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absurdthirst · 4 months

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Mafia Love {MobBoss!Joel Miller x PlusSized!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 21.8k

Warnings: Drinks, murder, abduction, drugging, forced marriages, mentions fat phobia/fat shaming, insults, body image issues, food/eating, dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), safe words, choking, degradation/dirty talk, multiple orgasms, miscommunication, angry Joel, confessions of love

Comments: Assistant District Attorney, witness to a crime, you are forced into marriage with the head of the Miller crime family, Joel Miller. Hating how you are forced to save your family and tied to a man who could kill you, or worse, make you fall for him.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

"God, it's so good to just relax. I finished that big case and now I can let loose." You tell your friend Gianna whose birthday it is. She picks up her glass, clinking it against yours.

"Cheers to that." She grins, knowing how work takes over your life. It was inevitable, being a lawyer is hard work and you rarely get time to enjoy your personal life.

You finish your drink and stand up after grabbing your clutch, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." You tell Gianna.

"Do you want me to go with you?" She asks and you shake your head, "no. Enjoy yourself." You tell her, offering her a smile before you make your way through the gyrating crowd. It takes a few minutes but eventually, you find the bathrooms. Huffing at the ever present line for the ladies, you wait and check your emails. Eventually, you use the bathroom and check your makeup. Once exiting the bathroom, the line has disappeared and you frown, suddenly feeling a little sick. The exit door is right there and you need air. You stumble out of the heavy door and that's when you see the man drop to the ground, blood splattered everywhere and you try to scream but nothing comes out. The man holding the gun is surrounded by a few others who move fast to rush after you but you manage to catch your nails in the exit door before it closes and you fling it open, rushing through the crowds, pushing your way through until you run out the front of the club. There's a taxi passing and you grab it, getting in and exhaling shakily, tears stinging in your eyes. You just witnessed a murder. It's too much to handle and you cover your mouth to silence the sob. You've seen a lot during your cases but nothing firsthand like that. You fumble to grab your phone from your clutch so you can call the police. "Fuck." You choke when you discover the battery is dead. "Shit." You tilt your head back to rest it on the seat, knowing you will have to phone the police tomorrow.

****

The next morning, you wake up with a headache, both from the booze and the horror you witnessed. The way the man's brains scattered on the concrete will stay with you forever. You grab your phone, biting your lip, and trying to decide if you should phone the police. You work for the DA's office after all. Surely they will believe you. You falter, knowing your story is ridiculous. You had a lot to drink, so was it real? Or part of some booze-induced nightmare? You aren't sure. Deciding to go for a walk to clear your head and get some coffee, you get up and get dressed. The air is cool and fresh and you are walking through Boston Commons when the car pulls up beside you. Two men get out and you try to run but it's too late. They grab you, dragging you into the black SUV and before you can scream, the needle is pushed into your neck. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you wonder if you're going to die.

****

“Goddamnit Tommy.” Joel growls, curling his hand around his bourbon glass so hard it’s a wonder that the crystal doesn’t shatter. Glaring at his younger brother and wondering why his mother cursed him by making him promise to look after him on her deathbed. “I’ve fuckin’ told you about keeping that shit private.” Tommy’s latest incident is his most reckless yet and now they are in hot water. “She’s a goddamn D.A. This wouldn’t have happened if you had kept it to the warehouse like I fuckin’ told you to.”

Tommy shakes his head, “we were tryin’ to track him down. He’s a goddamn state senator. He owes us millions. He didn’t give a fuck when he was benefiting from our networks, gettin’ drugs and weapons.” Tommy reasons, “I was impatient. He owed us too much.” Tommy growls and Joel hisses.

“This is the fuckin’ shit that sent us runnin’ from Texas.” Joel growls, knowing he’s spent years trying to establish the new network in the north east after leaving Texas once his mama had died and left the estate to him.

“She won’t be a problem. The guys are getting her now and there’s a solution.” Tommy says and Joel snorts, “we ain’t killin’ someone else. Especially a D.A. We will be raided before you can say lawyer.”

Tommy shakes his head, “marriage. A spouse can’t testify against their husband.” He says and Joel scoffs, “last I remember, brother. You’re married to Maria.” He says and Tommy shakes his head, “not me. You. You marry her.”

Joel is speechless, staring at Tommy like he’s lost his mind for a few moments and expecting the bastard to start laughing like it was some kind of joke. He doesn’t. “No.” He spits, hating the mere idea of marriage and being tied to someone again.

“Think about it.” Tommy jumps in again, leaning over and clapping him on the shoulder. “She can’t testify about something that happens with her husband. She can’t be coerced into giving them anything.”

Joel snorts, “but she can be coerced into marriage? Tommy, I swear our mother dropped you on your head.” The bad thing is that it would make his problem go away and that makes him frown even deeper.

“She’s pretty. I looked her up. She’s your type. She - she has a sister and a niece. We could threaten them. Coerce her into marrying you and then when the case is dropped, you can divorce her. It’s a great idea, even you gotta admit that. She won’t be able to testify against our family and we continue doing our shit. The fuckin’ Firefly assholes in New York would love to see us in the clink.” Tommy growls just as Tess walks into Joel’s office.

“You have a delivery waiting for you in the garage.” She says, confused and suspicious when Tommy looks back at Joel.

“Come on.” Joel gruffs and the younger Miller brother follows him through the house.

“Go away.” Joel growls at Tess when she tries to follow.

****

Your head aches, your eyes feel heavy and you try to open them, hearing male voices and you suddenly remember what happened. Grunting, you try to move but your hands are tied behind your head and your eyes are blindfolded. “Wha- where- I” You rasp, throat so dry that you can’t even speak.

Joel stares at you, his dark expression not giving away his inner thoughts. Hands crossed over his chest, he knows he looks imposing. Or he will look imposing when your blindfold is eventually taken off. You are pretty. Just on the other side of plump, you are curvy and lush in all the right places. He admires you for not crying immediately when you stiffen, realizing that you are being held captive. He nods at Tommy, giving him permission to remove the blindfold.

You blink rapidly when the blindfold is removed and you look up to see the man you witnessed kill someone and the other is broader, his eyes dark and intimidating and his arms crossed, making his muscles bulge. He has gray hairs weaving through his locks, a scruffy beard, and you know he is capable of killing you with a flick of his wrist. You swallow, throat so dry with fear and you look between the men. “I- are you going to kill me?” You gasp, terrified about what’s going to happen to you.

The naked fear in your eyes gets to Joel. He doesn’t have a problem killing, he’s done plenty of it. Except he’s having a hard time imagining you laying there lifeless. Tommy steps forward. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He tells you apologetically, pulling his gun out from behind his back.

Joel knows his impatient brother will pull the trigger. “You’re gonna marry me.” Joel announces. “Or I’m going to kill your sister and your niece.”

You are shaking, the gun pressed against your temple is still there as the older one declares you’re going to marry him. “You- you - oh my God. Why- why marry - why do you want to marry me?” You ask, voice shaky and your lower lip trembling as the one you saw kill lowers his gun and you inhale deeply, still scared but relieved the gun isn’t aimed at you.

“I- I wouldn’t be married to you. You are the one who I witnessed murder someone.” You huff at Tommy, not wanting to be lectured about the law.

“It’s still family and if I go down, so does Joel. You won’t be able to testify against the family.” Tommy argues and you look up at Joel when he growls, “enough of the law bullshit, yes or no? I have men outside of your sister’s place in Maine. 1256 Florence Lane. Your niece goes to Bellview Elementary?” Joel rattles off and your eyes widen, knowing that these are dangerous men. You can’t risk your family. You will figure out how to escape. For now, you just need to comply.

“Fine.” You spit at Joel, “I’ll marry you. If you kill me, there’s no guarantee you won’t go after my family anyway. I need to make sure they are okay.” You barter, knowing that this is your reality until you figure out your next moves.

He watches you for a moment and then nods. “Fine.” He agrees, straightening slightly. “We will get married in two days. I will have my men pack up your things and bring them to the house.” He tells you without any emotion in his voice. “Tommy, take her to the blue suite and let her clean up. Get her some breakfast.”

You are in shock, reeling from the news that you are going to marry a man you don’t even know. Nothing beyond his name and his job. The younger one, Tommy, unties you and grabs your arm. “Maybe not so rough.” You huff as he guides you out of the garage and through the house. It’s beautiful. Not what you expected at all and you know you aren’t in the city. You stumble as he drags you along the halls until you are shoved into a room, it’s blue like the name dictates and you take a moment to admire the decor. There’s no way two men decorated this home. “Can I call-?” The door is slammed and locked and you slump against the wall as tears sting in your eyes. You’re trapped.

“Goddamnit.” Joel huffs, walking into his office and dropping down into his chair and rubbing his eyes. The fucking Fireflies are all over his ass and FEDRA was breathing down his neck.

“What’s wrong with you?” A sarcastic snort comes from a chair off to his left and he sighs, opening his eyes to find Ellie staring at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Bored.” Ellie shrugs, spinning one of the chairs he has in his office. Her legs kicking out as she grins. “What’s died and crawled up your ass?” She asks him, tilting her head with teenage curiosity that tends to drive Joel insane.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” He grunts, looking at the girl of one of his former Lieutenants. He had gotten killed, and Joel had taken responsibility for the girl. He sighs, knowing he should warn her about you. “There’s a woman gonna be living here. Don’t bother her.”

Ellie’s eyes widen. “A woman? For what? For who?” She asks, ever curious and wondering if she’s going to be with one of the girlfriends or if she is going to be a worker. “Me.” Joel says and Ellie can’t help it, she throws her head back and laughs. “You? You? Please. Don’t joke like that Joel. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.” She sasses and Joel rolls his eyes.

“She’s going to be my wife.” He explains and Ellie nearly falls out of her chair. “Wife?”

“Yes, wife.” He hisses irritably, wondering how the fuck he could get her to shut up. He should have never said a word. “It’s a temporary thing, so don’t get attached.” He warns her, knowing that despite his warning, Ellie will do what she pleases and he can almost guarantee that as soon as she leaves his office, she will go find you.

Ellie shakes her head, “you? With a wife? Oh boy.” She stands up and slaps her knees. “Well, I’ll see you around.” She says, determined to find you and discuss the fact that you are going to marry Joel. Joel grunts and she swiftly exits his office, running through the house until she hears sobbing. She knocks on the door and you shuffle back, stopping your crying to worry if someone is going to kill you. “Who- who are you?” You ask the teenager, confused by her appearance.

“I’m Ellie.” She announces, walking in nonchalant and dropping into a chair to face you. “And you’re the woman Joel is going to marry. Why? He’s so fucking old? And he’s…..Joel.” She thinks you’re pretty, even though it’s been obvious that you’ve been crying. “That doesn’t mean you have to cry about it though.” She looks at you curiously, waiting for you to answer.

“Joel is…your dad?” You ask and she shakes her head, “no, oh hell no. No. He - he was my dad’s boss. My dad was killed in a car accident when he was chasing someone. It - my mom died when I was born so yeah…tragedy kid. Joel felt sorry for my orphan ass and took me in.” She shrugs, “not a bad place to be taken in.” She gestures to the bedroom, “although I’m not Sarah.” She murmurs and you frown, “who’s Sarah?”

Ellie curses, “oops. Said too much. Maybe ask Joel. Yeah so, uh, why are you marrying Joel?” She asks and you sniff, wiping your eyes.

“Because he’s gonna kill my family if I don’t.” You whimper and Ellie snorts, “Joel might seem like a bear and sure he’s dangerous, he’s killed, but it didn’t used to be that way. His uncle was actually in charge of the Miller household and Joel used to be a contractor but when - well, ask Joel about Sarah and Helen, uh, and yeah, he wasn’t always this way according to men I’ve spoken to.” Ellie explains and you realize you have even more questions.

“I - I can’t risk my family. Even if I have to sacrifice myself.” You murmur and Ellie nods in understanding. “Well, welcome to the fam.” She grins, “I like you already.” She declares and you offer her a soft smile, “thanks. It was nice to meet you.” You tell her and she nods, backing out of the room.

You sit there for another few moments before you decide that if you can get to a phone, you can phone your sister and warn her then maybe you can escape. You creep to the door, listening and when you don’t hear footsteps, you make your way into the hall, figuring there must be a house phone somewhere and your guess is the kitchen. You sneak downstairs, trying to find the kitchen in the ridiculously large house and you grin in triumph when you find the kitchen is empty and there’s a phone on the wall. Picking it up, you dial your sister’s number that you have memorized for emergencies and it starts to ring.

The light on Joel’s desk phone lights up and he sees that the kitchen phone is in use. He had expected you to try to call your sister. He picks up the handset and speaks into the phone. “If you tell her, our deal is off and she becomes a liability.” He growls into the phone, listening to it ring once more and then the sound of your sister’s voice comes over the line, answering.

Your heart pounds when your sister answers and the urge to call for help is on the tip of your tongue but Joel’s growled warning echoes and you greet your sister. “This isn’t your cell?” She asks and you clear your throat.

“It died. I just - I, uh, I’m using a friend’s phone. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” You say and she is suspicious.

“Whyyy? I love you but you’re so busy with work. You never call.” She says and you hate that she’s right.

“I was thinking of you guys and wanted to see if you’re doing well.” You lie slightly and your sister smiles against the phone, “we are doing good. The brat has a spelling test tomorrow so she’s been studying.” She says affectionately and you grin against the phone. Your niece gets everything she wants but she’s a good kid, brat has been her nickname since she was a baby.

“Good. I’ll, uh, I’ll have to take some time off to come see you guys.” You say, tears stinging in your eyes because you know that won’t be likely, especially if Joel kills you.

“That sounds good. Just let me know. Oh shit. I gotta go. The cat just got out.” She curses and you smile, knowing the kitten always tries to escape from the photos she texted you.

“I’ll talk to you later. I love you.” You tell her and she snorts, “love you too. Talk later.” The line goes dead and you lean against the wall, inhaling deeply and glad that your family are alive. You have to keep them safe. They are all you have left.

“Come to my office.” Joel hangs up the phone and then stares at it for a moment. He knows you are upset. He knows you would rather do anything but marry him, and he really doesn’t want to marry you. But he will in order to make sure that Tommy doesn’t go to prison. He leans back in the chair and waits for you to arrive, not exactly sure what he is going to say to you.

Your hands tremble as you set the phone down. You don’t know where Joel’s office is and try a few doors until the double doors open and Joel stands there, face like thunder. He gestures for you to walk inside and you do, silently praying to whoever will hear you that he won’t kill you right now. You decide to stand tall when you’re in his office, not wanting to die a coward if he does kill you. “Ellie unlocked my room.” You declare, wanting him to know how you got out, “and I wanted to make sure you kept your word that my sister is safe.”

He knows that silence intimidates, so he doesn’t say a word, just watches you. Waiting until you squirm slightly and start to speak again. “After we are married, you can have your phone back.” He decides. “Call her everyday. You keep your end of the bargain, I’ll keep mine.”

You cross your arms, “how do I know you won’t just kill me anyway?” You ask and Joel steps closer to you, looming over you and you inhale sharply as his dark eyes meet yours.

“I may be a monster but I am a man of my word.” He promises and you nod, swallowing harshly.

“Are you- do you expect us to have - once we are married, do you expect sex?” You ask, wondering what he wants from you.

Joel snorts, insulted by the horrified expression on your face. “No, darling.” He sneers, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to fuck me. I’ll make sure that I satisfy my primitive urges so I don’t drag you off by the hair to fuck you.” He knows he’s being harsh, but it’s better that you just steer clear of him rather than trying to get to know him.

You blink, tears stinging in your eyes as you feel unexpectedly rejected by the gruff mafia boss. You understand, he probably has a line of beautiful women waiting to fuck him and you’re…you. “Right well, I guess we both know where we stand. I’ll head back to my room. You’re having my things brought here? How do you- wait, dumb question.” You stop yourself with a humorless chuckle as you step away from him to head towards the door. “I need to call my work too. Tell them I’m sick or - or something.”

Joel considers telling you no, but he is aware of how seriously you are taking his threat. “Fine.” He motions towards his desk as he wonders why you suddenly teared up. You should be jumping for joy that he promised not to touch you. “Make the call right here.” He demands.

You nod, walking over to his desk and you pick up the phone to dial the D.A’s office. “The line is untraceable before you try anything.” Joel tells you and you nod. The receptionist answers and you ask to be put through to the office. You tell your team that you have to go to your sisters. Family emergency and you don’t know when you’ll be back. The excuse is flimsy but you’re hoping Joel and his family will let you go once enough time has passed. Your team wishes your sister well and you put the phone back in the cradle.

“I didn’t tell them anything.” Your eyes meet Joel’s, your back straight in defiance as you ponder your future here. You won’t let him walk all over you.

“I heard.” He assesses your fatigued look, the puffy, red rimmed eyes and the way that your eyes narrow when you think he’s not paying attention. He strides over to his desk and pulls open a drawer, pulling out a bottle of aspirin and setting it down before opening another drawer and pulling out a crystal glass to take over to his bar and get a bottle of water out of the fridge. He pours you a double whiskey and brings it and the water over to set down beside the aspirin. “Hair of the dog.” He tells you. “Helps with the hangover and the drugs they used on you.”

You are suspicious of him suddenly being so nice but then you realize that he probably doesn’t want you to hate him when you’re going to be living in his house. You’re going to be his wife for the foreseeable. “Thanks.” You open the bottle of aspirin, knowing you should be concerned about the pills, but the man could’ve shot you. You don’t think poisoning you is his style. You grab the whiskey, downing it as the reality of being his wife crushes you. You always imagined you’d marry for love, not to keep alive. “Thanks.” You say again as you set the crystal glass down.

“Are you hungry?” He had given his housekeeper, who normally cooks for him, the day off since he didn’t know how you would react. But if you are hungry, he won’t let you starve. There are plenty of nights he makes himself an egg sandwich when he works late. Or the kid wakes up hungry and demands he make something.

You bite your lip, “I, uh, I usually skip breakfast. I can just grab a granola bar or an apple.” You shrug, not wanting to put him out and you shouldn’t eat a lot if your wedding is in a couple of days. You’re certain he wants a beautiful wife, even if it’s a fake one.

Joel frowns, and the silence between you is enough that he can hear your stomach growl. “Right.” He huffs, shaking his head. “Follow me.” He demands, striding towards the door of his office and throwing it open so he can take you back to the kitchen.

You follow him through the house, downstairs and you see several men roaming the estate. When you enter the kitchen, he gestures for you to sit down. “Seriously Joel, I don’t need a big lunch. I- I should be making you something. Seeing as I’m supposed to be your wife in a couple of days.”

“You can cook for me then.” He tell you shortly, turning towards the large stainless steel commercial fridge. “Unless you plan on poisoning me.” He huffs, looking over his shoulder as he opens the door. He’s joking, but his voice is still pitched down and gruff.

You shift to sit down at the counter and watch him. You never imagined that a man like Joel would be able to cook anything. You watch his muscles move under his button down and you know you shouldn’t find him attractive. You should be revolted by him but you aren’t. He grabs some things out of the fridge. “Any allergies? Anything you hate?” He asks and you shake your head, “no. I’m pretty easy to cook for.” You tell him and he nods, walking over to the pantry. “You have a beautiful home.” You tell him, trying to make some conversation.

“It’s a house.” He offers, pulling out some things and then turning back towards you. “It’s safe. It’s imposing.” He adds, smirking slightly. He doesn’t mention that it’s not really a home. Not in that traditional sense. He hasn’t had a home for a long time. “Pasta is good for a hangover.” He tells you. “That okay?”

You bite your lip, knowing you shouldn’t but you are starving. “Sure. That sounds good.” You offer him a small smile, grateful that he doesn’t seem to want to kill you anymore. “I met Ellie. She seems…a handful.” You chuckle softly, already sensing that he doesn’t seem like a man who has patience.

He rolls his eyes. “She’s a pain in my fucking ass.” He grumbles, even though he would kill for that kid without any hesitation. It doesn’t mean that she doesn’t annoy the shit out of him every chance she gets. He pulls out a cutting board and a knife to start chopping garlic and onions.

You can hear the affection even if he grumbles and that calms you a little. A bad man wouldn’t take in an orphaned teenager. “She said you seem like a bear but you didn’t used to be this way.” You tentatively ask, “she loves you. So…so I don’t feel as in danger as before. I trust her.”

“You trust a little brat you met for five minutes?” He asks, raising a brow as he pauses in the mincing. “Interesting. Is that a skill you picked up in the D.A.’s office?”

You snort, “I’m a good judge of character. I’ve dealt with the worst of the worst cases and I have a good gut instinct.” You defend yourself and Joel turns to look at you, knife in hand.

“And me? Do you trust me?” He demands with a frown.

You lean closer, refusing to be intimated. “If you wanted to kill me, you’ve had several changes including now. I don’t trust you but I know you’re not going to kill me. Otherwise why would you marry me?”

You have a point and he nods once before he looks back at his task. Sautéing the onions and garlic in olive oil, he adds crushed tomatoes and fresh basil from the garden that Ellie decided to grow in the backyard. It was more accurate that the gardener grew it, but she likes to take the credit for it. “It would save me a lot of headache if I did kill you.” He tells you, his back to you at the stove.

You stare at him, watching him cook and finding it horrifically sexy. You should not be attracted to this man, this self proclaimed monster, but he’s so capable and you find yourself trying to reason with kicking out every moral you have. “I- I agree it would.” You don’t argue that point. It would be easier to kill you. “However, the Boston PD aren’t dumb. They will find evidence of the state senator's murderer. It’s a big case, high profile. They won’t let it slide.”

“They won’t have an eye witness.” He reminds you, turning towards you and cocking an eyebrow at you in challenge. “Might even be a good thing that my wife is a D.A.” He chuckles roughly.

You huff, crossing your arms on the counter. “They will check cameras.” You counter and Joel snorts, “you think we aren’t professionals, darlin’?” He asks and you bite your lip.

“What’s the end game here? Keep me hostage as your wife until when?” You ask and Joel turns to look at you.

“When enough time passes and we know they have dropped the case.” He says, “maybe you can even help with that.” He raises his eyebrows and you scoff, “I can’t do that. I- I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I dismissed a case without cause.”

“There is cause.” Joel reminds you. “Tommy got rid of a piece of shit. Who cares? He was embezzling money from the state. He deserved to die for lying to the people he claimed to serve.”

“And he deserved to die for that?” You counter and Joel scoffs, “well and the human trafficking. I deal in drugs and weapons. People decide to use those things whether I smuggle them or not but I draw the fucking line at little kids, at women. No way. I’ll kill anyone who deals with that shit.” Joel growls and your eyes widen, unaware of the senator’s dark side.

“Shit. I- I didn’t know.” You whisper, staring across the room.

“Now you do.” He tells you bluntly, salting the pasta water and humming when it starts to boil. “What you do with that information, that’s up to you.”

"Well, nothing I can do if I'm married to you, is there?" You counter but you decide that you could tip off a journalist, expose the senator. You know it's bad to speak ill of the dead but the people deserve to know the truth. You watch Joel continue cooking until a bowl of pasta is in front of you. "This looks - wow." You blink rapidly and look up at Joel who sits beside you with his own bowl. "It looks amazing." You compliment him just as a woman walks into the kitchen, her eyes immediately narrowing when they land on you and Joel.

“Joel.” Tess frowns slightly but her lips twist into an insincere smile. “Who is this? And why is there a D.A. Attorney sitting in your kitchen eating pasta?” She knows who you are, she just wants to know why you are here.

Joel says your name, and then points to Tess. “This is Tess. She’ll be here sometimes.”

You can see from her expression that there’s more than that between them. You set your fork down and stand up, offering your hand to Tess who narrows her eyes at you and doesn’t shake your hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” You say, your smile falling a little and you step back towards the counter to sit back down.

“We are getting married.” Joel says nonchalantly and Tess sputters, “married? What the fuck, Joel? What - when - why?” She asks, confused by the announcement.

“Two days.” Joel flicks his eyes up to Tess and then back down to his food. He cares about her, how could he not care about a woman who had been with him through his brutal assumption of power? Still, things are easy with Tess, uncomplicated in the way he likes although he knows she’s always wanted more. “Tommy.” He tells her, as if that will explain the reasoning behind the marriage.

Tess scoffs, “he got you into this? I should’ve known. Fuck me, Joel. She’s a D.A. She’s gonna - this is bullshit.” Tess shakes her head and Joel sighs, not wanting to get into this.

You clear your throat, “I witnessed something I shouldn’t have. I- I am marrying Joel so I can’t testify against the family. This is to protect the family.” You reason for Joel, knowing you’re still struggling to come to terms with it but you don’t want Tess to be angry with Joel when he could’ve killed you.

“To protect the family.” Tess snorts and shakes her head. “Right. This is going to go well.” She says and arches a brow at you. “Do you know what you are getting into with him?” She asks, hooking her thumb towards Joel. “What he’s done and what he’s capable of?”

Joel grunts, narrowing his eyes. “Tess.” He growls, annoyed that she’s trying to scare you off of this.

You straighten your spine, “I don’t, but I think I can imagine. I know the Millers aren’t good men but my family is on the line and I can’t allow them to be hurt because of me. Whatever he has done or who he is, we are getting married and that’s that. I- I understand if you’re hurt but this isn’t my choice. I have to do this.” You plead with her to understand where you are coming from.

Tess’s gaze slides towards Joel questioningly and he shakes his head. “It’s done.” He tells her. “Don’t ask any more questions.” He grunts and nods towards you. “Finish your dinner.”

Tess can’t help but lash out, “fine. Marry the fat bitch. Don’t come crying to me when it all goes wrong.” Tess hisses and you are about to take another bite of pasta when you pause, setting the fork down as Tess spins and makes her way out of the kitchen.

Joel sighs and shakes his head. “Don’t listen to her. She’s pissed because she is the one who spends nights in my bed.” He reveals. You nod but you don’t pick up your fork to eat. It pisses him off because he knows that you didn’t eat enough to assuage that hunger. Cursing under his breath, he spins your chair around and reaches for you. Hoisting you out of your chair and onto his lap.

You squeak when he drags you into his lap. “Joel!” You gasp, shifting to move off of his lap but his arm wraps around your waist, keeping your back against his chest. “You need to eat.” He says and you shake your head, “I’m sure someone in your position wants a perfect wife. You don’t - I can grab an apple and go back to my room.”

Joel picks up the fork and spears some of the pasta and holds it up to your mouth. “Eat.” He grunts at you. “I don’t care about having a perfect wife. You are fine just like you are. Soft and lush.” His cock twitches underneath you.

You are shocked at the compliment, your eyes darting to his as you take the bite from the fork. His hand rests on your thigh and you swallow obediently, eyes closing for a second. The very act of him feeding you has your stomach twisting with arousal. It’s wrong. So wrong, yet you start to get wet as he feeds you bite after bite, his hand squeezing your thigh every now and then.

“Good girl.” He tells you when the plate is empty and you’ve finished every bite. He squeezes your thigh and pats it once he drops the fork back onto the plate. “Don’t ever starve yourself. You eat and eat what you want.”

“Yes sir.” You murmur, your eyes meeting his and you see the years of anguish in them. You want that to melt away. You wonder what he’d look like if he was happy, what he looks like when he smiles. You get so lost in your thoughts you don’t even realize you’ve leaned in to kiss him. The man you should hate for taking everything away from you yet he just showed you more kindness than most.

He sees that you want to kiss him. Lost in the moment, the intimacy and he knows you will regret it. Joel pulls back and pats your leg again. “Good.” He tells you gruffly and watches you pull back in shock at yourself. He knows it was the right move to pull back, to not take advantage of the situation. Of you.

You blink, shocked he didn’t kiss you back. You feel sick with embarrassment. He must think you’re pathetic. Trying to kiss the man who has kidnapped you and is holding you hostage. You shift off of his lap, clearing your throat. “I’m gonna - I need to - oh God.” You gasp out and rush out of the kitchen, face burning with mortification and you know he could take advantage of that moment. Any hand you could’ve played is gone and he holds all the cards.

Joel sighs as he stares at the doorway that you disappeared through. He knows you are upset now, apparently he had been supposed to kiss you. He doesn’t know why you are upset since you had appeared horrified about sleeping with him. He stands and starts to clean up, wondering if he will see you again tonight.

You keep in your room for the rest of the day, surprised when your things are placed in your room. Boxes and suitcases. It seems to be everything you own except your furniture. You sigh and start to get out your essentials, placing them in the en suite bathroom. Dinner is left at your door after you made it clear you weren’t coming to dinner and you eat in peace, contemplating the fact that you’ll be Mrs. Joel Miller in 48 hours. You think about why you wanted him to kiss you. Sure, he’s attractive with his gruffness and the gray scattered throughout his hair and beard. You shouldn’t want him to kiss you. You should hate him. The confusion has your head hurting until you fall asleep on top of the sheets, too exhausted to even get under them.

Joel wakes up early. Groaning slightly at the stiffness in his joints and the aches and pains that come with getting older. He sits up and looks over his shoulder at the empty bed. Tess didn’t come back last night, so he had slept alone. Actually preferred it that way considering he didn’t know what to do with you. He opens the door to the bedroom out onto the back patio and decides he will take a swim to limber up before getting to work.

You wake up, back aching from sleeping in the same position all night and you glance around, disorientated until it hits you what happened. You sigh and shift to sit up, stretching. You realize how trapped you are here and you groan when you remember the way you tried to kiss Joel. Today, you’ll stay in your room. You shift to look out of the window after opening the curtains and that’s when you see Joel about to get into the pool. Your jaw drops at his broad shoulders, the way he rolls them and stretches his strong arms. “Shit.” You hiss, understanding why Tess was so pissed off at you becoming his wife. You wouldn’t want to give that up either. Not that she’s giving it up. You know Joel will still sleep with her even after you are married. With that thought, you head into the bathroom to get ready for a day of unpacking.

