bibli0thecary

[bibli0thecary]

Two heartbeats

Pairing: Johnny Storm x reader Word Count: 4.9k

Description: You agree to help Reed test his new baby scanner for Sue, so he can collect some baseline data from a non–pregnant woman. But when the screen lights up with a tiny heartbeat, you realize you’ve got some crazy news to break to Johnny.

Tags/warnings: established relationship, mildly soft Reed, Johnny hovering, accidentally finding a pregnancy, panicking over it, comfort, Johnny finding out, fluff, funny and domestic moments <3

Note: all I can say is writing this was so entertaining and heartwarming, there’s just something about the idea of Johnny being a dad😭. Hope you enjoy! 🫶🏼

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The bright lab was mostly quiet, except for the soft humming sound coming from the machine next to you. You sat perched on the edge of a white, medical style platform that looked more intimidating than it probably was. Reed sat on a stool to your left, completely focused on adjusting the controls of his latest invention, a fancy scanner meant for prenatal imaging. You were there as his control subject, since he needed to "create a baseline from a non gestational female", his words. Sue's scan was scheduled for later, if everything worked as expected.

Or at least, that was the plan.

"Alright. The scanner is all set, I'm ready when you are," Reed announced, turning around halfway on his stool to look at you through his thick frame glasses. "Are you comfortable there?"

"I am, actually," you smiled, settling back until your full body rested on the soft leather surface, which, surprisingly, began to warm slowly beneath you. "It's ... warm."

A smile almost ghosted his mouth, but he turned back to the sphered monitor before it could fully form. “Sue tends to get cold in here. I believe adding this feature will make her more inclined to agree to my scans.”

You only gave him a knowing smile. Reed was… Reed, after all.

He wasn’t always able to express care with words, his sentences were more likely to contain statistics or hyper logical reasoning about even the tiniest of details no one noticed or cared about, but his actions spoke louder than words. It was all about the little accommodations, the quiet fixes, the way he noticed discomforts around the building before anyone voiced them. This time was no exception, he didn't think twice about adding a heating feature to the scanner’s seat when his wife had complained about the lab feeling like a freezer last time.

"I bet it's not warmer than me, though," a voice chimed in next to you, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

Ah, yes … Johnny.

Your ever loving boyfriend, who couldn’t stand being more than ten minutes away from you and insisted on being present for this “fake scan” so he could practice holding your hand for future real ones.

Because in his mind, you were in his future that way, not a single doubt about that.

The baby making. Especially, the baby making. The big surprise. The bun in the oven. The endless scans for ultrasound pictures he’d stick to the glass windows of your shared bedroom. The restless nights outweighed by the giggles from a little him ... a little you.

Not today, but maybe one day.

Definitely one day.

And in that hothead of his, he thought what better preparation than watching his brother in law micromanage Sue’s pregnancy through you? At least he could have a little fun with it.

So, naturally, Johnny invited himself to the session. Dragging an extra stool to the lab, sliding on your right side, elbows braced on the platform. His hand found yours as soon as you set your body down.

"You know I can warm you up anytime you want, babe," Johnny shrugged innocently, but his tone was playful as always.

You turned to him amused, a smile already on his face as he leaned definitely way too close to your face, and quickly stole a peck from your lips, earning a soft laugh from you.

Reed sighed next to you, wishing he'd asked you to try the machine in the early hours of the morning before Johnny even woke up. It was his fault after all, he should've known better than bringing it up in front on him. Now he'd have to make it work while you got distracted by ... your distraction.

You instantly noticed his demeanor shift, and gently slipped your hand from Johnny's grasp to lay it flat on the bed, blowing a kiss to him when he opened his mouth to complain. He instantly grinned in triumph, pretending to catch it and placed it over his heart. At least that would keep his hands to himself for a moment.

"All ready now, Reed," you said, offering him an apologetic smile, and he nodded.

"Okay, we're ready to begin. Please just don’t talk," Reed said, his eyes on the display as he pressed buttons, "and try to avoid any unnecessary movement, both of you," he turned slightly, looking over his glasses to glare at your hovering boyfriend.

Which was, unfortunately, a straight dare for Johnny to lean closer against the platform beside you, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin.

"You hear that babe? No unnecessary movement. Don't breathe, not even a little," he said in the most serious tone he could use. "... except if you wanna, you know, lean on me a little," he winked, then nudged your shoulder with his. “I wouldn’t mind.”

You tried not to smile this time when he wiggled his eyebrows, for the sake of the test and the remaining of Reed's sanity, which only made him grin wider.

"Johnny," Reed scolded without looking up, "I need her still, and I need quiet so I can concentrate."

"Hey, I'm just here to supervise," Johnny protested. "Make sure you're not poking her with anything weird."

If there was something Johnny loved almost as much as you and space, it was rage baiting his brother in law. And the worst part was, that no matter how incredibly intelligent Reed was, it seemed to work every single time.

"I'm not poking her with anything,” Reed snapped, sighing afterward. "Can you at least step back a little so I can–"

"Nuh-uh, not a chance in the world," Johnny interrupted. "I'm here for emotional support, you know, a dad being present –Ow. Babe!" you elbowed him lightly in the ribs, which made him gasp.

"First of all, you're not a father. This is purely for data gathering purposes," Reed objected without missing a beat, "and you're only here because you followed her in.”

"Yeah yeah, semantics, whatever," Johnny shrugged, raising a hand to dismiss him and turned to you. "Hey, you hungry, princess? I could get you something."

"I'm fine, Johnny," you shook your head, smiling at the gesture, then raising your hand to press a finger on his lips. "Now, shh."

You caught Reed rubbing the bridge of his nose, muttering something about how he should have asked literally any other woman in the planet who didn't have Johnny Storm joint at their hip.

"The sequence is starting now. I just need five minutes," he sighed for the fourth time in three minutes, and then pressed a few more buttons, his posture stiffening. "Please Johnny, just five, no more talking."

"Alright, alright. I can be quiet for five minutes," he raised his hands in surrender, finally leaning back.

It lasted five whole seconds.

"So," he began, leaning toward you again. "Tell me about the first time you saw me."

You sighed at the question Johnny liked to ask at least once a week. You were happy to answer it every time, just not in front of his brother in law. So you put a hand on his chest to push him back a little, before Reed's patience snapped completely.

"Johnny, angel, you know what? Actually I am hungry," you said, playing with the fabric of his shirt. "I am craving some oranges."

"Oranges?" Johnny's whole demeanor shifted, still grinning, but now with that eagerness to please you sparkling in his eyes.

"Yes, fresh ones," you nodded, slightly biting your lip. "Pretty please?"

“You got it, fresh ones from the market," he grabbed your hand from his chest and placed a kiss on it, making you chuckle once again.

Why was he so annoyingly sweet?

Satisfied with your reaction, he got up from his stool, the little seat's wheels rolling back as he made his way to the elevator's doors. Not without turning around halfway, looking at you while pointing accusingly at Reed.

"Don't let him poke you with needles or draw blood from you. I will sue," then he winked at you, backing to the elevator. "Give me five minutes, ten tops."

And after a shameless wink, the elevator doors slid closed, and he was gone. Leaving a very relieved Reed alone with his scan and you trying very hard not to laugh at the way he exhaled like he'd been holding his breath under water this whole time.

"Thank you," he said genuinely, turning back to his controls. You just hummed in acknowledgment.

You held your breath as the machine made a louder hum, a halo of pale blue light swept over you from head to toe.

"You can breathe normally," Reed said, noticing your stillness. "Just don't move anything else, please."

You let your gaze wander over the colorful room while the scanner did the work. There were gadgets on every counter, Sue's latest ultrasound printed and stuck on the corner of Reed's giant blackboard, a mug that said 'Fantastic dad' that Johnny told Ben to buy Reed as a joke but he wholeheartedly gave it to the man. You smiled at the memory.

The thought of Sue and Reed’s baby being there in a just a months was amazing and terrifying at the same time, and it wasn’t even yours.

And now that Johnny wasn't hovering anymore, and Reed's focus was solely on the screen in front of him, the quiet of the room allowed you to think about what Johnny said earlier.

'A dad being present'

There was a time where you thought something like that was impossible due to his altered DNA, but Sue and Reed had shown you the possibility was still there.

And the more you thought about it, the more it made you want to build that with Johnny. It wasn't a crazy idea, not at all, but it was something you'd projected into the far future.

Definitely one day.

"Huh," Reed's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his eyebrows furrowed as he leaned closer to the screen.

"Something wrong with the machine?" you asked, trying to not make a big fuss about it, it was a new equipment after all.

He didn't answer immediately. Just tapped his keyboard twice, then leaned even closer, eyes squinting and his whole expression sharpening. The scanner made another low pass over your midsection.

"Hmm," there it was, another weird monosyllable.

"That's a suspicious 'hmm'," you said, sitting up a bit straighter.

"Not suspicious at all," Reed said quickly. "Just interesting ... please lean back down, it's not done."

His fingers moved over the console again, adjusting settings. The scanner passed over you once more, slower this time, and you noticed a small, unconscious shift in his posture. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, blinked at the display, then adjusted the image like maybe the machine had made a mistake.

Again.

"Okay, you're being really weird now. Even for you, Reed," you half joked, hoping that would ease the sudden nerves invading your body.

"I just … wasn't expecting to see–" he paused, hesitating, glancing toward the door as if Johnny might burst in at any second.

"See what?" you pressed, fully panicking now.

The machine beeped softly with results for the third time, like it was confirming whatever he'd already noticed the first. Then Reed suddenly stood up from his stool and paced in his spot, folding his arms.

"There are certain... biological markers. In fact, they're very specific markers. I'd like to run the scan one more time to confirm."

"No. No more scans," you fully sat up now, suddenly understanding Sue's dread of those. "Just tell me, is there something wrong with me?"

Your tone actually made him jerk his head in your direction, shaking his head profusely.

"No," his voice was quiet but certain. Not comforting either, though. "No, absolutely not."

"Then what is it?"

Reed hesitated, eyes fixing back on the screen. "It's... actually the opposite," he said slowly. His voice wasn't that detached this time, it was still Reed, still cautious, but there was something... warmer underneath.

"Something right, then?"

"Quiet for a moment," he mumbled, pressing the console again. "I want to be sure."

So you stayed still, your heartbeat ringing a little faster in your ears. The scanner made one last pass over your body, beeping one last time with the same results apparently, because Reed stepped back, took a long breath, and blinked a few times like he was pulling himself back into the room with you.

He wasn't exactly expecting to be the first to find out about... that. Now how on earth was he supposed to break news like that? None of his infinite doctorates qualified him to do so.

Reed stalled for a few more seconds, before reaching to the sphere monitor and rotating it in your direction.

"Look at that," he said, pointing to the screen, his voice slightly softer than usual.

On the screen, a small flicker pulsed steadily in the center of a grainy blue and white colored image. You stared at it for a few seconds.

Was that? … No. No it couldn't be.

"...My heartbeat?" you chuckled weakly, because the alternative your head was suggesting was just not possible.

Not right now. Definitely not right now.

Reed arched a brow, his gaze instantly softening. He knew how this part felt. The first moments of denial. The surreality of it. So he approached it as gentle as his capabilities allowed him to.

None of his education had prepared him for something like this, but you were family, even more so now, so he tried his best to use his heart this time instead of his brain. As absurd as that sounded to someone like him.

"It is a heartbeat, and technically, it's yours too. Or, well, more like a part of you."

You stared at it again. That flicker. The steady, insistent beat. You knew what it meant, of course you did, but the words got stuck in your throat and refused to come out.

"Look," Reed took off his glasses, pointing with the frames higher up in the torso scan. "Your heartbeat is here," and then pointed back lower, "and this one is smaller ... much smaller."

Reed studied your face as you kept quiet, something warm blooming in his chest despite his usually clinical nature.

