wow, that's almost enough to take you right out of the moment, huh?” she chuckled as she got up to change.

“Okay, Donna. From now on, the only thing I'd like you to say is, ‘Use the force, Eric.’”

“Okay, that seems—” she said.

“Do-o-onna,” Eric sang-song.

Donna sighed and rolled her eyes. “Use the force, Eric.”

He nodded in approval before he started rubbing his cheek against her hair once again.

                      --Over at the Forman/Hyde Residence—

Y/n and Hyde were in their room, just finishing settling the twins down.

“Hey, Y/n?” he whispered as to not wake the babies.

“Mhm?” she hummed as she smiled down lovingly at Kat who was staring up at her with her soulful eyes.

“Do you remember when you almost left for Denver?”

Y/n turned her loving gaze to her husband. “Oh, my God, that’s what those letters in my desk are for.” She smirked at him. “Of course I remember. Why do you ask?”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you, you know, regret not going? Do you feel like I held you back?”

Hearing this shocked her. She never thought about her husband, Steven Hyde, ever having these feelings. “Steven, honey, where is this coming from?”

He shrugged. “Curious.”

She gave him a pointed look. “Is that all?”

“Just answer the question.”

Y/n gave Kat a kiss before placing her in her bassinet and faced Steven. “Is this about what’s going on with Jackie and Markus?”

When Hyde didn’t respond, she raked her fingers through his hair. “No, I don’t.”

He looked at her with hopeful eyes. “Really?”

“Yes!” She kissed him and wiped her gloss off his lips. “I thought my life would start when I went away, but in reality my life started when I chose you.”

A soft grin spread across his face, but it quickly went away when he looked down at her lap. “You know that would mean a lot more if Denver hadn’t rejected you and then didn’t get knocked up right after.”

She squinted her eyes at him with a sly grin before rolling her eyes at him and shrugging. “Yeah, you’re right.”

His grin dropped immediately. “That’s not funny.”

A smile broke out on her face as she laughed and gave him a chaste kiss. “Yes, it is.”

“So, if Denver hadn’t rejected you and I hadn’t knocked you up—”

“I would still be miserable,” she cut in, this time serious.

His eyebrows furrowed, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Steven, it doesn’t matter that it didn’t work out that way because it wasn’t meant to. This was,” she began. “Even if I were to go off to Denver, or New York, or even London—”

“London?”

“Denver wasn’t the only school I applied to, anyway,” she said quickly. “None of it would’ve mattered because you wouldn’t be my side. My life wouldn’t be as complete now if I didn’t have you and the twins. My life didn’t stop just because we got married and had kids young—I can still do everything I wanted to do and you know what? It’s more exciting and less scary because I have you right beside me.” She grabbed his hand, weaving her fingers through his. “I could have the highest college degree or the most successful, prestigious career, none of it would mean anything without you and the babies. None of it.”

He smiled before bring a hand to her cheek and tucked some hair behind her ear. “Liar.”

Y/n chuckled with him and kissed him once more. “I mean it.”

His eyes searched hers for a moment. “I know.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you have any regrets?”

He shook his head. “No. Not one that includes you or the kids anyways.”

She smirked at him—the look that made Hyde excited and his pants a little tighter—and cocked her head. “I’ll take it.”

“Good,” he husked and closed the gap between them once more, this time the kiss lasting a bit longer. When he pulled away, he looked at her once more. “One more serious question: if you get into school out of state, how would that work with the store?”

“Well…” Y/n thought. “We could do it one of two ways. One: we pack up and move and you could either leave the store in someone else’s hands temporarily or give it up completely or two: you stay here to run the store and the kids and I go…I’m not a huge fan of option 2, though.”

“Me neither. How bout we figure it out when the time comes?”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too.” He kissed her once more before pulling back with a mischievous look in his eyes. “So...is there anything you can do before the six week mark?”

Y/n withdrew her hold from him, laughing. “Perv.”

                                          The Next Day…

“So, Jackie really left, huh?” Eric asked while sipping a grape soda at the table.

“Yeah, last night,” Y/n responded. “She even got Kelso to drive her.”

“She probably gave him a purple nurple until he did,” Hyde chuckled. “That’s the only good thing about her.”

“Hey, Eric,” Bob said, shuffling into the kitchen. “You’re going to love teaching in Africa. I heard women walk around with their hoo-hoo’s out.”

“Dad,” Donna groaned, hiding her face behind her hand.

“Have you gotten your shots yet?” Bob asked.

“Shots?” Eric asked.

“Yeah, the ones you get to protect from exotic diseases.”

“Oh, my God I completely forgot!” Eric shot up from the table. “Guys, I leave for Africa in two days. What do I do?”

“Oh, shoot, did I forget to remind you?” Kitty asked while sipping her coffee. “Well, don’t worry, I’ll make sure to give them to you. I am your mother, I will help.”

“Good,” Red said from behind the paper. “Because I will not let you crush my dream of getting rid of him.”

“Thank you, Mom,” Eric said, relaxing.

“Oh, but I should warn you. Those needles are as big as sausages and if I miss, even by a hair, it could make your heart explode. But don’t worry, it only hurts until you die.”

“Mom,” Y/n warned and turned to her brother whose eyes were as big as saucers. “Don’t listen to her. She’s lying.”

“Yeah, right,” Eric responded, voice wobbling.

                                                   ---Later—

“Hey Donna,” Y/n greeted as she walked inside Donna’s house. “I know Eric said he didn’t want a party, but I never cared about what he wanted. So, I’m going to need you to distract him when he gets back from getting his shots so I can decorate.”

“Yeah, sure,” she responded, a little distantly.

“Oh, and I also got this for him, too. I wasn’t sure what to get him, but I thought he would like something like this.” In her hand was a picture frame and handed it to Donna. The picture was Donna, Y/n, and Eric when they were all six years old.

Donna chuckled sadly. “I remember that day. We had just came back from the park because it started raining, but Eric fell in a huge mud puddle. When you tried to help him, you slipped, taking me down with you. When we got home our moms were so mad, but your dad thought it was so funny he snapped this picture.”

“Yeah…Eric’s not graceful. Like, at all.”

Y/n and Donna laughed together as they recalled the memory. As the laughter died down, Donna grew quiet, staring at the picture.

“Donna…are you okay?”

She shook her head, fighting back tears. “I’m just really going to miss him.”

Y/n nodded her head sadly. “Me, too.”

Donna nodded before wrapping an arm around her best friend’s shoulders knowing this was probably a little harder for her than anyone. The one person she’s literally known since the womb would be thousands of miles away was a pain that Donna couldn’t even fathom.

“I’ll go to the store with you,” Donna said after a minute.

Y/n sniffed and rubbed her nose with her sleeve. “Thank you.”

Eric Forman’s Basement

Eric, Kelso, Hyde, and Fez all sat in the circle as they enjoyed the affects of their favorite green plant. As usual, the lights were dimmed and incense was mixing with the smell.

Eric checked his watch and rubbed his clammy hands on his jeans. “Crap, I have to leave soon to go get my shots. Yeah, why do I have to get shots anyway? So I get Yellow Fever. I could use a little color.”

“You guys, this might be our last circle together,” Fez said. “We're growing up. I mean, these two have jobs, and Eric is off to start his life, and I'm doing more shaving than ever.”

“Eric, I know you're scared of getting your shots,” Kelso said, his eyes drooping and his smile wide. “So I'm gonna be a pal and get them with you, 'cause I owe you for that time that I chucked that dead raccoon at you, and then it turned out to not be dead.” He started to giggle recalling the memory. “And then it bit you, and then you kicked it back at me, and then it bit me, and then we both had to go and get rabies shots.”

Hyde laughed along with them. “Remember, on the way to the hospital, Kelso saw that dog, and he jumped out of the car 'cause he wanted to go pet it, but he forgot the car was moving, and he broke his arm? That was the funniest, bloodiest, most rabies-filled day ever.”

“Look at us,” Eric said. “Best friends offering to help each other. You know, we always have to remember this moment.” He looked around his friends who had gone silent with frightened looks on their faces. “What?”

He suddenly felt a presence behind him when they lowered themselves to his ear. He didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Upstairs. NOW!” Red barked. He didn’t wait for an answer and stomped back upstairs.

“I am in huge trouble,” Eric said and started laughing.

“I can't believe that is what you idiots have been doing in my basement all these years!” Red yelled at the four young men who sat in chairs in front of him. “I wish I had 2,000 feet so I could put 500 of them in each of your asses!”

Eric tried so hard to listen, but it was hard to digest anything his parents were saying when the wall was moving and dancing behind them.

“I am shocked!” Kitty said. “Steven, you’re a father now. I thought this would be put behind you by now. Do you really want to set this kind of example for your children?”

Hyde rubbed his red eyes, knowing that the patterns on the wallpaper weren’t changing before his eyes.

“The basement door closes and out come the lighters and the drugs.” Kitty continued. “And I am sure Donna's down there bouncing around without a bra.” She gasped and held a hand to her heart. “Is that how Y/n got pregnant?!” She clicked her tongue in disappointment. “It’s like Amsterdam down there.”

“Did someone shove a vacuum up your nose and suck out your last, lonely brain cell?” Red continued to yell.

Fez could swear he was suddenly in a fish bowl and they were eyeballing him through the glass.

“What is going on in your head?” Kitty asked. “I am so disappointed in you boys. And here I thought it was my dryer that made our clothes smell funny.”

As their yelling started to fade in the distance, Hyde’s eyes were caught by a single twinkie laid on the counter. Before he could stop himself, he found himself drooling over it.

“Who taught you how to do this?” Red asked. “Was it those damn Beatles? All You Need Is Love.” He scoffed.

Kelso wasn’t even listening to the whole lecture because he found himself laughing at the scene before him. Red’s and Kitty’s heads floated off their bodies and swirled and danced in the air before switching onto each other’s bodies.

“All you need is a job and a haircut. And you, wipe that stupid smirk off your dopey, dope-fiend face!” He yelled at Kelso.

“Do you know what drugs do to you?” Kitty asked. “They shrink your brain until one day you wake up, and you think you're Superman and you can fly, and then you wind up jumping off the roof in your underpants.”

“Oh, this idiot doesn't need drugs for that. He does that every Saturday!” Red yelled.

“Well, this is the worst thing that you have ever done!” Kitty almost sobbed.

“Eric, I am gonna make you...I’m going to…well, I can’t think of anything worse than sending you to Africa,” Red said. “You’re going to Africa.”

                                                            --Later—

“You freakin’ what?!” Y/n screeched at her husband. They sat in their room with Steven sitting on the bed and Y/n pacing the floor. “What the hell, Steven?! How could you guys have gotten caught?! You’ve been kicked out once for getting caught, my dad won’t have a problem doing it again!”

“Actually, he kicked me out thinking he caught me, but it was actually Jackie’s,” Steven corrected.

“Steven!” she said sternly. “Now is not the time! We have children now! You can’t be doing this anymore.”

“Whoa, wait,” he said, jumping to his feet. “Are you telling me that I have to…to quit the circle?” he asked shakily.

“You’re quitting the circle, Steven,” she said sternly, crossing her arms.

“Come on, you did it, too!”

“We’re parents now! We can’t keep doing this! It’s time to grow up and be responsible.” She grabbed her jacket and wallet from the chair at the vanity.

“Wait, where are you going?!”

“I’m going out with the girls for girls night,” she responded without looking at him. “You’re staying in with the babies.”

“What am I going to do?!”

“Feed them in a couple hours and change their diapers. Then put them back in their bassinets to sleep.”

“You’re going to leave me here all by myself?!”

“They’re babies, Steven, not terrorists.” She opened the door to leave when Steven called out.

“Wait!”

Pausing, she turned back around with an arched brow.

“I want to talk about this some more!”

Y/n shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about. You got caught, deal with it. I’m going out and I’ll see when I get back.”

“What’re you going to be doing? When will you be back?”

“We’re going to go to a strip club to meet some male strippers and then take them to a hotel and have our way with them,” she deadpanned.

He made a face at her. “Isn’t that a movie?”

“Bye, Steven,” she said and walked out the room.

                                                --The Next Day--

“Y/n! Y/n!” Kitty called, running into the house while her family ate at the dinner table. A large white envelope was gripped tightly in her “A letter from a college came in!”

“Mom, that’s not a letter, that’s a—” Y/n gasped and ripped the envelope from her grasp. “Oh, my God! This is an acceptance package!”

“What?!” Steven, Red, and Kitty cried out in unison.

“What college did you apply for that you didn’t tell me?” Hyde asked, his heart sinking into his stomach.

Y/n eyed the envelope. “It’s for New York!”

“New York?!” Hyde exclaimed. “Are you friggin’ kidding me?! That’s so far away.”

“Great! Now all you dopeheads will be out of my house!” Red snarked.

“How ‘bout a ‘congratulations, Steven?” Y/n said sternly and ripped open the large envelope, but froze as his words sank in. “Wait, does this mean that you’re going to follow me?”

“Well, yeah, man,” he responded. “We’re married and have a family now. I don’t want us to be split up.”

“Awe, Steven,” Y/n gushed and kissed his cheek.

“You’re leaving me for New York?!” Kitty hollered. “What the hell was wrong with the university in Milwaukie?! Or Madison? Or Kenosha?! Or you know what, I think the Point Place Community College is just fine, too!”

“NYU has the strongest science program,” Y/n responded quietly, as if trying to tame a wild animal. “Especially for what I want to do. And they accepted my scholarships from high school.”

“Did you ever think of how this would affect me?!” she continued. “First, Laurie can’t seem to stay in one place even if her life depended on it—by the way who the hell moves to London out of all places—and then my baby boy is leaving to also leave the freaking continent—”

“For only a year!” Eric exasperated.

“—And now YOU are leaving me? You’re taking my grandbabies away from me?!” she sobbed.

“Kitty,” Red said gently. “They have to leave the nest at some point.”

“Why can’t you ungrateful brats stay in one spot?!” Kitty exploded, causing a tense hush to fall over everyone. Her eyes widened at her own words before she burst out laughing. “Oh, my goodness, I really let the beast out of its cage on that one.” She started laughing as she walked over to the cabinet and brought out a bottle of sherry and a glass. “What I mean to say is, ‘congratulations.’”

“And we are proud of you,” Red added in, a smile wide on his face. One that said be careful what you say next!

“Thank you,” Y/n said slowly, eyeing her mother. “We will come visit long weekends and holidays.”

“Oh, well that’s just freakin’ great!” Kitty shouted. “I don’t get to see my family everyday like I deserve to, but I get the good gracious of long weekends and holiday breaks. Whoopee-de-freakin’-do!” She stomped out the kitchen with the bottle in hand.

Red sighed heavily and stood from the table. “I’ll be right back. This was such a nice dinner, too.” He left the kitchen, grumbling to himself.