After Joel showers and dresses, he heads into the kitchen, seeing Ellie sitting at the counter but you are nowhere to be found. His housekeeper is cooking breakfast and he huffs. “Make enough for another tray.” He tells her, knowing that you will skip eating if he allows you too. He will bring you the food himself and make sure you eat.

You get dressed and ready and decide to stay in your room. Just because you have to marry him doesn’t mean you need to be with him constantly. You sigh when there’s a knock at the door and open it to find Joel there with a tray. “I brought you breakfast.” He says awkwardly and you step ahead so he can enter the room.

“Thank you.” You murmur, watching him for a few moments.

Joel sets the tray down and corrects the small flower vase that had tipped over with a single flower on it. Wondering why the housekeeper had added it. When he looks up, he sees that you are watching him and drops his hands to rub on his pants. Almost nervous and hating how you make him feel that way. “I’m sorry for yesterday.” He grunts. “I should have- I know you just - that you regret that. Just don’t worry about it. I’m not going to touch you since you seem so worried about it.” He wants to punch himself for sounding like an idiot. “Anyway…eat.”

You don’t say anything, you just nod and watch him as he shuffles towards the door. “Joel.” You murmur and he turns to look back at you, “I don’t regret it. I regret how you reacted and that’s it - I made a fool of myself.” You confess and he nods, not saying anything else as he exits your room and shuts the door behind him.

Joel strides down the hall and stops a few steps from the door and sighs. His shoulders dropping and his head hanging slightly. You didn’t make a fool of yourself, and he wanted to kiss you. But he doesn’t want you to kiss him, touch him, if you are doing it because you think it will keep you safe.

****

You exhale shakily, glancing at Ellie who is standing near you outside the courtroom doors. You are dressed in the only white summer dress you own and you are nervous to marry Joel. You phoned your sister this morning to make sure she was okay and you reminded yourself that you are doing this for them. No one else. You are doing this to keep them safe. You inhale deeply when the doors are opened and you walk fast down the “aisle” to get to Joel. There’s no music, no flowers, nothing fancy. Just you and Joel alongside Ellie and Tommy as your witnesses.

The magistrate obviously knows you, his eyes widened when he had seen your name on the marriage license and Joel is worried. He might ask you something and you tell him that you are being forced into the marriage. He frowns as he waits and when the door opens, he turns to see you walk down the small path to him, looking lovely and perfect in a white dress that sways when you walk and he thinks you are beautiful.

You recognize Garrett who is officiating the wedding and you offer him a smile as you move to stand beside Joel. Your sister and your niece flash in your mind and you greet Garrett. “It’s good to see you.” You offer and his eyes dart between you and Joel. “I- I didn’t know you were planning on getting married.” He says and you swallow, giving him a shaky smile, “life is unexpected. It has been a whirlwind.” You confess and he nods, looking down at the paperwork.

Joel shifts slightly, taking your hand and squeezing it. Both in warning and because he wants to touch you. “You look beautiful.” He tells you quietly, although he knows the magistrate can hear him. “I’m a lucky bastard.”

You know he is acting on Garrett’s behalf to make this seem real and you swallow harshly, “you look good too.” You murmur, liking the way his hair is slicked back and the button down he is wearing. You turn back to Garrett who begins the service and you stare at Joel, trying to figure out what he’s thinking about.

Joel wants to rip that dress off your body and see if you are as soft and sweet as you look. If your thighs are pillowy when they squeeze his head as he feasts on you. If your ass jiggles as he slams into you again and again. If you would look as wrecked as he imagines as he fucks you. His jaw clenches, reminding himself that this is a wedding in name only, although there is a bridal set in his pocket that easily costs more than your last five years as a D.A. “You ready?”

You nod, knowing you have no choice. You have to protect your family. You need to do this no matter how much you hate getting married to a man you don’t love, a man you don’t know. “Yes. I’m ready.” You whisper and Garrett starts the service. You repeat the vows, the words feeling heavy on your tongue, and you listen to Joel gruffly repeat the vows. You aren’t expecting a ring so you’re surprised when he pulls the box out and hands it to Tommy after taking out the ring he slides onto your finger a moment later.

Joel repeated his vows, remembering another wedding a lifetime ago and he concentrates on getting the ring on your finger so he doesn’t hurt you. The magistrate tells him that he can kiss his bride and Joel doesn’t waste any time pulling you into his arms and bending you back while he kisses you with a passion that surprises even him.

You gasp into his mouth and your palm is on his chest, feeling his beating heart as he steadies you and you are breathless, lips tingling from the kiss. Garrett clears his throat and offers you his congratulations. “Thank you.” You murmur, glancing back at Ellie who sticks her thumbs up to you. Tommy offers you a stiff nod and your hand shakes a little as you sign the marriage certificate.

Joel bends down to sign the certificate after you. “I want this filed as soon as possible.” He tells the magistrate with a small wink. “Want it legal and for her to be able to change her name.” As customary, he slides the man a large payment for his services, and turns towards you to pull you to his side. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

You smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Yes baby. Can’t wait to be a Miller.” You lie, knowing this will end badly. You hope Joel will let you leave before you get too deep into this. Garrett nods, taking the envelope and pocketing it in his jacket. “Yes sir. I’ll get it filed as soon as I leave here.” Joel shakes his hand and you bid Garrett goodbye, letting Joel escort you out of the room and through the courthouse.

“Congrats.” Ellie says with a grin, coming forward to hug you and you can’t deny the teenager you’ve already grown fond of.

“Thank you.” You smile and Tommy approaches, leaning in to kiss your cheek, “welcome to the family.” He gives you a pointed look and you clear your throat, “perhaps we can have dinner. I’d like to meet your wife, Maria.” You say, wondering what she’s like to be married to Tommy.

Joel grunts and wraps his arm around your waist. “Next week.” He tells Tommy, making it an order. “This week, I’m unavailable. We have to have a ‘honeymoon’, so you’re in charge.” He pins his younger brother with a cold stare. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

You’re surprised to hear that he wants a honeymoon. “But I thought - we weren’t going to - can I go home? I mean, we are married now. On paper. It doesn’t mean that I can say anything to anyone legally. Can I go back to my life?” You ask Joel softly, his grip tightening on your waist.

“No.” Joel shakes his head, hating how hopeful you sound. “A lot of people would try to hurt you to get to me.” He tells you. “You stay at the house, safe and secure. But you can have your phone back. Go anywhere you want to go, as long as you have someone with you.”

You deflate but at least you can regain some of your freedom. “Can I go back to work?” You ask and Joel sighs, “yes but you cannot take the Senator's case.” He orders and you nod, excited to somewhat get back to your life. “Fine. I can do that.” You promise, “but you want a honeymoon first?” You ask and he nods.

“We are married, I’d like to know you a little better.” You weren’t expecting that but you reach for his hand to hold it in yours, “okay. We can do that.”

Joel leads you out of the courthouse and towards the dark SUV that is waiting. He turns to Ellie and smirks at her. “Ride back with Tommy.” He orders her, making her whine and roll her eyes as he opens the door for you.

You shiver at his tone and let him guide you into the SUV, the ring sitting heavy on your finger, and you dread to think about how much it cost. “You didn’t have to get such a beautiful ring, Joel. We aren’t married for real.” You remind him after you settle in the swat.

“Doesn’t matter.” Joel grunts. “You’re my wife. One day, ten years, you’ll have a ring that is appropriate for a woman who is standing beside me.” He explains. It’s not about the statue, he could honestly give a shit less. However, he plans on letting you keep the ring, as a way to apologize for this mess, so you deserve something pretty.

You nod, knowing that he might be a smuggler by trade but to the rest of Boston society, he’s a wealthy man who has social standing, even if he doesn’t want it or desires to attend the events. He would never be turned down if he wanted to go. You glance at him then at the ring. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” You admire it, feeling the strange weight on your finger. It’s unusual and you aren’t sure how to feel but you place your hand on your lap and look out of the tinted window.

“As far as the honeymoon,” Joel tells you, pulling out his phone. “I know you don’t want to fuck me, and I don’t expect you to, but if we don’t have a couple of weeks where you and I are alone, people will question.” He explains. “We can stay at the house, just not receive visitors and I will let Tommy handle the business. That way we can say we just spent the entire time in bed.”

You bite your lip, wanting to admit that you wouldn’t mind fucking him. Crazy how 48 hours can change everything. His gruffness and his innate strength make your stomach twist with desire but you know he doesn’t want you. He has Tess. That much was made obvious. “Sure. I- i can take a couple of weeks off. I already told work I’d be away. What about…I’m sure Tess will want to be in your bed so how are we going to handle people possibly seeing her leaving your room?”

“The staff will be sent home.” Joel reveals. “And Tess is still pissed at me, so I might just be sleeping alone.” He had tried to have her come over, and she’d refused. Making some snarky comment that he had ignored and she just decided to leave him hanging. It’s been a few days and will be a few more until she decides to come back. He will just have to deal.

You feel a little relieved that the staff won’t be there to watch your every move and the fact that Tess won’t be around relaxes you even more. She clearly hates you for being with Joel, even if you aren’t actually with him. “I can cook tonight…if you want. Since the housekeeper will have been sent home.”

“Whatever you want.” He isn’t too concerned about it. “We can order in if you don’t want to cook or whatever.” He is actually looking forward to a couple of weeks to relax and not worry about things. Maybe he can swim every morning. “Think of it like an at home vacation.”

You turn to look at him again, “I don’t see you and vacation going well together.” You tease and he snorts, “no. I- I haven’t taken a vacation in so long.” He confesses and you lean a little closer, “then let’s make this a vacation. I’ll cook tonight. I want to cook for my husband.” You say, wanting to find a middle ground if this is your reality until he decides to divorce you.

He nods, “whatever you want darlin’.” His nickname makes your heart pound and you lean back in your seat, watching Boston pass by as you exit the city.

****

You bite your lip as you mash the potatoes, the chicken rests after you roasted it, and you wonder if Joel will like the white wine you have chilling in the fridge.

In his study, Joel shuts down his computer and sighs softly. He’s married. Again. The narrow golden band on his finger feels foreign and yet he remembers the first time he had one on his hand. It had been such a happy time for him, quickly turning to heartache and sorrow. Pushing back from his desk, he exits the office and follows the delicious smells towards the kitchen, wondering if you were enjoying cooking or if you were trying to stay on his good side.

You glance up when Joel comes into the kitchen, putting the final touches on the dinner as you set it down on the kitchen table. He has a formal dining room but you refuse to sit there miles apart at opposite ends of the table. “It smells delicious.” He compliments you and you smile, “good. Come sit. I - I hope you like white wine. I wasn’t sure which one I should get and the cook left the chicken in the fridge so I- yeah.” You finish lamely when he doesn’t interrupt you.

“White wine is good.” He doesn’t care for wine most of the time, but you seem so nervous that he won’t pour himself a glass of bourbon like he usually would. “You didn’t have to do this.” He reminds you quietly. “Although I’m eager to see if you decide to poison your husband on your wedding night.” He teases.

You chuckle, setting the gravy down and you look at him after you sit down. “What a story that would be for a Lifetime movie.” You tease and notice his glance at the wine. “You don’t like wine.” You state and want to hit your forehead, “let me - what else do you want?” You ask, standing up from the table.

“I’ll drink the wine.” He tells you but you shake your head, “what do you normally drink with dinner?” You ask, making him sigh. “I normally have a glass of bourbon with dinner.” He admits. “I like the burn of the whiskey better than the tartness of wine.”

You want to please him, as ridiculous as it sounds since he essentially blackmailed you into being his wife, yet you still want to win him over. Perhaps it’s the years of insecurity, wanting him to want you so you don’t feel like a total failure at love and relationships. You see the bar over in the corner of the kitchen and you stand up, touching his shoulder as you walk over to grab a crystal glass and pour him a healthy measure. “Here you go.” You say as you set it down and sit back in your seat.

“You didn’t have to get that.” He insists, even as he takes the glass and immediately takes a sip. “But thanks.” He motions towards the plate in front of him. “It looks delicious.” He’s already noticed that your plate is much smaller than his and he wants to call you on it, but he doesn’t.

“Thank you. I love cooking. I don’t get to do it too often between work and living alone. I usually grab something on the way home. It’s nice to have something homemade and this kitchen - it’s a dream. Every spice. Every utensil. Anything a cook could want or need.” You compliment him.

“It’s yours to use.” He promises you. “If you enjoy cooking, indulge. Use this time to do whatever you wished you had time to do. I hope to spend a lot of time out by the pool.” He admits as he forks up a bite of the mashed potatoes and groans when they hit his tongue.

You shift slightly in your seat at the way he groans. The way his eyes flutter closed makes your chest swell with pride and you wonder when this started to feel real, like you really are married. You start to eat and imagine him swimming like you saw him earlier. You’d love to join him but you doubt he’d want that, to see you like that. “I will. I have missed cooking a lot and the pool sounds like fun. You don’t seem like a man who takes any time off.”

“I don’t.” He cuts into his chicken and there is another groan at the roasted poultry. “I work long hours and have little time for pleasure.” He agrees after he swallows. “Perhaps this is what I needed. A couple of weeks lounging by the pool with my new wife. Tell me, do you sunbathe nude?”

You snort, unable to stop yourself and he stares at you. “Oh you’re serious? Shit. I - really? I- I don’t think anyone would want to see me sunbathe nude. I can barely get into a swimsuit without crippling anxiety.” You chuckle, trying to make it appear like a joke when it’s anything but for you.

“Why?” Joel frowns as he looks up at you from cutting another piece of chicken. “You have great looking tits from what I can see and your ass is nice and round.” He tells you. “I bet you’d make a dead man’s cock hard.”

You are shocked as he nonchalantly tells you what he thinks and your heart pounds, your stomach twists with pleasure. "You - you think that I - my ex...he dumped me because I gained too much weight. He tried to force me to the gym, tried to give me a raw vegetable diet like I was a goddamn rabbit. I- I just - it's been a while since anyone was interested in me."

“Then you were dating a boy, not a man.” He grunts, shaking his head. “There’s not one inch of you that isn’t sexy, darlin’.” The slight Texas twang comes out when he tells you that and he points towards your plate. “So don’t you dare not finish your food because you think I will be repulsed.”

Your jaw drops slightly and you stare at him in surprise. His words have you wet, turned on by the twang and the way he essentially orders you to eat. You’ve never known a man like him. “Thank you.” You whisper, a soft smile on your face as you pick up your knife and fork. You start to eat, watching Joel eat his own meal and you realize that there’s more to him than the criminal killer you assumed he was when you were tied up in his garage.

The meal is finished in companionable silence and when he’s done, Joel drains the last of his bourbon. “That was amazing.” He admits honestly. “I don’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal like that. Don’t get me wrong, Kathleen is a good cook, but there’s something about your cooking that just….adds to the flavor.”

You smile, “that’s the love.” You tease, knowing you aren’t even on a friendship level let alone anything else. “I made dessert too.” You hum, standing up and grabbing the empty plates. You set them on the side and walk over to the fridge to take out the small cake you had made while waiting for the chicken to cook. You slice it up and set the plate in front of Joel.

“Cake?” His brows shoot up in surprise and he can’t help but smile. “It’s been a long damn time since I’ve had cake.” He admits, reaching out and taking hold of your wrist. “Stay right here and share this with me.” He orders you. “It’s our wedding cake after all.”

You are touched by his sentiment and you let him pull you onto his lap. “I didn’t think of it as a wedding cake but - it’s vanilla and raspberry.” You tell him softly, watching as he picks up the fork and brings the cake to your mouth. You take the bite he offers, wrapping your lips around the fork as he feeds you for the second time since you arrived at his home.

Joel grunts, watching your mouth and your tongue when you swipe it over your lips and imagines you with your mouth wrapped around his cock. Something you wouldn't want, but it makes him twitch. He smirks at you. "How is your cake, sweetheart?" He asks curiously.

You hum, nodding, “it’s good. Even if I do say so myself.” You smirk and reach for the fork so you can cut off a bite and lift it to his mouth. “Try it.” You tell him softly and he leans in to wrap his lips around the cake.

The richness of the vanilla and the tart sweetness of the raspberry melts on his tongue and makes him close his eyes as he groans. It's a simple cake, made even better by its simplicity and he can't help but think that it is a lot like you. You are rich and sweet and complex in your simplicity. "Perfect."

You enjoy his reaction, feeling warm from his dark gaze when he opens his eyes. “Good. I'm glad you like it.” You shift to get him another forkful and you bring it to his lips, enjoying feeding him.

His hand slides down and he squeezes your hip, enjoying the generous flesh and the softness under the pretty white dress you are still wearing. It makes him think of pushing the plate off the table and setting you up on it and having you for dessert.

You lean closer, letting him take the fork from your hand as he cuts off a piece and brings it to your lips. “Thank you.” You murmur after you swallow the bite, leaning in to kiss his scruffy cheek. He grunts and you lean back, “I don’t want to do something stupid but I want to make this work.” You reveal, looking at him.

His dark eyes seem to look into your soul and he presses his lips together. "You don't know what it's like." He warns you. "I'm not gentle. I don't do gentle. I fuck. Hard. Until you can't walk and your cunt aches for days after I'm done with you." He sets the fork down. "You should go back to your room. Stay away from me so I don't hurt you."

You swallow harshly, your eyes focused on his and your chest heaves. “I- I-” You choke, unsure of what you want. Part of you wants him to wreck you. Another part of you wants to stay away so he doesn’t hurt you. He’s not soft, he’s made that clear time and time again. “I’ll go.” You manage to choke out, shifting off of his lap and you glance back once before you scurry out of the room and away from the man you suddenly want more than anything else but you don’t know if you’d be able to handle him .

****

The water is cool and the shade keeps everything at a pleasant temperature. Joel’s sunglasses protect his eyes and he is able to keep his eyes on you as you float on top of the water with a frozen drink in your hand and a smile on your face.

You can’t believe how your life has changed within a week. You’re married. To Joel Miller, Boston elite and a notorious yet - unknown to most - mafia boss. You had some anxiety coming out to the pool wearing your bikini but no one is here apart from Joel and you can feel his eyes on you even behind his sunglasses. The evenings since your wedding day, you’ve cooked or ordered in and he’s talked to you, told you what his favorite movies are. Surprisingly it’s not The Godfather, and you have watched tv together like a real married couple. It’s hard to believe how different he can be when he doesn’t have to be the boss, the big brother, the father figure to Ellie who has eaten dinner with you a few times before sleeping over at her friend’s house. “What are you staring at?” You ask him playfully, knowing he thinks you don’t notice his eyes on you.

Joel’s lips twist into an amused frown and he pulls his glasses down his nose to look over them. “I’m staring at my wife’s tits.” He confesses with zero shame. Tess has come back around and he’s fucked her since he’s been married to you, but he still craves you. Reaching down and adjusting himself as he smirks at you.

You see his motion and chuckle, shaking your head as you take another sip of your drink. You want to believe his attraction to you but you’d seen Tess leaving yesterday morning and you’re not dumb. You know he is still fucking her. It makes your decision to not sleep with him the first night you were married validated. “At least you’re honest.” You hum, shifting off of the floaty after you set your drink on the side and you dip under the water before appearing again. “I’m gonna get another drink, do you want anything?” You ask Joel.

“A beer would be nice.” He says and you nod, walking up the steps to exit the pool, water running down your body as you reach for your towel.

“I didn’t know you were turning the pool into an aquarium, Joel.” Tess appears under the shade of the porch, a mocking expression on her face that has Joel immediately pissed off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He growls, seeing you scramble to cover your body when you had just been so confident as you waved your ass towards him when climbing out of the pool.

Tears sting in your eyes as you rush into the house but not before you hear Tess say “wanted to see if the fat bitch was still here or if you killed her.” You choke on a sob as you walk into the kitchen, dripping water on the floor but you don’t care, knowing that Tess will be Joel’s number one. You’re only married on paper and these past few days don’t change anything for him. He wants her.

Joel growls and slides into the pool so he can wade angrily towards the steps. “The fuck is wrong with you?” He demands, shaking his head. She laughs as he climbs the stairs and he grabs her arms and shakes her. “Go the fuck away.” He growls, furious. He’s spent the last week with you and has grown to like you a lot. Not just physically, but he likes spending time with you. “Get the fuck out of here if you can’t keep your bitchy thoughts to yourself.”

“You know you don’t actually want her. It’s me who’s in your bed, baby. Why- why wasn’t it me? Why can’t you ever say it back?” Tess asks, her eyes growing watery as she stares at the man she loves, has loved for so many years. “Why can’t you give yourself to me like I have to you, time and time again.”

Joel sighs, closing his eyes and he can’t say the words. He cares about Tess, but he doesn’t want to love her. He frowns and looks into her watery eyes. “You knew the score when you hopped into my bed.” He reminds her. “It’s physical. If you don’t like that, you’re free to walk away.”

Tess rears back as if Joel just slapped her. Hearing the words she’s always known to be true but hoped they weren’t is painful and she shakes her head. “Whatever. Go fuck the whale. See if I care. I’ll go call Jack.” She scoffs, mentioning one of Joel’s men who has always flirted with her. She steps back from him and walks back into the house, passing the kitchen and she storms out of the house. You sniff and grab Joel’s beer, composing yourself after you hear the garage door slam and you are surprised to see Joel standing in the doorway. “Tess left before I could say goodbye.” You murmur, wanting to be the better person, even if you want to go to your room and sob at her insults.

“Yeah.” Joel frowns and steps closer to you, taking the beer and setting it down on the counter to grasp your chin, making you meet his eyes. “She’s jealous.” He tells you. “Don’t listen to her.” He knows you will take her insults to heart and he wishes you wouldn’t.

You scoff, “jealous of me? Why would she be jealous of me? I- I saw her the other morning leaving your room. I know you are fucking her and it’s none of my business but I thought- I thought we were getting a little closer. Even if we aren’t married for real, I’d at least like to be friends. I know you don’t want me like that. I know I don’t - I know you don’t want me.” You finish with a shaky inhale.

Joel chuckles, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “She’s jealous because I do want you.” He reveals. “Because I’ve had to fuck her since you haven’t wanted me to touch you.” He takes your hand and brings it down to his crotch, letting you feel his hard cock. “Don’t tell me that I don’t want you when this is how I stay. I’ve been hard since you walked out in that fucking bikini.”

Your eyes widen when you feel how hard he is and your eyes meet his, seeing the desire in his dark gaze. Fuck, he wants you. You swallow harshly and remove your hand from his crotch. He moves to step back, thinking you don’t like that he’s hard but you reach up to remove the towel you have wrapped around your body. “I want you to take me to my room. I want you to fuck me. I want you to wreck me and leave me aching for days.” You tell him, knowing that you need this, you need to feel all of him. Your hand finds his crotch again, squeezing him through his wet swimming trunks.

Growling and twitching against your hand, he grabs your wrist and drags you closer to him. “One last chance to back out.” He warns you, his lips almost brushing yours.

You whimper and shake your head. “I want you, Joel.” You tell him and he groans, pressing his lips to yours. Your hands slide up his damp chest, wrapping around his neck to press yourself against him as his tongue slides into your mouth. It’s rough and messy but it has more than your bikini dripping wet. His hands slide down to grab your ass, squeezing the supple flesh and you moan into his mouth.

Joel presses you into the counter. The beer is forgotten, swimming forgotten. All that he cares about is touching you. One hand slides under your bottoms to squeeze your bare ass and grip it roughly, while his other hand moves to tear your top off your body, eager to see your tits.

His obvious hunger for your body makes you feel like you’re on fire and he tosses the wet bikini top to the floor. It hits the tile with a plop and his hands are cupping your tits after he pulls back to look at them. “Joel.” You gasp when he pinches your nipples. There’s no tender touches, he’s all in and he’s rough like he warned you.

“Fucking great.” He moans, leaning down and biting the top of one tit before sucking harshly on the skin. Determined to lean bruises under your skin to remember him by. “I knew they were great tits.” He moves down to pull your nipple into his mouth and bites down on it harshly before soothing it with his tongue.

“Baby.” You whine, tangling your fingers in his wet hair. “I - oh God.” No one has ever treated you like this, so roughly, but you fucking love it. His hands are squeezing your tits, tilting them so he can wrap his lips around your nipple, alternating one then the other until they are hard and sore under his touch. “Oh God. I need - take me upstairs.”

“Yeah?” Joel confirms it once more, smirking as he pulls off your tit with a wet pop. “You need me to fuck you, sweetheart? Destroy your little pussy until you can’t walk? Then maybe you’ll believe that you’re sexy.” He lets go of your breasts and brings his hand down harshly on your ass, making it jiggle when he slaps it. “I want you naked the second we get in that room. And I want you to spread out on the bed so I can devour your pussy.”

Your body feels like it's on fire and yet you feel like you could melt into a puddle at his words. That twang comes out and sends your heart pounding. "Fuck. I - Joel - oh God. Yes." You pant, unused to such dirty words. Your previous partners were tame and didn't smack your ass or treat you like this. You step away from him on shaky legs, needing a second to catch your breath and you turn to look back at him, channeling a more confident version of yourself. "Come on then, Miller. I want you to destroy me." You order, walking through the kitchen to the second set of stairs that lead to the bedrooms above.

Watching your ass shake in front of his face makes him reach out and slap it again. Grunting as his cock twitches and he can’t wait to have you on your knees while he’s pounding into you. He knows you’ve probably never had someone fuck you roughly, but he feels like you could take it. He hustles up the last few stairs and reaches out, grabbing you to pull you back so he can grind his cock against your ass, throbbing hotly. “I can’t wait to see how well you take me.” He growls in your ear.

You shiver, feeling like he’s hunting you down and you love it. To feel so desired. It’s more than you’ve had before. You force yourself to continue the last few steps to your assigned suite and his hands are on your waist as you open the door. He gropes your ass and you bring his hand to your bikini bottoms. “Take them off.” You order, wanting him to see all over you despite your stomach twisting with nerves that he might not like what he sees.

The strings seem to dissolve between his fingers and he flings the fabric away from your body. One hand grabs the extra skin around your stomach, groaning as he sinks his other hand between your thick thighs and pushes his fingers between the curls covering your cunt. “Fuck, you’re so hot, so wet.” He grunts, sliding a finger through your slit and back until he’s pushing a thick finger inside you.

You gasp, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders as he starts to finger fuck you. Quickly adding a second finger and you whimper, leaning your weight against him. “Oh God.” You pant and he shifts to walk you back towards the bed. You willingly lay down and groan when his fingers slip out of you. You close your legs, suddenly self conscious to be on display for him like this.

“Open them.” Joel’s voice is rough and he is impatiently pushing his wet swimming trunks down. His hard cock springing free and bouncing as he kicks them away. “I want to see your cunt, every inch of you.”

Your eyes widen at the sight of his hard cock, thick and leaking pre-cum and you are shocked at how turned on he is. His cock throbbing and an angry red. You swallow harshly, spreading your legs to show him every inch of you. Your fingers tangle in the sheets as your heart thumps.

“Fuck.” Your cunt glistens with arousal and he can’t help but twitch, making his cock bounce again. Kneeling down on the bed, he spreads your legs wider and pushes the two fingers back inside you when he lowers his head to bury his face in your folds.

“Oh shit!” You yelp when he sucks on your clit. You never imagined Joel would be a man willing to give oral and you are pleasantly surprised. His fingers curl inside of you on each pump and you moan, unable to stop yourself from reaching down to tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper locks. You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet and soon his free hand is gripping your jaw, his tongue leaving your clit throbbing and slick with his saliva. “Why are you biting your lip?” His rough voice demands and you lick your lips.

“My - I’ve been told I’m too loud. I- he said it was like a banshee.” You confess, knowing your exes have done a number on you.

Joel turns his head and he bites your thigh until you yelp out in surprise. “Every goddamn sound belongs to me.” He growls, his dark eyes fixed on yours. “I will hear them.” This time, he spits on your pussy, watching it slide down through your folds and the dives back in with the vigor of a man starved.

You cry out, cunt gushing at the way he spits on your flesh like he owns you and in a way he does. "Joel!" You squeal when he sucks on your clit, his fingers pumping even faster and you can hear the squelch as your pussy weeps for him. "Oh God. Oh God." You pant, getting closer and closer.

Joel flicks his tongue, sucking his saliva back into his mouth and groaning when you roll your hips down onto his face. He loves how soft you are, how tangy and sweet you are on his tongue. His fingers curl and press deep, stretching you out for his cock.

"Fuck, baby." You pant, chest heaving and you reach up to squeeze your own tits, shifting onto your elbows so you can watch him. Seeing that dark gaze, knowing that his fingers - ones that are capable and have killed - are curled inside of you, making you feel only pleasure...it all sends you over the edge. You cry out and clamp down on his digits, your pussy gushing as you cum fast and hard on his face.

Joel groans as you come apart for him, his tongue slowly working you through it as the pressure around his head is perfect. He throbs against the bedsheets and watches you in rapture.

You slump back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as your chest heaves and you absorb the pleasure racing through you. You haven't felt like this before. You close your eyes and feel Joel shift after withdrawing his fingers. His wet fingers caress your hip and you open your eyes to look up at him. You offer him a lazy smile and he chuckles, "it ain't over yet, darlin'." You nod, shifting to sit up and you reach out to wrap your fingers around his cock.

Hissing at the pressure, Joel resists the urge to rock his hips forward. Letting you explore his cock since he had just done what he wanted with your body. “Fuck.” He groans when you squeeze him. “Give me a word.” He demands, making you frown, “what?”

“A word, a fucking safe word.” He demands. “In case it’s too much.”

You haven't dealt with this before but you've read about it in those smutty books you'd stay up at night reading. You pause your movements as you consider the safe word. "Apple." You tell him, glancing over at the painting on the wall of the fruit bowl. "Apple." You repeat, looking back at him and resuming your grip on his cock.

“Apple.” He nods once, knocking your hand away from his cock and lunging over you. Your legs are hooked under his arms as he presses into you and folds them back. His hand guides his cock towards your wet entrance and his tongue slides into your mouth as he pushes forward and fills you in one harsh thrust.