Two 'fantastic babies' this year. Huh. He hadn't seen that coming. Couldn't have predicted it with equations in a million years.

"Okay," you said finally, too casually.

"Just okay?" Reed almost chuckled this time. "You do understand what I'm showing you, correct?"

"Yeah. I... yeah," you nodded slowly, letting out a deep breath. "I'm ..."

But you didn't say it. Couldn't. Because saying it out loud would make it real. And right now, you weren't ready for real. Not without Johnny by your side.

Right. Johnny.

Who wasn't there to hold your hand through it.

Oh my God. How were you gonna tell him?

He was, after all, your emotional support. But who was gonna be his when you were panicking? Oh my god. What if he panics too? Would he be ready? Would you be ready?

All of a sudden, that 'one day' wasn't so far away anymore.

You didn't even notice your breathing had gone shallow until Reed's voice caught your attention.

"Breathe," he said, not commanding, more like a reminder.

"I am breathing," you looked up at him, chest going up and down rapidly.

"Not enough," he replied. Then, in a move that was so unlike him, he reached for your hand. His palms were warm, not as warm as the ones you were used to, but it helped somehow. His hands pressing yours just enough to let you know he wasn't letting go unless you wanted him to.

"Follow me," he said. He took a slow inhale, visibly lifting his chest, and let it out in a slow exhale. "Again."

You tried your best. Inhale. Exhale. It died in your throat halfway out a few times. But he waited, patient as ever, until you tried again. And again. Until the fifth breath felt a little less jagged.

"It's normal to be scared," he said, when your breathing slowed down. "When Sue told me she was pregnant, I–I almost passed out. And that was after two years of planning for it."

Instantly realizing what he confessed, he cleared his throat, before looking at you more serious for a moment.

"Don't tell Johnny," he asked.

A shaky laugh escaped you, and it loosened something in your chest. You shook your head in reassurance. He nodded grateful.

"I know this is... a big pill to swallow. Terrifying, even. But it doesn't have to be faced alone."

Your eyes got glassy before you could stop them.

"We're all a family," Reed continued, repeating what was always said by the others, not much by him, if ever. "Which means your child will never have to go without place to feel like home, or without love. Not with all of us around."

A tear did fall from on your cheek this time, and you let go of his grip to wipe it before Johnny came back.

Oh, Johnny.

Just thinking about him being a father, a dad who is present, his blonde disheveled hair at midnight as he warms baby bottles with his own hands, a tiny bundle sleeping on his chest enjoying the impossible warmth irradiating from his skin. Him playing peek a boo with the funniest faces he can think of.

And for the first time since you saw that flicker on the screen, you believed, if only for a second, that maybe this wouldn't be the end of the world.

"I'm pregnant," you finally said it, the foreign words leaving your lips in a whisper.

Reed's eyes softened, the smallest smile forming in his mouth.

"You're pregnant," he echoed, just as quietly, like repeating it would help you both absorb the reality. He straightened a little, half turning to his machine. "I'd still like to make some more formal scans–"

"Reed."

"I know, I know. Sorry," he apologized, letting out a dry chuckle while shrugging, "but it's ... protocol."

"I'm telling you, Herbert, those oranges were not fresh. That guy was totally lying ... Yeah right? I know. Unbelievable."

Your head snapped at the sound of HERBIE's robotic beeps and Johnny's muffled voice echoing behind the elevator doors, as they arrived to the lab's floor.

"–and so I had to use my charm on the girl next to him, one smile and she went straight to get me the good ones ... I know Herbert, I know, but you have to do what you have to do."

The doors slid open in a ding, revealing a very excited Johnny walking in, toying with an orange from one hand to another as HERBIE trailed behind him holding something you couldn't see from your seat.

"Ah, there you are." Johnny smiled as soon as his eyes landed on you, "now, what did I miss?"

You looked at Reed for a brief second, at the verge of panicking again, but he mouthed a 'just breathe', gesturing with his hand a swift inhale. So you did that, as Johnny crossed the lab until he got to the stool he was previously sat in, with the little droid following him like a lost puppy.

"Got 'em! Did you miss me, babe?" he asked, plopping into his seat.

"I always do," you mumbled, absentmindedly reaching to the orange he was holding, to try to distract yourself with something. "Thank you, Johnny–"

Before you could reach, he yanked back his hand with a laugh. "Don't be silly, this one is for me. Here–"

He turned halfway to HERBIE behind him, and grabbed with his free hand something from the droid's hands, petting his metal head before turning back to offer it to you.

You lowered your eyes at the plate he was holding to you. Probably two oranges, sliced, and placed nicely around the dish. The citrus scent hit you and half scratched that itch you've been having about oranges lately, which ... made a lot of sense now.

"These are for you, bite sized. I'm gonna tell you now, got the best ones in the city," he leaned down to kiss your forehead, and added with a cocky grin, "go on, tell me I'm amazing."

He was. God, he was.

But it wasn’t the oranges what hit you the most, it was the way Johnny went about it. How you wouldn't need to feel scared, or not ready, when he was willing to take on even the smallest of requests with intention, just to put a smile on your face.

So you couldn't hold it together any longer, and lunged forward to wrap your arms around his neck, the plate of oranges falling from his hand to your lap, small slices scattering across the platform. You buried your head in his neck, not being able to hold the tears anymore. Johnny instinctively wrapped his arms around your body, a hand still holding his orange for dear life as he stared confused at Reed.

“Woah– what happened baby?” he asked softly, bringing his free hand to stroke your hair as you cried into his chest. “What did you do, Richards?” His tone got weirdly serious now, even for Johnny.

“Me? N-nothing!” Reed blurted offended, which only made Johnny glare at him.

“Did Reed lecture you about moving during the scan? I told you, babe, you don’t have to listen to him when I’m not here.”

Reed’s mouth opened to protest, but chose to keep quiet. He glanced at you, still clinging to Johnny for dear life. He took a deep breath. He knew what this was like, so he just let Johnny continue until you chose to tell him.

“She was okay when I left, and now she’s crying in my arms –hey hey, it’s okay baby– so what could have possibly happened while I was gone?”

His tone to Reed was serious, but when he looked down at you it got incredibly softer. You sniffed a few times, pulling apart from him to wipe your eyes and give him a teary smile.

“I’m fine, Johnny, really,” you reassured, sniffing again, “It’s just … I don’t–“ you looked at Reed, nodding at him so he could help you a little.

Reed took off his glasses, and folded his hands behind his back in that way that meant ‘I’m about to say something big and I’m choosing my words carefully’. You just kept your gaze on Johnny.

“The scan revealed some … unexpected results.”

Well, so much for choosing your words carefully.

“Unexpected like… bad unexpected, or ‘hey, you have an extra kidney’ unexpected?” Johnny asked, squinting.

“Having an extra kidney would be bad unexpected too, Johnny,”

“We could always get it out and sell it,” he shrugged, rolling his eyes playfully to make you laugh, and when you inevitably did, relief washed over his face for a second.

Okay, it couldn’t be that bad if he was able to make you laugh after that breakdown. His heart could calm down a little now.

“Well, actually… neither,” Reed said.

His gaze shifted between the two of you before settling on the monitor that was still facing your direction. Johnny glanced at the screen, still expecting to see that third kidney. Instead, he tilted his head and his eyebrows pulled together.

“Huh,” he exhaled.

Funny, his first reaction was identical to Reed’s.

You watched him stare at the screen, and you could almost see the gears turning under all that blonde hair. Because Johnny Storm was a lot of things, loud, playful, endlessly distracting, but he was also sharp. And he wasn’t missing what was right in front of him.

Two heartbeats.

“Is uh– Is that what I think…?” his eyes flicked to you, you were already smiling, still glassy eyed holding the lump in your throat. “Oh my god.”

His mouth fell open a little, eyes darting between Reed, you and the small flicker on the screen for a few times, before it hit him all at once. He finally let go of the orange in his hand, the fruit hitting the floor in a few thuds.

Johnny’s face lit up like sunlight getting through grey clouds. Even HERBIE beeped in awe.

“OH MY GOD!!”

The grin that broke over his face made your heart flutter. He cupped your face in his warm hands before you could even wipe your eyes.

“Babe. Babe,” he chanted enthusiastically, his forehead pressed to yours, voice dropping to a breathless laugh. “We’re having a baby. Oh my god! We’re having a baby! … Herbert I’m gonna be a father!”

You let out a laugh that was half sob, half immense happiness, nodding against him.

He crashed his lips to yours, salty tears mixing in your lips as he kissed you softly, lips slightly pulling back from how wide you both were smiling.

In front of you, Reed stood with his arms crossed, the loveliest smile tugging at his mouth. For once, he didn’t interrupt, didn’t feel like adding facts or disclaimers. He simply turned back to the console and gave you both the moment.

That was, until Johnny pulled apart from you, realizing how you had just lit his whole world on fire and he was more than willing to stand in the middle of all of it.

“Okay,” Johnny said, still holding your face, “this is fine. This is more than fine. This is … this is amazing.”

“Johnny, I think we should–” you began, but he was already in motion, pacing next to you.

“First of all, we need to stock on food, for all the weird pregnancy cravings you’re gonna have. You want pickles dipped in ice cream? boom, Johnny delivers,” he gestured dramatically with his hands in the air.

Reed sighed, rubbing his temple while mumbling something about Johnny speaking in third person.

“Johnny–“

“And the baby’s room. We’ll paint it… okay, we don’t know boy or girl yet, but that’s fine, we’ll go with something neutral. Like… fire yellow … no, wait, that’s too on the nose. Sky blue? Maybe it could be space themed! … babe they can go to space with us one day, maybe Reed can make a baby space suit–“

“I am not sending your baby, or any baby for that matter, to space, Johnny.” Reed interrupted flatly, wishing you could go back to hugging and not this unprompted rambling.

“Johnny, angel, maybe we should–“

“Oh, and the clothes, babe the clothes! Little tiny onesies with flames on them. Reed, you have to make them in fireproof clothing, how else is it gonna be safe for me to hold them?”

“Johnny!” you leaned forward to put your hands on his chest and gently dragged him towards you. “Can we maybe process this before we start designing the nursery?”

He stopped mid ramble, eyes fixing on yours. And for the first time since Reed dropped the news, he hesitated. “Wait, you’re… okay with this? I mean, I’m over the moon, obviously, but… are you?”

You exhaled, reaching to fix a strand of his hair. “Johnny there’s nothing I want more in this life, than to have a family with you,” you reassured, meaning every single word, “but we didn’t even know about this ten minutes ago.”

Johnny’s smile softened. He grabbed your hand and lifted it to his lips, holding a kiss there for a moment.

“Okay. We’ll do this together, slowly, as a family,” he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and this time you were the one who jumped at his lips.

This time it was a bit rougher, clinging to him with fists clenched on his shirt, like putting all the overwhelming weight of it all into the kiss. Reed, who was still there, cleared his throat before you started making another baby right there and then. On his new scanner. That he built for his wife but now it would work for you too.

He was gonna have to get used to Johnny hovering all the time now.

“You should both take some more proper tests to confirm everything is okay with your baby, before making any further plans.”

“Yeah, yeah, Reed,” Johnny dismissed, already wrapping an arm around your waist to help you come down the platform, and guide you toward the door, but he halted midway. “Wait both? why me? I swear to god Richards, if you poke me–“

“No one is going to poke any of you here, Jonathan. Ever. I already told you, and it sure as hell won’t be me if it’s ever required,” Reed rolled his eyes, already relieved to see you both make your way to the elevator so he could work in peace.

He could only be happy for so long, before his mind inevitably went to overthink about how on earth you were all going to survive two super babies at the same time. But before he could get lost in his head, Reed turned to thank HERBIE, who was humming cheerfully to himself as he picked up the orange slices from the table. The little droid then rolled toward you, offering the plate with a chirp.