“Um,” Y/n awkwardly cleared her throat as she read the letter. “It says here if I want to register for fall classes I need to do so by the end of this week.”

Hyde sighed and set down the napkin on the table. “I guess I can get coverage at the store for a couple days.”

“Who? Mandy?” Y/n asked with venom in her voice.

“What do you have against her?” he asked. “She’s proven to be a good addition to the store.”

“She’s constantly throwing herself at you!”

“You mean when she tripped and literally knocked into me?”

“Or how about she’s always flirting with you?”

“She barley talks to me?”

“Or how she’s always giving you sex eyes!”

“She doesn’t even look at me!”

“Yeah, when you notice,” she argued. “I catch her all the time checking you out! I swear I almost pounced on her the other day when I caught her checking out your butt.”

He smirked. “That’s hot.”

“Steven!”

                                       --Scene Transition—

Later that day, Hyde was working the evening shift at the store when Leo walked in.

“Hey, Leo,” Hyde greeted. “So, I decided, tomorrow after I say good-bye to Forman, I’m going to New York with Y/n and the babies.”

“Hey! Nice Girl is going to New York!” Leo said, smiling dumbly at him. “You should look her up. She’s real nice, man. She’d be perfect for you.”

“Good idea,” Hyde deadpanned. “Anyway, I was thinking you could cover for me, you know hold down the fort while I’m gone. It’ll be just like the old days at the Fotohut. You remember that, right?”

“The little blue house in the parking lot with a drive thru?” Leo asked, his eyes lighting up.

“Yeah, man, exactly.”

“I don’t remember that at all, man.”

Hyde pressed his lips into a fine line, choking back laughter—or disappointment. He couldn’t tell anymore.

“Yeah, anyway, can you watch the place for me? I’ll be gone for three or four days, tops.”

“Wait, why can’t I run the store?” Mandy asking, rounding the corner.

Steven spun around to face her. “You sure you can handle it?”

“Yeah! I mean, I’m not exactly new here anymore. I’ve learned where everything is, I’ve opened and closed for you multiple times so I know the register, and I have run the place by myself a few times.”

He jut out his lip in thought. “Well, I mean—”

“No, man, I want to do it!” Leo whined.

“Leo, you don’t even know where you are half the time!” Mandy argued.

“Do I know you, man?”

“Leo, it’s me! We’ve met like ten times already!”

Leo stared at her for a solid minute before shaking his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

                                                --Meanwhile—

Eric and Kelso sat in the hospital room awaiting their dreaded shots. Donna sat away in the corner as she came for support and Kitty stood in the room, explaining that she was going to be the one to administer their shots.

“Okay, Michael, Eric, pull your pants down and lean over the table. I'll go get those gigantic needles. I just hope somebody remembered to bring them in out of the rain so they're not all rusty!” she said dramatically as she left the room.

Eric couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he and Kelso turned to lean on the table.

“Hey, Donna, I'm gonna need you to help me pull my pants off,” Kelso said with a smirk.

“Fine, turn around,” Donna sighed before grabbing Kelso’s pants and yanked them upward.

“WEDGIE!” Kelso shrieked and tried to move out of her firm grasp.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you say ‘off?’ I thought you said ‘up your butt,’” she snickered.

“I still liked it,” Kelso mumbled before Donna rolled her eyes and left the room. As he and Eric pulled their pants down and waited for Kitty to come back, they leaned forward on the table. “So…here we are.”

“Yep.”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah…and it’s kinda weird that we’re spending our last moments together bent over a table with our naked butts in the air,” Eric said, chuckling.

Kelso laughed. “This is how I always hoped it'd be. You know, I was gonna say that I'll miss you, but I'm not a nancy-boy.”

Eric nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Kelso, man, listen…there’s something I want to say to you—son of a BITCH!” He looked over his shoulder to see Kitty holding a needle in her hand, looking unimpressed. “That hurt like hell!”

“That was the alcohol swab,” she deadpanned.

“Well, it was freezing!”

                                                Later that day…

Red sat in his chair, holding Eric’s gift in his hand. He was surprised that he felt sadness and—dread? As much as he looked forward to this day, he never thought he would be feeling conflicted about it.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard Eric come bouncing down the stairs. “Well, this is it. I just have to make it passed Mom’s farewell ambush and then I’m off to Africa.”

Red stood from his chair and met him in the middle of the living room. “Eric, wait I want to talk to you for a sec.”

Eric looked at him confused, but allowed Red to continue.

“I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve been looking forward to you getting out of my house for a very long time.”

Eric sucked on his teeth in thought. “Yeah, I remember that. I believe your exact words were, ‘It’ll be more glorious than D-Day.’” He chuckled at the memory.

Red pressed his lips into a thin line, a ghost of a smile. “Yeah, well, I’m your father and you’re my son. So…here.” He opened his palm up to Eric’s gift—a pocketknife.

His eyes grew wide. “Your pocketknife from Korea?” He gently plucked the knife from his father’s hand and held it in his own. “You said if I ever touched that, I would meet the same fate as hundreds of other Godless commies.”

A proud smile made its way to his face. “Yeah, well, I want you to take it to Africa with you.”

“Really? Wow, Dad, that…that means a lot.”

Red placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “And son, I want you to know that I’m going to miss you, I love you, and you have a good trip.”

Emotion filled Eric’s eyes. “Wait, what did you just say?”

“I said have a good trip.”

“No, before that.”

Red smiled proudly at his son. “You heard me.”

“Wow,” Eric breathed. “This feels like a moment where regular people would hug.”

Red didn’t hesitate and pulled his son in by his shoulders into a tight hug. Eric clapped his back as he took in the moment.

When they finally pulled away, Eric looked at him. “Thank you, Dad. So, really, any last minute advice?”

“Yeah,” Red answered, clearing his throat. “You lose that knife, don’t come home.”

They laughed together before Eric made his way to the driveway, Red in tow.

As they reached the driveway, Eric found Donna sitting on the hood of the VistaCruiser.

“Surprise,” she said quietly.

“It’s just you?” he asked, smiling. “Wow, Donna this is amazing. This is where we had our first kiss.” He leaned his head down and pecked her lips softly.

“I know, I remember,” she said and kissed him again, more passionately.

After a second, Eric pulled away breathless. “Wow.”

“Well, it’s gotta last a really long time.”

“Man, it’s weird. Me leaving. Feels like it’s real,” he said, grabbing her hands.

“Yeah, but you’re going to be back before you know it and then we’re going to have our whole lives together.”

“Listen to me, Donna,” Eric said, pointing a finger at her. “I love you so much and—and you’re my best friend. And thank you for not letting my mom throw this surprise, going-away thing.”

Donna smiled at him. “I love you, too and I’m sorry.”

His eyebrows knit together. “For what?”

“For this…okay guys!”

The garage door swung open and everyone walked out with banners, balloons and confetti.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone yelled.

“Oh…hell, I wanted this!” Eric said gleefully.

“Oh, Eric!” Fez said and wrapped himself up in Eric and started bawling.

“I know, buddy,” Eric said, uncomfortable and awkwardly started patting Fez’s back. “Uh, Y/n, a little help here?”

She giggled and walked over to him with Leo in arms. “Hey, Fez, you want some candy?”

His head popped up from Eric’s soaked shirt like a goffer. “Chocolate?”

“What else would there be?” she giggled.

“Where?”

“Kitchen.”

“Be right back.”

Fez raced off to the kitchen before anyone could say anything else.

“We have about five seconds before he’s back,” Y/n said and turned back to him with sad eyes. “I’m really going to miss you, Eric. We’ve never been apart longer than a few weeks. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

“Hey, you got this,” Eric said gently as Hyde joined them, holding Kat in his arms. “You’re going to do awesome in New York.”

“Won’t be the same without you,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said and brought his twin in for a hug as she gripped baby Leo. “I feel the same. But like Donna said, I’ll be back before we know it.”

“Maybe you can come to New York with us when you get back?”

He gave her small smile and nodded. “We’ll see.”

“Here you go, Forman,” Hyde said and handed him a bag. “Consider this your going away gift.”

Eric took the bag and opened it. “Hyde, this bag is empty.”

“I know,” he smirked at his brother-in-law. “I heard about the stuff they have over in Africa. Fill that bad boy up, send it back to me.”

Eric chuckled and gave Hyde a hug. “Will do.”

"I thought I told you, you were done," Y/n said sternly.

"You said it, I didn't."

"Steven--"

"Not here, Darling. Not in front of your brother," Hyde said, faux concern.

“Make sure to write me and to call me,” Y/n reminded him, returning to the conversation. “And if you can send pictures. I want to see where you’re going to be staying. Oh, and I want to send you pictures of the twins so that you’re not completely missing out on them.”

“Yeah, I’m bummed that I’m not going to be around to watch you two try to handle this,” Eric said and chuckled and gave his sister one last hug before turning to the babies. “You two be good for your parents. I love you both and I will see you in a year, yeah? Don’t grow up too fast.”

Y/n looked at him with teary eyes. “I’ll give Mom our new phone number and address to give to you.”

“Sounds good, sis,” Eric said.

“Hey, man,” Markus said as he joined them. “I just wanted to say that I know I haven’t been part of the group that long, but thank you for making me feel like I’ve been a part of it all along. You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks, man,” Eric replied and hugged Markus. “Thank you for keeping a muzzle on Jackie this whole time.”

Markus chuckled. “I sure did my best.”

Kitty ran over to Eric. “Honey, I'm sorry if I smothered you. That's just what a mother does. But I've accepted that you're leaving, and I'm ready to let you go.”

She tightly wrapped her arms around him that caught Eric off guard.

“Oh, mom. Mom, you...” Eric said and hugged her back. He tried to let go after a minute, but he ended up dragging her alongside him as he tried to get to the car. “Uh, Mom, you know I’m only allowed one carry-on, so…Dad?”

Red nodded and stepped in, grabbing his wife by the shoulders. “Come on, Kitty. Come on.”

Kitty sniffed as she stepped away and watched Eric get in the car. Donna got in the passenger side along with him.

“So long, Point Place!” Eric called out and started the car, only for it to die.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Red grumbled. “Everyone push!”

Hyde handed Kat over to Y/n as he, Red, Kelso, and Kitty pushed the car down the driveway.

Eric shot a fist out the window. “So long, Point Place!”

Fez and Y/n stood in the driveway, watching Eric leave.

Fez sadly waved as tears and chocolate rolled down his face. “Bye, Eric!”

                                                Later that evening…

Jackie laid on her bed in the motel room, flipping through a magazine when she heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was Michael, she casually called out, “Come in.”

Markus was the last person she was expecting to see.

“Hey,” he said quietly as he shut the door behind him.

“Markus!” she said excitedly, trying not to jump on him. “Um, what are you doing here?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, avoiding eye contact. “Nothing. Had some free time and thought I’d just come and check out Chicago. How’s it going?”

Her heart fluttered at his sudden shyness. “Um…good. Do you want to take a walk? Maybe get something to eat?”

Markus was about to answer when the door opened, revealing a half-naked Kelso, only being covered by a towel and holding an ice bucket.

“Hey, Jackie, I checked from the parking lot and no one could see us doing it—” he let out a shriek.

Markus gaze hardened at the sight before him. “You’re dead,” he growled.

Just as he was about to reach for Kelso, he slipped out the door. Markus was able to grip the towel and rip it off of him as he sprinted into the parking lot.

“I’m nude!”  

Taglist: @not-shy-nanya @taysirene @maddieschampagneproblems @mdittyz123 @undead-sierra @random-thoughts-004 @lieswithoutfairytales @chloem4a1 @srhxpc @zhonglibxitch @leothesquishy @because-makeup @cinemadaydream

[emberglowfox]

i kind of knew in theory that all my hobbies involved my hands but i kind of just ignored it n was like oh well im sure id manage

top ten pics taken seconds before disaster

[sttoru]

“oi,” sukuna grumbles as he walks down the dirt path, carrying your slumped body in his arms. he can’t believe you fell asleep on him. you were the one who was so excited to take a walk with him, yet here you are, snoozing peacefully in his embrace.

“what a fuckin’ brat,” the king of curses cusses under his breath. he isn’t much of a gentle partner, so he definitely isn’t going to let you sleep like any other lover would in this situation.

sukuna shakes your body with all four hands. “wake up. y’re droolin’,” he complains once a drop of saliva makes contact with the bare skin of his shoulder. he flicks your forehead which finally wakes you up.

you blink a few times before looking up at the pink-haired man. “mgh, lemme sleep,” you whine and close your eyes once more. you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. it’s too comfortable to let go of him.

sukuna isn’t having any of it. you said you wanted to spend time with him, so you’ll have to do exactly that. “no, get y’r ass up,” he grunts and smacks your butt once as a warning. “you beg me to spend time with you, only to sleep through it? idiot.”

you whimper at the slap against your ass, body jolting for a second, before relaxing again. you don’t move an inch even after hearing sukuna’s rough voice in your ear, clearly warning you. it’d be a waste to let go of the precious warmth his body radiated.

“sorry,” you murmur and kiss his throat subtly while still half-asleep. “you’re just too comfy,” you add and smile lazily against his warm skin. if it was up to you, you’d stay in sukuna’s embrace forever.

the king of curses tries waking you up again, but he knows it’s futile. he feels your sloppy kiss against his throat and he freezes for a simple second. he refuses to admit the fact that it made him feel content— experiencing your affection.

“yeah, whatever. i’m dropping ya,” sukuna rolls his eyes. you didn’t expect him to actually drop his arms from around your body with the intention of letting you fall. however, you are faster than him this time.

your legs wrap around his waist and your arms are around his shoulders the moment you feel the lack of support. you grin in victory, having outsmarted your partner, who groans in annoyance.

sukuna even tries to tug at your kimono, but you still don’t budge. it’s like you’re glued to him. you keep your eyes closed, the victorious smirk on your lips never disappearing.

“. . tch. y’re impossible,” the grumpy man sighs out of frustration and defeat. he doesn’t try anything else after that. if you choose to give into slumber, then so be it. even when he would like to spend more one on one time with you.

sukuna continues to walk aimlessly into the forest with you clinging onto him. one arm comes up to balance your body on it, holding you up by your backside. the others hang limply by his sides.

his lower pair of eyes stays focused on you throughout the entirety of the stroll— secretly checking you out. it’s endearing to see your face from up close as you hold onto him like there’s no tomorrow. he takes pride in the fact that you feel safe around a dangerous creature like him.

“never takin’ ya out again. what a pain,” sukuna mutters to himself. that’s a lie.

sukuna would never admit it, but he enjoys hearing your voice and having you walk beside him as he holds your hand in his. which is the secret reason why he wants you awake right now.

your rambling about all kinds of topics that he doesn’t seem to care about at first glance, the way you fail to catch up to him as his long legs quickly stride forward, how you’d stop to look at flowers and pick one for him—

that’s what he misses. though, it seems like that would have to wait for a while.