You gasp around his tongue, his cock pushing deep and hard enough to take your breath away and you can't believe how thick he feels inside of you. Your hands come up to grip his shoulders, covered in healed scars, and you moan into his mouth when you adjust and he starts at a quick, but harsh pace.

“Shit, shit, darlin’.” He growls as he fucks into you with strokes that are meant to punish just as much as pleasure. Your soft body cradles him and absorbs the pressure with a beautiful jiggle. “Knew you could take me, fuck that pussy is tight.” He huffs. “Like a vice, god, you feel good.” He groans.

"Y- you too." You whimper, closing your eyes as you let him fuck you hard and fast. You feel like you're on fire with pleasure and it's only the beginning. "Pu-pussy is yours." You murmur in your haze of lust. His ring on your finger, his cock inside of you, you feel like you belong to him and for the first time since you arrived, it feels right.

Joel growls, your words just making him rock his hips faster. Wanting to pull more words from you. Wanting to hear what all you will give him as his cock shreds up inside you. “Mine.” He agrees. “My pussy, my soft, curvy girl.” He hisses, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth to keep from blowing his load at how sexy and fucked out you look below him as you hang on and take everything he gives you.

Your mouth hangs open, moans escaping your lips without any filter as he thrusts into you hard enough to push your body further up the bed. You reach for his hand, "Joel. I want - I need you to - to choke me. My ex - never wanted- I want you to." Joel stops thrusting, so shocked at your request. You bring his hand to your throat, "I don't want you to just grab my throat. I want to feel you fucking me, I want to feel my own heartbeat. I need you to own me."

A shudder rolls through him, his cock twitching deep inside you as his fingers wrap around your throat. He had never expected you to say something like this and he is eager to see how you react. “Filthy little slut.” He coos mockingly, tightening his grip until you gasp and then slowly pulling his hips back. “Couldn’t get what you need from your loser ex?” He smirks darkly. “I’ll give you what you need.” He promises.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he fucks you hard, his hips slamming against your ass as he bends you over even more and his grip tightens on your throat to make spots flash in your eyes. "Fuuuu-" You can't even talk, only groan breathlessly as he pushes against the back wall of your cunt. Tears push out of your eyes and your cunt squelches as you get closer. Your eyes meet his, a delicious smirk of satisfaction on his face, and he leans in to press his forehead against yours. "Cum for me baby." He orders and you can't hold back or deny him. You choke as you cum, unable to catch your breath as your orgasm rips through you, destroying you and gripping Joel's cock like you never want him to leave your body.

Your orgasm is breathtaking. Making him groan and his eyes roll back at how tight you clench around him as you soak him in your juices. Your name leaving his lips as he has to increase the pressure to fuck you through your orgasm. “Shit, there you go.” He pants. “Fuck that’s pretty, so wet. That’s it baby.” He knows he’s not going to last long, so he pulls back, pulling out of you completely.

He lets go of your throat and you struggle to catch your breath, your body shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm. “Hands and knees.” He orders and you nod, struggling to shift from your back but you manage it. Kneeling on your hands and knees for your husband. Your cunt dripping as you display yourself for his hungry gaze.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand slaps your ass once, twice before he is shuffling forward to sink back into you. Watching as his cock pushes deep, he holds your ass and pulls your cheeks apart to watch your other hole flutter. “Gonna fuck your ass one day too.” He grunts before he starts moving again.

You moan, falling forward onto your elbows as he resumes his harsh pace. "Fuck. Joel yes. I'm yours." You promise, lost in the lust and the way he's making you feel. "It's yours. Whatever you want." You promise as he presses his thumb against the puckered hole.

“Yeah?” He grunts, slamming his hips against your ass and watching your body shake from the force. “Let me have what I want? Anytime I want?” He demands.

“Yes, yes, anything you want.” You pant out quietly, making him chuckle. He sinks the tip of his thumb into your ass and reaches down to grip your neck roughly as he increases his pace.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck." You pant, his fingers digging into your throat from his grip and you want to look back and see him but you can't when his grip is so tight. "Yes! Yours. Yours." You ramble breathily as he slams into you again and again.

There’s a voice in the back of his mind telling him that he shouldn’t be so possessive over you. That it should just be an itch to scratch. He ignores it as he pulls his thumb out of your ass and slides his hand underneath you to rub your clit. “Cum for me.” He orders. “Cum for me baby, wanna feel it.”

You nearly collapse forward but the way he is gripping your throat keeps you upright and you grind back onto him when his fingers rub your clit. "Fuck baby. I'm gonna - again. Oh God. Fuck!" You squeal, clamping down on his cock again. "Please cum. Cum for me." You beg, wanting to hear him, wanting him to have pleasure too.

He grunts, desperately close to cumming but he hadn’t asked you about birth control. He doesn’t know if you are taking it and he can’t risk getting you pregnant. Not when this is a temporary marriage. He manages another four or five thrusts before he is pulling out, letting go of your neck to pump his cock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck baby.” He moans, hot spurts of his seed painting your ass as he gasps for breath.

You feel a little disappointed that he didn’t cum inside of you but you know it’s likely for the best considering you’re only married on paper. You glance back at him as he squeezes his cock and you can’t help but shift around, taking his spent cock into your mouth to taste his length covered with your juices and the saltiness of his seed. Your eyes meet his as his chest heaves and you watch him as you suck him clean.

“Shiiiiiiit.” Joel hisses, his spent cock twitching and he loves how dirty you look with his cock in your mouth. “Next time, I’ll fuck your throat.” He pants. “Fuck, how was it, darlin’?” He asks, pulling his hips back and waiting for your answer.

You look up at him before you shift back onto your haunches. “It was - I’ve never been fucked like that before.” You admit, biting your lip as your eyes focus on him. “Did you- did you enjoy it?”

“I did.” His hand caresses your hip and he can see how self conscious you are. “Let me get a rag and clean you up.” He smirks. “Bet you couldn’t walk to the bathroom right now anyway.”

You shake your head, limbs feeling like jello and you shift onto your stomach as you watch him walk into the en suite bathroom. You close your eyes, feeling exhausted, and you flinch slightly at the feel of the cold rag on your skin as he cleans you up. “I have an IUD by the way. If…if you want to cum inside of me next time.”

“Shit.” Joel shakes his head. “If I had known that…..” he wouldn’t have pulled out at all. He finishes wiping you clean and caresses your ass before he slaps it. “You wouldn’t mind me cumming inside you?” He asks, wanting to make sure.

You shake your head, “I wouldn’t mind but…are you still going to sleep with Tess?” You ask. Nervous that he’s going to continue sleeping with her and coming to your bed at the same time. The woman who has insulted you at every turn, it makes you sad and angry that she says those things and you hope he doesn’t want to continue fucking her.

His eyes go flat, dark and angry as he thinks about what Tess had said. “No.” He huffs, shaking his head. “That won’t be happening.” He made up his mind, he’s married. He’s decided he’s going to be a faithful husband while he’s married to you.

You are relieved, relaxing even more into the mattress and you watch him as he shifts to sit down on the bed beside you. His entire form is awkward now and you find it a little endearing. “Good. I- I want to make the best of this while we are married. I want to get to know you.” You tell him, knowing you have to compromise if you’re here for the foreseeable until he gets tired of you. Maybe he will kill you or maybe he will let you go. You hope he’d just let you go.

Leaning back against the pillows, Joel searches for a compliment. “You were really wet.” He tells you lamely. “Tight.” He grunts, wondering if he can get more ridiculous. “Do you like to cuddle after sex or sleep?” He asks.

You can tell he’s not used to aftercare or pillow talk so you take pity on him and shuffle off of the bed, legs wobbling slightly. “I like to shower. Um, you can stay if you want but I’m sure you’ve got things to do.” You say, biting your lip and you internally cringe at how awkward it is now that the lust has been satiated.

It feels like he is being dismissed and Joel frowns, shuffling off the bed. "Sure." He nods. "Enjoy your shower." He will clean up the pool area and order dinner. "Don't worry about cooking tonight. I will order us some dinner. How does Chinese sound?'

You turn back to look at him, “sure. That sounds good. I like anything so order a selection, babe.” You say and step into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You turn on the shower and sit down on the toilet, burying your face in your hands. Things just got a lot more complicated and you’re not sure how to handle it. You know you’re going to end up getting hurt in the end.

****

Joel's snarl is curling his lip back and the only thing keeping the headboard from beating against the wall is the fact that your hands are wrapped around the posts, his own hands covering yours as he fucks you. "Fuck, fuck, you've got to cum." He pauses mid thrust to push up onto his knees a bit more, wanting to push deeper into you. Flat on your stomach while he fuck you into the mattress, your moans are hampered by the pillow and he lets go of one hand so he can rip it out from under you and toss it down on the ground.

“Oh God, Joel. I- fuck. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me - oh shit! Shit!” You squeal as you turn your head so he can hear you, his cock pushing deep and you can barely breathe when your orgasm slams into you. It’s devastating and you love it. Fuck, you love it. “Cu- cum. Please. Want - want to feel it.” You beg but he denies you, working you through your orgasm and pushing you onto another one that has your body shaking from overstimulation.

He's learned that despite you wanting him to cum right after you do, you love having multiple orgasms. Your past lovers obviously not doing a very good job when they fucked you, Joel leaves you unable to use that vibrator that you keep in your bedside drawer. Unless you count the time he had fucked you while pressing it to your clit. "You've gotta give me another one, baby." He smirks, biting down on your shoulder.

You shake your head, “I can’t. It’s too much.” You choke and he bites down on your skin again.

“You can. One more. One more than I’ll fill this tight little cunt up.” He promises and you whine, fingers gripping the headboard even more. He thrusts a little harder, his hips smacking against your ass and you can hardly catch your breath.

“Shit. It’s - oh God. Too much. So good. Baby. Baby. I’m gonna cum again.” You warn him, clenching your eyes shut as your toes curl.

He grits his teeth and continues to hammer into you, wanting to feel you cum. It’s becoming an addiction. Watching you, feeling you, hearing you come apart for him. There’s an honesty you can’t fake when you cum for him. The first gush of your juices makes his hips stutter and he groans. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill this little pussy up.” He vows. “Want you to drip me while you shake your ass all over my kitchen.”

His words push you even further and you clamp down on his cock, soaking him with a cry of his name. “Fuck yes baby. Oh fuck.” You croak, voice broken from the moans he’s pulled from you tonight. “Please. Please. Pleaseeee.” You beg as you ride your orgasm, desperate to feel him spill inside of you.

Letting go of the bed, his arms push underneath you to hold you tight. Wrapping his legs around yours as he rocks into you over and over again until he is burying his cock deep. Groaning your name into your ear as he spills rope after rope of his hot seed into your womb.

You close your eyes, enjoying the feel of him on top of you and you could easily spend the rest of your life like this. That thought would terrify you if you weren’t drunk with pleasure. You sigh in bliss and he kisses along your neck once he’s still, his cock still twitching inside of you. “So good, baby.” You murmur, reaching back to slide your fingers through his hair.

He knows he’s heavy, pinning you down but you don’t complain and he doesn’t want to move. “Fuck.” He grunts, burying his face in your neck and trying to catch his breath. “Could sleep right here.” He murmurs, kissing your pulse and feeling all the stress and pain fade away.

You smile into the sheets, “me too.” You haven’t shared a bed with him yet, just sex before you both retreat to your own quarters and you wish he would cuddle you or something. “Do you maybe….maybe you’d like to stay tonight? In the same bed?” You ask tentatively, worried that he’s going to reject you.

Lifting his head, Joel’s brows shoot up. “Yeah, uh, are you sure?” He asks. He’s always come to your room, you’ve never been in his, but he wants to stay. “I don’t want you to offer if you’d rather be alone.”

“No. No. I want you to stay.” You promise, nodding your head against the sheets and you shift onto your side so you can look at him after he pulls out of you. “I want you to stay. Maybe we can watch a movie?” You suggest, reaching out to brush his hair back.

Joel secretly likes watching movies and he nods. “That will be good. Do you want to shower first, or need some water?” He knows you want a little bit of tenderness after sex.

You swallow, “water would be good, babe.” You offer him a smile, “and a shower.” You decide, wanting to feel clean after he’s wrecked your body again. “You wanna shower with me first?” You ask, knowing he isn’t one for that kind of intimacy but you always attempt to reach out to him, to make this marriage work in more ways than sex.

“That will work.” Joel nods and moves to climb out of the bed. “I’ll start the water, let it warm up.” He pauses and then leans in for a kiss before he stands and strides towards your en-suite. It’s getting harder to not soften towards you, especially since you are so sweet.

You are surprised that he wants to shower with you when he usually goes off to clean himself up and check on the business with Tommy. You watch his ass as he walks into your bathroom and you bite your lip, loving how hot he is. Even more so he doesn’t think he is. He thinks he’s too old but you love the salt and pepper. He grabs you a water and you are soon in the shower together, grabbing the body wash to clean each other off.

“Your body wash smells flowery.” Joel makes a face on principle, but he squirts it on a loofa and suds it up to wash your body. “That’s why you always smell so good.” He grunts to himself. “Love your smell, especially your wet pussy.”

You smile, pleased that he likes how you smell. It’s ridiculous how much you like hearing him compliment you. He’s such a gruff, cold man and any way you can crack his icy exterior has your heart melting for him. “Love how you smell too. Smoky and like whiskey. For now though, you’re gonna smell like roses.” You tease, sliding your hands along his chest.

He snorts and shakes his head. “Just means I need to fuck you again before we go to sleep.” He smirks and winks at you. There’s not been a day that has passed since that first day that he’s not fucked you at least twice. Most of the time, it’s hours between sessions since he’s no longer a teenager, but he’s been rising to the occasion.

You chuckle, “it’s a good thing I have the IUD otherwise you would’ve knocked me up by now and we both know that would be a disaster.” You snort and run your fingers through his wet hair, massaging his head. “I like this.” You admit softly, “what this has become.”

“I do too.” Joel admits, his hands squeezing your waist. You’ve grown more comfortable and playful as the days have gone on and his lust for you continues to grow. It also helps that he’s already seen you tell the police detective that you couldn’t help him when he came knocking about the murder. He doesn’t voice the idea that you could stay on, aware that you miss being a lawyer, a district attorney. He couldn’t ask you to give that up, or continuously look the other way.

Your heart flutters at his confession and you lean up to kiss his jaw. You have been keeping track of the case at the district attorney’s office and have seen that there is no evidence to link the murder back to Miller’s, so you are confident that the case will dropped soon and when the case is dropped, you can probably ask Joel if you can return to your previous life, but you find yourself reluctant to do so when deep down you are in love with the man who has become your husband. You rinse off after five minutes and Joel is quick to get you a towel grabbing one for himself to wrap around his waist. “You get dressed, baby. I’ll go get us some water and snacks. We can watch a movie. Pick whatever you want, just as long as it ain’t a damn romcom.”

You snort and nod, “sure thing babe.” You get dressed in your sweats and soon enough, you are cold around Joel watching a movie until you fall asleep on his chest.

Joel strokes your back gently as you sleep, smirking at the jokes in the movie. He likes this, feeling more relaxed than he has in a long time. His informant tells him that the case is stalled and will soon be dormant. Now he doesn’t want to give you up. He’s gotten used to you puttering in the kitchen and you spend a lot of time in his study, reading if he needs to do something.

****

You decide to wake up early. Joel doesn’t spend the night in your bed even after two months of marriage but you don’t let it bother you too much, knowing he has his reasons and he’s opened up to you far more than you ever thought possible. You sneak out of your bedroom across the hall from Joel’s and that’s when you see Tess. Sneaking out of Joel’s room, her hair all over the place and her clothes wrinkled. Your heart breaks and her smirk makes you feel sick. He slept with her. You aren’t enough for him. He doesn’t want you. You swallow harshly, not wanting her to see how affected you are. “Morning Tess.” You choke out and she hums, “morning.” She grins and makes her way downstairs, leaving you speechless in the hallway.

Joel wakes up and for a moment is confused when he sees the spot next to him is rumpled like someone slept there. Then he remembers. You had already gone to bed, Joel staying late to talk to Tommy about business and Tess had shown up. She had been wasted and practically sobbing about you and Joel abandoning her, trying to kiss him again and again until he finally convinced her that he wasn’t going to touch her. She had begged for just one more night sleeping beside him and he had relented, knowing she was in no shape to go home. Tucking her in and making sure she didn’t throw up until about four this morning before he had finally fallen asleep.

You pour your coffee with tears stinging in your eyes and you allow yourself the breakfast you make to be your time to be upset about Joel sleeping with Tess again. After you finish breakfast, you decide you aren’t going to sit around and wait for him. He has let you go eventually if he wants to be with Tess. You make your way to your room, locking the door, and you call your friend, deciding to make plans for tonight. No longer will you sit around pining for your husband that will never be capable of loving you. You’re going out tonight despite Joel’s rules. Your sister and niece have gone to Florida for the weekend so you know Joel hasn’t had his men follow them. Joel knocks on your door but you tell him you’re working and he leaves you alone. You don’t leave your room for lunch and around eight at night you get ready and decide to drive into the city to meet your friend. Joel will still be busy with his own work since he’s gone back to running the family business so you know he won’t miss your presence.

There’s something wrong with today and Joel is in a pisser of a mood. He’s not seen you all day and he hates it. He’s gotten used to seeing your pretty face, sharing a smile or hearing you tell him a joke in hopes to see him smile. Ellie slunks into his office around nine, pouting and dropping into a chair. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” He demands.

Ellie says your name and Joel frowns, “what about her?”

Ellie scoffs, crossing her arms, “she’s gone into the city and I asked to go but she said she was going to some club with her friend. I was too young to go.” Ellie pouts and huffs, rolling her eyes, “I hate being a kid. I can’t do shit.”

“What do you mean she went into the city?” Joel drops the paper he was reading and sits up in his chair, a scowl on his face. “What fucking club, she’s in her room.” He swears Ellie likes busting his balls and making him sweat. “Don’t start that bullshit lying again.

Ellie shakes her head, “I’m not fucking lying. She’s gone out. Said something about the place Tommy and her met. I don’t know, man. That’s what she said and she looks fucking fancy. Dressed up and shit.” Ellie snorts, knowing Joel will be pissed with you leaving the house. Joel growls, realizing she’s telling the truth and she holds her hands up, “don’t shoot me. I’m the messenger.” Ellie says and Joel pushes back from his desk.

****

You sway to the music, feeling like you are free for the first time in nearly three months. You are excited to enjoy yourself and let loose, especially after seeing Tess this morning. Your heart is broken, knowing she would always be Joel’s number one despite him sending her away and you try to lose yourself in the music and the drink, trying to drown your stupid feelings.

“Come on! Come on!” He hisses, slamming the wheel of his car as he curses the car in front of him. He doesn’t know why you decided to leave the house without telling him, especially because he wouldn’t have let you go alone. If you needed a night out, he would have taken you. But not back to the fuckin place you had witnessed a goddamn murder. He pulls up outside the club, screeching to a halt and jumping out of the car to storm through the security and into the club to find you.

You are swaying your hips when you feel hands squeeze your flesh. You gasp, turning your head and seeing a man pushing up against you and you shake your head, trying to step away from him but his fingers dig deeper into your skin. Before you can react, he’s being shoved away from you and your eyes widen when you see Joel grab his collar, his teeth bared as he growls at the man for touching you and not letting you go. The music is loud and you can’t hear what he says as his hand comes back and you grab onto his arm. “Joel. Stop. Not here. Not here.”

He almost flings you off and punches him anyway, but your eyes are wide and frightened. “Don’t ever fuckin’ touch my wife again.” He spits, shoving the asshole away from him. The man nods and quickly disappears into the crowd. Joel turns towards you and his scowl is fierce. “What the fuck are you doing here? You didn’t tell me? What are you thinking?” He shouts.

You scoff, “I thought you’d be with Tess. Why did you follow me here? I wanted one fucking night without being trapped in your goddamn house!” You shout back, the music blaring around you.

“Tess?” He frowns even harder, hurt that you don’t want to be around him. “What the fuck are you talking about? What does Tess have to do with you sneaking out? You wanted to go out? I could have brought you to a better club.”

You shake your head, pushing his chest, “you fucked her last night. Don’t lie to me. I saw her leaving your room this morning. She fucking smirked at me.” You shout at him, shaking your head and turning it to hide the tears welling in your eyes.

His eyes widen, realizing that you must have seen Tess leaving this morning. You get two steps away from him before he’s chasing after you, grabbing your arm and turning you around. “I didn’t fuck her!” He shouts back over the music. “I haven’t fucked-“ he shakes his head and lets go of your arm. “Never mind, you won’t believe me anyway.”

You swallow harshly, “I- I need some air.” You tell him, pushing your way through the gyrating crowd, your clutch in your hand and you inhale deeply once you’re outside in the cool air. Joel isn’t too far behind you and you wipe your eyes, looking over at your husband. “I don’t know why you followed me here tonight.” You scoff at Joel who shakes his head.

“I have enemies, baby. If one of them had followed you…got to you…” He trails off and you chuckle humorlessly, “well, they would’ve done you a favor. Gotten rid of me. Saved you the job.”

“I’m not getting rid of you.” He slaps his hands against his thighs and wonders why you are being so fucking difficult. “Don’t fucking talk like that.” He growls, furious at the thought of you being hurt because of him.

“Why?” You hiss, turning back towards him, “you don’t love me like I love you. You don’t want me. You- you want Tess. You want someone skinnier, prettier. You want someone you can show off. I haven’t met anyone from your family or friends. I haven’t even met Tommy’s wife. You don’t want them knowing you married the fat girl. I know you only married me so I’d keep my mouth shut but the case is closed. The DA office released the news this afternoon. No leads. Cold case. It’s done. So just divorce me so I can go back to my life because you don’t love me. God, I’m such an idiot. I fell in love with you and I’m - please. Just let me go.” You beg, unable to take his back and forth.

Joel frowns and shakes his head. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He demands. “I kept you from meeting everyone because you don’t want to stay with me!” He shoves a hand through his hair. “You can’t - every time we are together you fucking tell me how you can’t wait to go back to your life. I’m a fucking criminal! You can’t be a fucking district attorney married to a criminal!”

You choke on a sob, hating how complicated your life has become. For years, you’ve wanted to find someone, fall in love, get married. It’s happened but in the most confusing way possible. “I quit. I quit today. I can’t be a DA after watching what Tommy did. It’s not - it’s not moral so I quit my job. I tell you I can’t wait to get back to my life because that’s what I thought you wanted. To get rid of me when the case was closed by the DA and the police. I miss my old life but not for the reason you think. I miss having my freedom but most of all, I miss not being in love with you. Not feeling so much goddamn pain because you won’t ever feel the same.”

He stares at you for a moment, nearly panting, he’s breathing so hard. “I- you quit?” He whispers, shaking his head. “You quit the D.A.’s office?” You nod and he grabs you again and pulls you closer. “You’re never fuckin’ leaving.” He rasps out. “Never. I didn’t fuck Tess. I couldn’t. Not when-“ he swallows. “Not when I love you.”

Your eyes widen as he pulls you into his chest and you shouldn’t but you believe him. You believe he didn’t fuck her. “I- I love you. I don’t want to leave you. I want to stay with you.” You promise, sliding your hand up his chest until you can tangle your fingers in his hair. “I love you, Joel.” You murmur, “I love you.”

“I love you, baby.” He promises roughly. Nudging his nose against yours. “You’re mine. You told me you were mine and I’m keeping you.” He growls, pressing his lips to yours and slides his tongue into your mouth possessively.

You moan into his mouth, feeling him push you back into the wall of the club and passersby stare but you don’t care. Your heart pounding in your chest as your husband kisses you. He pulls back after a moment and your breath mingles, “take me home, Miller.” You order, wanting him to take you home and to his bed. Joel nods, summoning the valet to get his car and you’re soon on your way back to his estate. You text your friend, apologizing and she says she doesn’t mind, she’s found a guy to occupy her and you tell her to be safe. Joel squeezes your hand as he drives and you frown, shifting to look at him. “How did you know where I was?” You ask and he tells you about Ellie. “Of course.” You chuckle softly, knowing the teenager is nothing if not a talker.

“She loves you, you know? Wanted to tell me because she wants you to be safe.” He says and you nod, “I love her. She’s funny and she makes you smile with her silly puns. How could I not love her?” You ask him.

Joel nods, sighing softly. “She’s not had it easy. Hell, I’ve not had it easy, but she’s a good kid. A pain in my ass, but a good kid. She’s - well, she’s the entire reason I decided to marry you.” He reveals.

Your eyebrows raise, “she was?” You ask, surprised by the news and you wonder what Ellie could’ve said to have made him decide to marry you instead of kill you.

“Yeah.” Joel nods and looks back at the road. “She’s never had a mother or a mother-like figure. Tess sure as shit isn’t one. Not since she lost her husband and son ten years ago.” He tells you. “You- your worry was for your sister, your niece. You were terrified of marrying me but you would do it to protect them. I wanted Ellie to be around a woman like that, like you.” He tells you softly. “She reminds me of Sarah.”

You have heard the name before but haven’t asked him. You know from Ellie that Joel was married before, years ago, but there was never a good time to ask him about it. “Sarah?” You ask softly, wanting him to talk about it only if he wants to.

“My- my daughter.” He reveals quietly, feeling your shocked stare on him as he drives. He doesn’t look over at you, unsure of what your reaction will be. “My ex-wife and I were young, too fuckin’ young. I got her pregnant and after Sarah was born, she decided she didn’t want to be a wife and mother.” He shakes his head, unable to imagine leaving Sarah behind. “I raised her by myself. I wasn’t in the business. I was determined to keep Sarah out of it. I built houses. Me ‘n Tommy had a construction business. I was pretty good. Until….” He bites his lip. “My uncle died and it started a fuckin’ mafia power struggle. They came after me and….” He cuts himself off, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles are turning white. “She was twelve.” He tells you. “Just a little girl.”

Your eyes widen, “she -?” You can’t vocalize it and tears sting in your eyes. “Oh Joel.” You choke and he swallows harshly.

“It was another - to get power. They thought I’d crumble after losing her. I did…until I came back with a vengeance. I’ve done things…things that shouldn’t allow me to touch you, let alone be loved by you. I’ve sinned.” He confesses and you reach for his hand again.

“Baby, oh- I'm so sorry.” You sob, leaning down to kiss the back of his hand.

He’s surprised that you are trying to comfort him. He had expected you to demand to know what he’s done. His eyes flutter and then open quickly to watch the road. “You said you felt trapped.” He reminds you softly. “Do you- you don’t like living with me?”

You shake your head, leaning back to look at him. “I like living with you but baby, I want to love living with you. I want to share a room. I want to share our lives. I want to share everything with you.”

“Tess was drunk last night.” He admits quietly. “She wanted me to fuck her, but I told her no. Told her that I was married. She begged to just sleep beside me one last time, she knew it was over. I swear to you that I didn’t fuck her. It’s just been you.”

You are surprised at the way she begged him to fuck her but not shocked. Your heart pounds when you hear him confess it’s been you, only you. “I believe you. If I find out otherwise, I don’t care what you do for a living, I’ll chop your balls off.” You promise, knowing you have to stand your ground.

He smirks when he stops at the red light, looking over at you and nodding. “I’ll give you the knife, baby.” He tells you. “I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of, but I’m no piece of shit cheater.”

You smile, knowing his morality will be a gray area for you, but you knew what you were getting into you. You love him. The real him and you won’t deny that. You want to spend the rest of your life with Joel. “I want you to take me home and make love to me. Not rough. Just the two of us. Take our time.” You tell him, kissing the back of his hand again.

Joel nods, knowing that he needs to show you some tenderness. Show you how he feels. You aren’t just some woman he’s fucking, you’re his wife and apparently, you want to stay his wife. “I can do that.” He promises. “I can be gentle. I want to show you.”

You want Joel to show you some softness. When you arrive back at the estate, he opens the door for you and escorts you inside and upstairs. You head to your room but he takes your hand, guiding you to his. A room you have never been in before. “Are you sure, baby?” You ask, knowing that he has always considered this room to be off limits to everyone, including you despite you being married on paper.

“Yes.” He nods. “The sheets have been changed, I want you in my bed. I want you to stay with me, sleep beside me.” He murmurs softly. You bite your lip and he opens the door and guides you inside, closing it behind him. It’s masculine, dark, heavy furniture but there are multiple pillows on the bed. Minimal and clean, just the way he likes it.

You admire the bedroom, large and imposing like him but simple and masculine. You like it, it feels like him. You turn to face him, tilting up to kiss his neck softly, your hands working on the buttons of his shirt. You want to see all of him. “I love you.” You murmur, kissing his chin.

“I love you too.” His hands slide down to pick up the bottom of your dress. “Wanted to punch that asshole, grinding against you.” He growls. “Thinking he had a chance with you.”

You shake your head as he pulls your dress over your body. “He never did. I was trying to push him away. Only you. It’s only you.” You promise him and gasp when he drops your dress to the floor and his hands find your ass, tugging you up against his body. You reach between you, working on his belt and you are able to pull it out from the loops without moving away from him. “I’m yours.” You promise, showing him your hand with the ring he placed on your finger.

“Mine.” He agrees, leaning in to kiss your hand and he brings it to his chest. He closes his eyes and sighs softly before he looks at you again. “You’re so beautiful.” He tells you quietly. “The first thing I thought when I saw you was that you were pretty.” He reaches out and traces the edge of your bra. “Let me see you, baby.”

You reach behind you to unclasp your bra, “even when I was blindfolded.” You tease and he nods, “even then.” Your heart melts and you reach down to unbutton his jeans, unzipping them and pulling the zipper down. You reach in to grip his cock, hard and throbbing for you, and that thrills you

“Shit.” He hisses, rocking his hips forward. “Want you to sit on my face.” He’s wanted you to before now, but you’ve always resisted. He knows it’s your self-image preventing it, but he wants to see you ride his tongue. “Do it for me, baby.”