“Thank you, HERBIE,” you smiled, and Johnny pet his head in gratitude.

“Alright, we’ll do all that science stuff later, Reed. Right now…” He glanced down at you, his lovely grin back in full force. “I’m getting my girl more snacks ... and maybe also ice cream. Just in case that pickle phase hits early.”

Even behind all the joking and amusement in his face, the glint in his eyes quietly told you he was looking at the most important thing in the whole universe. Those two heartbeats.

But no, it wasn’t just two heartbeats after all.

Because with Johnny by your side, it was three.

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

Part two is on the way!

feedback is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🫶🏼

[bibli0thecary]

Dinner and a Show

A corrupt FEDRA soldier catches you and Joel sneaking back into the QZ. He’ll look the other way, but you’re gonna make it worth his while. (4.8k)

Warnings - dubcon/noncon, smut, mean!joel, dark!joel, pervy!roman, mmf threesome, dirty talk, degradation, implied age gap, m/m blowjob, m/f blowjob, masturbation, nipple play, cunnilingus, daddy kink, edging/orgasm delay, unprotected piv, facial, come eating, creampie, coercion, knife play, guns, drugs/drug use, threats. Fic help - thank you @noxturnalpascal, @beefrobeefcal, and @endlessthxxghts for your help and eyeballs and for cheering me on! A/N - I don’t know what came over me, but I think this is my favorite thing i've ever written. please enjoy with me

Super quickly: Joel readers who aren’t familiar with Roman - you don’t need to know a thing about Succession for this story. Roman’s a creep and that’s about it.

And for my Roman readers who aren’t familiar with Joel/TLOU, Joel’s a smuggler, they’re in the Boston Quarantine Zone (safe area from the infected) and Roman works for FEDRA, the corrupt military authority that controls these QZ’s after the outbreak.

“Are we almost back to the QZ? I’m fucking exhausted,” you complain. Joel’s a couple steps ahead of you in the dark, damp tunnel. Every step is agony. Your feet ache, your hips are burning. You cannot wait to be back in Joel’s shitty, dilapidated apartment. “It hurts.”

“Well, you shoulda thought of that before gettin’ fucked up off our merch,” Joel replies in a clipped tone. A pang of guilt runs through you. A couple of days ago you had stolen from a baggie of pills Joel had intended to sell, and Joel caught you red-handed. He doesn’t bring you along for smuggling runs, but this was meant to be a punishment for your thievery. It was his way of letting you know just how serious your fuckup was, that losing merch is not something that can be brushed off. These are pills he sells to provide for you, you selfish brat. He brought you along to show you how dangerous, how treacherous the trips he makes are. Joel made you raid some old pharmacies buried under the rubble of the bombed buildings, forcing you to see the fungal overgrowth up close and personal. If you wanna waste his pills, he’s gonna make sure you’re responsible for replacing them. 

Joel shines his flashlight at the ceiling when you reach a dead end, illuminating a hole covered by a wooden pallet. “Here it is,” he says. He moves a crate against the wall and reaches for the pallet, grunting as he pushes it out of the way. He hoists himself up and climbs out of the hole, then crouches down and extends an arm to you. “C’mon, kid. Gimme a jump. I gotcha.” You step forward and reach for Joel’s hand, wrapping your other one around his thick forearm, his veins protruding. You jump and at the same moment Joel lifts you, pulling you up until you’re safe on the floor. You catch your breath and rub your sore, aching legs as Joel moves the pallet over the hole again, taking in your surroundings. The air is cold and damp, broken windows show a dark, cloudy sky. 

That signature metallic clatter of a gun startles you, and Joel freezes when he feels a barrel pressed against his skull. “On your knees,” a voice says. “Show me your hands.” 

You watch in horror as Joel shifts to a kneeling position and raises both arms. You come to your senses quickly and reach for your own weapon, a knife that Joel allowed you to bring along on the smuggling trip. He wouldn’t let you carry a gun. 

The man points his gun at you. “Clever,” he taunts. “You too, on your knees and arms up. Try anything, and I’ll shoot, I swear to god. I’ve just been waiting to use this thing, you have no idea.” 

That cadence - not particularly deep or masculine, but very commanding. That snarky tone. It takes you a second to place it, but you quickly realize: it’s Roman. 

Roman, who works for FEDRA. You’ve heard rumors about him, experienced him a little bit yourself. He’s a total pervert, a sexual deviant. He likes to peek in peoples’ windows, jerking himself off as he watches them shower, change clothes, sleep, fuck. He catcalls women, the most disgusting, lewd comments that seem to shock even himself. And he gets rather affectionate when he pats down civilians, his hands lingering longer than they should in places they shouldn’t be. Other FEDRA soldiers are just violent and cruel. Roman stands out by abusing his power in an entirely different way, but nefarious all the same. 

“Not at her,” Joel says to Roman. “She ain’t gonna hurt ya. Point it right here. At me.” 

“Oh, what a gentleman you are. How very chivalrous,” Roman shifts his aim to Joel. “Very gallant.”

“Weapons on the ground,” Joel commands you. “Do as I say.” 

“Daddy knows best,” Roman adds, taunting you. “Listen to your daddy.” Joel glares at him.

Carefully, you put your knife on the ground at the same time as Joel shrugs his backpack off his shoulders and places all of his weaponry on the ground. Roman uses his boot to slide each item out of reach, then begins patting Joel down first. “So broad,” he coos, gloved hands patting down Joel’s shoulders, then his arms. Joel winces in disgust. Roman pats down his waist, hands traveling lower as he gropes Joel’s bulge. Joel grunts in surprise, maybe even a bit in pleasure. 

“Your turn, sweetheart,” Roman says to you. You turn to Joel and look at him with wide eyes, waiting for him to do something to stop Roman from patting you down that way too. 

“Don’t look at me,” Joel spits. “You’ve only got yourself to thank for this.” 

Unlike how he pat down Joel, Roman takes off his gloves for you. He pats down your shoulders, squeezing the muscles there. He snakes his hands beneath the hem of your shirt and touches your bare skin, the procedure turning into more of a caress than a quick patting. His cold fingers travel up your torso, where he fondles and gropes your breasts, twisting and flicking the nipples. You gasp, “Please,” as you wriggle under his touch, like you’re trying to run and hide from his hands. 

“Sit - hey - sit still, or I’ll call for backup and they won’t be a fraction as friendly as I’m being to you right now. So just - just chill.” 

You take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut as Roman continues to knead the flesh of your breasts. When he’s done, his hands slide down your back and under the waistband of your jeans, where he massages your asscheeks, fingers dangerously close to your pussy. 

Roman finishes patting you down, then steps back. “What a handsome couple,” he murmurs. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. Forgiving.” 

“I can give ya half off on our pills,” Joel offers. “We’re not lookin’ for trouble.”

“Half off, huh?” Roman scoffs, “I’m not a junkie, Joel, you know that. Different animal entirely. Keep your pills.” 

“Name the fuckin’ price then,” Joel snaps. 

Roman chuckles. “So impatient,” he teases. “Slow your roll, Texas. We’re taking our time with each other today. Don’t rush me, big guy.” 

Your blood turns cold. “Joel,” you plead. 

“Don’t,” Joel seethes in a hushed tone. 

Roman continues, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m feeling hungry. Famished, even. And bored. So fucking bored, you have no idea how boring these fucking patrols are. But you…” Roman takes heavy steps toward you, then caresses your face with his hand. “You make it interesting.” 

“What do you want, Roman?” Joel says. 

“Dinner and a show,” he answers. Joel scoffs at that, considering how FEDRA hoards rations. “Sounds kinda kinky. Kinda fun and sexy. I think, at least. What do you think?” 

You open your mouth to protest, but Roman continues, “Sorry. Don’t, uh, don’t know why I asked. Doesn’t really matter what you think, because it’s what you’re doing,” he says. “And forgive me, I just wanna clear something up before we get started. I didn’t hurt you, so you don’t hurt me. Right? Does that sound fair?”

“Right,” Joel gruffs.

“Right. I’m putting my gun down, okay?” You turn your head to watch Roman set his assault rifle down with the rest of yours and Joel’s weapons. He empties his pockets and holsters to show that he’s unarmed, then points to his radio on his vest. “One wrong move from either one of you and I’m calling for backup. They won’t play by the same rules, so keep that in mind.” Roman warns, tapping his temple. Think it through. He looks right at you, smirking. “You look so disconsolate, you poor thing. I’m letting you off easy, considering what the alternative is. Don’t you think?” 

You have to bite your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling. “Tell him ‘yes,’ sweetheart,” Joel urges, seemingly already resigned himself to his fate, which makes you nervous. Roman’s words play over and over in your mind. Dinner and a show. Who’s eating who? What’s the show? “Yes,” you whisper, answering Roman. 

Roman winks at you, pleased with your answer. “Okay,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Joel first. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you, Texas.” 

Joel is repulsed by Roman’s crudeness. “Jesus,” he whispers under his breath. Roman points to an old, worn out rocking chair and snaps. “Pants off,” he says, and Joel follows orders. Roman watches as Joel unzips his jeans and sits on the rocking chair, his thick, meaty thighs spread wide. Roman turns to look at you. “You,” he says. “You get him hard for me.” 

“M-me?”

“Y-y-you?” Roman mocks. “Yes, you.” 

You remain on your knees, trembling as you take in the gravity of the situation. “Move,” Joel barks at you. “Right here.” 

“See? Joel gets it,” Roman ridicules, grinning down at you. 

You scramble to your feet and meet Joel where he’s at on the chair. He pushes you to your knees and you grip his thighs, too nervous to actually do what’s being demanded of you. Your hands shake as you reach for Joel’s cock, unsure of what to do exactly. Joel’s less than sympathetic at your hesitancy. “Do you like this fuckin’ mess you got us in? C’mon, jus’ fuckin’ do it. Don’t make this take any longer than it has to.”

He takes your hand and wraps it around his cock, guiding you to stroke him. You’ve fantasized about intimacy with Joel before, but never, never like this. Not under the threat of Roman, and Joel was always kinder. You feel so nervous, so vulnerable and out of your depth. Joel’s cock hardens to full mast beneath your touch, guided by his hand. He has you swipe your thumb over the tip, so smooth and soft. His shaft is warm and slightly sticky with sweat. Just as you’re getting used to the weight of Joel’s cock in your hand, Roman stops you. “That’s enough, sweetheart. Be a good girl and have a seat while you watch me suck your daddy’s cock.” You nod and stand up, Roman swats your ass as you sit on the couch opposite the rocking chair. Despite the fear and your discomfort, a small part of you feels curious, maybe even excited by the prospect of watching Joel get pleased orally. You’ve heard it happen before, sure. Never had the pleasure of watching. 

“I’m trusting you,” Roman says to Joel. “Don’t fucking try me.” 

“Whatever. Jus’ get it over with. Enough with the fuckin’ theatrics.” 

You watch as Roman sinks to his knees, parting Joel’s thick thighs even more. Joel groans as Roman wraps his cold, bony fingers firmly around the base of his cock, his hot breath fanning over the tip. Roman leans forward and moans when he licks Joel’s cock, swirling his tongue around the blushed tip. He swipes over the slit, humming at the heady taste of Joel’s salty precum. 

You can’t believe what you’re watching. It feels wrong to watch Joel in such a vulnerable position, but he doesn’t seem bothered. He keeps a straight face, looking mostly annoyed. You look at your feet and pick at your nails awkwardly, listening to the lewd noises of Roman slurping Joel’s cock. 

“Hey,” Joel snaps. “Don’t look at the ground, look at me. Can’t come ‘less you’re watchin’,” he says. 

You nod quickly and watch Joel fold one of his arms behind his head, the other finding Roman’s head. He pulls off Roman’s hat and tangles his fingers in his sleek strands of hair, grunting as Roman bobs his head up and down on Joel’s cock. There’s nothing romantic or lustful about the interaction in the slightest. It looks transactional for Joel, a means to an end, but erotic and arousing all the same to you. 