[peachysunrize]

Labyrinth ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, very very gentle, angst angst angst angst!!!, humiliation, reader is Daemon & Laena’s oldest daughter, no description for reader (besides white hair) you can imagine her however you like, Aemond is a vulnerable & insecure baby girl, like he is really really insecure, mentions of murder, fluff, nightmares, chronic pain, mentions of Aemond’s injury, anxiety attack, babes are in looooove, English isn’t my first language<3 it’s very heavily plotted and the smut is at the end of the story.

Word count: 11.5k (she's so long but worth it)

a/n: I’ve always wanted to write something with this kind of trope, especially when it’s from the man’s pov, and there’re so little fics that get into the depths of Aemond’s pain and suffering so I needed to try and write something that says his part of the story as well! Please please tell me your opinions and favorite lines of this piece! I’ve worked sooo hard for this fic and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Reblogs and comments are appreciated<3🩷

A very special thank you to my babies, @namelesslosers & @neptuneiris for beta-ing and supporting my ideas😭🫂✨

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?”

Aemond watches the scene unfold in front of him; his mother seeking justice for him, slashing Rhaenyra’s forearm with the dagger in her hand, spilling her blood in fury.

He looks around the room, finding you scared behind your grandfather, looking at him with wide teary eyes. He scowls when he sees how you look at him with pity, thinking he is a deformed monster in your eyes, to his best friend’s eyes.

You leave the hall in a rush, and he scoffs at how unbearable he must look for you to go in such haste, allowing this injustice to wreck his world and him to cope with the aftermath alone. How could you leave him like that? What happened to all the hours he helped you build that stupid sandcastle next to where Vhagar lays? Did you forget every moment, every laughter you had together?

He stands up and walks to his mother, telling her that Vhagar is worth it. But is it true? It might be worth gaining the largest dragon alive, but in the back of his mind, he thinks about how he has lost you.

No, you left him, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He is the one with his eye in a tray, he is the one who needs tending to for the first time, and you left him while he and his mother were humiliated by Rhaenyra and her bastards.

The morning comes sooner than expected, the milk of the poppy knocked him out immediately last night. He walks down the stairs where his family is gathering to leave, his mother holding Helaena’s hand while god knows where his father is, probably saying his goodbyes to his daughter and Princess Rhaenys. 

Aemond moves toward the hill that Vhagar is sleeping on, catching the sight of you waiting for him next to the sandcastles he helped you build yesterday after your mother’s funeral.

“What do you want?” he asks, standing in front of you, trying not to frown too much to loosen his stitches.

“I-I wanted to ask how you were doing…”

“After leaving me all alone? You were my friend! I needed you and you left me! And you ask how I am after I got my eye cut out?” He shouts at you, waking up Vhagar from her drowsy nap.

“I-I don’t have any excuses, but Aemond, please—” “No, I hate you! I hate your stupid hair, your eyes, your laugh, even-even your sandcastles! They are so childish and-and ugly!” “I know you are upset with me, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you, but please let me—” “No!” he yells at you again, marching toward the castle next to your feet before he stomps all over it, screaming and crying while he ruins the perfect sculpture he himself has made for you.

“Aemond…” the sob that wrecks through you makes him stop, but you are not looking at his feet, you are looking at his face, crying for him. He doesn’t spare a glance at you when he walks to climb Vhagar’s saddle, but guilt overwhelms his emotions and dread fills him.

You just wanted to talk, and he treated you so poorly even if his anger was justified.

Oblivious to him, as soon as he and his family were gone, you ran to your grandmother, crying in her arms and begging her to allow you to study with Maesters, in hopes that someday you may help your childhood friend with the pain he will carry for the rest of his life.

•••••••••••

Jacaerys’ name day, another pathetic excuse to have his sister and her pups in the capital under the same roof, drinking and wasting the crown’s money. He can’t blame them though, they’re desperate to get on the lords’ good sides by showing off their heritage, going with songs and praises for the heir after his mother.

Unnecessary, stupid… 

Aemond groans, running his hand over his face as he wakes up with the sounds of banging in the hallway. He knows that they’re arriving today, and he’s aware that the royal chambers should be ready when his sister makes a face, but to wake him up at such an early hour after the rough night he had should have severe consequences.

With another deep groan, he sits up on his bed, looking at the sea from between the sheer curtains of his room, watching the sunlight shine bright on the surface of the water, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already taking turns in the sky over the city.

He stands up, looking down at the soaked undershirt he had on during sleep, exhaling deeply as he pulls the fabric off, slamming it down on the couch as he walks to the balcony to get some fresh air. The morning breeze hits his sweat-covered chest, stinging the empty socket of his eye.

He knows he should go back inside, to cover his scar and avoid pain from the cold wind, but the contrast of the coldness of it on his heated skin is soothing his mind, calming his beating heart. He will regret it during the day, but for now, after experiencing yet another nightmare, he needs to feel alive again.

As soon as the sharp pain starts from the depths of his skull, he moves back, shutting the door and pulling the curtains closed. He stands straight, his nails digging inside his palms as he controls, or tries to control his breathing. 

It always starts like this; a sting, then another one but sharper, then a minimal pain that surrounds his scar, and finally, the stabbing pain all over his face followed by the worst headache someone can ever endure.

He reaches for the nearest surface he can lean on, knuckles turning white as he keeps his weight up, trying not to fall on his knees just yet.

He can do it, he has done it countless times.

Aemond steadies himself on his feet before he sighs shakily, walking towards the clothes his mother’s servants laid down for him yesterday. It is a simple outfit; a leather tunic with black pants and a fresh beige undershirt. Nothing too fancy, and nothing less regal that a prince should wear.

He takes his time while getting ready, allowing the phantom pain of his eye to fade away slowly. Before he can button up his tunic, his chamber servants come running in, putting a bowl of water with a warm towel on the side desk while they prepare his breakfast. He covers the left side of his face with his hand so as to not scare them with the unbearable sight of the empty space in his face.

He watches them with a sleepy gaze as they clear the room, slamming the door behind them. Aemond sits in front of his mirror, taking the brush in his hand to untangle his unruly hair.

There are no thoughts in his head as he stares blankly at his reflection; he hates his scar with a passion that could set the realm on fire. There is no gentleness in his features, everything is sharp, angular, and rough. There is no trace left of the boy he was before his nephew took out his eye.

Doomed before he could even try to become someone worthy.

He ties his hair, revealing more of the healed wound and the dark empty socket on his face. Sometimes he gets stuck inside the labyrinth of his head, running and running until he reaches the middle, but it’s never enough. At the end of the maze, someone drops dead; whether he kills them or they kill him. There is no escape from these dreams, from these self-destructive thoughts that haunt him day and night.

He reaches for a box on the vanity, pulling out the sapphire gem before reaching for an ointment Maester has given him to help the gem fill his eye socket without pain.

He looks at himself again; he looks less like a brute, the gem adds to his beauty but in his mind, it’s not enough, it’ll never be. He sees his brothers, healthy and handsome, being subjected to women’s attention all the time, and sometimes he wishes desperately to be in their place, to be able to talk to a lady without frightening her. But he has learned that a maimed man is less worthy than a whore in Streets of Silk, so he exercises and trains daily to become worthy again, to live up to his Targaryen name. There are deep yet little scars adorning all over the skin of his hands and arms — a reminder of how he has become the man he is.

He eats his breakfast in silence, tension rising in his shoulders as the smoke of the candles on his desk reaches his eye. He drops his spoon on the table, blowing the candles out before he reaches for his eyepatch.

He has told everyone that there shouldn’t be any scented candles in his rooms, but as it seems no one ever pays attention to what he has to say, not even to help with the pain of his eye.

He stands up, knocking a few plates on the table to the floor, smearing fresh fruits on his carpet. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, but he can’t care less about anything other than the fact that he needs to join his family in the throne room — and he does after he grabs his dagger and secures it in his belt.

“Ser,” Aemond nods at his appointed guard, earning a ‘good morning, my prince’ from him. Aemond walks down the stairs with his head held high, scoffing at the servants who make a path for him hurriedly, trying to avoid being seen by him or see him.

The bustling of the castle is irritating; everyone is running from one corner to another and decorating the keep for their princess’ arrival. He is not annoyed that he has to reunite with his sister and nephews, but because he has to endure their presence for longer than necessary, to look them in the eye and act civil as if the pain he copes with already isn’t enough torment from them.

He nods at Ser Cole, who follows him into the crowded hall, eying everyone who is waiting for the Realm’s delight. Aegon and Helaena are standing side by side, his sister is clutching Aegon’s arm tightly as the crowd makes her feel small under its gaze. His mother looks at the throne silently, and he can see the hesitation in her eyes — how are they going to go through these weeks of celebration, they have no idea.

“Good morrow, Mother,” he whispers as he stands behind her, his eye softening at the small smile she gives him, “you look radiant this morning.”

“Hush you, sweet talker,” she chuckles lowly, rubbing his arms lovingly, “have you heard about the Velaryons’ arrival?”

“Lord Corlys is coming as well?” he asks, shifting on his feet nervously, his fingers tightening slightly on Alicent’s elbows, “I did not know…” “Neither did I, darling. They shall arrive at the same time as Rhaenyra, at least I know Daemon’s eldest will.”

“Driving on dragonback, obviously,” he mutters, sighing shakily. 

Alicent notices his hesitancy, she gently cups his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “Do not project your anger on her, she was but a child.”

“Yet she kept silent that night. She was supposed to be my friend,” he says, looking away from his mother, lowering his head in shame, beating himself for letting his emotions take hold of him.

“Give your courtesy and leave if you wish not to talk to her,” Alicent smiles sadly at Aemond, patting his cheek before they both look at the doors of the hall.

Something in his guts drops when he sees Rhaenyra entering, her family walking towards them, all smiling and laughing as if they aren’t going to experience the most dreadful weeks of their lives. 

“Your grace,” Rhaenyra says, trying to break the visible tension between the families. The crowd goes silent, and the only thing they can hear is the soft exhales of the people close to them, everyone waiting with bated breath to see what happens in a few seconds.

“Princess,” Alicent smiles, “welcome back to your home,” she replies politely, giving Daemon a half courtesy before she congratulates Jacaerys for his eight-and-ten name day.

“Aegon…”

Aemond looks away from his sister as she acknowledges them all, instead his eye finds Daemon’s who is staring back at him with a smirk on his face. Aemond’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Daemon chuckles at that, giving him a challenging look.

He looks back at Rhaenyra who says his name, giving him a forced smile before she turns around quickly and asks for the King.

“He is quite unwell, he shall join us in the evening,” Alicent explains, telling the maids to make haste and set the garden ready to start the celebrations; nothing too fancy for the noon, a tea gathering in the garden to reunite everyone, or at least to make sure the court has something to gossip about.

Aemond follows them slowly, taking time to observe each and every one of them. He can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in his chest as his eye finds Lucerys Velaryon, laughing and looping his arm with Rhaena. He looks away immediately, lips forming into a sneer as he walks with his hands behind him, grinding his teeth while he thinks about how he was robbed of everything good because of that bastard, because of the hideous scar he gave him.

The garden is filled with new bushes; roses, lilacs, daisies, and surprisingly winter roses. The sight would have been quite beautiful if all this fuss wasn’t for his nephew. He walks away from the crowd, making his way toward his siblings who are trying to appeal content with the events. Helaena is in her own world, lifting a worm from the ground as she counts its feet. Aegon is gulping down his wine while he listens to Daeron telling him about whatever book he has read these past few days, or at least he seems like he is paying attention.

Aemond sighs, grabbing a goblet of wine himself to nurse on it as he tries to distract himself from the chilly wind that hits his face. Luckily the eyepatch covers his eye socket fully and doesn’t let the cold breeze hit his scar, but the tension in his bones has remained from the morning rush of pain he experienced earlier. It’d be best if he left this pointless gathering earlier anyway.

“How are you faring this beautiful morning, brother?” Aegon asks him, grinning sarcastically. Daeron groans in response, even though the question wasn’t meant for him. Everyone can tell he is fed up with Aegon’s constant teasing of Rhaenyra’s family coming back to Red Keep.  

“Well enough to know I will be leaving in a few minutes,” Aemond replies, sipping on his wine as he catches Luke stealing glances at him. Pathetic, he is too scared to even look at him properly, he is glad though, it gives him a sense of comfort to know the mark he has left on his face scares him enough to keep him away from him.

“Can’t do that! It’d be rude if you left without saying hi to our favorite Velaryons.” Aegon smirks, tipping his head back as he laughs at Aemond’s sneer.

“As much as I hate to say this, but the idiot is right; you can’t give them more reasons to resent us,” Daeron says, looking at his older brother with kind eyes, “besides, they are here anyway.” he points at the passageway leading to the garden, catching the sight of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys walking side by side toward the crowd.

Aemond’s heart stops for a second when his good eye lays upon you, following your grandparents with a gentle smile grazing your lips. You are a sight to behold; silver hair falling around your shoulders like curtains of moonlight that shine bright like a diamond beneath the morning rays of sunshine. Your gown the bluest of blue that shows your devotion to your mother’s house, and your lips painted pink in the most alluring way… 

Aemond’s eye sees a sight his mind can not comprehend, too unreal and beautiful that makes him doubt if he is seeing you with his sapphire eye through the patch.

His face is blank, but his heart is beating so fast he can hear his pulse in his ears. His eye follows you, watching you bow before his mother and sister, looking away immediately to find your sisters already giddy to hug you. Rhaena is the first to run to you, wrapping her arms around you while Baela approaches you slowly, letting her twin have her moment with you.

He doesn’t move from his spot, he can’t move even if he wants to; he’s struck between shock and something he can’t pinpoint; he can only say for sure that he hopes it’s a rush of adrenaline of not seeing you for so long.

The only time he looks away from you is when Daeron pats his back and encourages him to join everyone to say hello and welcome your family to the Keep. He doesn’t need to say a word, just a nod at both Corlys and Rhaenys is enough, but when you turn around to greet him and his siblings, his breath gets stuck in his lungs. 

You look at him from beneath your lashes, beaming so radiantly at him that he almost forgets the pain in his eye or the pain he has caused you the last time he saw you. The world around him fades away, the noises become distance as his sky-blue eye finds yours easily, and he has to swallow sharply while he desperately tries to keep his face stoic and serious and not show you how he is panicking from inside, palms sweaty and lips drying while he gazes at you, his childhood friend who… suddenly the bubble around you breaks and he remembers how you abandoned him that night at Driftmark.

“My lady,” he says in a hushed tone, watching your reaction closely.

“My prince, it’s so good to see you again,” you grin at him, “I hope you are doing well.”