Your stomach twists and you’re nervous. “I- baby. I don’t want to hurt you.” You shake your head but his fingers dig into your ass.

“You won’t.” He insists and You concede. “If i hurt you-” You trail off and he scoffs, “you won’t.” You poke his chest, “you tell me.” You insist and he snorts but nods. You step out of your shoes and push your panties down, waiting for him to get situated.

Joel peels his pants down and lays down on the bed, watching you hungrily and you awkwardly kneel on the bed. “You aren’t going to hurt me, baby. I promise you, I can push you off if I need to.” He understands your hesitation, but he’s salivating at the idea of having your pussy sitting on his face.

You shift to straddle his chest and he tuts, grabbing your ass to pull you up so you are hovering over his face. He groans at the sight of your dripping cunt and you gasp when his tongue snakes out to slide through your folds. “Fuck baby.” You moan, lowering your hips unconsciously and he groans your name when you start to relax and rest your weight over him.

He holds your hips, needing to be able to pull you back down if you shift to lift off of him. Groaning into your pussy happily when you roll your hips. His tongue flicking over your clit and then back down to push up inside you.

“Fuck.” You gasp, tilting your head back and your hands come up to grip the headboard. “Joel. Oh God. That feels so good.” You confess breathlessly as he pushes his tongue deep inside of you. You moan when his tongue flicks over your clit again and you forget to keep your posture stiff as you relax even more.

Time is completely suspended, all he cares about is making you feel good. His cock throbs and spurts pre-cum as he feels the first flood of your juices soak his mouth and you haven’t even cum yet. Groaning into your flesh as he devours you.

You feel like you are floating, his mouth on your clit and his tongue pushing deep inside of you. You finally give in to the feelings and grind down onto his face. “Oh fuck Joel. It’s - you’re too good. So good baby.” You whimper, feeling like you could die and be happy. He makes you feel like you are on cloud nine. “Oh God. I love you.” You whine, fingers gripping the headboard.

He can’t talk, but he squeezes your hips, eager to hear you say that again. He loves you, he knows he does. You’ve burrowed your way into his cold heart like Ellie has and he would murder for you, he would die for you.

You are so close. Grinding down onto his face a little more. “Fuck baby. I love you. I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna - oh shit!” You hiss, thighs pressing against his head and you worry in the back of your mind if you’re suffocating him.

Joel groans, eyes fluttering closed as he works you through the most satisfying orgasm he’s ever pulled out of you. He knows you love it from how you are moaning and panting his name.

You try to catch your breath, your heart racing and your chest heaving as you relax from your orgasm. “Baby. Oh God. That was-” You pant, shifting off of his face and you shuffle down his body until you are kneeling between his legs. You reach out to grip his cock and take him into your mouth.

“Shit.” You’ve blown him, of course you have. You’ve been fucking for two months, but tonight, you seem desperate to suck his fucking soul out through his cock. “Oh fuck, baby, god damn you have such a good mouth.” His toes curl and his legs twitch when you reach down and fondle his balls in your hand.

You watch him, his eyes closing and his fingers find the back of your head. You pull off of his cock for a moment, continuing to pump him in your hand. “I love you, my handsome husband.” You coo, taking him back into your mouth until he’s pulling you off of him.

“I need to be inside you, baby.” He pants, pulling you up and rolling you over in one smooth move. “I love you, my sexy wife.” He growls, biting your bottom lip and smirking at you.

You smile against his mouth, caressing his cheeks as he hovers over you. You lift your legs up to wrap around his waist and he shuffles closer on his knees, reaching down to grip his cock so he can start to push inside of you. “I love you.” You sigh when he’s fully inside of you, feeling like you’re where you belong.

“I love you too.” He groans quietly, pushing his arms underneath your back and holding you close. He wants to be as close as he can as he kisses your lips.

You whimper and he starts to move inside of you, making you cling to him. There’s nothing rough, no choking, no spanking. It’s soft and sweet and everything you’ve ever wanted from your marriage, from your husband. “Feel so good. Always feel so good. No one has ever made me feel this way before.”

“Good.” He chokes out, burrowing his face into your neck and inhaling your sweet scent. “You are so soft and perfect. You take me when I’m rough and beg for more.” He praises you softly. “And I want more of this. More intimacy. Soft. I’ll be soft for you.”

You know he will give you that, he’s showing now that he’s capable of that and you understand his rougher side. You enjoy it but this makes you feel so connected to Joel. “I love all of you. Every side of you. Whatever you give me. I want it all.” You promise breathlessly, caressing his back and one hand slides up to run your fingers through his hair.

Joel practically purrs when your fingers are in his hair. His hips slow down and he barely rocks into you. “I- I never would have killed you. Or your sister.” He promises you. “I don’t hurt women or kids.”

You know that now, understanding his character, and you want to tell your sister about your husband, have her meet him. “I know, baby. I know that now. I know you are good. Deep down, you’re a good man.” You assure him, kissing his neck. “I love that about you. Only I know that you’re good. Me and Ellie know.” You promise, rocking your hips up to meet his.

He’s overwhelmed that you believe in him so firmly. His heart is pounding and he knows that you are his purpose, you and Ellie. He will take care of you and her until he takes his last breath.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, it seems like you spend hours under the rocking of his hips until he shifts and presses his fingers to your clit. “Want you to cum for me, baby.” He murmurs into your neck and you whine, bucking up into his touch.

“Yes. Yes. Going to cum for you.” You promise, walls fluttering around his cock.

Joel kisses you tenderly, feeling your pulse jump under his lips. “Love you so much baby, you’re so good.” He praises, noting how much you preen under the compliments. You deserve them. You deserve better than him but by some miracle, you love him. “So perfect for me. My beautiful, sexy woman.”

You gasp, clamping down on his cock, unable to stop yourself with the raspy compliments he pours into your ear. “Oh. Oh. Oh.” You pant, clenching your eyes shut as you cum, soaking him with your juices.

“That’s it, that’s it darlin’.” He groans, his tongue lapping at your salty skin as he works you through your orgasm and chases his own. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

You need him to fill you up. “Cum for me. Cum for me, Joel.” You plead into his neck, nails digging into his flesh as he rocks into you, his hips slapping against your thighs and there’s nothing but the two of you in this moment. He pushes deep a half dozen thrusts later, he’s spilling into you, painting your walls, and you love it. You love him. You hum, closing your eyes as he rests his head on your chest, his breath puffing hot on your skin.

Joel feels like he’s pulled apart. His heart bursting happily as he catches his breath. “I love you.” He sighs. It might not have been ideal for you to witness Tommy murdering someone, it scared you and he hates that. But being a mafia boss brought you into his life and he’s grateful for that. Happy to have you as his wife, forever.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x plus size reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #joel miller imagine #mob au #mob boss joel miller

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 4 months

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Pairing : Dad!Hwang Hyunjin x F!Reader TW : lots of arguing ; reader insecurities and self doubts ; depressed Hyunjin ; Hyunjin is also kind of an asshole ; still very angsty ; Word Count : 2.3k Request : I'm not sure if you guys will request for part 2... I'm writing from the future! A/N : I'm writing this prior to part 1 even being released so, I'm hoping this is what you guys want to happen with part 2! (Writing this after I finished writing this part and you all are definitely going to get a part 3... After I write 2 parts for the rest of the guys. I'll let this one simmer)

Hyunjin sat alone in the once shared apartment, canceling all plans and events that had priorly scheduled for him to attend. How was he supposed to go out and pretend to have fun when everything that he loved and would want to come home to had left him? He had never felt so alone, and even still, he knew that the way he was feeling right now wasn’t even close to the way he had made you feel for so long.

He couldn’t even go to the dorms to try to find some kind of comfort there, not just because he knew that all of the guys would inevitably agree that he was in the wrong, but because he felt that he didn’t deserve that kind of comfort. He didn’t deserve to be made to feel better, not after what he had done to you and put you through. Even though his phone rang and vibrated constantly, he refused to answer for only one reason, and that reason is that none of the calls or texts were from you.

You were avoiding him, rightfully so, but it broke his heart to know that this was his fault, and to not know what was going on with you and his baby. You had a lot of friends in America, friends that he never looked at as threats before, but now he was nervous, he was terrified. You were one of the most beautiful girls in the world, without a doubt, any guy would be lucky to have you… He didn’t want anyone else to have you though. What if he had just pushed you into the arms of another guy? Not only would he lose the love of his life, but he would lose his baby too… He couldn’t lose the both of you… He didn’t want to lose either of you.

It had been a whole month since you left Korea… It had been your home for so long that going back home felt weird to you. Nothing felt the same as it did before, everything looked different. It hadn’t seemed like that long that you had been gone, but now that you were back, it felt like it had been forever.

For the first 2 weeks you waited for Hyunjins phone call, laying awake at night wondering if he had read your note yet. You wondered how he would react to it, how he would feel… Maybe you had gone too far running back home and taking the baby with you. Maybe you should have just talked to him about it.

Then the next week passed and the week after that, and you came to the conclusion that he either never came back to the house, forgetting about you and the baby entirely, or he just read the note and didn’t care that you were gone. You were leaning more towards the one where he didn’t care though, it was obvious to you that he never cared. That’s when you allowed yourself to really start living. With the help of your family, it was easier to get settled in. You had a job now, you’d be starting it soon while your parents watched your daughter for you. You had even started looking at apartments so that you wouldn’t have to stay with your family forever.

Everything seemed to be falling into place perfectly, at least until your phone started vibrating on your nightstand at 7 in the morning. It was the worst hour, especially since your daughter hadn’t even gone to sleep until 4. You were exhausted and disoriented, and while you didn’t want to answer the call, the constant vibrating made it quite clear that whoever it was wasn’t going to stop calling until you picked up.

“What?” Your voice exuded your anger, even though it was no louder than a whisper, you were pissed at whoever it was for keeping you awake and potentially waking up your daughter as well. You didn’t even know who was on the other end, but whoever it was had better have a damn good reason for calling at this hour.

“H-Hey…” A shaky voice croaked out, shaky breaths following the stammered out word. “Is it a bad time? I… I’m not very good with time differences and… I just wanted to hear your voice… And I… I want to know how the baby is doing? How… How is my girl?” It was obviously Hyunjin, you didn’t even need to fully listen to what he was saying to know that it was him, you knew his voice better than anyone else’s.

And that’s why you were even more irritated. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s 7 in the goddamn morning, of course it’s a bad time!” You seethed, although quietly, still aware that your daughter was sleeping and hoping that you’d be able to end this call fast enough to get back to the warmth of your bed and fall back asleep. “She’s sleeping. I should be sleeping. You pick a fine time to finally learn how to pick up the damn phone and get in touch though. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

“You stole my daughter… You practically kidnapped her… I could have gone to the police, I could have done a lot of things and… And all I wanted to do was hear from you… I wanted to know how she was doing.” Even though he was still crying as he said it, his words absolutely infuriated you. Your hands were trembling with anger, your entire body was shaking, it felt like you would completely collapse if you kept standing, so you made your way to the couch and dropped down onto it. All semblance of tiredness was gone now, completely replaced by such an irate fury you couldn’t even explain.

“Don’t you dare try to pull that shit with me. Your daughter this, your daughter that, why is she only your daughter when I finally get fed up with your shit and leave? You could have heard from me at any point in the last 13 fucking months. You could have seen her and saw how she was doing for the last 13 fucking months, Hyunjin. You didn’t care for how we were doing before, so don’t you try to say that you care now.”

“I was working!” He shouted into his phone, the high pitch of it causing the speaker on your end to ring in your ear. “You could have called me at any time though and I would have picked up! Why are you putting all of the blame on me?! You didn’t even call or text to check up on me or see how I was doing? Why am I always the one who has to call?!”

“You’re such a piece of shit!” You shouted, wanting nothing more than to throw your phone across the room, but you also wanted to let him have it. You wanted to go off on him, you wanted to scream at him and tell him how awful he was. “I was working too! I was raising your daughter while trying to be a fucking home maker and keep the fucking house clean and cook dinner. I couldn’t even leave the fucking house because of the attention that you brought onto me and her when you announced that she was here and you just get to come and go as you please while I was trapped in the fucking house. I didn’t have to call you or text you to see how you were doing though because all I had to do was open the internet or Youtube and see all of the wonderful things that you were out doing while I was trapped in those four walls. You should have called because it would have let me know that at least you were thinking about us… But obviously you weren’t.”

Hyunjin sighed loudly, and there was a short period of silence before he started talking again, quieter once more like he had been at the beginning of the call. “That’s not true… I thought about you all the time. You can ask Felix, you can ask any of the guys. You and the baby are all I talked about when I was away from home.” He sounded like he was pleading, but you were pissed, an entire year of pent up frustration was bound to be let loose at some point, you were just happy that you were able to let it all out on the one who had been the cause of all of it in the first place.

“It would be easy to believe you if there was even a single time that you texted me, called me, video called, literally anything. But there wasn’t… You never did any of that. I gave up everything to be with you, to create this family with you, and you gave up nothing at all. You can think about us, you can talk about us all you want… But you made me feel like I was nothing, you made me feel like I was forgettable… And you’re really lucky that she’s only a year and a half and she’s too young to understand what’s going on… And I guess I’m really lucky that you were never around so she doesn’t have to miss you and I don’t have to answer any questions about where dad is.” Your words were sharp, they were meant to cause damage, and the trembling breath that you heard from his end was sign enough that you had hit him where it hurt. It was about damn time that he felt even some of the pain that he had caused you.

“I know… I know that I’m an awful boyfriend. I know that I’m even worse as a father… I never claimed that I would be good at those things… But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t love you and her…” He whimpered, sniffling loudly. “I still do love you and her… You both are… You’re my world and… I know that I blew my chances. I messed up… And there’s nothing I can do… But I want to be able to see her. I can’t do that if you’re so far away… I need to be able to see her…”

It took everything in you not to let out the loud groan that was building in your chest. It took everything for you to not cut him off and start going off on him again. Instead, you let out a loud sigh, your leg bouncing now with your agitation. “You had an entire year to see her. You only stopped by for an hour every month if we were lucky. Don’t use her as leverage, I’m not going to let you do that. I already have a job set up here, and my parents and I are going to start looking at places soon. The life that I thought that I’d have in Korea with you was clearly just a pipe dream, and it turned out to be everything but a dream for me. I’ve been living a life separated from you for over a year now… And you were fine with it since you thought you had me trapped over there with you. That’s over… It’s over now. If you want to see her, you can see her during one of your multiple tours or business trips. It’ll be just like before.”

“So that’s it?” The sadness that had once laced his voice was gone now, his words were now almost eerily void of any emotion at all. “I guess you’ll just go to one of your little friends… One of the guys that you used to hang out with in school. Maybe he can play daddy to my daughter. I’m sure you’d like that though, just getting rid of me completely.” The assumptions had completely caught you off guard, not just because of how wrong they were, but because of how ridiculous they sounded coming from someone like him.

“You’re kidding me… right?” You asked, in a state of absolute disbelief. “There’s no way that you’re being serious… You couldn’t be. I legitimately can’t fucking believe you right now. Of all things that you’re going to accuse me of… This is it?” He huffed in response, but he didn’t speak. Maybe he too realized just how ridiculous of an accusation it was, but now it was too late, he had already said it. “I was home all the fucking time. I finally get the fucking backbone it took to leave your ass, and you’re going to say that I’m the one doing some shady shit like that?! Do you know how many nights I laid awake in bed wondering what you were doing, who you were doing? You had multiple opportunities to cheat on me, to shack up with a multitude of famous people… And I still never accused you of doing it. I constantly compared myself to the women you would stand next to at award shows or modeling… things and… And I never said shit! I felt like fucking trash! And you’re gonna sit here… you’re gonna say that I’m gonna do shit like that… When I have been nothing but loyal to you and this family that you claimed you wanted… Just waiting to be loved by you… Hell.. I would have been fine even being noticed by you… So you know what, Hyunjin. Fuck you. I’m done with this conversation. I’m done with you. Goodbye.”

You didn’t give him the chance to talk, you quickly hung up your phone and tossed it to the end of the couch. Not just because of how pissed you were… No… You were devastated. You were a mess. It was nice to let it all out, but those emotions were raw, you were still hurt by what he had done, and he had just layered more pain on top.

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disneyprincemuke · 4 months

Text

oscar's logan's girl * ls2 op81

oscar truly never thought he would ever see the girl that was the cause of his first ever heartbreak

pairings: logan sargeant oscar piastri x fem!reader

notes: first of all, i want to thank everyone for liking the first part to this huhuhu i PERSONALLY think this is one of the fics i've written for an individual driver that has gotten this much feedback and responses... i never thought, in the 6 hours it took me to write that, that people would even like it so much... thank you for the kind words u guys <;/3

and now i would like to apologise if this did NOT go the way you thought it would... i couldn't bear hurting either logan or oscar, and holding grudges seemed like such an unlikely thing for a man of oscar's caliber... sorry if it doesn't go the way you thought <;/3

word count: 2.3k

(oscar's girl) // (f1 masterlist)

you let out the heaviest sigh, clutching onto the almost empty mercedes cup in your hand. you look over your shoulder, watching lily and carmen walk away without you in the direction of where the boys would be.

you stare at the unfamiliar, yet somehow most familiar, pair of brown eyes boring into your own. in the back of your mind, you remember the hushed giggles and how his hand used to feel in yours while you were in the streets of melbourne. you can almost remember what he sounded like when you were just kids, and the man that stands in front of you barely looks like what you remember of him.

you were devastated when you lost oscar's phone number. when you moved away to inevitably stay in the united states, you had every single intention of keeping the friendship with oscar. you just needed a week of settling in. you barely made any other meaningful friendships worth keeping in melbourne; all except the one that you had developed with oscar.

arguably, you could have done more to find him again. you could have gone on instagram, or any other social media site to try and keep the friendship alive. but you thought, after all those tears you shed before your departure, it would be better to stay away.

you only ever thought of oscar once in the past couple of years. the night before your first date with logan: you couldn't fall asleep from the nerves and anxiety. you had gotten along well over the phone, the williams driver playing his cards right every single time he would send you a text message and had your cheeks hurting from smiling too much and kicking your feet in the air.

you came across pictures of you and the young boy in melbourne, tucked away in a dusty photo album that you kept stored under your bed. you don't reminisce much: the memories you had up until you were 16 are a blur in your head. too much had happened, and the only memory that you keep with you is the fact that you moved around more than the average person.

"it's been a while," you finally speak, readjusting your shirt. the wet patch on your shirt, now slightly cold from the weather, your jacket doesn't really do much now to keep you warm. "how have you been?"

you can physically see the gears in oscar's head turn. his eyes bore into yours as he contemplates what he will say to you. if this had happened sooner after you had stopped talking to him, he would know what to say to you. because he spent his nights, and logan's mornings, talking about what he would say to you.

oscar presses his lips into a thin line. he has two choices now: unload the frustration he's forgotten about as he grew into an adult, or just be civil with the girl he could have sworn was the love of his life at 14. you never left his mind, even after all of these years, up until the moment that he met his now girlfriend, lily. he's a firm believer that you would have lasted forever if you had just stayed.

"i've been good. i'm a race car driver now," he smiles, gesturing to the paddocks around him. he's just going to try and ignore the fact that you're dating his literal best friend. "i told you."

you throw your head back with a laugh, making oscar drop his smile in the slightest of ways. he feels his chest close in on itself at the sound you're making. sometimes he fears that he'd never truly gotten over you, but that seems more like an overreaction in normal circumstances.

oscar wasn't aware of the fact that it could very well be the truth right now.

"you always did tell me you're going to be a racer," you agree with a smile. you remember going along with him to an obscure go-kart establishment once when you were growing up. it simply wasn't your thing, but you supported him through and through even as a young 14-year-old. "small world, huh?"

oscar nods with a small smile. "so, um. what happened?"

you tilt your head. "what do you mean?"

"you stopped answering my text messages out of the blue one day after you moved," oscar laughs softly, shrugging. "did i do something wrong? what happened?"

you sigh, closing your eyes as it hits you. there is something about the way his eyes are turned down slightly, and it doesn't take a genius to tell that he's trying to smile through whatever emotion he is feeling.

and you understand it if you were to put yourself in his shoes. it's genuinely all on you: you had promised that you wouldn't drift away from him before you left. you promised him, back then, that there would come a time that would bring you back together to give your relationship a fighting chance.

keeping in contact was very essential to that promise.

you don't think of oscar. but now that you do, you can see the scene of when you were about to leave playing vividly in your head. he had asked you for one simple thing: not to drift away so that someday, you can meet again and give yourselves a real fighting chance.

because realistically, at 14, there was not much to fight for but the overwhelming surge of emotions you have for something that is often categorised as puppy love.

but oscar knew even then that there was definitely something more.

"i dropped my phone in the lake. i got a new phone and a new number," you whisper dejectedly, trying to avoid the intensity of his stare. and you're prepared to receive the brunt of his anger, understandably so after you had unintentionally ghosted him. "i'm sorry. in hindsight, i should have done more to reconnect with you - social media is powerful, after all."

oscar nods, his lips pressed into a polite smile. though you can notice him clenching his jaw as he tries to force himself not to cause a scene in such a public setting.

a setting where your boyfriend, his best friend, would be involved. and his girlfriend who doesn't deserve this type of scandal tied to her name.

"we were just kids," oscar shrugs. but there's a bitterness in his mouth that he cannot ignore for too long. there is a bubbling urge from the deepest part of his gut to scream at you for all those days he swore he was going to go crazy from the pain of suddenly losing you. "i was bummed, though, when i lost you."

bummed is an understatement. the degree to which he grieved is unspoken between him and logan.

he doesn't blame logan for being overprotective of him when lily started to come into the picture. he was sat down by the american, by the sidewalks during their morning run, asking him to think long and hard about this.

it's the only time they had spoken of the instance that oscar almost lost himself. oscar waved off his concerns and said he was sure of what he has with lily, and that's a decision that he is still very proud of.

"i was devastated. but i was also scared," you whisper with a smile. "we were 14, but what i felt for you at the time... it was bigger than us, oscar. we had no fight against something like that."

oscar smiles. "logan is good to you, i hope?"

"we only just got together a couple months ago," you nod, "but he is amazing."

oscar nudges his head towards the direction that lily and carmen had walked towards earlier. you hop off your spot to catch up as he starts to walk by his side. "i've got a girlfriend of my own now. her name's lily too."

"doesn't that get confusing when you're all together? with alex's girlfriend and yours?"

"sometimes. but we don't hang out with the older drivers often," oscar admits with a scrunch of his nose. you have to bite back a laugh at his habit, seeing that it's something that has never left him. "it's a bit awkward. logan and i are typically together more often than not."

"how come?"

"we've only got each other," oscar shrugs. " we met at a karting race when we were really young. we kept in contact when we were apart. i think i may have told you about him a couple of times - my best friend living in florida."

you purse your lips, trying to rake at your brain for a time that oscar said that to you. unfortunately, your memory doesn't go that far back into the details of what you had. "wow. there's a lot i must have forgotten. i didn't know you went way back."

oscar smiles. with the little bit of resentment he has towards you, he completely understands (at his big age) why you don't seem to remember it as well as he did.

which is why he hated that he fell in love with you. he had made you his world and the meaning of his life, causing him to fall apart and crack at your goodbye.

you were an integral part of his life, but he was just a sliver of a memory in one of the places you had stayed in for a year or two. it had taken a while to start seeing it the way he does now. he hated you for what you did for years until everything started to fall into place for him in his head.

suddenly he understood why you were hesitant to befriend him in the first place. it must not have been easy to keep leaving friends behind.

"nah, it's alright. if i had such unstable environments like you did growing up, i'd have turned out much worse than you," oscar laughs. "did you move again after you moved to washington?"

you nod again. "one more time. we moved to la after three years - you know my dad. but it wasn't as severe as moving end to end of the world from australia to the united states, i guess."

"ba- oh." you calmly turn to the side, beaming when logan approaches you with confusion on his face. "i was looking for you all over the place. lily and carmen told me you ran into an old friend?"

logan had noticed oscar before you, the bright papaya orange that oscar sports all year around is not easy to miss. "i see you met oscar! what a coincidence."

"yeah, we," you laugh, rolling your eyes playfully as you meet him halfway, "funny enough, babe. we used to go to school together. in melbourne when my dad had business there when i was younger."

oscar presses his lips together, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet. he knows it won't take long for logan to complete the puzzle.

"oh?" logan furrows his eyebrows at you, one hand on your back protectively. "small world. oscar's actually my best friend - he's on the family fridge back in florida."

"yeah, he mentioned!" you beam, wrapping your arms around his. "who would have thought that the oscar you keep talking about is the same one i know?"

logan smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "right! so this is my guest for the weekend, man. my girlfriend - we met over the winter break. i can't believe you guys go way back! this makes it so much easier, doesn't it?"

oscar wants to run away. doesn't matter where, or how he will get there, because all he can focus on is the way you're leaning into logan's touch and the way logan's smile is so bright that it could be seen by the stars.

you clearly just had that effect on people. he's just another one of those people who fell for the welcoming aura you emit.

"did you guys know each other well?" logan asks.

oscar shares a glance with you. but he knows logan, more than you, perhaps. if logan finds out the history that you share, he will not be able to live with himself. he would leave you, leaving all three of you devastated.

so as you open your mouth to respond excitedly, oscar speaks over your mutter. "not really, just had a couple of classes together," oscar lies with a smile. he reluctantly settles for logan's excitement instead of your confusion. "we bumped into one another, i thought she looked familiar."

"oh, yeah! have you got an extra shirt i could borrow? i spilled coffee all over my top," you laugh, pulling down the zip of your jacket slightly to show him the patch.

"mate, i need to go and find lily," oscar says, reaching out to pat his friend on the shoulder. "i'll see you tonight. dinner afterwards, right?"

truthfully, he wants to ditch it. but you were both 14. it's not fair to keep holding it against you when all the odds were stacked against you both.

"absolutely. i'll see you tonight, man," logan smiles, waving at him as he walks away.

he can briefly hear your conversation as he fought all urges to turn around and glance at you.

"are you sure you want to borrow my shirt? i've only got my williams team shirts in my driver's room. i can ask someone to go out and find you one, if you'd like."

"no, of course not! i want everyone to know i'm with the williams driver, you know? announce it to the world."

logan sounds so into you, and he can't fault him for that. you've got a way with people that just reel them in. he should know - he was one of those people that were wrapped around your finger.

oscar's girl, as logan would tease during karting when he was resigned to a corner to text you after the race.

but in his head, you will always be his girl, because that's what he used to call you. that's the memory of you that will live in his head forever.

@myxticmoon @fangirl-dot-com @f1enthusiastsstuff @barnestatic @ladywhistledownx @holy-macncheese-balls @lightdragonrayne @almostjollypizza @sleepybrokenmelle @flyclaren @sagestack @de1u1ugyal @starssfall @cherry-piee @cstads-blog @renarots @strrgirlxqs @uuoozzii @bringbacktim @esposamultifandom @ssprayberrythings

#THIS IS #SOOOO #???#sucked imo #anyway #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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apclyptc · 4 months

Text

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN PT.2—matt ver.

foreword: please read the first part linked here for this to make any sense! i mean technically u could read it as a stand alone but it’s best read with part one 😇

warnings: nice little makeout sesh, fingering, love bites, praise, lots of praise, erm insert more warnings here

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“i pick… matt.” you spoke.

matt’s eyes widened, but only for a moment. you suddenly felt like a fool, he was one of your best friends, you’d known him forever.

but at the same time, this had been a long time coming. it was going to happen sooner or later, right?

nate’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“i was not expecting that! i think this game has been my best idea ever so far.”

you rolled your eyes playfully, “don’t get so ahead of yourself, this game is still stupid. but i will admit that it has been funny.” you turned to matt again, his face unreadable and it made you nervous.

“so uh, which room are we even going in?” matt’s eyes averted from yours. oh god, is he going to let you down gently? was his hand on your thigh just a friendly pat and you’d read into it too much because you wanted him to touch you just once?

you’d simply die if that was the case. was it too late to choose waylon?

nate pointed towards upstairs. oh god.

“pick any room. well maybe not mine, i still have to sleep in it tonight.” nate winked, causing a few of the others to laugh.

“cmon, we’ll only be up there for ten minutes. don’t be ridiculous.” matt shrugged off his friend’s suggestive comment and stood from his chair, signalling you to stand too.

‘we’ll only be up there for ten minutes’. you wondered what you’d get up to if you had longer.

you followed matt up the stairs into what looked like a spare room, and he shut the door.

“nate has really outdone himself this time, don’t you think?” matt asked, as if he was putting himself off of an inevitable and awkward conversation.

“yeah… it almost makes me scared to think he’ll try to one-up this next time.” you responded. now that you were up here alone, you were realising the errors of your ways and you desperately wished that ten minutes would be over as quick as it started.

“listen, y/n. we’ve been friends for a long time now, so i understand if you want to just sit here and wait out the ten minutes.” he explained.

the way he worded it made it seem like he didn’t want to just sit here, but he was okay with it if you were.

surely not…

“we could do that,” you began, mentally noting that his face dropped ever so slightly, “or maybe we could… never mind.” you realised half way through your reply that you couldn’t bear to hear yourself say the words to him.

but matt wasn’t going to let that happen, not now, knowing that maybe what he was feeling was reciprocated.

“we could what?” he stepped closer to you, the room feeling smaller than it was when you first walked in.

“it doesn’t matter, it was stupid.” your breath hitched in your throat, he was getting closer and closer to you until there was barely any space left between you.

“tell me. i just want to hear you say it, once.” matt’s hand came up to rest on the side of your neck, the hand that was adding pressure to your thigh not long ago.