“Take off your top,” Joel says. “Play with your nipples f’me.” 

“J-Joel…” you whimper, looking at Roman. Roman tilts his head and looks at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking as his mouth is stuffed full with Joel’s cock. 

“Don’t mind him right now, sweetheart. He’s gonna see it all anyway. Focus on me,” Joel commands. “You answer to me.” 

You take off the clothes covering your torso, then bring both hands to your chest where you pinch and twist your own nipples. “Suck your fingers, first,” Joel says. “Get ‘em nice an’ wet.” 

You suck your fingers, first two on one hand, then two on the other before playing with your nipples again. Tracing your areolas, flicking over the pebbled, sensitive buds. 

Roman’s eyes are shut as he sucks on Joel’s cock, pumping his fist in tandem. Joel watches you intently, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as Roman continues to pleasure him with his mouth. Licking the underside, tracing along Joel’s thick veins, Roman’s scruff chafes Joel’s hairy inner thighs. He presses sloppy kisses down Joel’s shaft before sucking his heavy balls into his mouth, one by one. Joel looks achingly hard, his cock is dark red and angry. 

Roman kisses his way back up Joel’s shaft before taking the length down his throat entirely, causing Joel to squeeze his eyes shut and groan. Joel’s face is flushing, his jaw is tensing and Roman feels him getting close, dick twitching between his lips. 

And then Roman abruptly stops. He pulls his mouth off of Joel, leaving him a frustrated, pissed off mess. 

“Nice,” Joel spits in anger. Roman stands up, his arousal visible through his pants, and pats Joel condescendingly on the cheek. “Poor baby,” he says, then turns to you. “Your turn, sweetheart.”

Your stomach drops and your blood runs cold. Roman approaches you and sits next to you on the couch, gently forcing you down before unbuttoning your jeans and hooking his fingers over the waistband. He pulls both your jeans and underwear down and off your legs in one fell swoop, and you can only watch Joel with pleading eyes as Roman’s hands slide up your legs, parting your thighs. “I like how pliant you are,” he whispers. “Docile. Submissive.” You gasp when he reaches down and pulls a jackknife from inside his boot, unfolding the blade from it. He told you he was unarmed. “This isn’t a threat to you,” he purrs. “I know you’ll be good for me, but I have less faith that Texas over there will behave himself. So this is going here–” Roman presses the blade flat against the skin of your tummy, “And if your daddy does something he’s not supposed to…” Roman drags the blade along your skin, dangling the prospect of slicing you right over your head, “Or if you get smart with me…I will make you regret it. I’ll fucking - oh, I’ll fucking make you regret it.” 

You nod in understanding. “Yes, Roman,” you whisper. 

“Yeah, not so hard to understand, huh? You’re a smart girl.” 

Roman kisses his way up your legs, then your inner thighs. He catches you by surprise when he licks one long, fat stripe up your cunt, gathering your arousal on his tongue. Joel snaps his fingers twice, “Right here,” he says. “You look at me.” 

It feels wrong to hold Roman���s head, though your fingers feel inclined to tangle themselves in his hair. Instead, you reach behind yourself and hold onto the couch cushion as Roman laps at your cunt, pulsing with need. He pulls away to admire your pussy, creamy with your arousal, dripping onto the couch beneath you. “What a mess you’re making,” Roman marvels. “I’m flattered, really. All this for me, huh?” He slides his thumb up your slick folds, then circles your clit. 

“Fuck,” you whimper. You want to watch Roman, but your eyes stay fixed on Joel as he lazily pumps his own cock in his fist. 

Roman shoves two fingers into your mouth, two fingers that you instinctively suck on. Roman pulls them from your mouth and pushes them inside your tight hole, stretching you a bit. You gasp as he curls his fingers repeatedly inside you, stroking that sensitive spot. “Ro-Roman,” you cry. He brings his face back to that space between your thighs, pointed tongue drawing lines up and down your folds before dancing circles around your clit. 

“You’re enjoyin’ this, aren’t you,” Joel accuses. You can’t stop your moans from spilling past your lips as Roman fucks you with his tongue and slender fingers. “Look at you, all spread out for him. I’ll be goddamned.”

Roman pulls away from your cunt and grins proudly, lips and face shiny with your arousal. His eyes - usually a light hazel color - are turned dark. Dark with hunger, lust. He dives right back between your legs where you grind on his face, feeling that perfect nose of his buried in your curls, teasing your mound. 

“You’re soakin’ him, hon, drowin’ the man,” Joel snarls. “Thought this was ‘sposed to be a lesson to ya, a learnin’ experience. Look at you, rubbin’ yourself on his face like a bitch in heat. Fuckin’ pathetic.” You do feel pathetic. You feel so ashamed of yourself for liking this the way you do. It makes you feel icky inside, humiliated. 

Roman eats you voraciously, like a man starved. He loves the smell and taste of you, musky, feminine, sweet and sweaty all at once. You’re like dessert to him. He could spend eternity between your thighs and Joel’s, alternating between having his mouth stuffed full of cock and pussy. He loves how similar yet different they are, the way they feel under his tongue. His tongue laves over your clit, the knuckles of his hand gripping his knife have turned white. 

“Roman, Roman, oh my god,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut as pleasure builds in your lower stomach. You find yourself pushing your cunt towards his face, hands flying to his head to keep him right fucking there as your orgasm quickly approaches. Sensing this, feeling the way your wet heat begins to pulse and squeeze his fingers, Roman pulls away from you, betraying you just as he betrayed Joel. You let out a long, guttural cry of frustration, tears that have built up in the corner of your eyes begin to spill down your cheeks. 

“Quit the bitchin’,” Joel barks at you. “Gonna make this worse for us both.” 

Roman’s eyes widen as he wipes his reddened, swollen lips. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” he says, letting out a breathy laugh. “Ease up on her a bit. She’s allowed to be disappointed. Aren’t you, sweetheart?” Roman wipes your face clean of your tears, and you can smell yourself on his hand. You’re not sure why it arouses you. 

“Joel, trade me places,” Roman says. Roman and Joel swap places as you’re still laid out on the couch, pussy clenching around nothing as you anticipate being filled. “I like this. Fucked up musical chairs,” Roman giggles. He sits down in the rocking chair, warmed by Joel’s body heat. Joel finds you on the couch and unbuttons his shirt before shucking off his boxers, stroking his large, swollen cock. “Break a leg out there, Texas.” 

Joel pushes your legs far apart and slots himself between them, then hovers over you, his heavy cock held between his thumb and first two fingers, eagerly making its way toward you. “Joel,” you sob. 

Joel reaches for your face, digging his fingers into the hollow of your jaw and forcing you to look at him. His deep brown eyes are cold and piercing as he wears a threatening scowl.  “Don’t make it harder than it has to be,” he growls, pinning both wrists above your head. “Now be good. Open up.” 

Joel fits the thick, blunt head of his cock inside your entrance, then slides inside you in one swift motion. The stretch and ache of it all has you squirming, writhing in pain. Joel dips his head and brings his lips close to your ear, “Shhhh,” he hushes, his sharp, aquiline nose tickling your skin. “Quit your cryin’. You’ll get used to it.” 

Joel buries himself to the hilt, then pulls out of you all the way. He pushes himself back inside, slowly, watching the way your body reacts. He shifts so that he’s pinning you down with just one hand, the other he brings to your mouth. He pushes his fingers past your lips to pacify you, to quiet your whimpers as he begins building his pace. “Breathe through your nose,” he reminds you. “You need to adjust.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut as he rolls his hips, fucking you with increasing fervor. His cock reaches all the places you need it to, stretching your walls perfectly. In time, the pain dissipates and is replaced by pleasure. Joel chuckles darkly as your whines of pain turn into soft moans of ecstacy. 

Roman sits on the chair and observes, his brows knit tight together as he strokes his cock. He spits in his hand and works himself harder, faster, admiring the way you and Joel fuck. He loves Joel’s strong biceps, his toned back, soft belly and his plump ass cheeks flexing as he rocks his hips into yours. And you, Roman loves the way your thighs wrap around Joel, clinging onto him for dear life. Your lips are parted as you moan Joel’s name, your tits bouncing with his every thrust. What Roman loves most of all is that place where your bodies are joined, all the obscene noises your cunt and his cock are making together. 

“There she is,” Joel purrs, watching as your eyes roll back into your skull. “Oh, fuck - goddamn.” You’re so soft, so wet, so tight, pussy squeezing around his cock as he draws in and out of you. 

You rock your hips to meet Joel’s thrusts, chasing that feeling of your clit grinding against his pubic bone. Joel adjusts himself and then licks his own fingers, then reaches between your bodies. He feels the wet heat radiating from your cunt as his fingers touch your clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bud. “Oh, daddy,” you moan. “Daddy, right there.” 

“Really? S’that how it is, sweetheart?” Joel taunts. “Am I your daddy?” 

You nod desperately. “Please,” you beg. In your head, you’re silently thanking Roman for planting that seed. 

“I can be your daddy,” Joel pants. “S’all you needed, isn’t it? Daddy’s cock in ya?”

“Yeah,” you moan. 

“Didn’t have to get the law involved, sweetheart. Jus’ ask me next time you want me to fuck ya, goddamn.” You moan as Joel increases the pace, chasing his long-awaited orgasm. He slows to a still, then reaches for the back of your head. He guides you to look at the place where your bodies join. “Look at us, hon. You’re takin’ it so good, creamin’ my cock.” Joel pulls out of you nearly all the way for you to see his cock, velvety ribbons of your arousal coating his length. The scene is salacious, pornagraphic, as you watch him sink into you. “Fuck me.” 

Roman can’t handle it, being the odd man out. His fist seems to pale in comparison as he watches Joel fuck you, listening to the wet, sticky noises. He feels as though he’s lost all control in the situation, and he needs it back. He wants to get his dick wet too. “Stop - stop it,” he says. “Flip her over.” 

Joel groans and presses his forehead against yours as he catches his breath, then pulls out of you. You feel so empty without him inside of you. 

You look at Roman, awaiting further instruction. “Get on your hands and knees,” he says. “I know, I know. Pardon the interruption, I couldn’t help myself.”

Your sore thighs quiver and tremble as Joel flips you onto your stomach, then grabs your hips to pull you up. He lines his cock up with your entrance once more, then pushes inside of you as if to stake his claim, causing you to grunt. Your pussy is Joel’s, not Roman’s. 

Roman kneels on the other side of the couch, where you’re facing. “Open,” he tells you, pressing the head of his cock against your lips. He’s long like Joel, but not quite as girthy. You part your lips and don’t bother teasing him, swirling your tongue around him the way you would with Joel. It seems that Roman doesn’t require that of you either; he grips the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair before bucking into your mouth, pushing his cock as far down your throat as he can. You gag and choke on it. 

“Breathe,” Joel reminds you. He’s the one to set the tempo, fucking you deeper at this angle. He rocks your body with each thrust, Roman uses Joel’s pace to measure how he should fuck your mouth. It’s awkward to start, but evens out in quick time. 

Your head spins. Behind you, Joel’s fucking your cunt, hands on your hips, fingers bruising your flesh. In front of you is Roman, fucking your mouth and holding your head steady. You’ve never felt this way before, but between the two men there’s nowhere to run, nothing to do except let your mind go blank and focus on the feeling of being fucked at both ends. 

Roman’s not gonna last long. You’re moaning against his shaft in time with each of Joel’s thrusts, the vibrations going straight to his gut, down to his balls. He won’t last long at all. Joel’s in the same boat, straining to keep it together. Your wet cunt is squeezing him so tight, dripping all over his cock. Joel leans forward and reaches for your clit, rubbing steady circles into it with a firm pressure. 