“As well as a half-blinded man can do,” averting his eye from you, he regrets the words he said immediately, flushing a bit in embarrassment, but when he looks back at you, your smile hasn’t left your face, if anything you look at him with empathy and much kindness that he has a hard time believing you are real; it’s been too long since anyone has looked at him with such sincerity.

“Darling,” Daemon steps closer to them, ruining the moment for Aemond to say something, anything to take back what he said earlier.

He watches your smile wavering a little when you look at your father, hands fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. He notices how you try to ignore your father and Rhaenyra as they approach you, a tense smile on his sister’s lips while she tightens her grip on her husband’s arm.

“We have missed you, the girls, and I,” Daemon says, reaching to caress your hair as gently as the Rogue prince can, “you did not visit us at Dragonstone.” “I don’t like it there, the castle unnerves me,” You reply softly, “I rather enjoy the silence of grandsire’s castle.” “You are a Targaryen, you should visit your ancestor’s sit,” Rhaenyra tries her best to persuade you to think about coming back with them, leaving your lovely grandparents alone.

“I’m a Velaryon just as much as I’m a Targaryen, but ‘tis not a matter we should discuss at such a joyous day, don’t you think, princess?” you say, and Aemond sees it in your eyes how desperately you wish for the conversation to end. Aemond watches his sister’s words falter, her confidence crumbling with each word that you utter. Your statement is not rude, not even filled with malicious intent, but the mention of your Mother’s side of the family makes the Targaryen couple uncomfortable.

“I would have loved to stay and talk with you, Father, but I’m afraid the journey on dragonback has left me starving. Please, excuse me,” you nod at them before walking past them to the corner where Aemond and his siblings were sitting minutes ago, reaching for a glass of wine to gulp down.

Aemond doesn’t spare a glance at the couple, following you closely so he can sit in silence and out of the sun, truly not wishing for another fit of agony that consumes his skull.

“You have grown, Aemond,” you sit beside him, turning your head to look at his side profile, “no longer the child who used to build sandcastles with me when I would visit the Keep.”

“Yes, no longer a child with friends. Spending years apart without any contact, surely you are not that surprised how I have turned out to be,” he scoffs at your words, frowning when he turns around and finds you chuckling gently, “Did I jest about something I’m not aware of?”

“No, no, I just remembered how we promised to never let anyone break us apart, but you were the first who did so; you stomped your feet on my sandcastles the morning after my Mother’s funeral. You are right though, no ravens were exchanged, but I do hope you’re still the sweet prince who helped me study.” your lips twist into a small smile.

You are not angry with him, how can you not be angry with him? You had spent hours after they freed your Mother’s soul into the sea to find the perfect place to build your sandcastles and he ruined them the morning he was about to leave.

Your teary eyes have haunted him from that moment to this day.

“I apologize, I did not wish to remind you of that night,”

“I’m reminded every time I look into a mirror, do not concern yourself.” his reply is curt as he gazes at you, your eyes full of sadness and sympathy for a man you no longer know. Or maybe you know him too much, he thinks.

“I look forward to spending time with you, my prince. I hope we can catch up on each other's lives.” “Perhaps we can,” he sounds unsure of himself, Getting to know you again while you have turned into a woman grown — the most beautiful woman he has ever seen at that — is going to be a challenge he does not know he welcomes or fears greatly.

•••••••••••

He leaves sooner than he should, hiding in his room with a warm towel on his face as he soothes the pain of his eye, the headache he had since morning finally fading away. There are so many thoughts lingering in his head, and ironically, they are all filled by you; your gown, bright smile, and gentle personality.

He groans, so frustrated that he has met you a few hours prior yet you have consumed his every thought. If he focuses hard enough, he can see the labyrinth of his nightmares, the hedges are covered in ivy, suffocating as they reach for air — he thinks of him as the hedge, and how easily he has let you wrap yourself around his thoughts this quickly.

Weak, he thinks to himself, he’s weak.

He sits up, dropping the towel in the bowl on his nightstand, breathing deeply as he looks around his dark room, spotting a lit candle on his desk in the corner.

Sometimes it baffles him how his room represents his inner self so openly; it’s not messy, no, but if you squint you can see the abandoned book in the foot of his chair, ink dripping from his pot on the carpet, the candle illuminating the trail of black paint on his desk. It seems as if his room is showing the ugly part of itself to his eye, and for a second he thinks about how he sees himself — an ugly monster with an unsightly scar.

Aemond leaves his room a few minutes after fixing his eyepatch and hair, walking to the king’s solar to join his family for dinner. He walks with his hands clasped together behind him, looking straight to avoid eye contact with anyone who sees him on his way up the stairs. He doesn't expect to see you of all people, heading out of your room to take the same path as him.

“Aemond!” You say his name with such enthusiasm that has his heart racing again, beaming at him as if you are excited to see him. How could you be this giddy to meet him? No one has expressed to be happy to spend time with him, let alone smile at him the way you do. Is this an act of modesty? It has to be, he thinks, or else it does not make sense at all.

“My lady,” he bows his head politely, “How come you are late for such an interesting gathering?”

You giggle a little, walking side by side with him, “I was spending some time with Helaena’s children. Oh, they are such sweet babes!”

“Indeed they are,” he replies quietly, watching you curiously as you round him to stand on his good side, “what are you doing, My Lady?”

“I did not realize I was on your blind side, Aemond, forgive me,” “There is nothing to forgive,” he sucks in a harsh breath, pondering over your response for the rest of the way til King’s solar. The silence is oddly comfortable even though he gets a bit nervous when you keep glancing at him. 

There’s an unusual warmth spreading through his chest, he can’t understand it — it can be his heart since it’s beating too hard and fast, or perhaps even his lungs! He can’t even breathe properly, but at the same time, he feels… right, much better than before. He blames you for the conflicted emotions, it’s all your doings, he is sure. Because whenever he looks at you, he feels as if his clothes are suffocating him, his ears ring while the world fades around him, and the center of his world becomes you.

Weak, worthless, he has just met you, yet all these years apart seem blurry to him, as if he has known you since the age of the Firstmen; so familiar and comforting, even though you left him alone the night he needed you the most.

The guards open the door to the solar, and Aemond follows you inside, his eye wandering all over the room, taking his surroundings in. His mother and Rhaenyra are sitting at the table, his nephews are standing on their mother’s side while Aegon is trying to listen to whatever lecture Otto is giving him.

He watches you walk to your sisters, wrapping your arms around Baela and Rhaena as they both start talking to you about the things they have done during the past years you’ve been Lord Corlys’ ward in Driftmark.

“You’re staring,” Daeron says out of nowhere, pulling Aemond out of his thoughts but he doesn’t look away, he keeps his eye trailing on you until you turn around and catch his eye as well, smiling broadly at him.

“I am merely observing,” he replies, but knows his brother is right. It’s only the first dinner but he can already feel his eye itching to be on you again.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Daeron shrugs, leading him to Aegon and Helaena to sit down.

He finds an empty seat next to him, thinking Daeron is the one who’d sit beside him, but when he sees it’s you who reaches for the chair, his heart leaps to his throat before he composes himself quickly, pulling it out like the prince he is.

You give a smile that is worth countless gold dragons, and for the second time today, he questions if the sapphire is a magical eye, because the world turns a bit brighter and less dull when he looks at you. He sits next to you, his eyebrows twisting into a deep frown when he sees Lucerys at the other side of the table engaged in a deep conversation with Rhaena, playing the role of the happy family quite well.

Everyone stands up when the guards bring in the King, everyone except for Helaena but neither she nor Aemond pays any attention to others. One is busy playing with her hairpin, and he is busy admiring your ethereal face as you kiss the king, your uncle’s cheek, thanking him for having you and your grandparents in his home after so many years. As soon as Viserys sits behind the table, you take your place next to him again, giving him a small smile before you turn your head to listen to what his father has to say. 

He knows what his father is about to say; first, he thanks them all for coming, paying special attention to his grandsons and Rhaenyra while he lies over and over again about how much he loves them all, how they should never let the House of the Dragon fall into ruins, oblivious to the fact that not Rhaenyra nor Alicent were the ones who broke the family into different agendas, but it was him who started the flame.

Tonight, Aemond doesn’t look at his sister to attend to her. His eye is solely on you, taking in the shape of your lashes kissing your cheekbones, carving the silhouette of your nose and lips in his memories. He looks at the way your lips curve into a grin, cheeks forming into the most beautiful shape he has ever witnessed.

You turn your head a little to glance at him, catching him red-handed while he tries to play it cool, but he finds that he is not powerful enough to look away from your blown-out pupils and the orange hue that’s cast on your irises softly.

He breaks the eye contact, a scowl forming on his face as he reaches for his goblet of wine, nearly throwing the goblet across the table when he hears Lucerys laughing at the two of you.

You beat him to it before he could open his mouth, “Is there something funny, Prince Lucerys?” your voice is so soft and slow, almost humiliatingly sweet, and funnily, it terrifies Luke. 

Aemond smirks as he watches his nephew stuttering over his words while everyone around the table sits in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the young prince to say something, anything.

“I was surprised by how fast Uncle Aemond took a liking to you, given his looks and all,”  he explains, sarcasm dripping like honey from each of his words.

Fucking bastard, Aemond thinks to himself as an ugly sneer sits on his face. As much as he wants to leap toward him and cut off his tongue, he can’t — not when you put your hand on his over the hilt of his dagger.

Your skin is so smooth atop his calloused one. The way your fingers wrap around his wrist sets his body on fire, burning the skin in a way unknown to any man, but this is no ordinary burn; there’s no trace of fire, no long-forgotten ashes of his bones are visible, instead his fingers twitch for more, begging for more skin to skin contact, but he pulls his hand away from you without looking away from Luke’s blushing face.

“Your words are mean for no reason, Lucerys, given how it’s been your doing that has caused Aemond his scar,” you say, “I find him quite handsome actually. He was my beloved friend when we were younger. There are, of course, many feelings between us. Nothing has happened out of the blue for you to mock him for.”

“I-I apologize, good sister, I wasn’t…”

“It is not me who you should apologize to, it’s Aemond. I have taken no offense on my behalf but I do believe you owe him an apology.” You explain, sipping from your glass slowly while keeping your eyes on Lucerys.

No one, not even the King has the strength to intrude into the situation, maybe in doubt of saying something to hurt you, or perhaps you’re just speaking the truth, and for once, everyone fears your gentle mannerisms.

“I apologize, uncle,” 

Aemond’s stare is blank as he looks at Luke who’s chewing the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. He nods, not bothering to reply to him; he will never forgive nor forget what he has done to him, crushing his hopes and ruining his worth for a lifetime.

“Let us put our differences aside, and become a family again,” the king says, coughing before he reaches to drink from his cup. 

The dinner goes smoothly from there and to Aemond’s surprise, he engages in more conversations with you. He does not talk too much, he’d rather listen to your giggles and stories rather than talk about his boring and miserable life.

His eye always lingers on you for far longer than it should, not in an inappropriate way, but more in a sense of intrigue and curiosity, trying to understand you from his perspective. He simply can’t though; you are worlds apart. He is a cold-hearted, broken, and worthless man when it comes to your bright and beautiful personality. Even if he gets to know you again after so many years, he would never think himself worthy enough to be in your presence.

“Aemond…?” you call his name oh so sweetly, making him feel as if he is on top of Vhagar, flying atop the city while the wind blows in his hair; it makes him feel alive.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Are you alright? You look quite flushed,” You smile sweetly, reaching to put the back of your hand on his cheek, flustering him even more than he already is.

“Yes, yes, I might have had too much wine,” he doesn’t know who he is trying to convince; you or him? By the sound of it, it’s him who needs to be convinced that it’s the wine in his blood and not the same unknown feeling he gets when you look at him. No, it is definitely the wine. It has to be.

“Oh, well then, I wish to spend more time with you if you are not against it,”

“Why would I be?” he asks almost too quickly, making you chuckle at his… enthusiasm. If he can even call it that.

“Then I’d be overjoyed if we could rebound what we had as children.”

•••••••••••

After the dinner, something between you and Aemond shifted; he spent more time outside his room, he was calmer and less serious, and the pain in his skull was almost gone. You joined him in the library a few times in the next few days, meeting each other at your door to attend the meals side by side, and almost everyone could feel how he was changing the longer he had you close, almost turning into the little boy he once was.

Both of you forget your last interactions as an act of mercy for the other.

With your insistence, he agreed to miss the tourney being held for Jace’s nameday to sneak out of the castle and take you to the beach. He did not need much convincing, but when you gave him those doe eyes with a little pout on your lips, he felt weaker than he ever did and gave in immediately.

Aemond helps you down the rocks near the shoreline with your small hands in his, taking cautious steps down to not trip over and hurt yourself. He keeps his eye on your feet instead of his, worrying more about you than himself even though he is stepping down with his good eye on you, not looking where he is going.

That seems to be a bad decision, because the next second, not only does his foot miss a small rock, but yours slips on one too, tumbling into his arms as the two of you fall on the soft sand, Aemond’s arms wrapping tightly around your back to keep you steady.

He looks at you, panting as his eye widens at the closeness; your faces are inches away from each other, and he can feel your soft rushed exhales on his lips. You look like a goddess atop him, the sun illuminating your silver hair, reminding him of the last sennight when you arrived and your hair made your face shine even brighter.

He has never seen such a beauty before, sure he has seen the ladies of the court, but your Valyrian beauty combined with sunlight and the blue hue of the sky has him mesmerized, not realizing how his hands are gripping your waist while he stares at you.

You giggle at first, then break into a fit of laughter while you lean more into him, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh wholeheartedly.

He chuckles lowly at first, then matches your laughter and throws his head back, holding you on him by one arm while the other comes to run over his face. 

“I have never heard you laugh so freely before,” you say after you have calmed down, putting your palms on either side of his face while you hover over him.

“I don’t remember having a reason to do so,” he replies, smiling up at you.

“I’m glad that I’m able to bring joy to your life, you deserve it.” leaning down, you press a gentle kiss on his cheek before standing up, smoothing down your skirt.

He is at loss of words, speechless to his core. He deserves it, he thinks, do you truly think a monster like him deserves any chance of happiness?  How are you not disgusted by him, his scar, his sour and mean tongue? How can you ever leave a butterfly kiss on someone as unworthy as him? 

He looks at you from where he is staying lying on the sand, watching as you extend your hand to him, rocking on your heels in anticipation so you can go and wander on the beach and reunite with the sea.

He grabs your hand, standing up on his feet as well. There is sand in both of your clothes, but you have just begun your venture and won’t stop until you are satisfied.

You don’t let go of his hand when you start jogging, pulling him with you as you giggle in delight. And he observes you as he always does; wind in your hair, waves crashing against the shore while your laughter fills the air around him. He doesn’t realize his smile has widened and he is following you just as excited, letting the sand and the sea separate you from the outer world.

“You promised you would make a sandcastle for me!” you say, pulling him behind you to the spot where you would sneak away as children, sitting down to get to work.