“i mean, it’s just a game, right? so we could… just…” you trailed off as his lips came into contact with yours. it was a soft, slow kiss, that melted your brain into mush.

“this isn’t just a game to me.” he spoke before reconnecting his lips to yours. soft and slow was no longer how your kiss could be described. no, this time it was desperate, charged, with clanging teeth and roaming hands.

you couldn’t believe one silly card game could put you in such a position.

matt walked you to the edge of the bed, sitting both of you down and placing his hand back on your thigh. you pressed them together, trying to distract yourself from the arousal that was no doubt pooling underneath your skirt.

pulling away from you, he mumbled, “i was hoping you felt the same way.”

the needy expression on your face was more than enough of an indicator, but if there was any doubt in his mind, it was instantly quelled when you took his hand and let him touch the dampness of your underwear. he sighed with want, dragging his fingers along the wet spot.

“please, we don’t have long.” you pleaded, and who was he to deny you?

tugging the waistband of your panties down your legs, he admired the glistening of your pussy, begging to be touched.

“so pretty.” a single finger swiped at your core, and you let out a short breath.

matt slowly increased his pace, stroking up and down at your leaking cunt, as if mesmerised by it.

truth be told, he couldn’t believe such a thing was happening. he’d had only the smallest of feelings for you when you were younger, but they had quickly blossomed into something much more, or rather they had torpedoed into a carnal desire for you once you had traded hoodies for tube tops.

he couldn’t control his urges for you any more than you could.

“matt,” you pleaded again, aching for more, “please.”

matt could cum solely from the sounds escaping your throat alone, but he had decided to use his ten minutes to make you feel good rather than himself.

using his fingers already coated in your slick, he pushed them inside you. the moan you let out had surprised the both of you, and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand, letting your other stabilise yourself on his shoulder.

“keep quiet, you don’t want everyone downstairs to hear, do you?” he spoke softly, and you weren’t sure if he actually wanted an answer to his question, though you weren’t in any position to answer. you were too focused on muffling your moans with your hand.

just like he had done downstairs, matt attached his lips to your neck, leaving another bite next to the other, this one darker than the first.

he pulled his head back to admire his work.

“i’d love to cover you in these,” he continued thrusting his fingers into you, “they suit you.”

you felt a twang in your stomach.

“you, fuck, you should leave them in places where no one can see but you.” you panted, struggling to speak without whining expletives.

“yeah? you want that?” matt glanced down at where his hand connected with your pussy, and used his thumb to touch your clit.

“ohhh fuck, yes i want that, keep doing that.” you felt yourself already slipping over the edge, getting closer and closer to sweet release.

“knock knock!” nate’s voice taunted from outside the room as he thudded on the door, “times up!”

you instantly felt embarrassed. did he hear all of that?

“i guess we weren’t quick enough.” matt pulled his fingers out of you.

“yeah i guess no-” your words were cut short by matt sticking the fingers that were just inside of you, into your mouth.

“clean my fingers for me, would you? i got them all messy.” he smirked at the implications of his words.

you did as you were told and licked your own arousal off his hand, feeling your cunt clench.

“there’s a good girl.”

straightening yourself out, you opened the door to a beaming nate.

“so? did you keep my sheets clean?” he asked.

“shut up, dude. we didn’t even do anything.” matt denied, walking past nate and back downstairs with you to the others.

nate followed behind, “then how come y/n has another hickey?”

like a deer in headlights, you stopped in your tracks.

“no comment.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

a/n oh my god this is so so so ass. this is what i get for getting drunk instead of updating and having to rush writing this bc everyone’s waiting.

regardless, i hope it was worth the wait! now all i have to do is write the whole chris chapter and pray it doesn’t come out as terribly as this

bye….

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo oneshot #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo smut

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bluetooththereptile · 5 months

Text

Father in law (part two)

(Yandere Bruce wayne x reader)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

This fic is continuation of this one.

Tw: mentions of death, and unsettling images

"Easy now, easy...just focus on taking another step..." Bruce's voice echoed in the silent room, you tried to hold onto the parallel bars, your knuckles hurting from the sheer pressure of gravity pulling on your body, your body trembled, the weak muscles hardly holding on, you didn't want to give in, no, you didn't want to give in and let his large hands grip onto your sides once more. "Easy kid..." you turned your head over your shoulder to look at him, giving him a side eye glare, his damn voice...that damned voice was the only thing that clouded your mind since you were pulled from the darkness you were in. His and Angel's presence didn't leave your side just once.

Speaking of Angel, "Love?" Their voice reached out to you, making you turn to look at them once more "Just a few steps more, see? You already have taken three more than yesterday!" You grimaced at their energetic tone, optimism oozing out of the words. God can't they just shut up? Your mind was irritated, but what was actually scaring you wasn't the fact that you were locked in this apartment complex that you didn't know its location, no, it was the way you were getting used to the parent and his child's presence.

Your legs gave out and your fragile body was once again, held still by Bruce's hands. "Take a deep breath..." he spoke gently, if you were your normal self you'd pull away from those hands, hating the way his thumbs rubbed your flesh to soothe the shaking, but now, you felt...sort of content, that scared you. You didn't know how many days had passed since the moment you pulled yourself out of that horrendous pool of green liquid and gasped for air, your lungs feeling strained, and burning as if you didn't have used them before. You didn't know why you were so putty in their hands, why your mind even though maintaining the memories of your life before your feast with that bottle of Xanax and your inevitable death, was so numb...it felt like you were experiencing things for the first time.

Each meal was a challenge, firstly, you had to convince Angel that you could hold the utensils even if your hand trembled violently, then you'd drop the said utensils and after that Angel would scold you gently for being stubborn and feed you, cooing as you ate your food. Your hunger had peaked, and you ate as if you were eating for the first time, experiencing different tastes like someone who hadn't tasted anything before. You didn't know, but your body's revival had made you very impressionable, every new sensation was new, and it etched into your subconscious as if it was a blank sheet of paper having something written on it for the first time. Hence Jason after his revival in the hands of Joker suffered greatly and its effects never left his soul, haunting him forever.

"Here, I'll let you go, try walking again, just a few steps more, alright, darling?" Why Bruce called you in that tone?! UGH! You put your feet onto the floor once more, your muscle mass was nearly gone and it felt like you hadn't walked before, even if you had the memories and experiences of walking. You didn't know it was because you were nearly decomposed in your casket before they had pulled it out of the dirt and your body was rebuilding itself. Letting out a sharp breath through your teeth, you tried to take another step, your leg gave out slightly making both of them gasp in worry but you surprisingly held yourself steady.

"Such a great learner you are..." Bruce chuckled softly, his chest vibrating behind you, his hands encouraging you to walk further into the open arms of Angel "Just two more steps my love...just a little more" Angel said, beaming. You avoided eye contact with them, those eyes held such a gravitation that you felt like if you looked long enough you'd lose your hold on yourself.

You were unaware of so many things, which was a huge blessing, you didn't know that outside the safe walls of the apartment was chaos unleashed in the media, Bruce had changed the document of your death so you'd be considered still alive, your family taken care of so they wouldn't say anything, and the media now were portraying you as someone that was victim of hackers and personal enemies, you were baptized and portrayed as a Saint, and the public was ashamed in accusing you of those things.

You were also unaware of the fact that Bruce was wrapping you in the bandages of his so-called love, sticking them to your body with the wax of his coaxing words and actions, and soon he'd mummify you in the casket of Angel's arms, gilding your union up with the name of the perfect couple. Bruce already could see the headlines of the paparazzi in his mind, oh it'd be marvelous!

Your death had made something in Bruce snap, the same feeling he had with Angel and the rest of his family, you were his family. Which already meant so much, you were already in the circle of his life, and when you entered that circle, you could never leave. At first, he had despised you for taking his Angel from him but he didn't know Angel's obsession had sipped into the waters of his mind and polluted them slowly. And well, with love, thorns would turn into flowers, wouldn't they?

You took in a sharp breath as you felt your legs getting tired with the weight of your body, and with a final step, you fell into the arms of Angel, letting out a sigh of relief as you escaped from the clutches of the pain as they held you with their surprisingly strong arms. "There there dear, you did well, you did so well..." Angel's perfume filled your nostrils as you buried your head in their shoulder, closing your eyes you were too tired to not melt into their arms, you knew you lied to yourself, you actually didn't want to leave their arms.

Angel helped you to sit down on a chair, and walked away to grab a glass of water for you, Bruce walked towards you and his hands gripped the back of your head firmly but gently, you ignored those hands on the back of your head as you looked towards Angel, humming happily as they walked around, how lucky you were to not see them three months ago, when they had heard the news of your death, how their eyes had lost their light and became lifeless, a dangerous shadow appearing in them as they stared into the oblivion, how they had nearly turned mad, and how hauntingly fast they had switched into normal the moment they held your fragile breathing form, fresh out of the Lazarus Pit.

Your eyes scanned the familiar room full of physiotherapy devices, only for them to settle on the large mirror on the wall, your hallucinations had subsided greatly with the help of the medicine you took but still, the images of what your subconscious perceived were the truth came to you here and there, death had sort of opened your eyes to the other side of creatures, but you only could see those images as the reflections of said creatures, a cat was a walking shadow with two golden eyes or a bird was a ghostly being with a red beak, you could see the familiar dark figure standing behind your chair, Bruce, looking at you in the mirror as his clawed hands affectionately caressed your face, why he looked so much like Batman? You had asked yourself so many times, you didn't know of Bruce's other occupation, and that was why you were so confused by the image of this Batman-like monster looming over you, no one but you saw him, and your mind couldn't comprehend the image of Bruce in his true form, why?

"I was thinking of having a spring wedding what do you say?" You stiffened as Angel spoke, looking at their reflection as they approached you, a fair creature with pale skin, yet their eyes were just like Bruce's, red, and their hand that soon reached out to you and caressed your cheeks had sharp black claws. "What do you say, darling?" Angel purred as you looked at them while they stared at your reflection in the mirror. You knew you had to be afraid yet...those monsters seemed...welcoming. "I'll choose the flowers" you spoke, closing your eyes to not see those sharp fangs in their mouth as they smiled affectionately, you knew you shouldn't give in but...most of you wanted to...and so your head rolled back in Bruce's hands as he chuckled, his deep voice echoing in your mind. With love thorns would turn into flowers...right?

#yandere #yandere batman #yandere dc #yandere x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere jason todd #yandere bruce wayne #yandere bat family #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam

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fioiswriting · 5 months

Text

Reunion | Sequel

[Part 1]

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral f receiving, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, anxiety, Reader has a child, grief, fluff, pregnancy, not proofread.

Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

Words count : 9150

Author's note : Hello everyone!! Sorry for the wait, I've been very busy, but here's part two of Reunion (or at least the first part two, let's call it part 2.1 hehe). Thank you again for all you kind comments and the love you've given my fanfic omg!! Spoiler alert: this is the happy alternate ending! But I've got another bittersweet alternative ending planned 😈 If you think the first part was good enough on its own and the sequel may break the vibe, don't force yourself to read!! But if you need a happy ending, here it is <3 The plot still doesn't make any sense, but hey, we're here to have fun so enjoy ❤️

English is still not my first (or second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes <3

When you wake up, the first thing you feel is the reassuring embrace of his arms around you. You don't want to move, not even when the sunlight tickles your face through the opening between the wooden shutters, trying to make the moment last endlessly. But the growing anxiety in your stomach chases away the illusion of your fleeting happiness.

You close your eyes a little tighter. Perhaps if you try again, perhaps if you try harder, the world around you can fade away.

Perhaps you can wake up again, in a different reality.

But it's inevitable. You know that now you're awake, it's only a matter of time before the two of you have to say goodbye forever. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you have to fight the tingling sensation at the corners of your eyes.

Why have the gods decided to be so cruel to you? They grant you one last taste of his skin on your lips before taking it from you, again.

Haven't you given enough?

Could they not show you mercy?

You who had forgotten him, you who had begun to turn a new page, to seek comfort in the arms of the cold, far away from the fire and the ashes, why did you have to touch the poison that would once again stain your soul?

Behind you, Aemond buries his long nose in your hair. His hand absently caresses the skin of your thigh, just where the edge of the linen tunic you put on sometime during the night when you were cold ends. The fabric is pulled up, revealing the outline of your bottom, and you can already feel your uncle hardening between his thighs, but you don't move.

If you move, you'll make everything more real. Tangible.

You'll speed up the process of losing him, of him slipping through your fingers.

How can you let him go, now that your heart is full again, now that you feel complete in a way you haven't felt for over three years?

How can you let him go, now that your body has retrieve the extension of itself in the arms of the man who was the cause of your torment, your moments of joy, your pain and, paradoxically, your happiness?

"I know you're awake."

You hold your breath and Aemond inhales into your hair. His hand moves down the inside of your thigh, along the hollow that joins it to your groin. He doesn't venture any further.

His thumb rests there and brushes your skin, trying to arouse the desire in you with gentleness.

Subtly.

He doesn't want to hurry, he doesn't want to rush you.

Not when he's been harbouring the impossible fantasy of waking up with you in his arms since the day he nearly died.

He presses harder against you, as if he doesn't want to let you go, as if he wants to be one with you again, and you feel him pulsing against your buttocks, under the linen cloth that has been pulled up a little higher. He says nothing, but he is pleading, needy, in his gestures, which is rare for him.

Something has changed, after all, and perhaps something has changed in him too.

"I am awake, indeed, " you whisper in a voice that is still half asleep. The lump in your throat betrays the feeling of anxiety gradually creeping into your body, and Aemond seems to notice. Under your tunic, his hand moves up along your belly until it nestles against your chest, close to your heart. His thumb draws small circles, once again trying to bring you back to him.

Trying to calm your mind.

"Let us forget for a little longer," he whispers, his clenched jaw resting over your head. "Please."

And you know he never begs.

Aemond takes and doesn't ask.

Aemond believes he is owed everything and never gives in return.

Hearing him beg breaks something inside you, because this is the first time he does so.

Usually it was you, it was always you, begging for peace, begging for more, begging him not to leave you.

Part of him is as desperate as you are; part of him also dreads the moment when you will have to part again. Forever. It's comforting to know that his feelings are sincere, just like yours.

" Make me forget, then." You reply, moving your lower loins back against him, giving him tacit permission to explore your body once more. His fingers move down to your breasts, which he covers softly with his hand, his thumb skimming over a nipple to make it hard. You let out a gasp between your parted lips.

His hand slides lower, his palm flat against your lower belly, his fingertips brushing the light patch of hair at the top of your mound. You feel the familiar warmth growing between your thighs, in your core.

He sighs against the back of your skull, his head tilted forward. His lips search the skin at the nape of your neck, behind the long hair that has become tangled during the night, while his fingers intimately explore the secrets of your body that he knows all too well. The remnants of last night's lovemaking still smear the insides of your thighs and folds, but it doesn't matter; his fingers easily find the little bundle of nerves that they tease until you close your eyes, until your hand grips the damp, shabby sheet that covers the ragged mattress in the inn where you've spent the night.

Just the both of you, in the comfort of anonymity.

"Let me taste you". His voice, still husky, tickles the back of your neck and you feel him shift behind you. When you feel the warmth of his bare chest, against which you're nestled, leave your back, your body automatically tries to move back against him. You still need him. You still need him to chase away the lump of anxiety in the pit of your stomach and the voices that keep reminding you that you're only postponing the fateful moment. Your hand slips under your white tunic and wraps around his wrist to force him to stay there, to hold his fingers against the source of heat spreading from your core. Your hips are demanding, grinding against his hand. "On your back," he insists, and stands up on his forearms.

With reluctance you turn over. You obey, lying on your back, your hair spilled around your head on the flat, uncomfortable pillow on which you slept badly. The white tunic that serves as your nightgown is pulled up, crumpled, just above your crotch, which it barely conceals.

Aemond has swung over your body, silvery strands loosening from the braid that holds his hair behind his head and sliding down his shoulders, falling in loose loops on either side of his face, tickling your cheeks.

His lilac-tinted blue eye glows with a predatory gaze, a ray of light catching in the sapphire he hasn't removed from his socket.

He captures your lips with his own, begging for access. Aemond marks your jaw and throat with light kisses, sucking at your collarbone to make the violets of possessiveness with which he likes to adorn your body bloom. His lips travel down your chest, playing with one of the two small nipples raised by the cool air and by desire, and continue their journey past your navel.

Your heartbeat quickens as he settles between your legs, spreading your thighs to admire the part of you he covets so eagerly. At the same time you bend your legs, your gaze falling on him, on his unravelled hair, on his eye that locks with yours. He is so close to you, so close to your warm centre, and you know that between your folds the sweet nectar that your uncle longs to taste is already flowing.

But his lips trace the inside of your thighs instead, where the skin is soft and tender, and gradually they reach the hollow that connects them to your most intimate part. He takes a malicious pleasure in building up the tension, in savouring every millimetre of you like a fine delicacy, with only the tip of his lips brushing against your skin.

His thumbs spread the tender flesh of your womanhood and then he places a chaste kiss on the very centre of you. His tongue is shy at first, tracing the slit that connects your entrance to your little knob, collecting the evidence of your desire.

As his tongue wraps around your nub, your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white.

Aemond drinks from your essence like a thirsty man, his nose buried between your folds, rubbing your pearl.

The tip of his tongue catches what drips from your opening, and then the flat of his tongue tastes your slit, working its way up to the little nub gorged with desire.

He maintains the same rhythm, revelling in the moans that escape from your half-open lips. Soon his middle finger begins to draw circles against your entrance, the first knuckle sliding inside, then the whole finger. Your head is thrown back and immediately your hand buries itself in his silvery hair, gripping his braid in a messy bun behind the top of his head. Forcing his face against the most intimate part of your body, forcing his lips to work on your wet warmth, you seek more contact.

Aemond adds a second finger. He can feel you tighten around him as he searches for that particular spot, as his tongue continues to play with your bundle of nerves.

As he devours what is his, utterly his.

His fingers, the ones that aren't buried inside you, close around the flesh of your hip in a possessive grip. "Come for me," he whispers against your womanhood, his eyes lifted to you. "I know you can do it."

Your breathing becomes more erratic, faster too. You tighten the grip of your fingers in his hair, your thighs pressing either side of his face, and he collects the sweet taste of your release on his tongue with a hum.

You feel like you're floating. The waves of warmth still wash over you, less and less intense, your breast rising and falling as you catch your breath.

Your hand tucks a lock of his hair back behind his ear as Aemond lifts his face towards you, and you rest your hand against his cheek. His parted lips still glisten with your desire smeared across the lower part of his face. He stares at you without moving, his deep, regular breathing the only sound to break the silence that has followed your release. You stay like that for a moment, his gaze burning into yours. At any moment he might pounce on you. At any moment he might close the tiny distance separating your mouths and press his lips against yours like the starving man he is.

It's you who makes the first move. You taste yourself on his lips and your tongue entwines with his in a fiery, demanding kiss.

Straightening up, Aemond creeps between your legs, his hand on the underside of your thighs, holding them apart. He is still completely naked from the night before, he has not bothered to get dressed after your lovemaking, so you can catch a glimpse of his erect manhood, slightly curved. He wraps his hand around to guide it towards your still sensitive wet entrance.

He slides into you easily, in one slow movement. The haste of the night before, the urgency of the reunion, has given way to the tenderness and laziness of the early morning, and Aemond rocks inside you slowly. His hips undulate, punctuated by long, deep thrusts, in an illusion of domesticity.

But the damp sheets, rough against your skin, the discomfort of the hard mattress beneath your back, remind you that your lovemaking is anything but domestic.

For Aemond is still the enemy, for Aemond is supposed to be dead.

For your family is probably looking for you at this very moment, worried that you have not returned home for the night.

But you push those thoughts away. The weight of your uncle's body on top of yours soothes the knot that forms in the pit of your stomach at the thought of time slipping away, at the thought of having to leave him again, at the thought of this being the last time you will taste his lips, his skin.

Aemond is gentle, and that is rare enough to be worth mentioning. He has never been so gentle, so soft, in the limited time that you have been married.

Between you, there had been the devouring, consuming passion, the power play that in your submission had granted you dominance.

Between you it had been raw and devastating more than gentle and tender.

His fingers run the length of your body to your core, combining his slow, deep thrusts with the movement of his fingers against your clit.

There are only few words exchanged between you, as if you were both afraid to break the grace of the moment.

His panting, noisy breath echoes in the silence, skimming the skin of your throat, then mingling with yours as the shadow of his lips brushes against yours. He rests his forehead against yours, your hand cupping his cheek, sliding behind his neck, and you are transported into a cocoon of intimacy where nothing else exists around you.

There is only his body against yours, warm and reassuring.

There is only him inside you and the slow movement of his hips.

There is only your breathing, blending in the space that separates your mouths.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" He whispers against your lips as you close your thighs around him. "How much I dreamed of this tight little cunt?" You swallow his words. Your hips meet his as he pushes against you. He is reaching deep inside you. Despite the intimacy of the moment, his body oozes power and darkness, and you can't help but be drawn to that side of him that complements yours so well.

You can't stop your body from aching for him.

"You could have been my queen," he says as his movements grow stronger. He won't last long, but neither will you. He's inside you, where you like to feel him, and your walls clench around his member. "And I would have set the whole world on fire for you." He thrusts. "Burned it to the ground" He thrusts again. "All for you." And again.

The old wood of the bed creaks with each of his movements.

You seek out his lips, just to brush them against yours.

Without sealing the kiss.

"And I would have accepted," you answer with a whimper. "I would have been your queen, qybor." In another life, you think you would.

In another life, in another universe, you would have been his queen.

A grunt escapes his lips and lands in the hollow of your ear. Aemond straightens on his bent elbow, right next to your head, and he plunges into you one last time, with more power, more vigour, just as his new position allows.

You close your eyes.

A second wave of warmth is about to engulf your body.

And you wait for it, you welcome it.

"Look at me when I come inside you," he growls hoarsely as his seed pours deep inside you, into the most intimate part of your body. "Look at me as I fill you up."

Your eyes lock with his, fiery as ever. A final moan escapes between your lips and you seal them to your uncle's in a feverish, wet kiss. You hold him in your arms for a moment longer, as if to allow yourself the luxury of illusion for a brief instant.

You delay the fateful moment a little longer, fighting the minutes that inevitably slip through your fingers.

"Stay inside me just a little longer," you whisper, burying your head in the hollow of his neck where you can feel the rapid rhythm of his pulse. His arms close around you, holding you tight against him, and you hear him purr against the hair on the crown of your head. He rocks you gently.

The silence welcomes you both into its embrace and you savour it like a treasure. Your body aches in the sweetest way, your insides throbbing around his softening manhood.

And around you, nothing exists anymore.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

"I've changed, you know." His hoarse voice vibrates against you, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You keep them closed.

You're not sure if Aemond has really changed. Aemond is ruthless, cold, brutal, calculating, merciless. Cruel. You're not sure if Aemond can ever change, but he shows unusual tenderness, and maybe, just maybe, you allow yourself to doubt. You indulge in the illusion.

Perhaps Vhagar's death has broken something in him.

Perhaps it's true, perhaps he's not the same man anymore.

He's not sorry for what he has done. He never will be. He's too proud, even if you can catch the glimmer of remorse that colours his icy eyes when he is not looking at you.

Does he think of your little brother? Is he haunted by the memory of him, as you have been for so many years?

Does he think of the innocents he killed without flinching, the blood he spilled in the Riverlands that now stains the burned grass?

Is his sanity slowly being eaten away by the atrocities he has committed with his own hands?

He has changed. You are not sure if he's changed for the better or for the worse, but he has indeed.

Daemon has changed too. So has Rhaenyra. So has Jace.

You too have changed.

For war changes people, war makes them weary and wary, it shatters something in the body that will never be the same again. It hollows out the roundness of the cheeks, it deepens the dark circles under the eyes, it fades the sparkle of childhood that remains in the eyes.

Aemond seems to be waiting for an answer, but the words remain stuck in your throat. I know, you want to whisper, I know, but suddenly you've forgotten how to speak. His thumb draws the soft line of the underside of your breast.

The future terrifies you more than ever. You had made peace with your past, you had come to a conclusion that, even if it pained you, had given you some respite.

Seeing your uncle alive had reawakened your demons.

Spending the night in the embrace of his arms had revived everything you had buried deep, deep down.

The past had returned, creeping towards you, gnawing at the corners of your heart and at what remained of your sense of stability and certainty.

Now you are plunged into doubt.

Just as you were a little over three years ago, when you were informed of his death, when you had to learn to live with the choice that had never really been given to you.

Just as three years ago, when you noticed a familiar lilac-tinged blue in Rhaegar's eyes.

Like when you had to live with the memories that haunted you, that were slowly eating away at what little sanity you had left.

Like when you finally decided to leave for the North.

Aemond seems to sense your anguish, because his fingers get lost in your hair.

"What are we going to do now?"

Finally, you dare to utter the inevitable words that have been hanging on the tip of your tongue since you woke up, words you've swallowed so many times this morning. You immediately blame yourself.

Saying them only makes them more real.

They tear at something in the imaginary cocoon you've built for yourselves. You bury your face against his skin, breathe in his scent, as if you never want to forget him.

For you know how fleeting memories can be.

You remember how his face faded with each passing day.

You don't know if you'll ever be able to experience it a second time.

"We could leave," Aemond replies, as his fingers venture to your jaw, caressing the line of your cheeks with the back of his knuckles.

He's so pragmatic, as always.

Even in this situation.

Even now.

It makes you want to shake him.

"We could run away," he says again. His gaze, fixed in the distance, falls on you at the same moment. "To Essos. Pentos. No one would know who we are." You close your eyes, and let his hoarse voice lull you into silence. "To start our own family, the three of us."

You know he is not serious. Even though he looks at you with such insistence, with that flame that flickers in the centre of his iris.

You relish his fantasy, this impossible dream.

But you can't leave your family; Essos is not Winterfell. There, they knew where to find you. They knew you were safe. They knew you were sheltered between the walls of the northern castle, under the heavy furs, under the protection of Cregan Stark.

Essos is the unknown.

You cannot let your mother lose her only daughter, not after everything she has already lost.

The itch is familiar, tickling at the corners of your eyes. There was a time when you thought you'd lost that sensitivity. When you thought the war had left you cold, incapable of feeling anything. Incapable of crying.

"You know I can't." Your nose rubs against his milky skin, made clammy by sweat. You keep your eyes closed because you feel the weight of his cold gaze on you, his furrowed eyebrows as he stares at you blankly, his lips pursed in a long, thin line. You don't have the courage to meet his accusing gaze, let alone the wounded look on his face as you crush all his illusory dreams into dust.

When did you become the more pragmatic of the two?

When did you become the one responsible for bringing Aemond back to reality?

It used to be you, the one who filled your mind with unrealistic dreams, the one who dreamed of stories and fairy tales, back when you could still dream. "They need me, you know that."

A sneer stretches across your uncle's lips as he swallows a chuckle that sounds more like an ironic growl. You feel his whole body tense against yours, a sign that he's holding back his annoyance.

A sign that he has something to say, that he's upset, but doesn't quite know how to put it into words.

"Like they needed you back then?" he replies scathingly, bitterness on the tip of his tongue. "When they used you as a bargaining chip to achieve their ends, hm?"

Your red cheeks burn with shame, as if he'd slapped you. You don't move, merely swallow hard. You know there's something right about what he is saying, but you don't want to admit it.

You've done your duty.

You've done what is expected of you as a daughter.

It was not a question of them using you. It never was.

It was your duty, only your duty, what you were always meant to perform, wasn't it?

And yet a small voice in the back of your head had already given you a similar speech, a few years ago, but you had tried to silence it.

You refused to let Aemond admit it. You refuse to allow him to do it. He had no idea, no right to criticise your family when he'd acted like that.

When he has done what he has done.

He has no idea what it is like to be a daughter.

You don't answer, and silence falls between you again.

You wish so desperately that he could go home with you; that he could tell them that he's sorry.

You wish it were easier.

There is no one left to wait for Aemond but you, but his son, you know that. His family has been decimated, as has yours in some ways, though you still have your parents and your older brother.

For your uncle, there's nothing left but the shadow of his existence, the shadow of who he once was, long ago.

You let your hand trace the side of his throat, your nose buried against it, your lips hovering over his skin. You lean against him, your body on top of his, pressed together as if you were afraid to let him go.

"You could come with me instead," you whisper, but you refuse to meet his gaze. There's something shameful in the words you've just spoken aloud, something naive, and your burning cheeks are proof of your embarrassment.

Almost imperceptibly, he clenches beneath you, holding his breath. This is a bad idea and you feel stupid. Naive to have dared to suggest something like this.

His voice purrs in a hm that vibrates against you. He's about to say something. He searches for words. "You know that -"

"I know." You cut him off sharply - a little more than you would have liked, your eyes raised to silence him.

You know what he thinks.

He thinks that Rhaenyra will never be his queen. He thinks he will never bend the knee to his eldest sister and her authority, which he doesn't recognise.

He thinks that with the death of Aegon, with the death of the children his brother fathered with Helaena, the throne belongs to him.

And you are aware of his ambitions. You know how perfectly the conqueror's crown fits his head. You know how it sets off the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. You remember the look of greed in his eyes every time he stared at the Iron Throne, you remember the look of pride on his face every time he scorned anyone who dared to question his decisions as Prince Regent.

You know how mercilessly he made the soldiers at Harrenhal kneel, forcing them to contemplate their impending deaths. You know the terror he has sown throughout the Riverlands.

Even in the Seven Hells you could have found more mercy than at the hands of Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond may have changed, but you're not sure he's changed enough to put aside the pride that is consuming him from within.

You take a deep breath. "You don't really have a choice, qybor."

Fearing his reaction, you curl into a fetal position, your back to him, your knees drawn up to you. You close your eyes. You wait for his frustration.

You wait for his sentence.

You know that he is aware that he has no choice.

He has only two options: swallow his pride or sink back into the abyss, disappear into the dark meanders of oblivion.