“Mmm,” you moan. You feel like you’re being fucked into pieces, but Joel’s ministrations on your sensitive clit have you reaching your climax. You gasp and choke on Roman’s cock, stimulating him in a way that he loves. “You gonna come, sweetheart?”

You look into Roman’s eyes as he pumps in and out of your mouth, bracing yourself for release when - 

“Hey,” Joel swats your ass, “You ain’t comin’ till I say.” 

Roman wishes he could hold out longer, keep up with Joel. But he can’t, so instead he pulls out of your mouth and furiously strokes his cock. He groans as comes, painting your face in milky white ribbons of his spend before he falls back on the couch, gathering a bit of his come on your face and pushing it into your mouth. “Yeah, listen to daddy,” Roman taunts with a grin. “Be a good girl.”

Joel lets out a low moan, unable to stave off release much longer. “F’ya wanna come on my cock, do it now,” he says. His permission is all you need to let go. As pleasure washes over you in waves, powerful and overwhelming, your cunt squeezes Joel’s cock and coaxes his own release. He fucks you harder as you come together, Joel’s own orgasm filling you with a deep, satisfying warmth as he spurts hot ropes of his come inside you.  

Finally, he pulls out of you. He watches his spend drip from your poor, stretched cunt, and pushes some of it back inside you. You flop on your back between Roman and Joel as you catch your breath, eyes fluttering shut as you bask in the stillness. You’ve never felt so empty. 

Roman pushes some hair out of your face and sucks his teeth. “Wow, Joel. Some gentleman you are. You’re just gonna leave her like that?”

Joel glares at Roman with an incredulous look on his face. “What?”

Roman points to all the places on your face he’s decorated with his come. “Clean her up,” he demands. “Fair’s fair. You’re the only one who hasn’t used your mouth, aren’t you?”

Joel rolls his eyes and slides off the couch, then kneels in front of you, knees popping as they press into the dirty floor. He holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, then licks all of Roman’s spend from your cheeks, nose, and forehead, wincing at the bitter, salty taste. 

Roman wears a satisfied smirk. “We’re square,” he says. 

Wordlessly, Joel lifts you up and helps you dress yourself, then dresses himself. He collects your belongings, then guides you to the exit. You walk in a daze, legs and thighs still sore. 

“Curfew’s at six,” Roman taunts. “Better get home soon, Texas.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog, send me an ask, comment something nice 🩷 your kind words keep me motivated to write.

Tagging my roman readers and others who've expressed interest in this fic <3

@ovaryacted @razrbladekiss @romaescapes @taeslarityy

@dorims @atinylittlepain @joelsdagger @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

@kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamii @verstappensrealwife @lilipads @thesummerpetrichor @party-hearses

[bibli0thecary]

Just need someone to spread my thighs as wode as possible, looking down at where my cunt is drooling for them, clicking their tongue as they laugh, "you're pretty wet for someone who's about to get raped," before they thrust into me in one brutal go 🤤

Mmhm and by someone you mean…Roman, right? I mean come on, that’s so him. He’s laughing, dragging his tip up and down your folds, maybe juuuust pushing the head before pulling back out again, giggling. Sike, you fuckin thought. A fun little game :) fun for him, at least. Okay, okay. He’s done. This isn’t funny. This is very serious, and it’s not a joke. Mm-mm, no. He’s gonna let you go, let you get up and straighten yourself out…

…grab you by the ankle, trip you onto the floor, drags you back as you claw for the door. He straddles you as he hikes up your skirt. Fuck, honey. Are you really that fuckin stupid? You really thought he’d - okay! Okay. I mean, it’s wishful thinking, is what it is. God, that youthful optimism. He loves that about girls like you. He parts your legs, pulls your panties to the side and buries himself inside you. Fingers in your mouth, pressing on your tongue. Moaning, grunting in your ear, the noises broken by his giggles. Gonna be a long night.

[bibli0thecary]

that's my old man. he sent me this. ♡

[bibli0thecary]

blinded

Ted Garcia x Reader

summary: fear blinds you with rage when you are scared to lose Ted. wc: 1,2k tw: fighting (not physical), insecurity?, implied boss/employee relationship (in the past), angst with a happy ending a/n: i don't even know why i wrote it but umm.. have it?

“Will you stop screaming? We didn’t do anything!” Ted had to practically run after you, crossing a half-empty street where the mayor wasn’t supposed to.

“Oh, right, because I’m fucking stupid, ain’t I?” You didn't even bother to turn around, you just walked wherever your eyes could see, the rage made your voice louder, but you didn't care who could hear you anymore.“I didn’t see that fucking skank put her tits all up in your face! Didn’t see her almost falling to her knees to suck you off the second she sees you!”

You stopped. The weather, as if trying to play up to the drama of the moment, became gloomier. The wind blew your hair up and, full of irritation, you tried to get the stray strands out of your face with a swipe of your hand. Blind jealousy made you feel helpless, unwanted. An old doll that was thrown in the trash as soon as her dress stopped being shiny and bright.

Ted hissed, and his words were almost lost in the loud gust of wind. “Can you keep it down?”

You grinned, trying to hide the pain gnawing from the inside. “Why? Not like you want to hide it with the way you’re parading her around town!” Taking a deep breath, you carried on walking. Soon, you turned left from the main street and into a small alley. Ted followed you. The houses that were standing too close to each other made you feel caged, and you tried to quicken your pace.

“She’s my fucking assistant!” Ted raised his voice, you could hear the hopelessness in it, but his words only made you angrier.

“I was your fucking assistant, too!” That fact was probably the biggest trigger for you. You didn’t want to let it get to you, yet you couldn’t stop but think what if you were just a pathetic cliche and as soon as Ted gets tired of you, he’ll just get another one. After all, even with his ways, he was quite an attractive man. 

You fell for his charm once, that awkward flirt that tried to seem more serious than he was. Ted was so surprised by your affections that he never even thought about turning you down. Your romance was a shy spark that turned into a roaring fire, and it never stopped burning. At least not for you. Every day you discovered a new side of Ted and until today everything you learned about the man – from the way he took his coffee (black with too much sugar), to the way he did a morning stretch completely naked – only made you love him more. But what if cheating was also a side of him? A wandering eye? Were you too blinded by your love to notice the signs?

Ted grabbed you by the shoulder, forcing you to stop. “Well you’re not anymore! You’re my…” He stumbled. Another thing you should’ve brought up sooner. You’ve never said who you were to each other, you just were. 

“Yeah, exactly. I’m your what, Ted? We’ve been at it for almost a year and you can’t even say who I am to you.” Almost every day you fell asleep and woke up in the same bed; you whispered praises when you looked each other in the eye while you fucked. It was kind of obvious to you who you were supposed to be to each other. Yet you’d never put a name on it. Resentment, like poisoned water, dripped from your lips. “Another woman chooses your shirts, another woman is by your side every fucking day. And I’m just...” You felt a betraying tremble in your voice, and you shook his hand off but stayed where you were. You sounded defeated. “A late night call, a date on the outskirts of town, a person who gets flowers delivered anonymously.”

Ted brought his palms to your cheeks, his thumbs caressed the soft skin. His brown eyes were wet, and there was fear in his voice that he tried to make as even as he was able to. “You’re mine. You are the reason a year ago I decided to risk my career and give up the most genius assistant, to have the most wonderful woman by my side.” His eyes left yours, like he was ashamed. “And yes, I can’t parade you around town, yet. But it’s only because I don’t want small town gossip to be the reason of your professional failure. I know that would devastate you.”

He was right. You were the one to suggest he hired a new assistant when you left, and with the way he loved on you you’d never doubted that he couldn’t see anyone but you. But lately his workdays became longer, and every excuse he made just became another treat for your paranoia. You wished you could just stop overthinking everything, but after being loved by him, losing him became your biggest nightmare. You wanted him to kiss you, to kiss you so hard it'd show you that everything you’re afraid of was ridiculous. But you knew he wouldn’t dare until you allowed him.

“She needs to keep her fucking distance. Tell her that.” Your brows were still knitted together, a scowl baring your teeth the second you remembered the bimbo-looking blond.

“Okay.” Ted tried to stop himself from smiling, but the corners of his lips trembled when he realized that he won the battle against your insecurities yet again.

“And she isn’t allowed to buy you clothes.” You punched his chest with your neatly manicured finger. 

“Actually, she doesn’t buy-“

“I am going to be the one who helps you shop. This shirt is atrocious.” You pinched the sleeve of his shirt. It wasn’t that bad but you wouldn't give that information out even in fear of death.

“What?” Ted’s eyebrows jumped up in shock. “I picked this shirt!”

“And I also..-”

His lips found yours swallowing the rest of your sentence. Warm tongue caressed your lower lip, asking for entrance that you easily gave. He tasted of his 5pm coffee, the remnants of sweetness seduced you like a pretty smelling flower seduced a bee. Tim gently nipped at your lips, soothing them with his tongue. You followed suit. Heat pooled in your belly and seeped into the gusset of your panties. Had he bent you over right there in the tiny alley, you wouldn’t have minded. But Ted leaned back, leaving your lips to the sound of your whine.

“Hey, let’s get out of here, huh? Let’s go home and I’ll show you who exactly you are to me.” The sound of him, low and impatient, thundered through your veins. You shook your head to get some clarity.

“Don’t think that you can sweep it under the rug with a kiss or two, Ted.”

He pursed his lips, nodding thoughtfully. Then, having come to a decision with himself, he gave you a sly smile. “How about I let you do that thing you wanted?”

A new wave of wetness stained your panties, you knees buckled with the anticipation. “Really?”

You grabbed him by his hand, dragging him in the direction of your apartment, and Ted obediently let the whole street see it.

___________

leave a comment and reblog if you liked the story <3

[bibli0thecary]

welcome back Javier Peña... oh wait a minute

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ARE Y’ALL WRITING TED GARCIA FICS ALREADY OR WHAT? I NEED TO BE FUCKED IN THAT UNIVERSE TOO!

ready to be his sexretary/sneaky link/journalist he hate fucks/PA/enemy’s assistant/a fuckin barista from the only place in town with good coffee/a PR manager COME ON PEOPLE 👏🏻 👏🏻 👏🏻 LET’S GET TO WORK

[bibli0thecary]

oh to be curled up in his lap rn ( gif; @a7estrellas)

[bibli0thecary]

You like being up under him.

You’re like the cutest little puppy or a cute, needy little kitten in his eyes. Always hungry for attention, even if you don’t say it or you don’t show it in your actions. It’s in those pretty eyes he could get lost in for ages. It’s in the way he calls for you and you always come, leaning into his touch. Curling into his side or cuddling into his arms. It’s in the you burns off his affection but still pout when he pulls away. The goosebumps you get when he caresses your lower back, letting his hands trail to your hips.

“You in love with me or somethin baby?”

You know the answer.

So does he.

Especially with that smile or smirk on his lips. Laughs as you get all embarrassed. You try to shove him off but he pulls you closer by your waist.

The man can’t help but kiss your cheeks he knows are heating up even without being to see it on your skin, hold you by the back of your neck so he can give your a loving kiss on your perfect lips.

You’re his amazing fucking girl.

Even when he smokes.

And it’s almost chronic, has to have atleast one a day. And you look at him with bored eyes, but watch him none the less, as his lips take in tabbaco and blow it out ever so perfectly. You can’t help but get used to the smell, let it hit you when hold onto him like it’s the last time. The smell of tobacco, pinewood or cinnamon engulf you, falling in love with him a little more.

To the point he sends you in the store to get his favorite pack of cigarettes along with whatever snack you wanted and his favorite is ingrained in your memory. Or when he knows it’s too much, doesn’t like his pretty baby coughing up a storm, he gives your ass a little smack, shoo’s you away.

“No baby, not right now, gimmie me a second.”