“I did not,” he replies, unbuttoning his tunic so he can stay under the sun without being bothered by the heat.

“Fine, you did not. But you ruined the one we built together at Driftmark so you owe me one!”

He chuckles at you, his dimples on display as he shakes his head, “Alright, I will make one for you.”

It took you a good few hours to finish the sandcastle; it could have finished much sooner if you hadn’t thrown wet sand at him, cleaning your dirty hands with his white cotton undershirt just to annoy him — and it worked. In a second, he was chasing you around the beach with hands full of wet sand curved into balls, throwing them at you.

And here you are now, fingers laced together, shoes in one hand as you both walk on the shoreline, letting the waves cool your feet. You point at the sunset, leaning on his side when you come to a stop to watch the sky change color as the sun goes down.

Aemond on the other hand, looks at your calm face that is glowing under the pink and orange sunlight. How did he get so lucky to be blessed by such a beauty to lay his eye upon? Maybe he truly deserves this unknown feeling that spreads through him like fire and makes his fingers tingle and his heart beat in happiness. Maybe he deserves to be loved by you and love you unconditionally in return.

You turn around, dropping your shoes before you reach up to cup his cheeks. He closes his eye and basks in the attention you give him; so unique and pure. He drops his boots as well, arms circling your waist to pull you closer.

Aemond doesn’t dare to open his eye, fearing that he might ruin this perfect moment as you trace the lines of his lips, his cheekbones, and his jaw. You are so gentle with him, something he is not quite used to. It has always been him, alone in a cold room, but now and here with you, he feels as if he can breathe again, and forget every pain he has endured to reach this moment of his life.

“Open your eye, My Prince,” you whisper before you peck the corner of his lips, pulling him in so you can rest your forehead on his.

He obligates, sighing shakily when he finds you already looking at him. Your gaze is so genuine that somehow scares him, a rush of destructive thoughts comes into his head, but you seem to notice it from how his hands shake on your waist.

“Don’t think about anything, just… just focus on me.” 

He does as you say, his brain shutting those annoying voices at the back of his head down as soon as your nose brushes against his, your soft lips brushing over his so endearingly. He is hesitant at first but when you peck him again, he moves forward as well, meeting you halfway until his lips are locked with yours.

You taste as sweet as the strawberry cakes you had this morning, if not sweeter. The way your lips move together makes his head hazy. You are kissing his breath away, leaving him begging for more. His chest moves up and down quickly when you break the kiss, and you caress his thin swollen lips, bruised by your kisses and lack of air, while he admires you from head to toe.

The sun has set, but the glimmer of love has risen inside of Aemond’s broken heart.

•••••••••••

A kiss here and there, more sneaking around the castle and to the beach until the main event for Jace’s birthday arrives. He is in his mother’s solar, listening to her talk about how lovely you are and how much of a wonderful couple you would make with him if only you weren’t Daemon’s daughter.

“Mother—”

“You should dance with her tonight, my darling!” Alicent says, running her hands over his arms when he stands up and approaches her, “I have heard Daemon has plans of betrothing her. Obviously, he has yet to find someone suitable, but he is thinking about it.”

Aemond’s heart drops when Alicent says your father is looking for a suiter, fortunately, Alicent sees his surprise, shock, and fear. She reaches to cup his cheek, forcing him to maintain eye contact while she talks, “Don’t let her go if you truly wish to have her. I know that she would stand strong against her father and Rhaenyra, but she would need your support and love as well to feel brave enough to turn down a good match.”

“They would make her happier than I can ever do, Mother,” he replies, his voice breaking slightly. Losing you terrifies him, and he is aware that his mother can read him like an open book, shushing him while he inhales sharply.

“I have never seen her happier than I have with you, and I have never seen you this happy and lively, darling. Be selfish for once, choose your happiness this time.”

“How can I choose my happiness over her life?!” he asks harshly, frowning at his mother.

A knock interrupts Alicent before she can respond, and the guards open the door for you to step inside the queen’s room.

“Oh, I apologize, it was not my intention to interrupt you.”

Aemond seems to be struck by your beauty; your body is wrapped in a teal-colored gown with a low neckline that leaves your shoulders and collarbones on display. Your silver hair is braided with some parts of it pinned up, some strands framing your bare neck.

“You look so beautiful, my darling,” Alicent says, nudging Aemond a bit forward when she sees how he is looking at you.

“Thank you, my queen. You look very beautiful as well,” you look away from the queen, smiling when he approaches you slowly, “you said you were going to wear something close to this color and I decided it would look quite good to match. How do I look?”

“Enchanting,” he breathes out, reaching to hold your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “You look breathtaking, My Lady.”

“So do you, My Prince.”

“Shall we then?” he offers you his arm and you accept without hesitation, looking back to see if the queen will come with you and she assures you she will come with the King.

“You said you were going to retrieve me from my chambers for the party,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk toward the great hall.

“I am deeply sorry. Mother wanted to have a word with me,” he explains, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is everything alright, Aemond?” you ask him, and he chuckles at how adorably your brows twist into a frown in worry. “Yes, darling, she merely wished to remind me to make sure you have a great time tonight. You are our special guest.”

“Does that mean you will dance with me?” you ask, holding his hands in yours before you reach the hall.

“We shall see,” he brings your hands to his lips again, leading you toward the hall, bowing and nodding at the ladies and lords who take it upon themselves to greet you.

You come to a stop in front of the table, Rhaena coming to hug you and twirl you around, gasping at the sight of your beautiful gown, gasping even louder when she sees how your dress matches Aemond’s tunic.

A ghost of a smile finds its way on Aemond’s face as he watches you get flustered at your sister’s attention to details, but soon, his eye hardens when he finds his uncle glaring at the two of you. Tonight will change the course of so many lives.

He watches you laugh with your sisters, pointing at the empty chair next to you so he would sit close by all night. With one last glare at his uncle, he walks to his seat and pours wine into his cup, blushing a bit when he hears you laughing again. You are not even laughing at something he has said and he is the one who gets flushed.

He is knee-deep inside these new feelings but he welcomes the challenge with open arms. Or at least he tries to do so without Daemon being an obstacle to his plans. 

He looks at you when Rhanea and Helaena pull you to the dancefloor for the new song, pairing up with different lords to dance with, but what catches his eye, isn’t who you are dancing with, but more than who Daemon is talking to. He recognizes the lord to be from the south, probably a Tyrell, and when his uncle and the lord look in your direction, he knows something is not right, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his stomach.

He watches the lord closely as he makes his way through the crowd to get to you, bowing and introducing himself before taking your hand to dance with you. He can see how uncomfortable he is making you, probably discussing his sick desire to have a wife and kids while he dances with a Targaryen-Valeryon goddess.

“Stop glaring and do something!” Baela slides into the seat next to him, hissing the words at him while she keeps her eyes fixed on you as well, “I don’t like you, I will never like you, but you make her happy. Do something before our father ruins her life because of Rhaenyra.” “I thought you liked your stepmother,” Aemond chooses to ignore most of the things she said.

“It’s Rhaenyra’s schemes, please, Aemond, my sister deserves to feel appreciated. I have never seen any lord take an interest in her the way you have. You are the only thing she could talk about in the last few days. I will beg you if I have to.” Aemond turns his head toward Baela, letting her words calm down the hesitancy he has toward courting you. There are far more handsome men than him in the court, yet, he is the one who is blessed to hold you and kiss you, to gaze into your eyes and see forever in them.

He hisses when he feels a sting in his skull, not now, no. The pain can’t start now. He gulps his wine before he nods at Bela and stands up to walk to the crowd in the middle of the hall, catching your eyes for a second before he has to bow and start the dance with a lady he does not care to engage in a conversation with.

He thinks about how much he has changed in a few days; there will always be a part of him who thinks he’s not worthy of your affection, that you can do better than him, but also the thought of you in another man’s arms sets his skin ablaze. He is torn between keeping you all to himself or letting you have a wonderful future with another guy who can stand by your side and make you proud, who is not maimed and scarred like him.

Luckily, everyone needs to change their partner and he reaches with his hand to grab yours and pull you to his side, grinning when he hears your delighted shriek. “My Prince Aemond,” you say, squeezing his hand while the two of you twirl around the room.

 He doesn’t wish to say, but the tempo is too high for me, and it worries him that somehow he might make a fool of himself or you if he trips over someone’s shoe on his blindside.

“Lady Targaryen, you look like a Valyrian Goddess, my beloved.”

“Why thank you, my good prince. I have to say that this color truly brings out your beautiful eye,” you reply coyly, tipping your chin up while you bite your lip.

“You are playing with fire, darling.” he leans down to whisper in your ear, pressing a feather-like kiss on your earlobe without anyone noticing.

“I’m a Targaryen, Prince Aemond, fire is in my blood,”

“Is that so? Well, I must say—”

He doesn’t know what happens, or how it happens, but in a second he can’t see you when he twirls you around him, and suddenly, the weight of your waist isn’t in his hand anymore.

“Aemond!” you fall down by his feet, and he sees that his boots have caught the edge of your heels, making you twist your ankle in the wrong way and causing your fall.

What have I done?

What have I done?

I dropped her.

I did this.

What happened?

His eye has widened in fear, and he is frozen in place, hands shaking slightly as he feels the crowd around you look in your direction, staring and gaping at him before the hushed whispers start to fill the room.

“Aemond, look—”

He can’t look at you. He will never be able to live with himself for humiliating you in the way he did tonight.

Stupid, weak, useless good for nothing, Aemond. If another lord was dancing with her, he wouldn’t have dropped her. A prince but less worthy than a common whore. 

With trembling lips, and a pain blooming in his eyesocket, he dashes out of the room, leaving you on the floor. 

His vision is blurry, the pain is getting worse and the air is stuck in his lungs. He can’t breathe, no, he doesn’t deserve to breathe. How can he when all he wanted to do was to dance with you but ended up hurting you? How could he hurt you like this? 

He skips the steps, running to his room while he groans in pain, the stinging is getting stronger, the agony in his nerves is spreading through his skull and it only gets worse when he opens the door to his chambers to find not only scented candles but the windows and the balcony door is open as well.

“You are dismissed!” he shouts at the guard before he slams the door shut, “Ah!” He tumbles down, gripping the nearest chair to keep himself on his feet at least before he falls on his knees, clawing at the eyepatch to pull it off as if it’s burning his skin.

The pain is like a dagger, stabbing him over and over again until even his knees don’t have the strength to keep him up. He falls on the floor, curling into a ball while the pain spreads through his face, and he finally breaks down, bursting into tears from agony and humiliation. If only he wasn’t in pain… if only his eye wasn’t cut out…

Aemond doesn’t hear when the door opens, nor he can see who the person is. Tears have flooded his vision, but as soon as he feels your soft hand on his arms, trying to help him sit up, he flinches, backing away from you while he gasps for air, feeling his tunic clinging to his sweaty body. 

“Aemond, please let me—” “No, no, no, no…” he stands up hurriedly, walking to the balcony on unsteady legs to get some air in his lungs, only to be met by a freezing wind that makes the chronic pain in his eye even worse. He drops to his knees again, this time the sounds of his gasps and painful yelps are louder than before.

You rush to his side, kneeling in front of him to cup his cheeks, kissing his clammy forehead before you wipe his tears away gently. He lets you touch him this time, too exhausted to utter a word, to push you away even if he has to.

“It’s going to be okay, Aemond, let me help you,” You help him on his feet, making sure to have your arms wrapped tightly around him while he leans his weight on you, trusting you to take care of him, even though the voice in the back of his head is telling him to push you out of his room.

“Gently, my love, gently,” you help him lay down on the bed, pecking his cheek again, rising to get the smoke out of the room but his hands shot up and grabs your forearm tightly.

“Stay, please,” he whimpers, his beautiful eye tearing in pain.

“I will, my dearest, I just need to blow out the candles and close the windows, and I’ll be back in bed with you.” You reach and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon his knuckles before he lets you go.

He can’t see you clearly, but your shadow moves from side to side frantically, blowing the candles on the balcony so the smoke won’t get inside again, shutting the windows quickly so the cold wind doesn’t bother him anymore before you come to bed again.

You unlace your gown, taking it off so you can tend to him more easily, pulling at the few pins inside your head to let the strands fall freely around your shoulders. You climb onto the bed, a jar of his salve and ointment in hand with clean rags in your other as you sit comfortably next to him, helping him take off his tunic and pants.

Aemond lies on the pillow on your lap, sniffing as you look at his face; bare and raw of emotions with his sapphire glinting in the low lights of the room.

“My love, you need to help me pull the gem out,” you whisper, almost sound scared of him, or scared of what you might see.

“No, it is an unbecoming sight—”

“Nothing about you is unbecoming. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on, and for you and your suffering, I begged my grandma to allow me to study about your condition with the Maesters,” you lean to kiss the bridge of his nose, “the skin around your eyesocket is swollen, if we do not pull it out now, it shall make it more unbearable for you.”

He hesitates for a moment. While he would love to ask you about why you studied something so gruesome because of him, he can’t help but feel so wanted. The pain is getting worse, sure, he has to pull the gem out anyway but to hear you say how you have begged Rhaenys to let you partake in those classes, to maybe someday help him with his pain… that truly makes him feel fuzzy all over.

“Alright…” he whispers, gritting his teeth in pain as he reaches out with his fingers to grab the side of the gem, pulling it out slowly while he groans and the pain nearly knocks him out. “Shouldn’t we use something more—” “Take it out, take it out—I don’t care how!”

You nod, tears falling from your eyes as you watch him writhe in pain more as the two of you pull his sapphire out, leaving a heavily swollen and empty eyesocket on display. His hand falls limp on the bed while you drop the gem into a clean bowl before pouring some of the ointment on a rag, gently holding his face in one hand while the other daps slowly over the scar and his ripped eyelids, pressing a few kisses here and there to soothe his whimpering.

He clings to your arms and waist tightly, letting his tears fall freely while you soothe his pain away, falling into slumber easily beneath your gentle touch.

•••••••••••

He is running.

Where is he? Why is he running?

He looks around him, finding himself in the labyrinth he always sees in his dreams.

The hedges are covered in ivy, the walls have gotten taller and the paths are thinner.

What’s this smell?

He steps closer to the source of it, taking different routes until the smell gets worse and stronger. He knows where the center of the maze is, he has been here countless times.

He turns around, finding the space of the labyrinth of his dream, but he doesn’t expect to see you there, not while standing with your nightshift covered in maroon, hands dripping with thick droplets of blood as you look at him horrifyingly.

“Darling, are you alright?”

“Don’t- don’t come closer,” you say, taking a step away from him.

“I don’t understand, why—” “You did this to me!” screaming at him, your hands cover your heart, and he finally sees how your chest has been ripped open and blood gushes out of the wound.

“I was not here—”

“You did this to me! You hurt me, Aemond!”