Rhaegar needed his father, of course, but you found him a father in Cregan Stark.

That was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

There was no way you would give up what family you had left.

For Rhaegar needed his grandparents and his uncle even more.

Behind you, you feel your uncle's hand slip under your tunic and around your body, pulling you against him. He presses his bare chest against your back, tucking your head under his chin. His hand caresses your stomach, then his fingers brush the base of your breast.

"You know she will never be my queen. You know the throne belongs to -" But he lets the words drop without finishing the sentence, the knowledge of what he was about to say hanging in the air between you.

As long as he remains alive, will the embers of war never truly be extinguished?

You don't know, but you accept the risk.

You close your eyes, as if you're about to jump into the icy depths with both feet.

"The rest is up to you, Aemond," you whisper, barely audible. "And if you have truly changed, then you will know how to make the right choice."

He says nothing.

You savour the last few minutes of illusion you have left.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

The fear of making the wrong choice never really leaves you, but your mother chases your fears away, as she so often did when you were a child, tucking one of your dark curls behind your ear. She has her distinctive little smirk on her lips, the one that pulls the corner of her lips up towards her nose.

The same one Lucerys had, you think sadly.

You still miss him, even after all this time, and sometimes you wonder what kind of young man he would have become.

"You're a clever girl, my sweet clever girl," she whispers against your forehead as she cradles you in her arms. She's as beautiful as ever, as gentle with you as ever, despite the years, despite the wear and tear of war that has hardened her features and hollowed her cheeks. "And I know you have made the right decision." She lifts your chin with her forefinger to look into your eyes, and you feel like you're turning back into that shy, insecure girl who disappeared somewhere in the violence of the war all those years ago.

"And if it should turn out that you were wrong... Daemon will be there to intervene. You know he is just waiting for that." You roll your eyes at her attempt at humour, and she plants a kiss on your forehead.

For a split second, you truly are that carefree little girl again.

But behind your mother's humour lie fragments of reality that make your laughter bitter.

The news of your husband's survival remains a hazy blur in your mind. Sometimes you're not sure if this conversation really occurred or if you're dreaming.

You're not sure if what's around you, if the night you spent in Aemond's arms, is real or an invention of your sick mind.

Sometimes you're not really conscious of the events or how long they lasted, the lump in your stomach grows back, and once again you're destined to carve half-moons marks in the palms of your hands to soothe the tension in your body.

You told your mother first because you knew she'd be more understanding. As a mother, as a woman, she knows the meaning behind certain silences, the weight of words, the unspoken words that float between sentences.

You know she can understand your pain and your doubts, but also your love and your compassion.

She was shocked when you told her that her younger brother was still alive. She smoothed her dress, paced back and forth, then took the time to sit down, her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes riveted to your face, looking for clues that would betray what you were thinking, what you might be hiding. She was afraid that he had hurt you. She was afraid that he would rip you away from her, just as he had once ripped your little brother away from her.

Her fingers had gently taken your hand and her thumb had drawn little circles on the back of your hand to comfort you. She listened to you first as you confessed everything.

Where you were that night when you didn't come home.

Who you were with.

And then she took you in her arms. She reassured you. Soothed you.

You had been so afraid of disappointing her, of disappointing all of them, that the tension paralysing your body had finally loosened and you burst into tears.

Things had proved more complicated with Daemon. When he learned that his nephew was alive, that he wasn't forgotten forever in the deep waters of the lake near Harrenhal, he refused to believe you. He was furious. He said he had seen him fall, that he was the one who had taken his life, tearing the sky apart.

You didn't know where to look, and it was in your mother's eyes that you sought support, comfort, anything in the face of your stepfather's rage. You could feel on you the look of disappointment of your brother, Jace, as he held his shoulders up and his chin high. He wanted to prove that one day he would be a good king. With his jaw clenched, he said nothing, looking at you as if you were suddenly so foreign to him. He probably didn't know what to say, for fear of being clumsy, for fear of unintentionally hurting you, even more than by his lack of support.

You know it wasn't his fault.

He simply couldn't understand.

The words stuck in your throat and you found yourself unable to speak, pearls glittering in the corners of your eyes while you waited impatiently for the final blow.

The final death knell that would seal your disgrace in everyone's eyes.

After all you'd endured.

Daemon stood before you, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes hard. He was staring at you as if you'd committed the ultimate treason, and you knew he was controlling himself to keep his anger from exploding. "You're going to bring him to me," he had hissed, his hand closing over your shoulder.

" You will lure him here and he will be put to the sword." His tone left no room for argument. With the tension growing in your stomach, you sought your mother's compassionate look to calm you. You could see the fury in your stepfather's eyes, and also a mixture of fear and feelings of betrayal. You knew that, deep down, he was afraid for you because he considers you his daughter. Because Baela and Rhaena are like sisters to you.

It was his reaction you feared most, not your mother's. His fingers dug into your skin, the floor slipping out from under you, the room swaying dangerously, and your mother had come to your rescue, trying to calm things down with her usual diplomacy.

You can't quite remember the words your stepfather said; in anger he muttered something that sounded like are you really thinking of becoming his whore again? and the words hurt like hell, but you tried to swallow the pain.

Endure, hold your head high. That was what you had learned.

Your mother had suggested you go back to your room or spend some time with Rhaegar, her fingers gently stroking your dark locks, and as soon as you left the throne room you could hear their voices echoing through the door.

They were arguing.

Over you.

Because of you, again.

You took a deep breath and returned to the gardens, where your two stepsisters were making your son laugh by playing with him. They had fun running around in the damp grass to the applause of Baela's little daughter, who clapped her little hands in delight.

Your fingers were still trembling when you joined them.

In the end a solution was found, for your mother feared losing you a second time.

She remembered what had happened to Laenor, your father, when he had grown tired of the court.

She remembered what had happened to Helaena, your sweet aunt, when she could no longer bear to suffer.

It was her worst nightmare to see you torn from her again, now that she had the chance to hold you in her arms every day, to protect you again, to see you grow again.

It was her worst nightmare to see her only daughter, her only daughter and the second of her only surviving children, taken from her.

You and Jace were all she had left of her own blood.

After long negotiations with Daemon, you had managed to bargain for your husband's life in exchange for strict conditions; increased surveillance, no bonding with a new dragon, no carrying of weapons, and the assurance that he would be executed if there was the slightest doubt about him. You proposed that you and he leave the capital, with your son as well. To return to Dragonstone. To start over on a new, blank page in a book that was already too damaged.

For you, it was also a way to ease the tensions between your family and Aemond, and perhaps find a more intimate life with your husband and son.

Rhaenyra had declared that this was the best solution: a guarantee for her to have you by her side again, a guarantee for her that you would be there.

You had been afraid of Aemond's reaction, afraid that his ego would not bear it; that he would refuse, that he would rather sentence himself to his own death than to an existence as a prisoner within his own family, condemned to live as a shadow of the man he had once been in exchange for seeing his son grow up.

But in the end, wasn't he doomed to live as a shadow of the man he had once been, anyway?

He would never be the rider of Vhagar again.

He would never be the ruthless Prince Regent again.

He would never again be the second in line to the throne, the second son greedily waiting for fate to turn in his favour.

He hadn't been all of that for a good three years, lurking in the cold, gloomy corridors of Harrenhal like a lonely monster.

And if he went back, if he rejected your proposal, he would have condemned himself to eternal solitude at the side of a witch you would rather forget.

He had no choice, for he would never be that Aemond again.

When you joined your husband at the meeting place, you were relieved to see him swallow his pride and accept. It was difficult, but you convinced him.

For Rhaegar, for his son.

Aemond had suggested that you run away, far away from everything, and you almost hesitated. Running away would have allowed you to forget, of course.

But your deepest wounds had begun to heal. You had begun to be able to face the ghosts that haunted King's Landing, the ghosts that haunted Dragonstone.

To stop there was tempting, and yet so frightening at the same time.

The unknown terrified you. You needed familiarity now, something to fall back on, for you were so tired.

Now you can't help bringing your thumb to your lips, nibbling the skin at the corner of your fingernail with the tip of your teeth as you walk away from Rhaenyra. A handmaiden brings you Rhaegar, and you struggle to breathe.

You inhale.

You exhale.

The thick tuft of brown hair makes you smile. The sight of your son is enough to give you the courage to walk with a more confident stride. It's as if you were filled with new strength, for you know that he needs you more than anyone else. And for him, you've promised yourself to stay strong.

As soon as you reach him, you kneel and plant a kiss on his plump cheeks.

He's growing up so fast that sometimes you wish you could stop time.

"There's someone who'd like to meet you, sweet boy," you explain, and you can recognise your mother's inflection in your own voice. Sweet boy. Rhaegar looks at you with big, round, questioning eyes, and you wonder if he senses your anxiety, because he takes your hand between his tiny fingers.

"Who, muña ?" he babbles, striding down the cobbled path in the middle of the gardens, hopping on his clumsy little legs, and you smile at his carefree attitude. He stops to watch the bees foraging, bends down to pick up a flower and gives it to you. He's always so curious, so full of life. He's a ray of sunshine that brightens your dull days. You finally understand your mother, the agonising fear she has of losing you. You finally understand the horror she experienced when she lost her four other children.

You also finally understand why Helena threw herself from Maegor's Holdfast.

The thought of what Daemon did still revolts you, and you can't imagine anyone hurting your boy like that.

You turn around. Rhaenyra is still there, in the distance, her crown on her head, her hands crossed in front of her on the heavy fabric of her dress, watching over you. She won't move, a comforting, discreet presence.

A stone bench awaits you by the fountain, on which two cushions have been arranged. A dessert buffet has been set up under the gazebo and you immediately spot your favourite cakes, the strawberry one, the blackberry jam one, and you look down at your son. He hasn't noticed them yet, or he would have already run over, dipped his finger in the whipped cream and stolen a blueberry from one of the tarts, his innocent expression on his face.

He is definitely a lot like you. Mischievous and clever. An angelic air. He is an easy-going child who never throws a tantrum.

Who understands quickly, too.

"I love you. I love you more than anything, you know that, don't you, young boy?" your tone is soft, and you kneel down in front of him, your hands on his small shoulders to emphasise the seriousness of your discussion. You search for your words, hesitating. How do you tell a three-year-old that his father, his dead father, is back from the dead and about to meet him?

Of course, Rhaegar knows that his birthfather was valiant, that his birthfather rode the greatest dragon in the world, that his birthfather died in battle.

But there is so much he doesn't know, so much he will inevitably learn as he grows up, and it is precisely that future that frightens you. You hug him as if you're afraid of losing him.

"Princess."

The deep voice of your sworn protector echoes behind you, and you straighten your skirt.

You know he is there.

You know you will see him the moment you turn around.

Your heartbeat quickens.

Aemond Targaryen stands behind your sworn protector, surrounded by two guards. His hands are bound in front of him.

It is so strange to see your uncle in this vulnerable position. He who for so long has been on the other side, he who for so long has been the one who bent others to his will. He looks at you harshly, and you almost feel the need to apologise.

But you know it is a matter of caution.

You know that Daemon, you know that Jace and even your mother would never have agreed to bring him in if such precautions hadn't been taken.

You admire his resilience, his determination. You admire his ability to hold his head high, to be confident, despite the fact that he is being treated like a common prisoner, about to be sentenced to death.

You struggle to swallow the lump that has formed in your throat.

"Who's that, muña?" Aemond's eyes leave you and immediately drop to the small figure that has appeared beside you, reaching for your hand, huddling against your leg, shy and worried.

Immediately, your husband's icy gaze, his lilac-coloured eyes, soften.

"Thank you, Sir Rowan. You may leave us."

Despite the worry on his face, your sworn protector nods, unties his prisoner's hands and walks back to your mother, accompanied by the other two guards. You watch them leave, and a strange silence fills the space between you and your uncle.

He doesn't look at you; his eyes are riveted to your son, whom he observes with wonder. He looks as if he is admiring the most beautiful and fascinating discovery he has ever seen. You look down to see Rhaegar's reaction, and he seems as intimidated as he is hypnotised by that gaze, by that blue and purple eye so similar to his owns, by this man looking at him as if he were one of the most marvellous things in the world.

"Gods, he's perfect," Aemond murmurs as he looks up at you, emerging from his trance. He comes closer to embrace you. And for once, there is something other than his usual brutal possessiveness and ferocity when his arms close around you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond is shy at first. Awkward.

He's shy and amazed as he follows your son's every move with his good eye. From time to time, his gaze rests on you, as if to make sure he's not dreaming. As if to make sure he is doing right, seeking your approval.

Rhaegar is shy too, at first.

When he sits on your lap, he snuggles up to you, buries his face in your neck, one of your locks curled in his chubby little hand and he rubs it against his nose. From time to time, he turns to give his father a curious look, recognising his own eyes in the unfamiliar face before him.

Aemond's expression grows gentler, a softness never seen in his features before.

Once he has tamed the stranger, the little boy pecks at the blueberries in the tart in front of him. He shakes his legs, hitting your knees in painful little jabs, and your arm wraps around his body to hold him down.

Rhaegar loves cake, and the sugar may be coaxing him, for he's regaining his appetite for talking.

"He really does have my eyes," Aemond whispers incredulously, and his voice, still foreign to his son's ears, causes the little boy to lift his head.

" It is definitely the only thing he has inherited from you," you reply, teasing him with a small smile at the corner of your lips.

Soon Rhaegar finishes the blueberry tart, the cream smeared over the bottom of his face and the tip of his nose.

"He inherited that from you, that is certain." Aemond grins, pointing with his long chin at the boy's voracious appetite for cakes and pastries.

You have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. That your husband is really standing in front of you, with your son, like a normal family.

That he was truly trying to tell a joke.

This form of domesticity is so alien to your relationship, and yet so pleasant, that you find yourself thinking that perhaps you have made the right decision, indeed, if every day can be like this.

"Your muña deserves some cake too, what do you say, little one?"

Rhaegar giggles. Aemond cuts a slice of your favourite cake, the one with the strawberries, and puts it on your plate.

You blush. After all these years, he hasn't forgotten which one is your favourite.

You can't even really whisper a thank you because this apparent domesticity, this feeling of completeness, this interlude of happiness makes you uneasy. Anxious.

You have the feeling that at any moment you'll be plunged back into the horror of what you went through all those years ago.

You have the feeling that at any moment the Gods will be cruel and snatch away this happiness that you've barely been able to taste, leaving only the memory of its sweet taste on your lips.

You breathe in and out, as you often do when you feel your palpitations rising in your chest.

"Do you... do you want to take him on your lap?" you ask your uncle with shyness, your hand stroking Rhaegar's thick brown curls. Aemond looks at you as if you have spoken in a foreign language. Lips parted, he is about to say something, but not a sound escapes his lips. His lonely eye travels from you to your son, from your son to you, in silence.

"I don't know if -"

You can hear the doubt in his voice, and it's almost touching to see him lose his confidence in front of his own son, to see him so nervous and unsure of himself.

You let out a little laugh, not in mockery, obviously, just full of tenderness.

You know what he's thinking.

He's afraid of frightening him.

He's afraid of harming him.

"You won't hurt him, Aemond."

He answers nothing. He still doesn't like to look vulnerable, unsure, and you know it has to do with his childhood. With all he has kept bottled up inside him all these years. He will need time.

Your eyes fall back to the little boy sitting in your lap, and you draw his attention to yourself by stroking the curls on his forehead.

"Do you want to go to Aemond for a while? To kepus?"

you correct yourself immediately, and Rhaegar nods in agreement.

You are amazed at how easily he slips off your legs to run to his father, to pull himself onto his lap, when only a few hours ago he was so intimidated by the presence of this stranger with the eyepatch.

Your uncle automatically puts his arm around his waist to make him feel comfortable, his new role taking root in him. His fingers reach for the cloth on the table, and he wipes Rhaegar's face, who can't help but burst out laughing at his father's clumsy gestures.

For a split second you are lost in contemplating the horizon, the stillness of the sea. You taste the sea breeze on your face.

And then you turn your head towards the cobbled path where the guards and your sworn protector are still stationed.

Your mother is no longer there, and you notice that you have not at any time felt the need to seek comfort in her presence.

You smile, for in the end you know you've made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Dragonstone, 6 months later.

When you walk the corridors of the place that saw you grow up, you are no longer haunted by the ghosts and their incessant cries. A kind of peace has settled over you, a return to the pleasant familiarity you've waited so long for.

You still think of Luke, of course. Of Luke and Joff and little Aegon and Viserys, your brothers you will never see grow old.

But you no longer feel their disapproving glances at every step you take. You are no longer kept awake by their cries, by their tears, by the remorse that twists your stomach.

You no longer blame yourself.

Perhaps you've finally learnt to make peace with yourself.

The heavy door of the bedroom you share with Aemond is half open, and you slip your head into the doorway, piqued by curiosity.

Snuggled on your husband's lap, Rhaegar is staring at the pages of a large book, the corners of which you can guess are horned, the cover worn, from being carried everywhere. You can imagine the jam stains that mark the paper with children's fingerprints. You know exactly which page is missing, the one you and Aemond accidentally tore out and hid so the Septa wouldn't notice, so many years ago.

It is a book about dragons, the very one the two of you used to read hidden under the table when you were so young and innocent, long before the torment of war.

Without a sound, you lean against the doorframe and contemplate for a moment the perfect vision before you.

You don't have the cruelty to disturb them.

"This one is Vhaegar!" shouts Rhaegar, and you hold your breath, searching Aemond's face for any hint that might betray his reaction. The mention of his former dragon is still a sensitive subject for him, you know it.

"Yes, that's Vhagar." he pauses. "She was brave."

From the corner of his eye, Aemond spots your silhouette in the faint glow of the corridor, and his attention lingers on you for a moment. He's almost embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable, intimate moment, but you smile tenderly to encourage him.

"And big!" the little boy adds, energetically raising his arms to the sky to emphasise his words.

"Yes, and big." There's a suspended moment of silence where the words hang in the air, and then your husband gently ruffles his son's hair. It's a tender sight to see them bond like this, and your heart fills with happiness.

Taking a step forward, you step into the light of the room and Rhaegar expresses his joy at seeing you. You smile back at him and approach the chair where Aemond sits, your son on his lap.

Your uncle's hand instantly rests on the curve of your belly, which he still stares at with the same protective instinct, the same fascination, as the day you told him the news. His eyes sparkle.

"Your daughter is restless today."

He looks up at you, not without lingering for a moment on your breasts and their new shape.

"My daughter?" he asks, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"I'm convinced it's a girl. You reply, smiling wryly, and take a seat in the armchair next to the one where Aemond and your son are sitting, facing the fireplace. "And she took after her father, given her temper," you tease him, your hand on the top of your rounded belly to soothe the baby growing there.

Rhaegar's eyes close slowly. Nestled against the chest of the man who, just a few months ago, was still a stranger, he fights sleep, he fights to stay awake, but tiredness quickly overcomes him. And then he falls asleep, his mouth half open, the movements of his breath making his chest rise and fall rhythmically.

Aemond finally gets up. You follow his movements with your eyes as he approaches you, the child in his arms, and he plants a kiss on the top of his head.

"I'm going to put him to bed. I'll be right back." He straightens and lowers his voice.

"I wouldn't fail in my duty and neglect my wife." The heat rises to your cheeks, turning them red at the implication of what awaits you tonight. You're already wet between your thighs at the thought.

But you nod in agreement and watch him walk away.

You are left alone in the silence of the room. The only sound around you is the steady crackling of the fire.

It's strange, you think, to be back on Dragonstone, in the familiarity of the stones you've spent most of your life between, after getting used to the idea of not surviving the war.

To the idea of dying from a broken heart.

To the idea of dying, the umpteenth victim of the vicious spiral of conflict that has torn your family apart.

And yet here you are.

With your own family.

For once you have hope for the future. You hear the cries of your little brother, lost in the storm so long ago, but they are quickly replaced by the laughter of a happy memory.

And finally, you have the absolute confirmation that you have made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** ***

Thank you so much for reading!! <3

Tag list : @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis (I'm tagging you since you asked for it ❤️)

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x niece!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic

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avtrbee · 1 year

Text

in the beginning (part 2)

✢summary: in a final attempt to salvage the rift between your families, you suggest a marriage pact between you and and alicent’s second son (part 2 of in the beginning)

✢pairing: aemond targaryen/reader, 3.7k words

✢warnings: typical targaryen incest, possessive aemond, i think i write aemond in a darker way than what tumblr sees him as, add more lmao

✢a/n: hello everyone! i'm glad by the attention in the beginning got :)) thank you so much for your comments and notes and please do not hesitate to tell me how you feel about my work! your responses motivate me so much, thank you once again <33 there is no taglist for this fic, unfortunately. + gif isnt mine!

The next few days were a blur. True to your mother’s words, your trip back to Dragonstone had been postponed, though you were fairly sure you were to stay in Kings Landing indefinitely as Aemond’s wife. Once the news of your engagement has reached the ears of the realm, you have been subjected to endless congratulations from lords and ladies and their best wishes. Your brothers, on the other hand…well, you didn’t stick around for that.

“You can’t evade them forever, sweet girl,” your mother tells you. She has little Aegon beside her who runs towards you as soon as he spots you.

“Do they hate me?” You ask quietly. You sit on a bench outside of a balcony, wringing your hands. You despise the way you sounded so timid- so weak. At least Aegon is content and happy playing with your skirts, oblivious to any conflict within the family.

You hear Rhaenyra’s steps as she walks to you with a hand on her belly. “Hate you?” She repeats with a small laugh. “You have held Jace’s heart since the day he held you. Luke looks up to you more than anyone.” Her slender finger raises your head by lifting your chin and stare you down with her gaze. “You cannot avoid your brothers forever.”

You weren’t avoiding them…you just preferred to delay their inevitable reactions. Unfortunately, your mother was right. It was Jace who finally cornered you in the gardens, waiting for Aemond to finish his morning sparring.

“I’ve missed you.” Jace’s words cut through the tension first. Guilt floods your mind. Out of all your brothers, Jace was the one closest to you. You remember Laenor complaining as he was tasked to chase two toddlers around the keep, with one going the opposite way of the other.

“It’s only been a fortnight, Jace. I’ve…I’ve been busy with the preparations,” you lie and Jace looks at you with a knowing glare. You avoid his gaze instantly. “Where is Luke? He normally shadows you like a lost pup.”

Jace shrugs. “I’m sorry that it had come to this,” he whispers, walking towards you. A closer look on your brother tells you that he had run away from sword training early as there was a thin layer of sweat that covers him. “I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin during the dinner, I should’t have-”

“I know,” you reply softly. Jace takes a seat beside you and you lean on him instantly. Jace had been your first knight, your first protector out of anyone. “I shouldn't have hit Aegon, too.”

“I don’t like it,” Jace announces and it does not surprise you. Bad blood between the Princess and the Queen’s children are well known. “I don’t want you to marry him.”

“I don’t like it either,” you admit. Not yet, your mind whispers. “Brother-“

“You asked for this, did you not?” Jace asks, looking at you. “Mother told us- Daemon too. You asked for this marriage. He did too, back in the day.”

You twist your head to look up at your brother. You have not heard this before. “What do you mean?”

You feel Jace’s shoulders shake as he laughs. “This is not the first time mother had tried to broker peace with the Queen. I was to marry Helaena and you to Aegon,” your brother tells you and you nod. You had known about the failed efforts and the betrothals that she had offered. “Aegon had boasted your betrothal to Aemond that day and I had never seen him so angry-” Jace laughs heartily. “-Aemond was still a little thing back then, and half as talented with a sword but he still challenged Aegon to a duel.”

“For my hand?” You ask amused and Jace nods in reply. “He liked me that much?”

“And now he will have you.” Jace finishes, “all because you have begged mother for it.”

His stare bores down on you and you feel a sudden rush of anger surge in you.You lift your head out of Jace’s shoulder and stand. “You should be on your knees, thanking me,” you seethe. You briefly wonder if you resemble your mother the most angry. “I am cleaning up the messes you have made.”

“I am only scared for you, mandia,” Jace confesses, taking your hand in his. His tone quells most of your anger, and makes you feel as if nine again with Jace gently scolding you for a broken vase. “We were only children, after all.”

“He was also a child,” you frown.

“Do not act like you were not complicit in teasing him,” Jace warns, “He does not carry bad blood towards you because of some childhood infatuation.”

“I did not tease him by flaunting a pig to be his dragon!” You reason. You were once a child, eager to accept any sort of attention from your brothers and uncles and wary of any action that would lose their favor. You were torn once you were old enough to realize that they had chosen Aemond to be their victim when he had always paid such gentle care for you.

You regret it now, turning a blind eye to Aemond when he was clearly suffering, and guilt bubbles in your chest when you remember Aemond welcoming you into his chambers to play despite looking the other way when he was pushed and thrown to the ground.

You recall his glum mood when you entered his chambers in the afternoon holding two wooden dragons on each hand.

From his seat, Aemond shyly peaked at your approaching figure. You could not have hid the gasp that escaped your mouth when you saw his face. Aemond’s right eye was beaten and swollen blue while his other side had streaks of blood running down his cheeks from his forehead.

“Aemond!” You rush to him, dropping the wooden dragons on the floor.

In a panic, you reached for a nearby rag on his dresser and began your attempt to wipe the blood off of his face. At your touch, Aemond flinches before you realize you have had to be gentle in treating his face. Gentle like he was to you.

“What happened?” You asked, dabbing on the already dried blood that ran across his cheeks. You moved away to dip the cloth in a glass of water in hopes to wipe the blood off his face.

“I was fighting,” Aemond answers, leaning in as you came back with a damp rag.

“Fighting who?” You try your best to be even more gentle once you got the the wound on his forehead.

“Aegon.” He turns his head to look at you when he answers. “I challenged him to a duel to protect someone.”

Your face morphs into shock. “Aegon?” You demand. “He is twice your size! They must be pretty important for them to make you fight Aegon.”

Aemond does not offer you a reply, but you do not mind. His silence means the less his head will move and thus, the more you could clean his face.

“You must see a maester,” you say in defeat. You had gotten a closer look at his now cleaned wound, and though it would not need stitches, it needs a special salve that Maester Mellos keeps in his rooms.

“Aemond?” You call for his attention when you realize he was not listening. Instead, his gaze is focused on the door of his chambers. You follow his sight and realize he was staring on the floor where you had dropped your wooden dragons.

“Do you think I’d ever get a dragon?” He asks.

You were careful enough to hide your pitying stare when he looked at you. You had found that Aemond loathes pity, especially when talking about dragons. You had tried to express your sorrow for him once, but he only responded in anger. “Maegor didn’t have a dragon until he was twenty-and-six,” you offer instead. “He got Balerion after it.”

“I don’t want to be like Maegor the Cruel!” Aemond protested, his eyes misting up in tears. “Aegon tells tales of dragonriding, it’s all he talks about. It’s freeing, he says, and everyone looks like ants when you look below. I’d never get to experience it. Even Helaena has a dragon.”

You gasp audibly, as an idea pops in your head. You grasp his hand, tugging him out of the room. “We can ride Vermithor!” You tell him. “He was King Jaehaerys’ dragon, the biggest after Vhagar so he can definitely saddle two. Maybe even more!”

Aemond snatches his hands back. “I don’t want to ride Vermithor! He’s yours! He’s not my dragon.” Aemond’s face looks at you contorts in betrayal and hurt.

You realize he thinks you’re mocking him. “No, no-” you reach out to grasp his hands again in a desperate attempt to satiate his temper. “I- I only meant you can ride with me! So you could feel what it’s like! Besides…” you trail off, uncertain.

Aemond looks at you curiously and squeezes your hand. You relent immediately. “Would you like to know a secret?” Aemond nods and you pull him closer. “Mother says I’m not to marry Aegon anymore,” you whisper, darting your eyes around the hallway for anyone who might listen. “She says the King and your lady mother had chosen to betrothe him to Helaena instead.”

You look around the hallway again, missing Aemond’s small smile that he could not resist even with a split lip. “Maybe…” you continue. “Maybe she’ll tell the queen to betroth me to you next, that way you don’t need your own dragon because husband and wives share things. All that is his is hers, and hers his.”

“Truly?” Aemond asks.

You nod. “Vermithor can be ours,” you insist. “Whenever you want a ride, you can always find me and we’ll ride together, then you won’t need your own dragon anymore." You tug his hand down the hall with full intentions of running to the Dragon Pit. This time, Aemond did not resist. “Let’s ride our dragon.”

Aemond had screamed so loud as he rode Vermithor behind you, as the dragon flew as soon as he sat down on the saddle. His hands squeezed your waist tighter as he shouted louder while you held on to the reins tightly.

Eventually Vermithor’s ascent comes to a stop, developing into a smooth sail along the clouds. “Open your eyes, Aemond!” You command.

“How did you know I was closing them?” Aemond quips, hugging your waist tighter despite the easier flight. You had no doubt in your mind that his eyes remained squeezed shut.

“Open them!”

For a minute, Aemond is silent. You had half a thought to threaten him to his fall if continues to close his eyes, but before you could word out your threat he whispered softly, “Beautiful.”

Then you imagine he took in the sight of Kings Landing and Blackwater Bay on top of the clouds, admiring the tall structure of the Red Keep and millions of houses surrounding it. From here, he could catch the view of the Kingswood as it peeks at the horizon.

You couldn't agree more. “Indeed.”

He was looking at you.

The rare sight of your mother, Queen Alicent and King Viserys together greets you as you land. Alicent runs to Aemond as soon as Vermithor is escorted back into the pit, and kneels in worry as she hugs her son.

“I thought-” Alicent mutters, smoothing Aemond’s hair over and over. “I had thought the worst.”

“Don’t worry, mother.” Aemond says, with the widest smile on his face. “I rode a dragon!”