He quickly finishes it, or takes one last drag, following you wherever you are because he loves being in your space. He tries his best to be careful with you, you’re a precious thing to him more than anyone on this planet, more than his fucked job, more than his own life, more than his lungs— you are the air he breathes.

Exactly what he lives for.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ toji, shiu, suguru, joel, ghost, john, smoke, stack, gaz.

a/n: I don’t encourage smoking irl (if it’s not weed) by any means. But boy do I get nostalgic with happy memories from smelling it, and lord knows I adore a character who smokes🤭🤤🤤 inspo, because I’m a slut for expanding past ideas.

[bibli0thecary]

just joel taking a nap as soon as he comes home from work cause he’s an old man who snores too much

[bibli0thecary]

do we see the vision

[bibli0thecary]

and now im crying

Haunting me

Summary: The Dance is over and you get summoned to the Red Keep to be the nursemaid to the little Queen Jaehaera. However, the more days pass, the more you notice a presence always lingering around you, watching from afar.

Pairing: Ghost!Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 7042 words

Warnings: Post Dance of Dragons Era, talks of death and war, underage marriage (Jaehaera and Aegon III), Reader is described to be female and to have long hair, my attempt at mystery, ghost stuff, angst, fluff, brief suggestive content (it’s about a tapestry), no mention of Y/N

Notes: This is for the wonderful @bearwithegg ! It took me a long time to post this, but I hope you’ll like it! Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy 💛

It has been months since King Aegon Targaryen returned victorious to King's Landing and reclaimed his father's throne.

Months since the Dance of Dragons was officially over. Rhaenyra is dead, the war that tore the Seven Kingdoms apart is finally over.

And then the unthinkable happened. The king was found dead in the carriage that brought him to the Great Sept. They say he passed out as peacefully as if he were sleeping. His wine had been poisoned, but no one could tell for sure who the culprit was.

Rumors say it was Lord Larys Strong. Others say it was Lord Corlys Velaryon. Still others say it was the king himself, to end his suffering.

But one could never say with any certainty.

A few weeks later, Aegon III, son of Rhaenyra, would be married to little Jaehaera, the king's last living child. They were children, innocent and frightened, who did not know the meaning of the oaths they were speaking there.

They were both no more than ten summers old, which was why they could not rule. The council took on that responsibility for them. But that did not mean they did not need someone at their side.

The Dowager Queen, Alicent Hightower, was out of the question. It was rumored that she had gone mad in the tower where she had been locked after the death of her last son. Her servants were said to hear her weeping at all hours. And when she was not crying, she was always talking about the time in her own youth when she read to the old King Jaehaerys.

Little Queen Jaehaera was all alone. The girl had no mother, no father, brother, or dragon. The war had taken all of that from her.

She needed someone by her side to take care of her.

And that was exactly why you were called to court. A young lady from a small, rather insignificant house, who had barely survived the Dance.

It was a great honor for you, as you had never dared to imagine ever seeing the Red Keep with your own eyes.

Even though times were bleak, the harvests left much to be desired, and many villages lacked young men, you were overjoyed to have been given such an opportunity.

A small ray of hope in a hopeless age.

The Red Keep was not what you had imagined.

The halls were cold and empty, the walls gray and colorless, and the people were taciturn and seemed plagued by the ghosts of the past.

Little Jaehaera quickly grew on you. Her large, amethyst-colored eyes were always sad and empty, but your heart swelled every time you made her smile.

She never laughed, but sometimes, when you told her stories from your village, you could see her eyes sparkle or the corners of her mouth lift slightly.

It was a beautiful sight that you guarded like a treasure.

You did not have much to do with the young king, as the king and queen often went their separate ways. You were also protective of the girl. The mere thought that something could happen to her sent shivers down your spine.

You did not want to know how the Dowager Queen felt. On the quiet nights when the moon was high in the sky and not even the trees moved, you could hear her weeping. It was loud, tragic, and broke your heart in two.

It must have been terrible to lose four children and three grandchildren in such a cruel way within the span of four years. The first victim was little Jaehaerys, the little queen's twin brother. Then Helaena, Aemond, Maelor, Daeron, and finally Aegon.

Her first and last.

She was only able to bury two of her children. The bones of the Kinslayer were lost forever at the bottom of the lake in front of Harrenhall, as were the bones of his mount, the mighty Vhagar.

In the villages surrounding the God's Eye, there is said to be a kind of test of courage for the younger people. They are supposed to swim to the bottom of the lake and see the bones with their own eyes. Some left a gold coin as tribute, others tried to destroy the final resting place of the prince and the dragon by kicking the bones underwater.

Depending on whose side these people had been on in the war.

Helaena and Aegon were given their graves next to each other in the Sept, so they could comfort each other even in death. It was the Queen Dowager‘s idea.

You had no connection to any of this.

You had not known any of them, had not ever seen any of them with your own eyes, and during the war, your house had been neutral. Your father did not care who warmed the Iron Throne with their behind, but only that his people were healthy and well-fed.

You had not wanted to choose either. Both sides had been right somewhere, but all that was quickly forgotten the moment the first blood was shed. After that, the flame became a walking inferno, devouring everything and everyone who approached this chaos.

You were glad you were not consumed by the fire.

"Have I already told you the story of Mattis the Foolish?" you asked Jaehaera after you had put her to bed and tucked her in.

The little girl shook her head and hugged her stuffed animal—a small cat—more to her chest. A hint of curiosity flashed in her eyes as she looked up at you.

"Well, listen carefully then. Mattis was a young man from the village I come from. He was well-read, handsome, and always quick with a joke. The young ladies idolized him, and every boy wanted to be his friend. Mattis was sure that the gods would favor him and that everyone would like him. And so he set out on a long journey to confirm his belief."

Jaehaera pulled the blanket up to her chin. "And what happened to him?"

"On his way, he encountered a group of bandits who had kidnapped a woman. She called for help, and Mattis the Heroic, as his friends always called him, rushed to the aid of the fair maiden," you continued, and you could see how the little queen became more and more curious with every word that left your lips.

"And then?" she asked you in a quiet voice. She never spoke aloud.

"He had confidence in his ability to befriend anyone, even vicious bandits. He approached them and struck up a conversation. The men fell under his charm, laughed with him, and toasted him. In the end, they gave him the woman for two gold coins and wished him luck on his journey."

"Oh no," murmured the little girl, already anticipating what was coming.

"No sooner had he set off again, the lovely maiden on his arm, he was suddenly stabbed in the back. The woman had pulled out a dagger, robbed him, and returned to the bandits' camp, while Mattis died miserably in the dirt. He had no idea that she was one of them and that she had only been out to rob good souls like him," you continued, brushing a silver strand of hair from the girl's face.

"And because he put his trust in a stranger, he is now called Mattis the Foolish?" Jaehaera asked you with a smile.

The story was dark, yes, but she liked it. You had learned that quickly after you read her a fairy tale once and she handed you a ghost story from Old Vaylria the next evening. It seemed so as if she liked the morbid and dark, which was why you had to come up with a new story every night that reflected that.

"Or simply because he believed that everyone would be his friend because he did not know any different. And what does this story teach us, darling?" you asked her as you slowly got up from the edge of the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles in your nightgown.

"That you should be careful who you put your trust in," she answered with a nod.

"Exactly. And now sleep well, my little one," you whispered to her before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

You were already halfway out the door and on your way back to your humble chambers to finally get some good sleep after your long day when you heard her voice again: "Do you... Do you think ghosts exist?"

You immediately stopped and turned to your charge, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What strange questions she sometimes asked.

"Ghosts? They are a nice thought, are they not? Your parents and siblings are watching over you, Jaehaera. One way or another," you assured her with a nod of your head.

"Good night," she murmured, turning away from you, whereupon you sighed softly and closed the door behind you.

As you walked through the corridors, you occasionally nodded to one guard or another. They all seemed tired and as if they had seen too much. The war had left its mark on everyone.

Not paying attention to who might be passing you at this late hour, you suddenly bumped into someone.

"Forgive me," you said immediately, but the man simply nodded and disappeared around the next corner without another word.

It was not until several seconds later that you realized... that he had silver hair.

But that could not be true.

The only people in these halls who still had such features were the young royal couple, and they were already in bed.

Later, you told yourself that it must have just been a trick of the light. That the man's hair had simply been ash-blond. But as you looked around the Great Hall the next morning, as most people were getting breakfast or servants were getting it for their lords and ladies, you noticed that you did not see a man with ash-blond hair anywhere.

So who was this man?

You did not want to ask around. Not because you did not want to find out, but because you were not good at talking to people. Jaehaera was the exception because it was your job to take care of her and because she was an innocent child.

Most of the time, you just felt like everyone was judging you, even if you had not done anything wrong. You could feel their eyes on you, and you hated it. You never knew why. You had always been like that. Like the young Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, you too preferred to be alone. You were better off alone.

You firmly believed that you had only imagined this man. After all, you had been tired, and the girl had just said something about ghosts before you left her alone for the night.

It certainly would not happen again, you thought.

It had been two moons since you bumped into the silver-haired man that night. You had not seen him again. No sign, not even a hint.

By now, you were quite certain that your eyes had indeed been playing a trick on you. At least, that was what you thought until you suddenly saw him again.

It was one of the few days in which the young King Aegon III was supposed to listen to some of the people's petitions. Of course, he did not do this unsupervised. He actually just sat on the throne and greeted and bid farewell to the citizens of the Small Folk who spoke, while one or sometimes two council members did the actual speaking and made the important decisions.

Hidden in the shadows at the side of the throne room, a figure leaned against the cold, wet wall of the Red Keep. His skin was as pale as the snow falling in the north, his hair as silver as the moon, uncombed and falling to his shoulders. He wore a dark green doublet, which he left open. Beneath it, a blue shirt and black trousers were visible. His black boots were dirty, and a heavy gold chain hung around his neck.

No one seemed to notice him. No one spoke to him.

You could almost say he was not there at all.

But you saw him. You saw him, and you decided to approach him with quiet, cautious steps. He did not seem to notice you, and you had to gather all your strength to finally clear your throat.

"Excuse me?" you said quietly, careful to keep your voice low so the other men in the hall would not hear you. Their focus should remain entirely on the throne.

The silver-haired man—and even in this light, you could see that it was definitely silver, not just pale blond—turned slowly to you. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked like he had just seen a ghost.

Perhaps he was not used to being spoken to so simply?

"I think that we have met before," you spoke when he did not say anything. "Two months ago. I bumped into you in the night."

He blinked before something like recognition suddenly flashed in his violet eyes.

Violet eyes, silver hair, pale skin... was he a Targaryen?

Somehow, he even reminded you of Jaehaera. You could be wrong, of course, but they had almost the same eyes. Large, sad, and looking as if they carried the weight of the world on their shoulders.

"You…" he cleared his throat. "You remember?"

His voice was rough, as if he had not used it in a long time, and the look in his eyes was one of caution. You could not imagine why. You did not look like a princess or one of those fine ladies who took themselves too seriously. Your dress had hardly any embroidery, and your jewelry was silver, not gold. Unlike many others, pomp and wealth were not things that captivated you.

"I wanted to apologize again. It was late, and I was not looking. I hope you will forgive me," you explained your reasons for approaching him again.

He blinked and looked at you for a few seconds before finally nodding his head: "It is alright. Honestly, I also did not pay attention to where I was going."

You thought you remembered his gait being very purposeful, but you decided not to press the issue. He seemed to you like a man who, like a bat, avoided sunlight when it came.

"You do not look like someone who would make a request," you said with a tentative smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you nodded your head toward the throne.

His lips parted slightly, and he turned slightly toward the monstrosity built so many years ago by Aegon the Conqueror himself. A true sign of royalty, and apparently, it also had a mind of its own. People still spoke of how steel rejected the false queen and accepted her half-brother Aegon. For many who witnessed the event, this had been a sign at the time.