“Aemond!”

“Aemond!”...

He jolts up, gasping for air, hands clutching the bedsheets as he experiences another nightmare. He looks at you, finding you awake and alarmed while you rub his back, eyes filled with worry and pain for him.

“You should leave,” his voice is barely above whispering, his nails digging into the palms of his hand while he blinks his tears away.

“Aemond—” “I will only hurt you, why don’t you understand?!” he asks, raising his voice a little. 

He is torn between needing you to wishing you were gone; he can’t cope if he ever hurts you again.

“You have not hurt me, you won’t hurt me.” “I killed you in my dream! You fell in front of everyone and twisted your ankle because of me, I humiliated you! How can you say I won’t fucking hurt you? I have already done it.” He explains, but instead of pushing you away, he welcomes you when you pull him down into your embrace, holding his head tightly in your neck as he sobs uncontrollably.

“It’s not your fault, I should have been more careful. I won’t let you ruin yourself for something that was a mistake on my behalf.” you kiss the side of his face, rocking him from side to side while he calms down eventually.

“Don’t push me away, I love you, Aemond. Let me be here and help you carry this heavy pain with you.”

He doesn’t reply, but his arms tighten around you.

He looks at how you lay back on the pillows, gently pulling him in your arms until he is lying in your chest while you play with his hair.

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

•••••••••••

He opens his eye slowly when he feels someone caressing his hair, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face. Smiling a little, he finds you admiring him in his sleep, taking notes of every line and deep of his skin.

“It’s very rude to stare,” he says, his voice thick and raspy from all the crying he did last night.

“Not when he is my lover,” you whisper back, nuzzling your nose against his, “you look like a fairy when you sleep.”

“No one has ever told me that. How do you come up with such unique ways to describe me?” He leans over, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while he waits for you to answer.

“You are a wonderful muse for poetry, I shall start writing about your hair and eye!”

He keeps his lips sealed to your skin, sucking and nibbling until he is satisfied with the marks he has left. His pupil is blown out with a newfound lust; how can he not desire you when you are lying in his arms with your wild white hair plastered over his pillows?

“You are staring,” he chuckles at how breathless you sound. He hasn’t even begun to do anything and he already has you melting under his touch.

“Can you blame me? I have the most exquisite lady of the realm in my bed.”

“What happened to the insecure boy I held last night?” You ask while leaning up towards him, pushing him down on his back so you can straddle his narrow hips.

“It’s still here with us in this room, but he has begun to heal. You have helped him when he had no one,” his palms rest on your thighs.

“I need you,” it comes more as a plea, but Aemond obliges and flips the two of you over, hiding his face in your neck to prep it with kisses while he whispers that he needs you too.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, moving them together with a rhythm that encourages him to take the next step.

His hand inches downward, pushing past the fabric of your underwear to find you already wet for him.

“I-I have already lost my maidenhand…”

“I don’t care, I have you now,”

He silences your whine with another deep kiss, his fingers circling your clit until you are squirming and bucking your hips into his palm, your arms pulling him in by the shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, watching you take a deep breath when he pushes one digit inside while he tugs at the front of your shift, pulling it down until your tits are on display. He covers your chest with marks and bruises the same time another finger enters you, making you gasp loudly in pleasure.

He stretches you on his fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly at first, but soon he is speeding up, his patience running thin as he scissors you open not roughly to make it hurt, but to make sure you are ready to take him.

“A-Aemond, please, need you closer,”

He nods because he too can feel the need to become one with you, to take you as his, or more so you take him as yours.

His breeches are thrown on the floor, followed by his undershirt immediately as he takes home between your spread legs, one hand holding him up while the other guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. You both gasp in union when his tip nudges past your muscles, pushing in slowly and gently until he is sheathed inside you completely.

You throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist while your nails dig into his naked chest as he lets you get adjusted to his size.

“Can I move?” He asks, leaning down over you as he cages you beneath him, both of his forearms holding himself up against the pillow under your head.

You nod, looking at him with pleading eyes, and he finally caves in and moves slowly; pulling his hips back a little before driving in.

The next minutes pass by him gently making love to you, circling his hips and kissing you, bringing you closer and closer to your highest point. You know you both are close when his groans and moans grow louder, and your voice matches his tone as he quickenes his pace, the loud sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing in the chambers of the prince.

You both finish together; you with a gasp of his name, and him with a loud groan of yours as he fills you and you gush around him. He trembles above you, whether it is for the climax he experiences or the overwhelming love he holds for you. 

He watches your face twist in pleasure — the pleasure he is giving you — and he memorizes every sound, counting each lash that he can while he himself rides his high with you.

He drops face down on the bed next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at each other with a satisfied expression on your faces.

“They would ask about our whereabouts if we are late for breakfast.” You say, giggling when he groans in absolute disgust — he is not ready to leave this room and face the world again when he knows he can stay and take you again, thrive in your attention and love for all day.

“Must you ruin this moment for us? Now I can only think about how to face your father after what we did.”

“You should look him in the eye and ask for my hand,” you sit up, throwing the cover off of you before getting off the bed “and you shall do it with the braids I do for you,”

“You are impossible,” he says, but he knows that behind his words, there is no hidden intent, nothing but adoration and playfulness.

“Come, sit!” You pull him off the bed as well, leading him to his vanity before pushing him down on the chair, both of you stark naked as you brush his hair slowly.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, his reflection doesn’t disgust him, it doesn’t scare him or make him self-conscious. He feels… beautiful, he feels worthy again of having this life, having you as his.

“Do you wish to know what I see when I look at you?” You ask him, letting his soft hair fall around his shoulders before you lean down, wrapping your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He nods, hands coming to cover yours where they caress the skin above his heart.

“I see a broken man who needed to be saved. I see a boy, fierce and strong as he claims the largest dragon alive. I see my friend who danced with me in different gatherings, my beloved friend who built sandcastles with me and helped me with my Valyrian studies. I see my Aemond, finally freed from the labyrinth of his mind.”

[leonsdolly]

Canto V

Plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon's back from Spain, but there's something off about him.

CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, dubcon, implied somnophilia, breeding kink, bruising, titplay, cunnilingus, creampie, unprotected sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, lots of spit, choking, reader passes out during sex

WC: 2.4k

It may as well be a universally known concept that when you’re in a relationship with a government agent, you’d better get used to being strangers with the finer details. Who, what, when, where, and why made themselves at home in your vocabulary while you were dating Leon. It was all futile; he couldn't ever tell you where he was going for his next mission or when he was coming back to your grabby hands. Swearing confidentiality with your left hand on the Bible trumps a loving, concerned girlfriend apparently.

Leon had been gone for a few days this time around, and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d be back. You prayed to every divinity who cared to listen that he would come back home safe and sound to you. You did so every time he left. The government calls, he runs, you make your deals with Jesus.

The clock strikes midnight as you flit around your apartment, closing the kitchen and ensuring everything is locked up for the night. You got home from work rather late, and you’re looking forward to falling into a deep slumber, especially since you’ve taken your everything shower, completed your skincare routine, and changed into a cute teddy bear print cami with matching boy shorts. While your heart aches for your absent boyfriend, you throw your shoulders back and keep your chin high, braving another night of sleeping alone in your queen-sized bed. You slide under the covers and turn off your bedside lamp before closing your eyes and ultimately slipping into a welcomed state of unconsciousness.

Scratching, more scratching… Huh? You blearily open your eyes before squinting at the time displayed on your alarm clock - 1:48 am. Did something wake you? You don’t hear anything, yet you have the sinking feeling that something did lull you out of your sleep. You fumble to turn the lamp on - thankfully, there’s nothing standing in the corner of your room or anything else that would have you screaming bloody murder until your lungs collapsed. The covers are pulled aside as you sit up in bed, planting your feet on the hardwood floor. 

Once your feet lightly hit the floor, a terrible shuffling resounds from the living room which makes your blood freeze over. Your limbs are immobilized, but your eyes move towards the door, like you’re in a state of sleep paralysis and your demon’s lurking around the corner. Heavy footsteps grow closer and closer to your door, and you watch the doorknob turn in slow motion. 

The door swings open, and your body dissolves. 

“Leon?” Your eyes blink at him, unsure for a second if he’s the product of a sleep paralysis induced hallucination.

Your lover stands before you with a somewhat dazed expression himself - dark circles engraved below his exhausted eyes, faded bruises on his face, dark veins trailing across his pale skin. He stands transfixed for what feels like forever before he blinks. “Baby.”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your own stupor, and you launch off the bed and straight into his arms. You bury your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly. “You’re home.”

He shudders violently before his arms encircle you as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your shampoo - ah, figs and camellia, a breath of fresh air from guts and mold. “I missed you… I almost didn't…” His voice is unsteady, wavering in a way that makes you want to never let go of him.

“It's okay, my love. You're home now, you’re safe.”

“I almost didn't make it… You don’t know what happened…” His hands shake slightly as he grips onto you a little harder.

A lump forms in your throat at the realization that he could have very well perished during this mission. It’s not often that he lets you see him in such a vulnerable state, so hearing the fear decorate his tone causes your heart to squeeze painfully. 

“What happened?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Fine, at least tell me where you were. S’not like I can head there and foil the government’s plans after it’s already over. ”

“...Spain.”

You wonder what kind of horrors had transpired in Spain, but you know better than to inquire further. You hold him close and rub his back soothingly, trying to make him feel as loved as possible. “It's over now, right?”

“Right…” A hint of worry colors his tone as he presses a kiss to your head. “Can we just go to sleep?”

“Of course,” you reach up to gently rub the shadowy veins visible underneath his eyes and creeping up his neck. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Guess my body just went through a lot back there.”

You take his arms, turning them over and over and examining them closely for any serious wounds. Thankfully, you don’t see anything except for the occasional minuscule scrape, though the unnaturally dark veins worry you. You’re afraid they may be the result of some sort of vascular impairment, so you make a promise to yourself that you’ll drag him to the doctor’s office soon for a proper assessment. You help him wash up, letting him use your products so he’s soft and smelling like you. You hold each other close in bed, relishing the feeling of finally being able to sleep in each other’s arms after time apart.

Ouch. You wince slightly as you wake up to the sun streaming in through your lace curtains. You drowsily fumble for Leon’s hand to hold first thing in the morning like you usually do, but the space next to you is empty. You certainly hope you hadn’t just dreamed of his homecoming.

“Baby?” You croak as you wince again. Are you naked? And why are you so sore? Your eyes trail down to your arms which are littered with bruises. Eyes wide like cherry pies, you tug the comforter off to discover that the rest of your bare body is marked in a similar fashion - bruises bloomed across your neck, teeth marks engraved in your breasts, handprints stamped onto your hips like someone had been gripping onto them for dear life. Trembling, you slowly raise yourself up to a sitting position. You squirm as you feel slick in between your thighs, how fresh it is, you can't say for sure.

“Leon?” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears as you call out for your lover.

You’re dazed as you take a step forward, feeling your body spinning like a ballerina, a delicate little thing that’s been used and abused and stuffed in a box marked FRAGILE. A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, anchoring you to his bare chest- they’re so much warmer than your Leon’s. Your eyes flutter as they gaze straight up into a pair that look like your Leon's except they’re murkier, hungrier. 

Inky blood vessels coagulate underneath his skin, giving him a mottled appearance. They interweave throughout his body like morbid ribbons decorating his limbs for a funeral. He breathes heavily as he squeezes at your already tender body, causing you to whimper.

“Leon, ‘m sore… What did you do?” A low growl reverberates within him as he pulls you back onto the bed, shoving you onto your back. Before you can interrogate him further, his lips smash against yours. His kisses are all teeth and slobber, filled with nothing but the desire to ravage everything you hold near and dear.

“Mine, all mine,” he groans as he latches his lips onto your neck, decorating it with his very own artistic flair. “Mine to keep forever.” You whimper at the way his lips assault your most sensitive point like a wolf ready to tear out the wide eyed fawn’s throat. 

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moan which further ignites that primal instinct in him that wants to give you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known, all for the sake of claiming you as his very own mate. He squeezes your tits together and spits on them before rubbing it into your nipples with the rough pads of his thumbs. You squeal at the stimulation as he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling at it as hard as he can before letting go with a pop.

“God, Leon,” you cry out as he continues to suck on your tits. He pushes them together as hard as he can and forces both nipples into his mouth so he can lap at them like a creature who stumbled across an eternal spring in the vast desert.

“Love these tits,” he groans. “Sweet fucking nipples, made to suck on all day and night. To think they’re gonna get even bigger when they're full of milk.” He pushes his face in between them before finally pulling away with a slap to each one, watching them jiggle with a carnal gaze.

“M-milk?” You whimper as he kisses across your abdomen and lowers down to your leaking pussy.

“Yeah,” he pants as he spreads your dripping folds open with his thumbs, inspecting the remnants of the now stale cum he had dumped inside while you slept like an unsuspecting angel. “Your body has accepted my gift.” A tinge of fear courses through your veins at this last line; you can’t put your finger on why it makes your skin crawl, but they don’t sound like your Leon’s words.

“Gift?” You involuntarily moan as he lets himself drool on your pussy before pressing sloppy kisses straight onto your clit. 

“You’ll take my seed.” He starts lapping at your pussy ruthlessly, but not before grabbing your thighs and forcing them to clamp around his head, keeping him fused to your most intimate parts. Your sweet noises overflow the room as your back arches like he’s possessing you, dragging you down to flail around for eternity among the powerful black winds. Your voice turns shrill as you cum on his salacious tongue. Canto V.

When he finally emerges for air, his eyes are now murkier than before - the once serene blue that inspired such tranquility is now charred, tenebrous. “Leon,” your eyes tear up as you gaze down at him with your elbows propping you up.

“Shh,” he smirks as he raises himself up to pump his hard cock a few times before aligning himself with your pretty hole. “My baby, my lamb. Gonna get your beautiful belly all swollen for me. Gonna creampie you as many times as it takes.” He pushes himself inside your sopping cunt as you wail for the heavens. Your pussy allows him to enter with ease, clenching around him like it needed him to breathe - which it did. He begins to thrust into you with all the vigor of a madman.

“So good for me, my fucking girl,” he pants as he continues to pound into you. He leers at the way your tits bounce at each thrust before leaning over to spit on them. Your chest gleams with his saliva as you moan louder than you ever have before, like your throat really is being ripped out by the big bad wolf. His cock reaches deep, hitting all the spots you know nothing else can, and before you know it, you’re cumming all over him as he continues to pummel into you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to claw onto anything that can keep you physically grounded through your orgasm.

He laughs a little to himself as he continues to fuck you despite the fact you just came. “L-leon,” you cry out. “S’too much, too sensitive.”