Your mother was the sole opposite of Alicent for she did not reek of worry, she radiated in anger. Nevertheless, she rushes to you. “What were you thinking?” Rhaenyra demands. She tugs your ear. “If Aemond had fell-”

“But he didn’t, sweet girl,” you felt the firm hand of your grandfather. Viserys looks down at you with a proud smile.

Behind you, your mother rolls her eyes. “Father, don’t save the damn girl. She’s spoiled enough as it is.”

“Ah, it’s her grandmother’s spirit, I tell you.” Viserys replies, his eyes twinkling at you in pride.

“Lady Alyssa?” You ask, already familiar with your grandfather’s tendency to compare you to his mother. “You and Uncle Daemon’s mother?”

“Yes, brave girl.” Viserys agrees with a nostalgic smile. “Have I ever told you my first ride on a dragon? I was no smaller than a babe when my mother, the Lady Alyssa…”

“If there is any penance we could do, sister, we would do it.” Jace’s voice tugs you out of your memory.

“I am the penance, Jace.” You say, frustrated. “I am the punishment. Our marriage will close the rift that we have opened.” It is not fair- none of it is. You try not to dwell on your situation too much lest you’d be tempted to thrash and throw an unladylike tantrum. If only you, Jace, and Luke were kinder to Aemond, if only Aemond didn’t lose his eye, if only your lady mother and lord father had other children-

“Have you seen his left eye, sister?” asked Jace. His tone is unrelenting and stubborn, too hurt from the reminder that a marriage needed to be born over childhood games. “I hear he has a sapphire in place of it. Some say he exchanges the gem to each day.”

“Jace, please,” You plead quietly, mindful that even in private gardens Kings Landing has ears. You cannot let them see anymore cracks of your house. “I am not asking you to be friendly, I’m only asking for civility for my sake, if not, for the realm.”

Jace holds your stare almost challengingly, before a voice rings out from the other edge of the garden.

“Betrothed,” greeted Aemond.

Your head whips to the direction of his voice. He stalks over the two of you like a tiger, each step a calculated move of restraint. He has grown so much now that Aegon could steal no victories in challenged duels, and you were sure he would fare well against Jacerys despite being a few years younger.

Aemond’s eye glinted in the sunlight as you see it roam your figure before slowly looking at Jace beside you. “Brother,” Aemond greets maliciously with a smirk upon his lips.

Jace gives a tight lipped smile that almost looks painful. He regards Aemond with a curt nod. “Not yet.”

Your head turns back to face your brother with a glare and he meets your gaze in equal rebellion. You echo your previous plea to him in your head desperately as if he could hear your thoughts. Before long, Jacerys relents and breathes out a sigh.

He extends an arm to your head, bringing your forehead close and presses a soft kiss on your temple.

“I was just leaving, brother,” Jacerys says as he steps away from you. It was not the best response he could have given, but you did ask for civility and not sudden camaraderie. You give him a grateful smile as he turns and walks away.

“Hmm,” was all Aemond had to say as he saw the silent batte between the two eldest children of his sister. Wordlessly, he offered you his arm which you graciously accepted and he led you to the opposite side of Jacerys’ path, walking you deeper in the gardens of the Red Keep.

For the past two weeks, it had become a habit for you to wait for Aemond to finish his morning lessons with Ser Criston Cole and you would roam the Red Keep’s halls with your arms in his. Sometimes he surprises you with courting gifts. Once, he had given you a necklace embedded with huge sapphire stones and little rubies surrounding it.

“For your Velaryon and Targaryen blood,” Aemond explained, as you turned and raised your hair. His fingers were gentle as he hung the necklace around your neck.

“Why bother with these courting gifts?” You asked. “I am to marry you anyway.”

“A reminder to the others,” he simply replies.

You try your best not to snort. You had almost smirked in amusement once Aemond had presented you with the necklace. You pretended not to notice that the shades of the sapphires were far deeper than the color of your father’s house, but instead perfectly matches the shade of his left eye. You would not be surprised if the sapphires were cut from the same stone to what was in his face.

Despite your initial reaction to the betrothal, you had found yourself charmed at the gesture- not that you would openly admit it.

“Jacerys is fond of you,” Aemond says after a few moments. He had said nothing as you strolled through the gardens until now. “He is incredibly protective.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at Aemond’s hypocrisy, with the weight of your sapphire necklace sitting heavily on your neck a screaming reminder to anyone that you were spoken for. “He is my brother,” you reply instead, clutching Aemond’s arm. “My first knight before any of the others.”

Aemond gave another hmm, offering no reply until minutes later when he asked- “Does he fuck you?”

You halt immediately, eyes widening at the accusation. You blink at Aemond once trying to understand if you had heard him wrong. Aemond’s gaze looked at you expectantly.

“What.” It came more of a statement than a question.

“Does he fuck you?” Aemond calmly repeats, tugging your arm to continue your walk. If you weren’t too bewildered, you would have noticed the slight tremble in his hand.

“He’s my brother!” You protest, disgusted. Your face contorts in what you would imagine your expression would be if you had bitten into a lemon.

Beside you Aemond scoffs. “As if that has ever stopped our family before.”

You tilt your head in consideration. Well- he’s not wrong. “He doesn’t. He wouldn’t dare,” you answer. “He is a gentleman to a fault. The only women he can talk to freely are me and our mother.”

Aemond’s eyes squint in thought. “Has he ever bedded a woman?”

“Why are we discussing Jacerys’…bedroom activities?” You snap. You do not want that image in your head, especially since his rooms in Dragonstone are directly beside yours. “Please remind me.”

Before you knew it, you had arrived at the courtyard where Aemond had been before he came to you at the gardens. Aemond slows down to a stop.

“Tell me, my lady,” Aemond whispers as his nose trails your jaw. He has caged you in his presence behind a pillar in the courtyard. “Have you ever touched a man?”

You hitch a breath as you feel his hand clump your dress’s fabric, slowly pinching it up, up, up. You feel the summer breeze on your now exposed leg. Your eyes frantically roam the courtyard, wary of any person that was unfortunate enough to pass by, all the while Aemond’s face remains close to you.

You can feel every breath he takes and he lets out as he leans further in you like Aemond was taking a good sniff.

“It’s alright,” he coos, his free arm patting your hair. “I admit I have lain with a woman before.” Your eyes snap to look at him, almost insulted. How dare he tell you this like you aren't his betrothed? You get the sudden urge to rip the necklace off you and throw them on the ground only to see his expression.

But it seems like your anger fuels him more. “Aegon dragged me to a brothel,” Aemond explains, trying to placate you. “If I had known you were to be my wife I’d turn any woman away. So- tell me, my lady, have you?”

Aemond looks at you with a smiling look but you are still wary.

“I have,” you admit quietly and Aemond’s face drops.

“With who?” He shakes as he asks you this, his fist shaking as he holds your dress.

You see the Targaryen madness poets speak about your family in his violet eye that glints of violence no matter what you will say. The madness had killed the builders of the Red Keep,

“A stableboy. In Dragonstone.” Your voice is a whisper as your own eyes look up to him nervously.

“A stableboy?” Aemond repeats, his eye glinting once more before your hand clamps on his wrist in a panic. Aemond’s hand has suddenly wrapped around your throat, squeezing threateningly. There was no dangerous pressure- not yet- but his hands shake like he wants to snap your head off.

“Aemond-” you try to plead but he is far gone.

“You sullied yourself for me,” he whispers incredulously, “for a stableboy?”

“You have fucked a whore,” you seethe as you feel his hands tighten.

Immediately, his hand is gone from your neck. His palm cups the back of your head and pushes it to his chest where he lays his chin on it. “It’s alright,” he whispers, all traces of malice gone from his voice. You feel the vibrations of his voice on your head. “With a mother with three bastards and a brother with hundreds more, we didn’t know any better did we?”

You try to rip yourself off him, insulted at his remark at your mother but his hand remains firmly behind your head. Aemond cages you with his palm and his leathers.

“Shhh,” he whispers. You feel his fingers leave your dress as his palm makes contact with your thigh. You feel your eyes flutter as his hand roams your leg, his fingers gently caressing up, up, up-

“My prince, my princess.”

The way Aemond turned around to face the approaching servant was comically elegant, if his hand were’t so near your cunt just moments before. You try to calm your heart that was beating so loud that you were certain the servant would have heard it.

“There are dressmakers ready for you in your chambers.” To your dismay, the servant’s gaze turned worrisome at the sight of you. “My princess, are- are you alright? Shall I fetch the maester? You’re face is burning.”

“Oh,” You chuckle awkwardly, a hand coming up to your face. “I didn’t realize-”

“The princess is cold. No need for any maesters,” Aemond answers swiftly, before turning to you. “Come, my lady,” he coos mockingly with the devilish smile like he could hear the rapid beat of your heart. “The dressmakers are waiting.”

Absolute cunt.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd season 1 #hotd x reader #dragons #game of thrones #got x reader #aemond oneshot #aemond imagines #Aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen headcanons #aemond headcanons #aemond targaryen imagines #house of the dragon aemond

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izvmimi · 1 year

Text

cw: minors dni. melancholic. thoughts on aging. implied impending marriage.

You’ve asked Malleus once, as a joke, what would happen if you aged.

“Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful?” you sang, the whisper of your voice not unlike the rustling leaves of the swaying trees lining your path. As you remember it now, it was a cold evening in early November, and his hand seemed to turn to ice around yours and tighten suddenly, as though you were to slip through his fingers any moment, blown away by the wind. He stopped walking, and so did you, and you looked into his eyes with surprise, sensing that perhaps you had misspoken. Was he upset?

He looks down at you, and his face is the opposite side of the pale moon. He doesn’t speak.

“Mal…?” you whisper.

He grits his teeth. In the dark, you can feel his body stiffen then finally relax with a sigh.

“I will love you forever,” he answers finally. It seems to calm him to say this, an ease setting into his bones. “Forever,” he repeats to you, and perhaps to himself.

You have never forgotten that day.

However, the passage of time is inevitable, and thus, years have passed.

He calls you the fairest of all roses and you love him, remembering all the while that flowers wilt, while he, like the sun or the stars, remains everlasting. He has been here since you were a figment of your mother’s imagination, and he will continue to exist when you fade into dust.

And yet, a ring of emeralds, diamonds and rubies, arranged almost in a bouquet, sits on your finger, and you fiddle with it nervously as you are introduced to Briar Valley as its future Queen. How long will your reign last? How long will you be by his side?

“As long as I walk this earth,” he whispers into your ear. It’s part of a spell, something ancient, and the fine hairs on your neck stand on end.

You’ve been dressed up and paraded throughout this land so foreign to you. The curious stares of the townspeople have impressed upon you enough - the human who has caught the Prince’s heart! - but they are nothing compared to the way Malleus watches you now. Even if you can’t see him from where he stands behind you, half of his dragon features return to him in his bare state, strong tail wrapped around your midsection, you can feel the gaze.

He says something in an ancient language, and his lips press onto your neck.

“We will exist together.”

Another kiss. His hands settle on your belly to replace his tail around your waist, which now slides between your thighs. In claws shockingly gentle on your tender, fragile skin, runes are transcribed. A seal remains where his fingers work, glowing as the burning magic sets in.

Tears fall from your eyes as you realize what he’s done.

“It’s not worth it just to keep me young,” you insist. You would turn to protest, glaring at him for his sacrifice, if it weren’t for the fact that he still holds you so tightly.

“I don’t care about your youth, just that you’re mine,” he repeats. He's said it so many times before.

Teeth graze at your neck, and fangs sink, hard, and you cry out with pain, slowly abating as more magic is forced through your skin and courses through your veins.

“It’s not worth it,” you sob, as you feel yourself transform.

“It is.”

Malleus turns you so that you are facing him and the green of his eyes shine especially bright as he gazes upon you now. Your whole body seems to be aflame as your souls tie together.

He shouldn’t do this, but faes have before, and will continue to do so until the end of time.

Your heart pounds as your chest presses against his and you realize that they beat in time.

—

“Do you even know how many years you gave up?” you murmur into his skin, the warmth in your cheeks now faded. Perhaps Malleus has finally rubbed onto you permanently, because now you seem to have lost track of time, your prince kissing and caressing you through the remainder of the process.

You will never be fae, but you are something else now.

“They would be years without you. I have no desire to worry about things that are meaningless.”

Malleus’ fingers intertwine with yours and he kisses them tenderly.

The answer is yes. He’ll love you when you’re no longer young and beautiful.

He loves you enough that till death, and truly, till both of your deaths, do you part.

#malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia smut #malleus smut #twst smut #daydreams: twst #thoughts: malleus #mimi's notes

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loviatarsluv · 3 months

Text

An Acquired Taste

“You play a twisted little game,

but I know in a way,

you need to complicate

believe that though we never eat,

we still know how to feed,

we still know how to bleed”

Astarion x AFAB female rogue tav (third person, no super descriptive features aside from hair color and body)

takes place earlier into act 1, long before the grove party (I have plans for that)

rating: VERY mature (smut incoming lets go besties!!!!!!)

CW: threats of bodily harm (eheh), lots of sexual tension, choking, fingering, oral, some light knifeplay

a/n: I’m gonna be 100% honest w u I have not written in forever so I’m admittedly very rusty, but I have not seen enough enemies to lovers with astarion and I just needed it so thus this was born ^.^

in summary: astarion and tav butt heads constantly and get into a blow up fight where they both say shit they shouldn’t, tav is overwhelmed by everything and he is not helping, so she goes to blow off some steam once they get back to camp and he, of course, petty as he is, cannot let her have a single moment of peace and follows her. she threatens to slit his throat and he gets horny. as one does 🤷‍♀️ (just like me fr)

word count: 7.6k (i'm so sorry i was possessed writing this apparently)

(I have no idea where I got this gif from if someone knows tell me and I’ll tag the op!!)

The trek back to camp is mostly silent, save for the odd comment about the weather or spew of stream of consciousness by Karlach, which provided at least a tiny bit of comic relief.

The air was thick and suffocating between the party’s leader and the vampire who just loved to piss her off - it almost always was slightly tense, but today in particular was much different than what was usual for them.

As soon as they reach the camp, the group splits, all scattering across the site to their own chosen sections of it, Astarion nonchalantly strolling off to his own tent, which just so happened to be the closest one to hers. She audibly growls in frustration, earning a few concerned stares from her companions. She can’t even find peace in her own tent.

Before any of her companions can stop her or inevitably approach her with questions about what happened between her and Astarion or unsolicited and, quite frankly, unnecessary advice, she slips off to the place that had been the one piece of solace she had been able to find as of late. The clearing in the forest near the water's edge that was just outside of camp.

The usually ataractic smell of petrichor mixed with the misty air near the running stream fill her nose as she trudges through the muddy soil, her leather and metal plated boots feeling ten stones heavier than usual. She sets her sights on a fallen tree near the water, sinking down into the dirt before it, releasing a long and deep breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding for what felt like days.

She slowly strips off the outer layers of her lightly plated armor piece by piece, goosebumps prickling her skin with each new bit of skin exposed to the crisp evening air. She discovers a few new bruises and scrapes that hadn’t been there previously when removing certain parts of her gear had become painful, her skin tender and sore beneath it. Her entire body ached, and she was utterly sapped.

The previous few days had been more challenging than anything she’d experienced in recent history - their predicament unfolding before them all in increasingly bleak shades of stormy gray and blood red with each new bit of information they receive regarding the mystery surrounding the parasites that writhed within their skulls. She’d be lying if she said she still held the same amount of optimism toward the prospect of a cure as she had in the earlier days of their expedition. No, that was long gone.

In fact, the only emotion she seemed to feel lately was anger. Rage.

She knew that the world was going to shit prior to being abducted by the mind flayers, but she had never seen for herself how truly doomed it was the way she had since then. It was sobering, to say the least.

She never considered herself to be particularly altruistic or even virtuous by any means, having only been able to survive by picking pockets and slitting throats that stood in the way since her early teen years. She wasn’t proud of it all, and her mind was not unburdened with the guilt that came with some of it, but it was necessary at the time. It continued to be necessary, even more so now.

An image of home flashes through her mind - Baldur’s Gate. The bustling streets, the busy taverns, the upper city where she procured the majority of her coin. She chuckles to herself as she thinks of all of the nobles whose pockets she’d made lighter who were none the wiser - hells, most of them probably never noticed as gold was never in short supply for them the way it was for the rest of the population. They were easy targets only due to their noses being so high in the air that they didn’t notice those beneath them, scrounging the streets for the crumbs they crushed beneath their perfectly polished boots.

All she had to do was bat her eyelashes, whisper the same sweet nothings that worked on every single one of them, and expertly slip her hand into their pockets while they were enchanted by her every move. It was easier than easy, it was effortless.

She almost misses it - things were simpler, then. It had all become routine after so many years of it. Of course, there was still the threat of death looming over her at every turn but at least she could put up a fight against the daggers and swords that were held to her throat - there was no fighting this. She couldn’t threaten the tadpole with knives or swords or warfare, and she certainly couldn’t fight off ceremorphosis by sheer willpower. Sure, she could cut through every goblin, drow, or cultist that dared cross her path if they didn’t offer a cure or information for a cure, but none of that mattered as the creature inside her was nothing more than a ticking time bomb. Every second that passes could be her last without tentacles and an insatiable appetite for brains, and she’d be rendered nothing more than a soulless monster, doomed to follow every command given to it by an even bigger monstrosity.

Her hope and faith in finding a solution deteriorated more and more as the days passed with no answers, no leads, the prospect of making it out on the other side of this predicament seeming ever more distant.

She groans loudly to herself, tossing her head into her hands as she brings her knees closer to her chest, wishing she could shrink and disappear. Wishing the mud below her would form a sinkhole and just swallow her, that way it didn’t matter anymore, nothing would.

“Fuck,” She whispers through gritted teeth as she feels tears starting to well up in her eyes, much to her physical and internal protest.

In spite of her throbbing muscles and aching bones, she pushes herself up from the ground, refusing to resort to wallowing in self pity and mourning her once simple life.

But her chest feels as though it were caught in a vice, clamping down on her ribs and lungs and it felt as if she were fighting for every breath. Her fists were clenched so tightly and her nails dug into her palms so deeply that they were on the verge of drawing blood. She felt the need to scream, to cry, to break something - even though none of it would alleviate the weight that rested on her shoulders so heavily. Nothing that was within her reach could.

She felt like everything had come crashing down on her all at once and she was helpless to fight the barrage of what ifs and the potential outcomes of them flooded her mind.

Then, to top it all, her earlier argument with Astarion resurfaces in her mind.

“Apologies for not being as keen to remove the thing that has given me what I’ve been deprived of for two centuries. I’m only saying that we should—“

“So you’d trade feasting on rats in a dirty cell for feasting on brains at the command of some start-up god? You must really be desperate.”

His crimson eyes that were typically bright and playful were now dark and malignant, his jaw clenched and fangs bared. He looked as though he were about to lunge at her, before Wyll grabs him and pulls him back.

She regretted it the moment it left her lips, but she was too angry and too prideful to take it back. But he was seriously irking her - he provoked it out of her, she could hardly blame herself or feel sorry.

“What about you? Roaming the streets, scrounging through the garbage and the dirt for table scraps, stealing from nobles - you’re no better than the rats I fed on, the only difference is that the ones I fed on were more tolerable.”

It was then her turn to get pulled away, as within an instant her dagger was unsheathed and pointed in his direction. She couldn’t tell who it was that grabbed her - perhaps Gale, she thought, who was much stronger than he looked as he subdued her fairly quickly, wrapping his arms around her and dragging her backwards.

It took a lot of talking both of them down to diffuse the situation enough to safely make it back to camp in one piece, both of them too stubborn and prideful to let the matter rest until they just couldn’t stand to be near each other anymore.

His voice echoes in her head, reminding her of every person she’d ever reached out to for help in her life, degrading her to nothing more than a street rat begging for scraps. Her temper rises as she replays his words - “you’re no better than the rats I fed on” - over and over, finally tipping her over the edge.

She retrieves her rapier from the heap she’d discarded her armor and clothes in, rushes toward a large oak tree, swinging it into the trunk over and over until there’s large slashes in the trunk, the bark flying in shards and bits.

She steps back, breath ragged and heavy, eyes burning with tears that she refused to shed, especially over him and his damned opinion.

She's too enthralled in her own outburst to notice the footsteps approaching in the forest behind her.

“And what exactly did that tree do to deserve your wrath?” Astarion taunts, slowly stalking up behind her.

She doesn’t turn to face him, nor does she acknowledge him at all, tossing her weapon to the ground and walking back toward the stream.

“Tsk, I’m getting the silent treatment now? No scathing insults or cruel comments regarding my past?” He continues to prod, following a few steps behind her.

“Fuck. Off.” She growls through gritted teeth.

He chuckles, the sound bitter and disingenuous, goading.

“Oh, darling. You couldn’t possibly think that we wouldn’t have to kiss and make up after our little spat earlier. We’re stuck with each other in this sordid endeavor, after all.”

Her knuckles have gone white with the force of her clutching onto the fabric of her undershirt that she’d thankfully left on, on the off chance one of her companions came to check on her. Much to her dismay, of course it was the one companion she wished she had never laid eyes on to begin with.

“I’d rather kiss a leech, darling,” she spits, her tone coated in vitriol. “I have nothing more to say to you, unless you’d like me to return the favor of holding a dagger to your throat.”

When they’d met outside the nautiloid crash, and the elf held her at knifepoint demanding information, assuming she was a thrall or working with the mind flayers, she thought perhaps they would get along. She immediately recognized him as a kindred spirit as she knew that she would’ve done the same in his shoes, hells, she was even attracted to him.

Oh, how wrong she’d been.

Well, not about the attraction. That, unfortunately, did not dissipate.

If anything, it only made her hate him more.

He almost cackles, stalking in ever closer, closing the gap between them step by step. She resists the urge to step backwards to increase the distance between them once again, and stays planted in place out of spite, digging her heels into the dirt for extra support.

“I think there’s a lot that we both want to say and do to each other - the question is who’ll be the first to act.” His voice is equal parts threatening and sultry - something only he did so well.

He could make you loathe him and lust him in one fell swoop with ease. It was one of his biggest strengths, and a large reason why she hadn’t told him to piss off and find another group to leech off of. He was useful in and out of battle, much to her dismay.

“The only thing I want to do with you at this very moment is throw your pasty ass in the river and hope that you’ve forgotten how to swim.” She spat.

He continues to stalk closer, their bodies now less than a foot apart.

“You’re stubborn. I like that about you. You don’t accept defeat easily, even when it’s knocking at your door. It’s quite admirable, really,” he pauses to lean forward, lowering his face so they’re eye to eye.

“Admit it, dear, you’ve met your match with me.” He grins a devilish grin that she wants to slap off of his pretty mouth. If he were any closer, she might have.

“This isn’t a competition. I want to be rid of this damned thing and you want to step in the way of my and everyone else’s survival at every turn just for your own selfish sake!” She seethes, her voice raising and echoing through the woods.

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t act as though you give the slightest bit of a damn about anyone’s survival but your own, altruism isn’t a good look on you, pet. You and I are cut from the same cloth, whether you want to admit that to yourself or not.”

Her once empty fist was now grasping the handle of her dagger that she had sheathed and strapped to her thigh, as she always did, a habit that came in handy more times than she’d like for it to.

“I am nothing like you.” Is all she manages to hiss before he finally closes the gap between them, his face merely inches from hers, basically towering over her - their stark height difference being something only he had noticed and fully planned on using to his advantage.

He feels the heat radiating off of her, and he tells himself that it’s due to more than just anger to stroke his own ego. He knew that she was attracted to him, he’d caught her eyes lingering on him when she thought he wouldn’t notice - when he’d change into his evening clothes just outside his tent, when he would traipse off into the woods to hunt at night, and in general throughout their days traveling he would catch her eyes on him, watching him. It made it all the more exciting for him, knowing that even though she despised him, she’d let him have his way with her if the opportunity arose. He was just biding his time for the right moment and preparing all the perfect words that he knew would reduce her to putty in his hands.

“Keep telling yourself that, if it’ll help you sleep peacefully at night.” He whispers, his eyes dark and hungry - she couldn’t decipher whether it was for her or her blood in one way or another.

“How can I sleep peacefully knowing there’s a bloodsucker who hates me in the next tent over from me?” She half jokes, not letting this closeness falter her composure, despite the way her heart was racing a million a minute.

He flashes that damned smirk that he does when he’s up to something, one of his fangs peeking out over his bottom lip as he does, glinting in the golden glow of the sunset. He almost looked human, in this light. His usually pallid skin is nearly lively and his crimson eyes almost appear to be a shade of dark brown instead. Although, she thinks that his eyes were probably blue, before. Not that it mattered, not that she cared.

“What makes you think that I hate you, darling?” His face flashes a feign innocent expression, in spite of his eyes still holding that same intense darkness that bordered between disdain and desire.

“I certainly don’t think that you like me, by any means. And don’t worry, the feeling is mutual.”

His smirk widens into a sadistic grin, both fangs now on display.

“On the contrary, sweetness. I think we need to stop lying to each other if we’re going to continue this little adventure of ours together,” his voice is low and breathy, rumbling in his chest almost like a growl. He brings a hand up to trace the side of her jaw gently, and she flinches away.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” He continues, his once gentle caress turning into a rough and forceful grab as he forces her to look at him, his blood red eyes boring into hers.

“I only watch you because I don’t trust you. I thought that’d be pretty clear.” It was a lie. She knew it was a lie, but it was only a half lie, technically. She didn’t trust him, she hadn’t since the beginning.

He lets out another cruel laugh, and she knows that he caught on.

“Hmm. You know, I’d assume you would be a better liar - how disappointing for you, but delicious for me.”

This was the last straw for her as she promptly unsheathes the dagger that her finger had been itching over since he made his unwelcome appearance into her life, pressing it to his throat, slowly pushing him backwards until his back hits the nearest tree.

His demeanor doesn’t falter for an instant, his face still twisted into that same demented sneer - the bastard was enjoying this.

The air between them was so thick it would have had to be cut with a great sword as their eye contact never breaks, neither of them intending to surrender.

“Give me one reason not to slit that pretty throat of yours.” She snarls behind gritted teeth.

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple grazing against the cool metal of her blade. He stares down at her and can’t help but admire her - eyes wild, long raven black hair uncharacteristically disheveled with some strands sticking to her forehead due to leftover dried sweat and grime, her pressed against him hard with only a flimsy shirt shielding her body from him. He doesn’t even try to hide it, letting his tongue slip out to wet his bottom lip, an undeniably lustful look in his eyes.

It takes her a moment to notice when she finally comes back to her senses after her adrenaline settles, a scowl painting across her face as the realization hits.

“You’re disgusting.” She hisses, pulling away from him, lowering her blade.

Despite her words, the way he was looking at her sparked something in her - something she had done so well to disregard and push down up to this point, but her resolve was weakening under his gaze.

He doesn’t respond, eyes never leaving her as they trail up and down her body, constantly returning back to her bare legs and thighs. And from the angle she stood, with the sunset behind her, her light colored linen shirt was nearly opaque and he could see the outline of her body. He feasted his eyes on her delicate curves, the way her hips jutted out and her waist dipped in above them, her toned arms flexing, muscles clenching. She was unquestionably sexy, and his craving for her had doubled if not tripled at the sight of her in this way, even after she pressed her dagger to his neck. Hells, even then.

She starts to back up as his gaze only intensifies - hungry eyes trailing her body felt like hot coals being dragged across her skin.

Before she can make it more than a couple inches away, his hands are grasping her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh to a bruising point, pulling her back to him and flipping them so that her back is flush against the tree where his had been, effectively switching the roles and asserting his dominance over her, as he’d been dying to do for what felt like centuries.

His icy hand comes up to her throat, closing his fist around it firmly but not enough to entirely restrict her breathing and pinning her against the wood, his face now close enough to feel her hot breath against his cheeks.

The rough bark digs into her scalp and back, his fingers press into the spot just below her jaw near her pulse point. He feels her pulse thrumming rapidly against his fingertips, he can hear her heartbeat racing in her chest.

“You wound me, pet… I almost believed that one.” He purrs, his cold breath and the tone of his voice sending a chill down her spine, and an unwelcome heat through her, pooling low in her core.

With one hand still on her throat, his other hand rests on her waist before languidly roaming the parts of her body that weren’t covered by his own pressed against it.

She feels helpless under his touch, all of her previously built up walls and her icy facade start to melt beneath him, but not without her brain chiming in and reminding her who he is and how bad of an idea this was.

“Let me go.” She whispers plainly, unable to muster enough nerve to yell or scream or fight back, settling for no emotion at all.

He smirks at her, his hand advancing upwards, his fingers laving over the side of her breast, causing her nipples to harden, peaking against the soft linen fabric of her shirt.

“Is that what you really want, darling? Your body tells a different story,” he hums, his finger now grazing her nipple agonizingly gently, disrupting any thought or intention of fighting him off.

She's unable to find a word that could suffice in telling him to stop, but also dear gods please keep going. Her body was taking the reins, and she blames it on having not had any sort of intimacy since long before the nautiloid. Only to avoid the prospect that she was truly enjoying this.

Her silence doesn’t suffice, though.

He tightens his grip on her throat, pressing his index finger and thumb on either side of her jaw to direct her face so their eyes meet.

“I need you to tell me what you want, pet. I can’t do anything for you if you don’t tell me what you want.”

She bites down on her bottom lip almost hard enough to bite through, a slight metallic taste hitting her tongue. Her body was trembling with the effort it took to contain herself, to not give in to him but it was proving to be an insurmountable task. The logical side of her brain wants to say no just so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of her begging for him like he wants, but she can’t. The part of her brain that is apparently driven by the spot between her legs and the rest of her body is screaming over any logic and telling her everything she doesn’t want to hear.

“Harder.” She barely manages to choke out, her voice strained against the pressure of his hand on her throat.

He freezes, his body stilling and tensing up.

“What was that, darling? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He grits his teeth, his voice low and his mouth centimeters from her ear.