"Believe me, my lady, I have many requests I could make. I merely do not wish to frighten our young king," he answered with a grin, which made your knees go weak for a moment.

"Why would the boy be afraid of you?" you asked him instead, genuine curiosity in your gentle tone.

The man in front of you simply shrugged and leaned back against the wall behind him. "I am not sure. I just have a feeling."

You nodded your head and looked at the small king sitting precariously on the Iron Throne, which was far too big for him and almost swallowed him. Silver hair, violet eyes, pale skin...

"Are you a Dragon Seed?" you asked him curiously, turning back to him, only to see that the man had disappeared.

You quickly scanned your path to the left and then to the right, but you found no sign of him anywhere. How could he have run away so quickly? You had not even heard footsteps. What was wrong with you?

Who in the Seven Hells was this man?

This question haunted you in your sleep for the next few weeks. With each passing day, you believed more and more that you were simply going mad. Sometimes you thought you could see him out of the corner of your eye, but whenever you turned around, there was nothing but cold air.

Even with Jaehaera, you found no peace. The little girl bore such a frightening resemblance to the stranger that you once accidentally asked her exactly how many brothers she used to have. It had been foolish and thoughtless of you, as she immediately turned away from you and disappeared into her chamber to cry instead.

She would not even accept your lemon cake as an apology, and she would not listen to any stories in the evening. In fact, she even forbade the guards from letting you in when you tried to wish her goodnight.

You felt terrible.

One afternoon, you summoned the courage to ask a member of the council what the former Targaryens had looked like. The answer you received was anything but satisfactory. They had only told you exactly what you already knew. Silver hair, pale skin, amethyst-colored eyes that sometimes varied in color and intensity, and one of them had an eye patch. You were aware of all of this.

The one person who could still help you was the Queen Mother, Alicent Hightower, but she was rather ill at the moment because she apparently had the flu.

So you were left empty-handed.

That was until you met him again one night. You were standing on the balcony of the chambers you had been assigned when you entered the Red Keep. They were apparently the old chambers of the mad Queen Helaena, who took her own life by jumping from Maegor's Holdfast.

At the time, you had asked why you had been assigned these chambers, since you were no one of great importance. After all, you came from a relatively unknown house, and your sole duty was to look after the queen. You had expected servants' quarters, not such opulence.

The moon stood high in the sky, bathing the world in a silver glow. Otherwise, the night was warm, and the sky was cloudless. It was peaceful.

It would have been so easy to find peace that night, but you found none.

Dressed in a pale green robe and a white nightgown, you leaned against the stone railing and looked down at the city below. Your hair fell in gentle waves down your back, and only now did you begin to understand how long you had been within these walls. When you left your home, your hair had fallen to your elbows, and now the ends touched your lower back.

Although the night was windless, you could suddenly feel a light layer of gooseflesh spreading across your arms and a chill running down your spine. There was really no reason for that until you suddenly heard the sound of heavy boots behind you.

You immediately turned around and gasped in alarm when you saw the silver-haired man who had been on your mind for months.

"By the gods! How did you get in here?" you asked him, placing a hand over your heart. It was racing as fast as a hummingbird's wings.

The stranger, who did not seem much older than you, seemed as surprised as you for a moment before he seemed to recover and straighten his shoulders.

"You doors were open," he said simply.

"No, they are not," you replied, letting your gaze sweep over him. You had never before considered whether he might be dangerous. You had been too fascinated by the mystery he represented.

A small laugh escaped him, and you could feel your heart clench for a moment.

"Oh, I am pretty sure they are," he said before leaning against the stone railing next to you and looking down at the city as if he were its king. He certainly looked like one.

Confused, you blinked and looked back down at King's Landing. Lights were still burning in some of the windows, but most seemed to be fast asleep. Of course, that did not apply to the residents of the Street of Silk, where life blossomed at night like you had never seen before. You had only been there once, and you did not want to repeat the experience.

"And why do you just walk into someone's chambers without even knocking first? Especially since it is the middle of the night! I could have been asleep already," you told him, and you could feel a shiver run down your spine at the thought.

Not because he might have seen you sleeping, but rather because you would not have known.

"Believe it or not, beautiful, I honestly have no idea."

You were about to respond when he turned back to you, and the expression on his face was so frighteningly real that it swallowed the words in your mouth.

The moonlight fell on his features in such a way that it made him seem almost inhuman. Divine, even. He looked like a fallen angel who did not know what path to take. He was beautiful in a way that was hard to put into words.

"Who are you?" you finally asked him that one question that had burned itself into your mind as if Balerion himself had enclosed you in his flames.

A smile played around the corners of his mouth, but it quickly disappeared. Instead, he turned back to the city, and a sigh escaped him. Soft and barely audible, but you heard it because it was otherwise eerily quiet. Other than your breathing, you could not hear a single sound.

"Trust me, you do not want to know," he finally answered.

A single gust of wind whizzed through the night, making the already tangled strands of his hair appear even tangler. It almost looked as if he had last combed it years ago.

"But I do," you replied, taking a step closer to him. Normally, that would have cost you a lot of courage, but that was the last thing on your mind. The only thing you wanted were answers.

"I do not wish to scare you," he said with a sigh. "You would not understand."

A huff of air escaped you: "Trust me, I understand a lot of things. I am not a foolish woman, for a change. I read a lot."

For a second, you thought you saw something like recognition in his gaze, but it vanished as quickly as waves come and go at the ocean.

"You are the one who takes care of my—I mean, the one who takes care of the queen, right?" he asked suddenly, at which you just blinked for a few seconds. That had been a particularly quick change of subject.

"I— Yes," you answered him with a nod of your head.

He nodded too, and while people danced and drank in the distance, the balcony of your chambers was enveloped in a silence that was not exactly unpleasant, but was not entirely pleasant either.

Too many questions remained unanswered for it to be pleasant.

"How is she?" he asked you, his voice sounding as if he knew so much more than he let on. He sounded vulnerable, almost sad.

At first, you wanted to ask him why he cared. The answer was already on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed it down at the last moment. You did not want to fend him off. No, you just wanted to know more about him. About this beautiful, mysterious man who had been on your mind ever since the first moment.

"I cannot say. Sometimes she smiles, sometimes she cries, but mostly she is just quiet. I try to be a friend to her as best I can, and maybe even a kind of mother figure, but it is not easy."

Once again, he nodded his head, and you could see him slowly letting this information sink in, absorbing it. It seemed like it meant something to him. Like he knew her.

"I am grateful you are with her. If she were alone... she would fall apart from all this," his words were spoken with such certainty that you could be sure of one thing, too. He was not a stranger. He was exactly where he belonged. In these halls, in the Red Keep.

You took another step closer to him, until your elbows were almost touching. You expected to feel the warmth of his body, but as you stepped closer, you felt absolutely nothing. As if you were speaking to the air.

"Who are you?"

He opened his mouth to answer you when there was a sudden, frantic knock on your door. You stood there for a moment, but then reluctantly turned away from him and hurried to the door.

They were locked from the inside, as you said. There was no way he could have entered these chambers from the outside without you noticing.

Your hand trembled as you unlocked and opened the door, only to see Jaehaera standing before you. Barefoot, wearing only her nightgown, her hair loose.

"I had a nightmare," she said without you even having to ask.

You immediately crouched down and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. You were just glad she was talking to you again, even though you had made the mistake of asking her about her brothers.

But just as you were about to hug her to tell her that everything was fine and she did not need to be afraid, her eyes suddenly widened. You had never seen her like that before.

Without a word, she stormed past you and toward the balcony.

"Jaehaera!" you called after her and quickly jumped to your feet, almost tripping over the ends of your robe.

"Where is he?" she shrieked, causing you to look at her questioningly.

"Where is who?" you replied, and then you noticed that your mysterious stranger had once again disappeared without a trace. Again.

"Daddy! Where's Daddy!?" she cried, and you were at a loss.

"Daddy?" you repeated. "Sweetheart, your father is no longer with us. You know that."

But the little queen would not listen. She pointed to the spot where the silver-haired man had just been standing, and thick crocodile tears began to run down her soft cheeks.

"No, you do not understand, he was here! I just saw him! He was standing right here!"

The coin fell. You grabbed the edge of the door to keep from falling.

"By the gods..." you whispered, disbelief in your voice.

Jaehaera wept, and you understood.

The silver-haired man was not just anyone. It was Aegon II Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. And a man who should most certainly be dead.

Weeks passed, and you had not seen Aegon again. To protect Jaehaera, you told her that she probably saw a shadow coming from the curtains and that her mind was playing tricks on her. Of course, she would not accept that, and once again she ordered her guards that you were not allowed to enter her chambers.

She was angry and sad, and you understood why, even if you could not yet explain it all.

That afternoon, some of the tapestries were to be replaced. Many were more than ten years old, and the Small Council had decided to have new ones hung. In your opinion, any change was a good thing. They apparently still wanted to suppress the past—the war that had been less than two years ago—as best they could.

Because the queen did not want to see you, you helped removing the tapestries in one of the castle's many corridors. Thank the Seven, you did not have to hang any of the new ones, because that would have required a ladder, but it felt good to tear the old ones off the wall.

Simply doing something violently helped you release some of the frustration that had been building up inside you over the past weeks and months, like a gigantic wave that threatened to bury you at any moment.

"Just coming and going, ridiculous," you muttered, while you tore one of the tapestries off the wall, which clearly depicted a sexual position. Like the other ten that were already scattered on the floor. "I mean, yes, he was the king, but that is still pathetic, is it not? Oh, who am I kidding? The man is a ghost. He can come and go as he pleases."

"If I did not know you are talking about me, I would have said you were very angry about a lover," a familiar voice suddenly spoke behind you, and you froze completely.

Slowly, you turned to him, still holding the tapestry. Aegon the Elder was standing not far in front of you, leaning against the wall with a grin on his lips that almost took your breath away.

"Ever done that?" he asked teasingly, pointing at the red carpet motif.

Your eyes widened and you looked down at the motif. It showed a woman twisting in a very unnatural way, pleasuring a man while another sat between her thighs.

"What do you take me for?" you quickly retorted, heat flooding your cheeks, turning them the color of a ripe apple.

A laugh escaped him, loud and genuine, and for the first time, you saw his eyes sparkle. He seemed happy.

"I am only jesting, my dear. I did not expect you to be involved in such activities before. Although... are you married?" he asked curiously, glancing down at the motif on the carpet for a while longer, as if fascinated by it.

The way he licked his lips made your heart leap in your chest, and you quickly tossed the tapestry to the others already scattered on the floor. His smile turned into a pout.

"No, I am not married yet," you said, and immediately he beamed from ear to ear again.

"Something any man likes to hear."

Without being able to stop yourself, you raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms. "Oh yeah? And what about ghosts? Do they like to hear that too?"

The radiant sparkle left his eyes for a moment, and instead he sighed and turned away from you to take another closer look at the remaining tapestries that adorned the walls. You followed him without saying a word.

Suddenly, a chuckle escaped him, which sounded like music to your ears.

"I tried that! Before you ask: No, it didn't work," he explained, pointing with his outstretched arm at a particularly bold motif.

"Oh..." was all he got in response from you.

Then you cleared your throat in what you hoped was a good attempt to change the subject: "You seem so happy today, Aegon."

He did not turn to you, but you could see his shoulders tense for a moment before finally relaxing. "You know my name."

"I have told you before and I will tell you again. I am no fool, Your Grace," you said, sounding perhaps a little more serious than necessary. "She saw you."

"I know," he shrugged. "And that is exactly why I was with her just a moment ago."

Your eyes widened and your mouth opened and closed for a few seconds, like a fish's.

"You—you were with her? With Jaehaera?" you asked, just to be sure.

Aegon continued down the corridor, and from the way he walked, you could sense what he had been like when he was alive. Lively, playful, and perhaps a little arrogant.

You would have liked to have known him when he was still among the living.