“You can take it, been taking it all night.” His balls slap against your ass as he leans down to jam his lips against yours, licking into your mouth until your head’s all dizzy again. He rears back to push your legs up against your chest as his cock pounds into you; the new angle’s making your eyes roll all the way back into your head. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs to himself as his breath hitches and he stares down at you losing yourself in the mating press. “That’s a good breeding bitch.” His words are hushed, but they bounce around in your head and yank another orgasm out of you, leaving you sobbing from the overstimulation.

“S’okay baby,” he coos as he kisses your salty tears away and wraps a hand around your smooth throat. “You’re doing so well, accepting my gift.” His eyes unsettle you, damn near pitch black as they peer right into yours. Your battered pussy tightens in tandem with the hand gripping your throat. Your tongue lolls out as you start seeing stars, and he sucks on it. “Give me another one, little lamb.”

“C-can’t,” you slur as your limbs dissolve. You want to give him another one. Want it, want to bear his child, want to exist for him. Want to breathe him, let him pump through your circulatory system. His breathing becomes erratic, damn near hysterical, as he nears his own high. He rubs your swollen clit to bring you closer to yet another orgasm, though you wonder if you’ll live to tell the tale once you reach it. He pounds into you as hard as he can, unrestrained growls falling from his lips as he dumps his load into you. You manage to cum yet again, release so intense on your already wasted form, that it shatters your senses. You’re vaguely aware of someone shrieking, and it takes a while to realize that it’s coming from your own mouth. You did it. Your vision goes black, and you slump into unconsciousness. 

The first thing you perceive when you regain consciousness is the calloused hand gently caressing your face as if you’re a china doll. “Leon?” Your mumble brings him to slowly gaze at you with concern and shame.

“Baby.” He raises his other hand to hold yours with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore… tired…” You frown slightly as you try to sit up, but he stops you from straining yourself. “What happened, Leon?”

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes are cast downwards as if the floor will be more forgiving than his own lover. “I’m not okay.”

“It’s okay,” you frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I could’ve. I thought this thing had resolved itself in Spain.”

“We’ll figure this out together.” You gently tug his arm, signaling to him that for now, you just want him laying with you. He slides into the bed and cautiously rolls you over on your side so that he’s spooning you from behind. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and gives your belly a pat.

[strawberrrytide]

.

[joelscurls]

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it,  never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core. 

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can. 

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.  

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel. 

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more. 

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has. 

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine. 

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.” 

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.” 

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do. 

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it. 

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you. 

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length. 

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay. 

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.” 

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket. 

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink. 

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale. 

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers. 

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week. 

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context. 

You shake your head, no. 

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort. 

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.  

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!” 

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch. 

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through. 

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket. 

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder. 

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late. 

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb. 

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street  hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest. 

“Why didn’t you say no?” 

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor. 

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin. 

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway. 

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern. 

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all. 

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait. 

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life. 

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand. 

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved. 

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up. 

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb. 

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers. 

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday. 

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer. 

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side. 

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down. 

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs. 

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now. 

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?” 

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.” 

“Why not?” 

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?” 

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat. 

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw. 

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep. 

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths. 

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs. 

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches. 

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to  let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.��

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.” 

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist. 

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life. 

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop. 

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel. 

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning. 

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

[venmondiese]

SUBTLE LOVE, DARING WORDS

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏsummary: Aemond is in no hurry to take a wife, yet once he realizes that he doesn't value what he has until he might lose it, he takes action. (based on THIS request!)

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader.

✧word count: 3.1k

✧tags: fluff and comfort, aemond is BAD at feelings, reader doesn't really admit anything either, slight? slowburn?, overall fluffy!!, this is really vague about in which year happens, lol

The first time he met you it was in the library.

He had his mind on the whole commotion at court, the tournament which he had refused to entertain, much to his mother's dislike because of his position as a royal. To him, it seems like a foolery, as if he was willing to participate in making himself a fool such as Mushroom. 

When he came to the library, intending to search for a book to comfort himself, he found a lady leaning down one of the staircases, where there were lots of books stacked only for maesters, with him as an exception… but not a lady surely, less one that seemed to be looking for something below. He was astonished, for many reasons. 

He watched her big, puffy dress, in rich red velvet and gold details. It was definitely a Westerlands style, so he was more confused as to why she was in this part of the library, only for maesters, and… well, him. How did the guards allow her to enter? How did she do it so confidently, as if he couldn’t make her life hell for it?

“Ehem” he scoffs, as if trying to get her away. The least of his worries was having a lady on the forbidden library corner… for now. “Get out. You are in a forbidden part”

“I am aware” your voice comes from down the staircase you had even moved some books! That made him slightly… annoyed.  As you move your head out to see the prince above you, and you make a movement with your head as if doing a courtesy. “My prince”

He was not amused, at all. You had green eyes, and the most golden hair he had seen in ages. The small lions on your dress allowed him to know who you were: A Lannister. And he definitely never wanted to deal with any of your kin. 

“And I said-”

“My cat is down there” you say, as if he cared. 

“Okay. Take it out of here”

“I can’t” you say simply, watching him with a grin. “She seems to be in labour. I didn’t know she was pregnant at all…”

He has many questions, and he frowns at your reasoning. He would take the cat and throw it out himself if he had to. 

“It is your cat, just take it away”

“Well, my father gave her to me two weeks ago!” You make a face, almost whining about it. Of course he could know which Lannister is your father. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, and she is still getting used to me. She will scratch me, more if I get closer to her babies”

“A scratch won’t kill you”

“Just sit” you say softly, watching the cat and sitting on the ground to wait. “You can even keep one of the baby cats”

“My grandsire has brought enough cats already” Aemond says, walking to grab some wine for him and the lady. He wasn't impolite to be rude to a lady, much less one with your status and beauty. “They come to my bed when I am sleeping, and I wake up to cats in my chest”

“Well, I think they are cute” You say, taking the cup of wine, thanking him as you sip the wine. “Cats are felines, like lions. So I think having a cat is reasonable, better than a lion”

“Don’t you want one?”

“I have one back at home” you say shrugging, smiling widely. “He is called Brightroar”  

Of course you named it like the ancient weapon of Lannisters. “And this one?” 

“I wanted to call it Brightroar second, but it turned out to be a she. So she is just called Gemma” 

He can’t deny that he is amused, watching you being so nonchalant about it all, as if you owned the world. He raises an eyebrow as he has a slight smirk, as he sits near. 

“Gemma” he scoffs. “A very…”

“Lannister name” you say smugly. 

“Hm. I was going to say… common, perhaps” he adds.

“You would love for Lannisters to be commoners, my prince. Yet you seem to rely on our gold” you notice, raising one eyebrow. So you weren’t a silly lady, he realises, you had the wits.

“Hmm… Our gold seems a bit excessive, my lady. It is your father who is the head of your house” he reminds you, leaning back on his chair. 

You smile softly. He thinks you are Cerelle, probably. Mostly because you know Cerelle was still a kid and never been presented to the royal court.

“Mine or not, I still am more entitled to it.”

“I have a dragon.” He adds, as if this was a debate between you both. He was actually enjoying it. He had totally the wrong impression of you and he… was enjoying it. “The biggest dragon”

“Yeah, and?” 

“And I could burn your silly little castle” he shrugs, taking a dip of wine. 

“No, you could not” 

“I’m pretty sure I can”

“No, actually. I know you haven’t gone out of these four walls and this... city, my prince, but I remind you out of the kindness of my heart: Casterly Rock is literally… a rock” 

Aemond rolls his good eye, yet his smirk doesn’t leave his face. As if your cat was forgotten, he keeps on his point. 

“As if has stopped a dragon before” Aemond says simply. “Because I am as kind I shall remind you of Harrenhal, perhaps?” 

“And I shall remind you that Harrenhal is a castle made of rocks.” She shrugs softly. “Not exactly a rock. Casterly Rock is literally a castle inside a rock.”

“Some parts are out of it”

“Not the part where we keep our gold, not really”

Aemond squints his eye, and you look back at him. You amused him, looking like a defiant cat that got away with their mischief. It was fun to see, and he could hear the wails of your cat. You didn’t seem worried, neither was he. Perhaps that was the circle of life, and you knew your cat would manage. 

As you speak of such trivial matters, waiting for your cat to end her labours, he couldn’t help but admire your wits, as much as your beauty. Your velvet gown, of a strong red and some gold details did wonders with your appearance, and your brains only made you brighter. 

“What are you doing here?” It was Tyland Lannister, coming with a Maester behind, probably who sneaked your position in a forbidden library. “You know ladies can’t be here” 

“Father... My cat is giving birth” You say, frowning as if it was the most obvious thing. 

“My prince” Tyland makes a courtesy to him, a bit rigid and tense. You had heard how the prince would often terrorise your father, making him do the silliest things as if that amused him. Your uncle Jason often had a laugh about it. 

“I was not aware your daughter was…” Aemond says, turning his gaze to you “All grown up”

He knew about you, but your father talked about you as if you were a babe. You were practically his own age, for what he could tell.

“Yes, my little lion is certainly… grown” Tyland agrees, his hand on your hair as he spoke. “Come on; let’s not bother the prince…”

“It is not a bother” Aemond cuts him, serving himself more wine. “She is rather amusing”

“How dare you-!” You say, offended as you come to your defence.

“Sweetie” Your father tries to calm you, with a tense smile as if telling you to shut up.

“I am not a jester” 

“No one said you were” Aemond says, amused as he smirks. 

“You are such a…”

“Apologise” your father murmurs. 

“But fath-”

“You heard me”

“I am sorry, my prince” You say mockingly, and he smirks, even more amused.

Tyland seemed as if he was about to have a stroke, because he had enough things on his plate, and he didn’t need the prince making his life at the small council harder. 

Aemond sees Gemma, bringing her cats to show you how they were, all of them bloody, and squirmy, a bit pink and small. You petted them as you didn’t mind the blood.

“Come on. Servants will need to clean the blood” Tyland says, making a notion for you to stand up “Grab the kittens and let’s go”

“Ew, no. They are all bloody” You say frowning. “You take them” 

How lady-like. He thinks, as you didn't seem to mind the blood two seconds ago.

Even with your persistence, your father took the small and weak kittens, and your cat kept meowing at him as if he would kill him. 

“How did your cat even come here to give birth?” Your father asks as he tries to not get Gemma to kill him.

“I have no idea, father…” You say, and Aemond sees you standing up. 

He sees the pile of books in your hands, behind your back as you walk behind your father. You smart wench, he thinks, as you had just successfully stolen forbidden books by setting up your cat to give birth here. You even had him fooled. No one else notices, since your dress was puffy enough, and he noticed it by shamelessly trying to see your ass. 

You watch him, and press your index finger in your lips, as you walk behind your father and his complaints about your cat. 

“Do not bother the prince, darling” Tyland says once you get out of the library.

“I think he is quite handsome” you admit, when you know the prince won’t hear you. You father watches you shrug, walking forward him, not allowing him to see your hands. He sighs, as Gemma starts meowing loudly. 

While the rest of your interactions have been brief, he notices that you are more of a troublemaker than you let yourself look. You had that mischievous smirk always, arching your eyebrows in such a way when you had a plan. 

Yet, you were sweet. He notices how you play with your cousins, Cerelle, braiding her hair, and with Loreon, the small heir to Casterly Rock, a kid that enjoyed running around, and you often entertained his antics. 

“And there will be so many ladies, Aemond. In this time, we need alliances…” His mother says, as they walked through the castle. He hears the step of Cole behind them, guarding them, and probably hearing how his mother tried to make him a lovebird.

“It does not interest me”

“It doesn’t have to interest you. It is a matter of duty-”

“I won’t marry, mother.” Aemond shrugs, as if that was the way of his life. “Not yet. I have things ahead of me yet” 

“You inscribed on the tourney?” The queen inquires, curious. 

“No” he says shrugging, slyly trying to seek for you in the royal box, to no avail. “I am not in a hurry.”

He greeted noble ladies, of course. As he was seated on the royal box, bored and waiting, he could see girl after girl doing courtesy and smiling in a flirty way to him. It did not amuse him, and he was polite enough, almost rude. 

“She is trying really hard, you know” A voice joins his thoughts. It is you, sitting by the empty chair by his side, where Aegon is supposed to be, but he never is on time.

“Who isn’t?” He rolls his eye.

“I didn’t know you were so in demand. High valued. Sought after” you list, as you fan yourself as it was indeed a hot day. 

“Very amusing” He murmurs.

“Come on, my prince. There must be a lady who catches your attention.” 

“I am not blind” he says, rolling his good eye. “Of course there are women I find beautiful”

“Oh my... Having feelings now, congratulations, the Seven indeed are capable of the most... unthinkable miracles”

“You just woke up being so funny” he says, looking at you, raising his eyebrow, yet the small way his lips curved allowed you to know he was amused.

“I am always funny, my prince” you say watching the crowd get settled, squinting your eyes due to the sun. “My cats are good, thanks for asking. Gemma is quite the mother, even if she tried to eat one of them.”

"How... vivid." He says, raising his eyebrows in slight disgust.

"I saved them. Since they are four, I named them: Elia, Joy, Alyssa and Teora"

"And what if one of those silly cats was to be a male?" he asks, as if seeing a flaw in your cat-naming thing.

"Pff, none of them will be. I know it. And if they are, I won't change the names"

He remains quiet, surprised by how bold and petulant you could be. It was amusing to him, and he enjoyed talking to you more than he cared to admit.

“You stole from the library.” he reminds you.

“I have no idea what you are about” you say, still looking at the crowd, smiling softly. The red of your dress made your gold hair bright even more. “Ladies do not read such matters”

“Yeah, right. You are unlike any lady”

“Quite the contrary” you finally turn to see him “I am just like any other lady” you says, smiling. "It just happens that I am friends with the prince, so I am allowed to speak freely"

"Who said..." He says, opening his mouth and turning his face to you, a bit impressed by your silliness "How come you think... you suppose that we are friends?"

"Since you have neither sneaked about the time at the library, or told me to shut up and leave you alone, it is a logical conclusion, if we have in mind your previous reputation to anyone else." You say smiling. "And do not worry, if you do not consider me as such, doesn't matter, because I do and I appreciate you even if you hate me"

"You are..." He scoffs, grinning like a fool "Unbelievable"

"I know. One of my many charms. That and being a matchmaker. I love it. It is wonderful to make couples at court, and more if they end up together, being all happy and..."

“Huh.” He hums, thinking of how odd you were. “Talking about the wonders of a married life”

“I didn’t say that. I merely stated that… marriage isn’t the worst. I intend to find a husband very soon as well. I would very much like to be a wife”

“I shall pray for the poor soul who calls you wife” He murmurs as he looks at the field below, where the knights were preparing, yet you hear his grumbles. 

“And I shall pray to see prince Aemond besotted for a lady” you say teasingly, standing up, not before doing a small courtesy and leave to sit by your father, who had just arrived, frowning a bit as to why you were with prince Aemond.