"I just said that. Yes, I was with her. We talked, and I was able to tell her some things I did not get a chance to."

"I hope you gave her a long embrace, because she deserves it. You are her father," you said, letting your eyes roam over him. He looked so real. As if you only had to reach out and you could touch him.

You could see the Adam's apple moving in his throat as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He seemed so human, so alive, that you wanted to pull him into the throne room and show everyone that the king was still alive and that there was no reason to treat two war-torn children like puppets.

"Believe me when I tell you, I would have loved to. But I cannot."

"You cannot? What does that mean?" you asked him cautiously, yet still curiously.

Aegon did not answer with words, but simply held out his hand, as if he were asking you to dance. Slowly, you raised yours as well and extended it. Your fingers could almost touch; you even imagined to briefly feel the warmth of his skin, but where flesh and bone should have been, there was nothing but air. Your hand simply slid through yours.

Your shoulders slumped, and for a moment, your eyes filled with tears. Here stood Aegon, former king, caught between life and death.

"But at least I do not look like a roasted chicken anymore," he jested, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

You tilted your head, but he was already explaining before you could even ask the question: "My brother pretty much set me on fire with Vhagar. My whole left side was burned, my leg was useless, and my cock did not work either anymore."

"Your— Oh. I am sorry, Aegon," you said, wrapping your arms around yourself, not knowing what else to do with them.

You had once heard that the king loved wine and women more than anything else and spent more time on the Street of Silk than in his castle. So it must have been terrible for him to suddenly no longer be able to do the things he loved most. And sex, after all, can be very liberating in stressful times.

"Oh, never mind, dove," he sighed, shrugging as if it did not matter to him, but you could see the pain was still there, lingering. "I am over it."

"No, you are not," you said with a smile.

"Guilty," he grinned, turning around. "Where are you from, anyway?"

"House Butterwell of Whitewalls," you murmured, unsure whether you wanted him to hear it or not. Your house was not one of those that immediately conjures up images of a large castle and riches as far as the eye can see. No, quite the opposite.

The silver-haired man, whose name you now knew, tilted his head, and you could see him thinking hard. "My dear, I have to disappoint you, but I have never heard of your house."

"I know," you said simply, shaking your head as a gentle blush rose in your cheeks. "That is what most people say when they ask me, which admittedly are not many."

But the former king simply shrugged and reached out as if to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, but his hand slid through you once again. Disappointment settled in your stomach.

A part of you wished he could touch you. You wanted to know how his hands would feel on your skin, if his lips were as soft as they looked, and if his fingers would be warm or cold.

These thoughts were dangerous, but you could not hold them back anymore. Just like the feelings that blossomed within you and were directed at him. A ghost.

But he smiled, and you knew you were lost.

From that day on, you spent almost every single day with him. Sometimes Jaehaera was even there, but often you were alone.

He often came in the evenings, when most of the lords and ladies had already gone to sleep and you were wrapped in a comfortable nightgown. You would spend hours telling each other things. Sometimes from your own lives, sometimes they were completely irrelevant and had nothing to do with you or him at all.

Aegon now knew everything about you. He knew your favorite wine, your favorite color, silly childhood memories you had confided in him, as well as your dreams and desires. You knew his entire life. His difficult childhood, his youth drowned in wine and women, and his adulthood, which had been no less difficult.

In a short time, you had grown more fond of him than any other man you had met before, and Aegon was sure—for once in his life—that he knew what love felt like.

He did not say the words, and neither did you, but somehow you both knew.

You could feel it in the way he was always there exactly when you needed him, and he knew it in the way you looked at him. As if he had personally hung the stars in the sky and made them shine just for you.

You had resigned yourself to the fact that he could not touch you. If he wanted to, he would say so instead. Imagine me placing my hand on yours and squeezing gently.

He calls you dove. You call him king.

And when he was with you, the world seemed to be in order, even if you could not explain it.

That was until the first letter reached you. Your presence at court had attracted the attention of other houses and their sons. All of them were alliances that should be considered. All of them would give your house a bigger name and fortune, and your father would be able to provide more for the citizens. Your house would finally gain prominence.

Your father and mother were excited and happy, expecting you to make a suitable choice. A charming young man who would marry you and to whom you could give heirs. The fate of so many young ladies.

They could not have known that your heart had long since been taken, and that the only man you wanted and with whom you could imagine a life was no one who could make all this possible for them.

For the man you loved was long gone.

He found you sobbing in your chambers. You were sitting at the foot of the bed, a cup of wine in one hand and a letter in the other.

He was no fool.

You were a beautiful woman and of marriageable age. It was only a matter of time before the first men crawled out of their holes to feast on you.

It was not fair. But what in this world was fair anymore?

"Who is it?" he asked you in a calm voice, hoping he could reassure you.

"I don't know," you sobbed. "Some Lord Manderly."

He knew the name, but it probably would not be the old man he was thinking about. That would make the marriage proposal almost insulting. You were in the prime of your life, and that old fart already had one foot in the grave. The bastard.

"Aegon?" Your gentle voice pulled him out of the raging thoughts he was currently trapped in.

"What is it, sweetling?"

"Do not be mad. I will not choose Manderly anyway. My father at least gave me the freedom to choose one of the men. All that matters to him is that I choose at all," you explained, wiping the salty wetness of your already shed tears from your cheeks.

A long sigh escaped the Ghost King before he unceremoniously plopped down on the bed next to you, burying his face in the soft sheets.

Your scent clung to them, and he wished he could just lean against you, hold you in his arms, and promise you that no one would ever take you away from him.

You smelled of freedom, of wildflowers, and fresh soap. Apparently, you had bathed just an hour or two ago.

"And look, my king. Jaehaera will need her nursemaid until she is at least fourteen summers old. That is still a while, and I do not think she would let someone replace me," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Aegon froze.

Your eyes widened.

Your hand was on his shoulder. It did not just move through it, it was on him. Warm and alive.

Aegon did not hesitate for a second, but sat up and reached for your hand, squeezing it gently, as he had said so many times he would.

"You... You can—"

"Touch," he finished for you.

Not a second later, his lips were pressed against yours, his hands on your cheeks, his thumb rubbing small circles into your soft, flushed skin.

His lips were warm, soft, and so alive that you could feel the first tear rolling down your cheek. Then the second, and then the third.

"Don't cry," he murmured against your mouth before teasing your tongue with yours.

"You are crying too, Aegon," you replied, and you heard him chuckle softly.

You leaned back to catch your breath, but he was whining and trying to press another kiss against your lips, but you placed a finger on his lips to stop him.

"How is that possible?" you asked him with a genuinely happy smile on your lips.

"I have no idea, dove. But if I do know one thing, it is that I want to enjoy this evening to the fullest," he answered, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"To the fullest, you say? What about my suitors?"

The grin on his handsome face only widened before he buried his head in the crook of your neck.

"Forget them. Your king commands it."

He pressed a kiss against the sensitive skin of your neck, and you knew he was right.

For one evening, real life could rest. For one evening, the line between life and death had been blurred, and you had never been happier.

And Aegon knew this might be the last night he would ever touch, which is why he vowed to savor it to the last second.

Until he was no more.

The Dividers are from the wonderful @zaldritzosrose !

Taglist: @bey0nd-1he-stars @sassypain @hisfavegirl @dahaenatargaryen @sylasthegrim @danytar

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was just thinking about how old as fuck bf Joel would have you in bed by 9pm and had to write it 😭😭 all fluff xx

It’s 8:42 when he flicks off the living room lamp with a sigh, the whole house dipping into that familiar, sleepy hush. You’re already brushing your teeth, barefoot in his flannel that hangs loose and low, the sleeves swallowing your hands as you lean over the sink. He watches you from the hallway like he always does, arms crossed, eyes soft, like he still can’t believe you’re here—his—night after night.

By 8:56, you’re both under the covers. Clean sheets. Fresh pajamas. His arm is warm around your waist and the windows are cracked just enough to let the breeze in. The town outside is quiet. Your limbs are tangled, skin on skin, and he smells like cedarwood and peppermint toothpaste and the kind of comfort you never thought you’d get to keep.

You glance at the clock. 8:59.

“You made me boring,” you whisper, smiling into his chest. “I used to be wild. Fun. The last one to leave the party.”

Joel’s voice is low, sleep-soft. “You’re still fun. You’re just tired now.”

“Because I’m in bed at nine. You’ve aged me.”

He snorts, the sound muffled by your hair. “You’re the one who yawned through dinner.”

“You were the one talking about home insulation and firewood like it was the highlight of your week.”

He chuckles again, hand smoothing down your back beneath the blanket. “That’s ‘cause it was.”

You bite back a laugh, snuggling closer, cheek pressed to his chest. You can hear his heartbeat—steady, warm, yours. His other hand cups the back of your head like he needs to keep you there, needs to hold on even in sleep.

“You like our little life?” he asks suddenly, voice quieter now, almost shy.

You blink up at him, and the look on his face is so open, so tender, it makes your breath catch. That furrow between his brows, the one he always wears like a shield, is gone. He looks… safe. Happy. Home.

“I love our little life,” you whisper. “I’d go to bed at 7 if it meant doing it with you.”

He smiles. Really smiles. The kind that starts in his eyes, slow and crooked and completely devastating.

And then he leans in, presses the softest kiss to your lips, like a thank-you. Like a goodnight. Like a promise.

By 9:01, you’re both asleep.

Wrapped in each other.

Wrapped in peace.

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girldad!roman roy who’s daughter does not need to meet her grandfather. he sees his baby girl for the first time, wriggling in your arms, tiny limbs flailing everywhere. you press a gentle kiss to her forehead, and as she calms down, she looked up at her father. it makes his heart stutter in his chest, her wide brown eyes, just like his. and by god, roman swears she’s perfect.

the presence of the doctor reminds him, and he lets out a resigned grunt. “he’s not meeting her.” when you only respond with a blank, tired look, and a raised eyebrow, he elaborates. “dad. i don’t want him anywhere fucking near her.” his firmness surprised you slightly, but you nodded, too distracted by the newborn baby girl in your arms who’s just started wailing again.

it’s not long before he’s standing beside his father’s coffin, looking dully at the flowers that surround him, wondering if he would’ve done it differently if he could. but the sight of his daughter beside him, all soft skin and chubby cheeks, and the bruises that sullied his skin for so long linger in the back of his mind. for the safety of his daughter, he’d do it all over again a thousand times.

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baby jr asking what prenups are after hearing it in a film or something and they have to explain and she asks if they did one and roman’s all well no because daddy would have killed himself

"Daddy, what's a prenup?"

"...How do you know what that is?"

"I don't know what that is. It's why I'm asking you."

Smart aleck. Of course, she's his daughter, but she asked it so sweetly. Roman smiles.

"Something good marriages never have."

"...But the TV said that it's-it's so the Mommy and Daddy can still have money even after they break up." Baby Jr crosses her legs on her chair. "You and mommy aren't going to break up-"

"Don't...don't even start with that."

Roman's not looking at her, just at the TV, flipping through channels.

"Don't tell me you learned that from fucking Bluey."

Baby Jr giggles. "Silly Daddy, Bluey and Bingo's Mommy and Daddy would never break up."

"Same with your Daddy and Mommy." Roman throws the remote up in the air. "A prenup is something to make sure that the wife doesn't take anything away from the husband if they break up. That's decided before they get married. But Mommy didn't sign a prenup cause she loves me."

"...Okay."

"Yeah. Daddy would've killed himself."

"No no, don't that."

"I didn't, cause Mommy loves me and knew that we would never break up. Don't tell her that I told you I would've killed myself, though. That's, like, probably bad for you to hear."

"Okay, Daddy. I go shhhhh."

"You do that. I'm stable now. Because I got you, and your little fingers to munch on."

Baby Jr squeals when Roman gently bites her hand.

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When I say “I love men in uniform” this is what I mean.