The tournament does not bore him at all. He is very into the way the fight develops, and he takes mental notes when he sees some weaknesses in the participants. He regrets, just a bit, not joining, because he thinks he could have won. 

He sees you, on the seats below him, jumping in excitement as the fight develops. You are into it very much, clapping and screaming as any commoner does outside the royal box. It was improper, but it was… cute. 

He can see the rest, clapping politely, not overly excited yet proper for the occasion. You were unlike the rest, yet at the same time, you were just like any lady. It amazed him, and he did not understand.

He soon realises that he is not the only one that has you in mind, when the winner of the tournament comes closer to the stands, riding triumphantly in circles while the audience cheers him on, the crown of the Queen of Love and Beauty on his lance.

“The Winner, Ser Dale Dondarrion shall find his Queen of Love and Beauty”

He hesitates for some moments, he thinks he shall name his niece Jaehaera to win the favour of the royal house, like his ancestor once did to little princess Daenerys at the early reign of King Jaehaerys. 

Yet his smile faints when he sees that the queen of beauty’s laurel falls into your lap. 

“Lady Lannister, I hope I am deserving of dedicating my victory for you, and shall your reign be full of joy, even if lasting one night”

You take the wreath of flowers, almost jumping in sight and squealing some thanks as Tyland accommodates the crown onto your braided hair. Your crowning came with an ovation full of applause, from the box and from the commoners… but him. 

It was an odd feeling, stirring something in him, as he watches your cheeks pink from the compliments of all, and most of all; having a suitor. Being named queen of love and beauty was not anything like a dull compliment of court merely because it was proper. It was being publicly courted, and often something many ladies wished, because there was no better feeling than being shown off to everyone. 

He was quiet the rest of the day. Humming when ladies talked to him, in hopes to gain his attention and be courted; when Aegon mocked him; when Helaena placed one of her bugs in his lap, which Maelor ended up squeezing on his grip; when his mother presented him a lady of a high castle with expensive clothes and a sweet behaviour, pure, and devoted. He paid little attention to it all.

It was when your reign was coming to an end that he asks for Tyland to come to the empty throne room. He was watching the throne, carefully inspecting it, as he calculated of his next words. He was being irrational, clearly driven by his emotions and desperation rather than the logically he usually had. 

“My prince” 

Tyland was no stranger to the formalities of court, yet he never let himself be intimidated by lords that tried to impose themselves. He was the second son, yet he had established a name for himself and earned respect in his position; there was nothing for him to feel belittled about

Yet intimidation comes natural with prince Aemond around. 

He has the impression that his one eye is wide open, and the smirk that naturally was on his lip was one of amusement in the suffering of the rest. Always stoic, never doing things out of impulsivity... Which was even worse. His hands behind his back, as he remained as still as a statue.

It did not frighten him, but he knew Aemond was as cold as unforgiving. And slicing his head won’t make the prince feel regret.

“Lord Tyland” Aemond greets him softly. 

A silence follows, as Tyland feels his hand sweating slightly. “An idea for the small council?” He tries to guess. “I am sure it can wait, my prince, I should be with my daughter, since it’s her day…”

“Exactly. That’s what I wanted to speak about”

Tyland is a smart man, and he quickly realises the problem.

“I know she can be presumptuous and slightly spoiled, my prince” He starts, feeling Aemond’s eye on him as he turns to face him. “She takes the title too seriously, when it isn’t, Mushroom was just hyping her up, and she is just still a girl, and I apologise on her behalf for trying to impose herself as Queen, when her reign only lasts for a day, and she really is…”

“I want to marry her” Aemond tells Tyland simply. “Her reign shall not end. She can be a princess.”

Lannisters usually aren’t left speechless. They had never been known for their silence, yet here he is, silent.

“Ser Dondarrion made the same proposal hours earlier, my prince, and I…”

“And you will allow your daughter to marry a Ser instead of a prince? I have already told you. I want to be her husband” He insists, his tone not certainly soft as he loses patience. His soul craves you. He needs to be yours. He can’t let you go away. “She is smart and she has the wits. She is spoiled, and she loves to have her way. She is kind, sweet, and funny. And I want to be her husband and give her anything she asks for. Is that so hard to get?”

What wakes up Queen Alicent is her son with a stoic expression, not even entering her rooms to speak.

“I was wrong” He says simply “I shall marry Lady Lannister, mother. I am in a hurry. So I ask you to prepare the wedding. Good night and Seven blessings”

Almost a year later is when your father comes closer to your chambers once again, seeing how your ladies in waiting do a courtesy out of politeness, and he watches prince Aemond at your door, waiting for him.

“Came as fast as I could…”

“Hm” Aemond says, as he walks toward the open doors.

Tyland could have his distance with Prince Aemond, but he couldn’t deny how good a husband he was. He wasn’t a man of many emotions, in his perspective, yet he was a devoted husband. He danced as many times you wanted in the ceremony, sighing every time you made him stand up from his seat. He didn’t wear the eye patch on your wedding, just as you requested.

“That is the worst idea ever, darling” He said to you, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, he will have to if he wants to marry me”

And so he did. When you wanted to travel to Volantis, he arranged it all. When you wanted for him to meet Brightroar, he took Vhagar and rode into the Westerlands with you. 

“Was it all well?”

“Everyone in the castle heard a lion roar” Aemond says walking past the maesters. 

You seemed so little, in Tyland’s eyes, all sweaty and tired, like the time you got so sick he was afraid you would die. He had brought the very best maesters he could find, just to assure you were safe. 

“It is a girl” It’s the first thing you say to your father, smiling a bit. “A healthy baby”

Tyland leans, to kiss your forehead, as you extend your babe to him. It was a small thing, yet chubby and all pink still. She had small, silver hair, very thin, but present. He could see the little gold spot, as if gold hair would grow on some of her hair. It was indeed curious, and yet he couldn’t think she was anything but perfect.

“A bit squirmy” He comments, as the baby yawns, opening her mouth as she whines slightly. 

As he tries to coo the small thing, he watches how Aegon sits by your side, at the edge of the bed, passing his hand behind your shoulders to caress your shoulder. You lean against him a bit, and say.

“It is a pain to breastfeed, why didn’t you tell me?”

He chuckles a bit awkwardly, he had never gotten used to your bluntness and honesty. “I never knew anything about that”

“Well, it is. I thought babies knew how to do it, but she takes a long time” You say, looking up at Aemond.

“She is still very little, my love” Aemond reminds you. 

“I know, but what if I am doing it wrongly? Mothers usually know those things, and I find myself clueless. Aunt Joanna says it comes naturally, but she has successfully raised kids who have survived childhood.” You say, looking at Aemond. “So has your mother. How comes I don’t know?”

“Because you are a mother from little more than a day.” Aemond reminds you “And they had help. So you do. You have me, of course. You have wet nurses, maids, maesters, and my own mother and of course, you have the brightest mind. We’ll do”

“Did you know Aemond cried, father?” You tell him, and he finally looks away from his little granddaughter. 

He blinks, a bit confused, watching the prince. “Oh, did he?” 

“Yeah, it was rather cute” Aemond rolls his eye amused, as your hand was on his knee. 

“It’s the only natural response.” Tyland says, his finger caressing the skin of the sleeping babe, who squirmed a bit at the feeling, like a cat. “She is delightful. Have you named her?”

Aemond looks at you, amused, expecting you to answer the question. You had the smug grin on your face, and nodded. “We had a deal. If she had golden hair, she would have a Targaryen name. If she had silver hair, she would have a Lannister name”

“And?”

“Well, she is rather… peculiar. She had silver hair, but you can see how some gold hair has grown too? It is the oddest of things, but the Maesters said it was natural. You know how cats have different hair colours?”

“Don’t compare her to a cat” Tyland makes a face, softly rocking her in his arms.

“She has both silver and gold.” Aemond says, as if reminding you to keep on trail. 

“Ah, yes. Since it’s most silver, we agreed on something that you will find the brightest things, father.” You look at your husband and then your father. “Gaemma. It’s a bit… weird to say it, but with time it shall be delightful”

Tyland looks at you, and he blinks. “Like your cat?”

“Well, thanks to her I and Aemond met.” You remind him. “She deserves some credit” You add.

“I like it” he murmurs. “Don’t make your mama lose her mind” He says, as the baby yawn, extending her arms. 

“She will, after all she is her mother’s daughter” Aemond says, taking her back, and he adds “You should have seen how loud she wailed once she came.”

“I am here, world. Hear me roar” you say, as if trying to translate Gaemma’s cries. You smile widely, and Tyland knows that even if you were always going to be his little girl, you were in the best hands, and that Aemond adored the ground you walked on. Even if you name their child after your cat. 

[jenosbigtoe]

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: husband!lee jeno x wife!reader

warnings: clingy jen, mirror sex, breeding, unprotected sex

jeno loves to coddle you, his pretty little wife. he’s absolutely head over heels for you—still the lovesick puppy since you first started dating all those years ago.

he worships the ground you walk on, wanting you in his arms at all times. waking up every morning buried in his warm muscular chest and crushed by his biceps. squeezing you into a tight back hug whenever you cook dinner for the two of you. pulling you into his lap whenever you’re sitting on the couch watching tv. following you around the house and insisting on helping you with the most menial tasks.

you don’t mind at all—in fact, you love seeing such a big strong man absolutely melt in your presence and follow you around like a lovesick puppy. you love the way his arms flex and bulge when he carries you, squeezes you against his body.

you love the way he makes you watch.

makes you watch the way he holds you up against his body, when your legs have gone numb and your mind has gone blank. he holds your face up in a headlock, bicep bulging against your face, while you’re forced to watch the way his hips slam into yours from the back. one hand on your face, one hand gripping your ass while he pounds your cervix into nothing.

in the mirror, you can see everything. even when he’s fucking you wildly from behind. from the way his muscles flex and bulge with every movement, to the way your body jiggles from his powerful thrusts, to his fat cock connecting your bodies over and over again.

your body is helpless against his powerful thrusts, shaking with his every move, ass jiggling wildly from the sheer force. your pussy leaks and clenches around his fat cock tight—he’s just so big. you can feel shockwaves of pleasure shoot through your entire body with every slam of his hips that fits his cock deep in your pussy.

“baby—ngh,” he groans low into your ear. “pussy just made for me, hm? my perfect wife made just for me.” you whimper in response.

his hefty balls slap against your clit and you moan wildly, the lewd sounds of sex echoing loudly throughout the bathroom. you look down to where his cock slams into your used cunt over and over again, with no signs of relenting. his face is set with sheer determination—god your husband is so fucking sexy.

“j-jeno! please,” you moan breathlessly and let your head fall back onto him, face twisted in pleasure.

he chuckles. “what’s that baby? fucked too dunb to speak?” he slams his hips particularly hard. the head of his cock brushes against your sweet spot and you gasp. “how about i give my wife a reward for being so good?”

“fuck. y-yes!”

“mm, baby you must want me to breed this pussy huh?” he removes his hand from your face to grip the other side of your ass, using the leverage to pull you back onto his cock to meet his every thrust. you squeal, moaning even louder with the added pressure.

“yes! please, jeno, ah! fill m-me up, puh-please,” you almost start sobbing from the pleasure. “want it so bad.”

“okay, baby. anything for my precious wife.”

[rafecameroninterlude]

Omg, idea! It can be with Pouge!Sweetheart and Rafe are having sex, and he is choking her (she likes it) but this time she is about to pass out and Rafe is too primal/into the sex to understand that she is trying to tap out and does not hear her. She passes out mid sex, going limp and Rafe absolutely panics trying to wake her up. A bit of a soft Rafe who then is overly attentive feeling so bad.

warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, asphyxiation, choking, slight praise, dirty talk, loss of consciousness

a/n: poor pogue!sweetheart!reader omg. she’s been punched in the face on accident and now this?? I’m begging y’all to give her a break!

“rafe!” you practically screamed, your hands wrapping around the wrist he had at the column of your throat. while rafe had never been this rough before, he was hesitant as you begged him not to go soft on you. now you found yourself nothing but a whimpering mess, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks as he had you pinned to your bed by the back of your knees. “this is what you wanted? ‘wanted me to choke you while i use this pussy?” you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your head pounding as your vision grew fuzzy.

nodding weakly, rafe’s grip on your neck tightened, his head falling as your velvety walls squeezed around him in a way that made him lose his mind. “so fucking wet, all for me..” he pressed a kiss to your ankle, rolling his hips to meet your clit with each thrust. before you could decipher what was happening, you mumbled a ‘too much’, tapping on his hand as he groaned, leaning down to bury his head in the valley of your breasts. you gasped before black spots began dotting your vision, your eyes fluttering closed as you lost consciousness.

“fuck, these tits are so fucking perfect.” he took a sensitive bud in his mouth, his gaze flickering at your face only to see your head lolled to the side, your lips glossy and swollen. “baby?” it was just then that he realized your entire body was limp, his thrusts slowing down. “y/n?” he grabbed your face, tapping your cheek lightly. panic set in at your lack of response, his eyes widening as he removed his hand from your neck. “oh, fuck!” he pulled out, rushing to pull his boxers on before he scooped you up in his arms.

he continued to lightly slap your cheek, blowing air on your face as he shook you. “come on, baby, you gotta wake up..” his heart was pounding out of his chest as you didn’t budge, his eyebrows drawing together as he got up, running to the small kitchen where he got a damp towel. dabbing your face with the cool cloth, he shook with every second you didn’t stir awake. “fuck!” he whispered, swallowing thickly as regret settled in the pit of his stomach. he knew he shouldn’t have done that much.

rafe kept up his ministrations for a few more minutes before he shook his head, his fists meeting his cheeks before he dialed 911. “911 what’s your emergency?” rafe let out a shaky breath, muttering a ‘uh, m-me and my girlfriend were-’ right before you opened your eyes, blinking up at the ceiling as you moaned. “ray?” you were more confused than anything, your boyfriend hanging up on the operator before he ran to your side. “oh my god.” he sighed, moving your hair off of your shoulder as he covered you with your duvet.

“i was tapping out..” your eyes sparkled up at rafe. he was on the verge of tears, shaking his head as he embraced you. “i didn’t hear you, baby. i’m so fucking sorry.” he pecked your lips, stroking your face as you ran a hand up and down his arm to soothe him. “i don’t know what happened, i was just really into it, i didn’t realize how hard i was squeezing you. i’m so sorry.” he apologized again. coughing softly, you sat up, pulling him onto the bed so he could hold you. “just hold me.” you kissed his cheek, both of you falling asleep shortly after.

the next day, rafe made it his life’s mission to make everything up to you. surprising you with your favorite breakfast, bathing you and putting you in some comfortable clothes, massaging your feet, eating you out until you cried, ordering your carts on all your shopping apps, and showering you with kisses until the sun went down.