“Harder.” She says louder, placing her hand over his and pressing down.

Gods, he could’ve come undone right then and there.

Without another word, their lips collided in a frenzied and feral kiss, one that was inevitable, they both learned, judging by how effortless the kiss was - their lips melding and their tongues in sync as if they’d done it a million times before. Her fingers ran through his ivory curls, tugging at the roots and eliciting a groan from him that sent a chill up her spine.

He obliged her request, slightly closing his fist tighter around her neck, which chokes a moan out of her that he quickly swallows in another kiss. His free hand greedily continues to roam and grab at anything he can - her thighs, her ass, her breasts, her hips. He can't get enough of her, he swears even being inside her wouldn't satiate his desire for her. He wants to mark her, he wants to claim her, he wants her to be his, even if it was only for this purpose alone.

She hooks her leg around his, pulling him flush against her and feeling his hardened cock straining against his breeches as it presses to her lower stomach.

She almost gasps, disappointed but secretly pleased to discover that he was big, from what she could tell through his clothes at least.

She had hoped she could at least say he was small or that the sex sucked after it was all said and done, but she had an inkling that this was just yet another thing she would have to begrudgingly give him his due credit for.

He notices her reaction to the bulge in his pants, and smirks as he presses a wet kiss to her jaw, then rocks his hips forward to press himself against her even harder.

"This is your doing, you know," He breathes, a smirk evident in his voice.

Annoyed by his arrogant words and gesture, she digs her nails into his shoulder, a noise that's somewhere between a moan and a frustrated growl escaping her as he continues to suck on her neck, grazing the skin with his fangs.

“I’m starting to think you like having your life threatened a little too much.” She breathes.

He chuckles, lips still hovering over hers. “Only by you, darling.”

He palms at her ass cheek roughly, surely leaving a slew of intentional bruises so that she has a reminder the next morning, then smacking it - his frigid touch adding to the sting of the rough contact.

She yelps slightly, biting her lip in an attempt to stifle any noises she may make. He shakes his head, releasing her neck and bringing his hand up to trace her lips with his fingertips.

"No, no, sweetness, I want to hear that pretty voice of yours. For now, at least." He has a look as if he was planning something that instantly set her on edge - she never knew what to expect from him, especially not in this sort of circumstance.

"You're such an ass," She grunts indignantly, before he dips a finger in between her parted lips.

Almost as if on pure instinct, she sucks on his digit, swirling her tongue and laving it in her spit. His breath hitches as he stifles a pleased groan. She smirks pridefully, his finger still in her mouth.

"And yet, here we are, darling."

In rebuttal, she bites down on his finger just enough to hurt him, which causes him to hiss in pain. He shoots her a warning glance, then relaxes when he sees the amusement on her face.

“So feisty.”

He rubs her bottom lip with a second finger, a silent plea to add another into her mouth, which she promptly obliges.

She gives the second finger the same treatment as the first, her mind running wild with images of his cock in place of his fingers, how he might taste, the way it already weeps with arousal for her - it felt so wrong, yet she couldn't seem to get enough.

He pulls his fingers out of her mouth with a pop, his crimson eyes holding hers in an intense stare as he brings his still dry hand down to hook her underwear to the side, the cool breeze hitting her drenched cunt and making her suck in a breath. He makes a show of bringing the two fingers that had just been in her mouth down to rub her soaking folds, making sure that she was watching his every move.

"Fuck, you're already so wet for me." He moans, his voice low and gravelly as he slowly begins to spread her apart, the filthy sounds of her arousal like a song to his ears.

A loud moan rips through her as she throws her head back, the slightest touch embarrassingly already almost too much. Maybe it was the anticipation, maybe it was because it'd been so long since she'd been touched like this - or maybe it was just another testament to how badly she needed him. His touch.

"Rather sensitive, aren't we, pet?" He teases, dipping his head down to place a kiss to the part of her chest that was exposed by the low neckline of her shirt.

"Shut. Up." She growls, her hand gripping the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. The rumbling of his laughter echoes in her chest as his mouth stays pressed against it.

He presses wet kisses further and further down as he slowly moves his face lower, sinking to his knees in front of her.

She can't contain the gasp that escapes her as she peers down at him - his typically pristine and well groomed silvery white curls were a disaster as a result of her hands ravaging them, his eyes were dark and lidded, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Not to mention, the satisfaction that came from him being on his knees below her, knowing what he intended to do - gods below, it was almost too much to bear.

He raises her shirt higher, holding it up between her breasts and getting just a small peek of the underside of them - the temptation to rip the wretched thing off of her and completely bare her to him crossing his mind. He decides against it, unsure if she'd want to be fully exposed in case someone decided to come check on her.

He, personally, wouldn't mind any of the others finding them this way - that way they would know that he was staking his claim on her. He was well aware that he was far from the only one in the camp that had dreamt of touching her, and he planned on being the only one who gets to.

He straightens himself up so he can trail another line of wet kisses down her abdomen, stopping just above the waistband of her underwear. His eyes flick back up to hers, finding that she had been watching his every move - satisfied with how quickly she catches on to his desires, as if it were natural to her.

He hooks two fingers beneath the fabric on each of her hips, waiting for her to protest. She doesn't, instead she reaches her hand down and attempts to pull them down herself. He grabs her wrist, stopping her.

"Ah ah, allow me." He commands, his voice equal parts soothing and threatening. She drops her hand back to her side. "Good girl."

He rips the fabric down her legs, letting it pool at her ankles before he hooks an arm under her thigh and lifts it so that she steps out of them. He pushes them aside, keeping her leg lifted as he pushes her night shirt out of the way once again, revealing her drenched and throbbing cunt to him, at long last.

He practically salivates at the sight, his eyes burning trails all around it as he drinks in every inch of her newly exposed flesh. This causes her to blush for the first time during this encounter, suddenly feeling self conscious about her most intimate area. She feels the urge to cover herself, her leg instinctively moving to clench against the other. He stops her quickly, pressing her leg up even higher, stretching her already sore thigh muscles.

"Absolutely perfect. To think you’ve been keeping this all to yourself." He coos, his voice now softer, reverent, even. As if he were quietly admiring the finely crafted sculpture of a goddess on display in the foyer of a tabernacle.

With her leg now draped over his shoulder, he continues his attack of wet and hungry kisses up her leg. He toys with the knife strapped to her, running a finger along the hilt of the blade, then biting the leather strap on the innermost part of her leg, his lips brushing against the skin and causing goosebumps to prickle up.

He slowly continues trailing up to the apex of her thighs, pausing at the very top of her thigh and nipping at the plush skin.

Her arousal and frustration had started to truly boil within her, him taking his damn sweet time was beginning to piss her off all over again and she knew he was doing it deliberately. He was trying all that he could to get her to beg.

"Astarion, if you don't eat me out right now, I'm going to kill you."

She wouldn't beg, no. Threatening, though? Easy.

"Patience, darling. Good things come to those who wait."

She scoffs. "I'm starting to think you're stalling. Scared that you won't be able to live up to your reputation?" She taunts in an attempt to anger him enough to finally oblige her.

His eyes narrow, his once smug face falling into a scowl.

He quickly unsheathes the knife on her thigh, grabbing it by the blade. Her eyes widened.

"What the hells are you doing?" Her voice held a bit of unease as she watched him gently tap the tip of the blade, as if he were testing the sharpness.

He grins wickedly, his eyes flicking from the dagger back up to hers. "I'm going to shut you up. Open," he commands, bringing the hilt of the dagger up to her lips.

She shoots him an uncertain look, confused. He sighs, frustrated, then presses the hilt further until her lips parted, and she took it between her teeth.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, the golden light shifting to a cool blue glow, the reflection of the moon glinting off of the recently sharpened and polished blade. She hadn’t realized just how sharp Lae’zel made it, and having it so close to her face this way truthfully made her nervous.

A twisted part of her enjoyed it for that fact.

He looks up at her, the sight of the hilt of the dagger that she'd threatened him with only minutes prior, now held between her teeth both ironic and unequivocally erotic.

"Much better. Shall we try this again?"

Satisfied with the outcome of his bright idea and the muffled groan of frustration from the only one who’d been plaguing his thoughts when he was alone in his tent, he returns to his prior ministrations, starting his trail of kisses right back where he'd begun them just at the side of her knee.

He repeats the process identically to how he'd done it previously, except this time he bites the top of her thigh slightly harder, eliciting a whimper from her, nearly causing the knife to slip out of her mouth.

"Careful, pet." He warns, a slight smirk playing on the corners of his lips.

With his face still right at the crest of her thigh, cool breath fanning across her burning hot flesh, he brings his even colder fingers back up to tease her folds. She jolts at the sensation, involuntarily crawling upward onto the tree, now on tiptoe with her leg that's still on the ground. He tightens his arm around her thigh, pulling it down on to his shoulder slightly as if to warn her to stay still. She obliges, flattening her foot back down and relaxing her posture as best as she can manage, the thought of making this take even longer agonizing.

His deft fingers work her slowly, touching everywhere but where she needed him most. The sounds of her slick arousal seemed much louder now that they’d both gone mostly quiet apart from their heavy breathing, and she feels that damned blush creep back up to her cheeks once again.

She involuntarily yelps when his fingers tease her entrance, her walls instinctively clenching around nothing. She disobeys him by wriggling slightly, then realizes and quickly tries to cease her movements. He lets his thumb rest against her swollen and throbbing clit, refusing to move even an inch until she settles down.

“Look at you,” he coos. “So eager for me. I almost want to take that dagger out of your mouth and hear that sweet voice moan for me again.”

She bites down even harder into the hilt of the dagger to stifle the moan that threatens to escape her throat, certainly leaving teeth marks that she’ll have to hide in case anyone needs to borrow it later.

He chuckles, his eyes still trained on her face as he pushes ever so slightly against her entrance, his thumb pressing harder into the over-sensitive bud - savoring her every reaction to him. The way her brows knitted up, the way her glossy eyes widened, her hands clutching the fabric of her shirt and holding it close to her chest, the way the dagger shifted slightly in her mouth as her jaw clenched around it. She was a feast for his eyes and he intended to savor every bite.

Finally, he decides to show her mercy and push his fingers further in, careful to move slowly and give her time to adjust. Her eyes blow wide and her head falls back against the tree, giving him a full view of her neck that makes his mouth water.

Next time, he thinks to himself.

His fingers are just barely not too thick for her - the stretching only slightly uncomfortable and otherwise euphoric. He pumps in and out at a lazy pace at first, quickening over time as he feels her fully adjust after a while. She’s perfectly tight, her velvet walls clenching his fingers with every plunge into her depths. He can barely think straight, all rational thought having left him ages ago. All that he can think now is how badly he wishes it were his cock in her rather than his fingers - but as he’d told her, good things come to those who wait.

She feels herself creeping ever closer to her peak as his movements become more and more rhythmic and deliberate, his thumb rubbing circles around her clit as his fingers piston in and out, hitting all of the right spots and driving her wild. Her body is buzzing, her legs trembling. She wants to resist how incredible this all feels, but gods, does it feel incredible.

Everything that comes after this is a problem for later, right now, all she wants is to—

“Aah!” She yelps as he curls his fingers, the dagger slipping from her mouth and thankfully dropping to the ground beside them.

He grins, continuing his ministrations. “Are you gonna come, pet?”

She takes her bottom lip in between her teeth, scared to say yes in fear that he may stop and deprive her of her release just to spite her.

“Answer me.” He commands, his voice coming out as a low growl.

She reluctantly nods.

“Use your words. Answer me.”

“Y-yes. Gods, yes. Just… don’t stop.” She whines, trying her damnedest for it not to come out as a beg, but rather a command. It was mildly successful.

To her surprise, he speeds up the pace, pumping in and out of her hard and fast - the way she so desperately craved it. She feels herself right at the edge, her orgasm impending - he can tell, as she writhes and whimpers over him. Just as he can tell she’s about to hit the peak, he stops.

She keens at the sudden loss of friction and movement, her walls clenching down around his fingers even harder, her cunt throbbing and dripping onto his hand.

“Why…” Is all she manages to say, her breathing ragged and her chest heaving.

“I want you to come on my mouth.”

That alone could have sent her over the edge.

She nods fervently, her hips bucking forward toward his face.

He considers punishing her for being too hasty and too eager, but he couldn’t care less any more to keep up the game - he needs to taste her. He needs to devour her.

He moves his thumb, making way for his tongue to replace it. He expertly strokes his tongue across her folds, her essence sweet and tangy on his taste buds. He swipes across her clit, causing her to jerk into his mouth, a string of incoherent curses leaving her lips.

She drops the fabric of her shirt and threads her fingers through his hair once again, gripping it almost painfully. He groans against her, the vibrations of his voice against her causing her to see stars.

He lifts her shirt out of his way once again, mouth never breaking from her, and growls in frustration at the piece of fabric that kept dropping into his face. Taking his growl as a silent command, she rips the fabric over her head and tosses it aside, now completely naked and bare to him as well as the cool night air.

His eyes widened at the sight of her, finally getting a full view of her breasts and the rest of her that was previously unrevealed to him. He breaks away from her cunt for a moment, both hands moving to palm her full breasts.

“You are exquisite.”

She’d almost prefer if he’d insult her, be cruel to her, say the worst things he can think of - that way she wouldn’t have to grapple with these new feelings that are bubbling up to the surface at how generous of a lover he’s proven to be, when only minutes prior she was sure that they shared a mutual hatred for each other. Maybe he was just putting on a show for her, like he always did.

Yes. He’s putting on a show. He has to be, she thinks.

She hisses through her teeth when he finally brings his mouth and hand back to her mound, wasting no time in resuming his prior crusade to make her come, pumping his fingers at a punishing pace, his tongue circling her clit in tandem. He keeps his free hand on her breast, pinching her nipple hard, causing her to roll her hips into his face.

“That’s it, love. Take what you need.”

For fucks sake, he’s going to be the death of me.

His words, his mouth, and his dexterous fingers are a wicked combination - every single movement, every single word, every lap at her needy cunt is nearly too much for her to bear as she uses every bit of her remaining strength to keep from crumbling into a heap in the dirt.

As requested by him, she continues to rock her hips forward, grinding down onto his fingers and mouth, his fingers hitting all the right places to drive her over the edge. She grips at his shoulder, nails digging into the fabric of his ruffled evening shirt, chest heaving as she creeps ever closer once again, and silently prays he has mercy on her this time.

“Astarion, I’m—“

“I know, love. Come for me,” he says, muffled with his mouth still tongue deep in her.

As if on command, she shatters, tumbling over the edge into free fall towards the hardest orgasm she’s had in months, perhaps even years.

Her body shakes and writhes as she gushes on his tongue, but he doesn’t slow his movements, still pumping into her as she rides out her orgasm, pangs of unbridled pleasure crashing over her like tidal waves.

Her legs quiver, the leg that she was using to stand begins to buckle at the knee as all strength she’d had left from the day has finally been sapped from her body. She slowly slides down the tree into his lap, eyes closed and still reeling.

She manages to weakly tilt her head forward, looking him in the eye for the first time with new eyes - unsure what that meant for her yet. She was half sure that she still hated him. Half.

He grins at her, his own chest still heaving as he catches his breath, ruby irises lighter than before, a look in his eyes that she doesn’t quite recognize.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been dying to do that since the day I met you.” He says, popping his fingers into his mouth and licking her slick off.

She swallows hard at the sight, her still sore and sensitive core starting to flutter again as he licks his fingers clean.

“I still don’t like you, you know. You’ll have to do more than make me orgasm to change my mind.” She says, her tone unusually calm and amicable toward him despite her words.

“Oh darling, who said we had to like each other to do that? In fact, I think it makes it all the more thrilling.” He brings his hand up to her cheek, gently caressing it and swiping his thumb across it.

She puffs air out of her nose, a wry smile on her lips. “Who says we’re going to do that again?”

He grins, bringing his still wet lips and face closer to hers, his breath smelling strongly of a mixture of her essence, wine, and a bitter metallic smell that was undeniably blood - she assumes he hunted not too long before he joined her in the woods.

“You can hate me all you want, my sweet, but I know that nobody has ever made you feel the way that I do. It’ll only be a matter of time before you’re crawling back into my bedroll, begging for another taste.” He taunts, his voice in that same low and sultry tone he did so well, the one that he knew had the power to melt anybody right into his hands.

She narrows her eyes for a brief moment - then an idea flits into the back of her mind, a mischievous smile following suit. The game was now set, and she was ready to play.

“We’ll see who begs who first, darling.”

part two - ♡︎

#this was a wild ride #lmk if u like it hehe #astarion #astarion ancunin #spawn astarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #if u squint #enemies to lovers #idk what else to tag this lol #my fics #aat

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thisrobinisred · 26 days

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Spoilers ahead The kisaragi station AU’s ending really just felt like a reminder about Mitsuba and Kou’s inevitable ending. The fact that, no matter what they do, no matter what universe it is, they can never truly be together.

And we have seen this time and time again.

Starting from Mitsuba’s death.

Then they reunite, but Tsukasa intervenes.

And this affects Kou greatly, to the point where he feels like he can no longer fail when protecting people or making promises. Eventually they meet again,

But he’s no longer the Mitsuba Sousuke. Sure he looks and acts like him (and is made from a part of him), but he doesn’t have his memories or experiences. Kou is clearly shown to be practically heartbroken by this. Perhaps it’s because of this, that Mitsuba wants to know who he is properly, and to know his original past. Which eventually leads to the picture perfect arc. Where Mitsuba knows a bit about himself now, aswell as Kou. Through Mitsubas actions you can tell that he really does want to be friends with Kou. Yet they’re both aware that this is all fake. Mitsuba knows that who Kou really wants is the original one. However..

Kou was perfectly willing, happy even, to kill himself to be with Mitsuba - so that Mitsuba wasn’t alone anymore. But, Mitsuba doesn’t want this for Kou so in the end he intervenes. When they return to the real world, he still keeps an eye on Kou. To the point where during the summer sleepover he even goes to Kou to try and help him with his problems after overhearing the conversation between Yokoo and Satou.

But merely hours later, the severance occurs. Separating them once more. During this, Yashiro and Kou meet Mitsubas mother. It’s during this that Kou seems to finally process the fact that he is dead, and has been for a while now.

Seemingly out of nowhere, once supernaturals are able to return to their world, Mitsuba goes to Kou. Which is nice, but Mitsuba ends up asking Kou to exorcise him. Obviously, Kou refuses to, why would he even ask him that in the first place? Then everything with the clock keepers happen, causing them to make a new present.

But it’s different. Basically everyone who is dead, is alive. And for one of the first times, both mitsuba and Kou are alive, happy and close, without it being fake. In a timeline where everything is practically messed up for everyone else (especially their relationships and friendships) it isn’t for these two. Which is another reminder of why they will never be able to stay together. Everything that makes the original timeline the original, is what keeps them apart. So, just like mitsuba said in the kisaragi station AU,

‘I can’t follow you anymore.’ He is incapable of being able to join Kou.

They can never walk the same path forever, as one way or another, they’ll never get their happy ending together. Perhaps that’s why in this event Mitsuba wasn’t wearing either of his scarfs, as it doesn’t really matter which one he is for it will always end like this for the originals.

Sorry I’m not really good at wording things and I’ve never doing anything like this before-

#mitsukou #mitsuba x kou #mitsuba sousuke #kou minamoto #tbhk #jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #i love my doomed yaoi #I love all the angst for these two #But at the same time part of me wants them to have a happy ending 😭#robin rambles

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rafesapologist · 2 months

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the setback ─ rafe cameron; part five

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: violence, swearing, angst

author's note: YOU'LL NEVER GET AWAY FROM THE SOUND OF THE WOMAN THAT LOVES YOU

Rafe's thoughts raced like a whirlwind, his mind a tumultuous sea of uncertainty and fear. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him like a heavy cloak, weighing him down with its suffocating presence.

As he paced the living room of Tannyhill, his footsteps echoing off the walls, Rafe's thoughts consumed him. The news of Sarah's return had rocked him to his core, sending shockwaves of panic and apprehension coursing through his veins.

But amidst the chaos of his thoughts, one question burned brighter than the rest: If Sarah was back, did that mean you were too?

The mere thought of seeing you again sent a shiver down Rafe's spine, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within him. On one hand, there was a part of him that longed to see you, to be near you once more. But on the other hand, there was a deep-seated fear that seeing you again would only reopen old wounds and dredge up painful memories he had long tried to bury.

Lost in his own mind, Rafe found himself biting at his fingernails, a nervous habit that betrayed the inner turmoil raging within him. He knew he needed to make a decision, to confront the reality of Sarah's return head-on. But as he grappled with the weight of uncertainty bearing down on him, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held in store for him, and whether he was truly prepared to face it.

As the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat, Rafe felt a momentary sense of relief wash over him, numbing the edges of his anxiety and uncertainty. The familiar sting of whiskey offered a temporary reprieve from the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume him.

But as the alcohol spread warmth through his veins, Rafe couldn't shake the nagging feeling of unease that lingered just beneath the surface. The thought of you possibly being back on the island after two long years sent a shiver down his spine, stirring up a potent mix of longing and apprehension within him.

For so long, he had tried to push you out of his mind, to bury the memories of your time together deep within the recesses of his soul. But now, faced with the possibility of seeing you again, all those buried emotions threatened to rise to the surface once more, threatening to engulf him in a tidal wave of longing and regret. With a heavy sigh, Rafe set the bottle of whiskey back down on the coffee table, the liquid inside now significantly lower than before. He knew he couldn't drown out his nerves forever, couldn't outrun the inevitable confrontation that lay ahead.

With a sense of determination coursing through him, Rafe retrieved his phone from the coffee table and scrolled through his contacts until he found Barry's number. With a steady hand, he pressed the call button, the sound of the ringing tone echoing through the room.

After a few rings, Barry's voice crackled through the phone's speaker. "Countrt club, what's up?" he greeted, his tone laced with curiosity.

"Barry, it's Rafe," Rafe replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning within him. "I need to talk to you. Can I come over? I'll be there in the next 20 minutes."

Barry's response was immediate. "Yeah, sure, man. Everything alright?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.

Rafe hesitated for a moment, the weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. But he quickly pushed aside his doubts and replied, "Yeah, everything's fine. I just need to talk. See you soon." With that, Rafe ended the call and pocketed his phone, his mind already racing with the myriad of thoughts and emotions that awaited him at Barry's trailer.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"You sure she's really back? She could just be messing with y'all."

"I don't know, Barry," Rafe replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "It just feels different this time. Sarah wouldn't come back for no reason."

Barry let out a dismissive snort, taking a drag from his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Ah, come on, Rafe, you know how she is. Always stirring up trouble just for the fun of it," he remarked, his tone casual despite the gravity of the situation.

"I don't think she's just messing around, Barry," Rafe insisted, his voice firm as he locked eyes with his friend. "There's something going on, and I need to find out what it is."

"I'm going to find out what Sarah's up to," he declared, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning within him. "I need to know why she's back and what she's after. And if it means going back to the Cut to find out, then so be it."

Barry raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "And what about Y/N?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. "You think she's back too?"

Rafe's jaw clenched at the mention of your name, a surge of emotion welling up inside him. He knew that seeing you again would reopen old wounds and dredge up painful memories, but he couldn't deny the pull you still had on him, even after all this time. Your name hung in the air like a weight, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within Rafe's chest. He couldn't help but remember the way your laughter had once filled the room, the warmth of your touch, the way your eyes had sparkled with joy whenever you looked at him. But along with those memories came a tidal wave of pain and regret. The memory of the morning you left, the words exchanged in hurt and frustration, haunted him like a ghost. He couldn't shake the feeling of loss that gnawed at his heart, the gaping void left in the wake of your departure.

But the reminder hit Rafe like a cold wave crashing over him, jolting him back to reality with brutal force. You were a Pogue, and he was a Kook. No matter how deeply he felt for you, no matter the memories they shared, the stark division between their worlds remained. It was a bitter pill to swallow, the reminder of the gaping chasm that separated them, not just in status but in perception and expectation. The societal barriers that dictated their paths seemed insurmountable at times, casting a shadow over any hope of reconciliation.

Rafe clenched his fists at his sides, a surge of frustration coursing through him. It wasn't fair, he thought bitterly. Why did your backgrounds have to dictate your guys' fate? Why couldn't you be free to love who you chose, regardless of the expectations placed upon you?

But deep down, Rafe knew the answer. The world you two lived in was rigid and unforgiving, its boundaries enforced with an iron grip. And try as he might to defy them, to bridge the gap between their worlds, the reality of their situation remained unchanged.

Rafe shook his head, an unhumored, bitter laugh escaping his lips as he replied to Barry, "Knowing her, she probably is. Once a Pogue, always a Pogue, right? Where one is, another is lingering."

Barry's smirk widened into a mischievous grin as he leaned forward, fixing Rafe with an intense gaze. Sensing Rafe's bitterness, he couldn't resist prodding him further.

"Why don't you go find out for yourself?" Barry suggested, his tone teasing but edged with a hint of challenge. He knew Rafe well enough to recognize that beneath the bitterness lay a curiosity, a desire to confront the past and whatever it might bring.

Rafe's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing slightly as he met Barry's gaze. The suggestion hung in the air between them, a silent dare to take action. Despite the uncertainty and trepidation swirling within him, Rafe couldn't deny the flicker of curiosity that sparked to life at Barry's words.

With a resigned sigh, Rafe nodded slowly, a determined glint in his eyes. He knew that Barry was right. It was time to stop dwelling on the past and start taking control of his own destiny. And if that meant facing you again, then so be it.

"Maybe I will," Rafe replied, his voice firm despite the lingering doubt in his heart. As he stood up from his seat, a sense of resolve settled over him. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it head-on.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"This feels so weird," Kiara remarked, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she glanced around the dock, her arms folded across her chest.

You glanced over at Kiara, noticing the unease etched across her features, and stepped closer to her side. "I know that feeling," you said softly, your gaze drifting towards the familiar sight of the chateau ahead. "But we were doing this for John B."

Kiara nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting a solemn determination. "For John B," she said firmly, her voice carrying a sense of purpose. "We'd do whatever it took to make things right for him." You shared a solemn nod with her, understanding the gravity of the situation. With John B's well-being at the forefront of your minds, you both steeled yourselves for the task ahead.

Turning to Sarah, you noticed the subdued demeanor that seemed to envelop her throughout the trip. Concern etched your features as you addressed her softly, "Sarah, are you okay?"

Sarah's gaze flickered up to meet yours, her expression guarded but tinged with vulnerability. She hesitated for a moment before offering a small nod. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. However, you could sense that something was amiss beneath the surface. Sarah's usual bubbly demeanor seemed to have been replaced by a quiet introspection, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of concern for your friend.

You gave her a sympathetic look, understanding the weight of her struggles with family dynamics and the challenges of being back in your hometown. Leaning in slightly, you spoke to her in a quiet, reassuring tone. "I understand how tough it must be for you, especially with everything going on with your family and being back here," you said softly.

Sarah's guard seemed to soften at your words, and she offered you a faint smile of appreciation. "Yeah, it's been a lot to deal with," she admitted quietly, her voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and vulnerability.

But Sarah paused and looked at you, a serious expression casting a shadow over her features as she leaned in slightly. "But are you okay?" she repeated, her voice laced with genuine concern.

You blinked, taken aback by her sudden inquiry. It was rare for Sarah to divert the conversation onto you, and her serious demeanor caught you off guard. Fumbling for a response, you met her gaze, trying to decipher the underlying meaning behind her question.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of confusion. The concern in Sarah's eyes prompted you to consider your own well-being, a realization dawning on you that perhaps you hadn't been as forthcoming about your own struggles amidst the chaos of the past few days.

"You know what I mean." Her words hit you like a sudden gust of wind, leaving you momentarily speechless. The mention of Rafe lingered heavily in the air, a reminder of the unresolved emotions that still tugged at your heartstrings. Despite your attempts to bury them beneath the surface, Sarah's astute observation cut through the facade you had carefully constructed.

A heavy silence settled between you as you grappled with the weight of her implication. You knew exactly what she meant, and the mention of Rafe brought a flood of emotions rushing to the surface. Memories of your tumultuous past with him resurfaced, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting feelings that you had long tried to suppress.

Taking a deep breath, you met Sarah's gaze, the unspoken understanding between you palpable in the air. There was no need for further explanation; she knew the turmoil that churned within you, the unresolved questions that lingered in the depths of your mind.

You offered Sarah a faint smile, attempting to downplay the significance of her concern. "I'm fine, really," you reassured her, your voice carrying a forced lightness. "There's nothing to worry about."

Despite your attempt to deflect the conversation away from your own struggles, Sarah's penetrating gaze remained fixed on you. It was clear that she saw through your facade, her concern unwavering despite your attempts to brush it off.

"Are you sure?" she pressed gently, her voice soft but insistent. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You nodded, grateful for her offer of support but unwilling to delve deeper into the complexities of your emotions. "I know, Sarah," you replied, offering her a small but genuine smile. "And I appreciate it. But right now, let's focus on John B and what we need to do to help him."

Sarah regarded you with a lingering gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. Though she respected your desire to keep your feelings guarded, her unwavering support served as a comforting reminder that you weren't alone in your struggles.

As soon as John B and JJ finished docking the boat, you couldn't contain your excitement any longer. With a wide grin, you hopped off the boat and sprinted towards JJ, the rush of adrenaline propelling you forward. Without a second thought, you jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and your legs around his waist.

"JJ!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your joy at being back at the chateau.

JJ's laughter echoed through the air as he caught you effortlessly, his strong arms enveloping you in a tight embrace. "Hey there, beautiful," he said with a grin, his voice filled with affection.

You buried your face in his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of the ocean mingled with his cologne. "I can't believe we're back," you said, your voice filled with excitement and disbelief.

JJ held you close, his heart swelling with happiness at having you back in his arms. "Feels like old times, doesn't it?" he remarked, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

You nodded, a wide smile spreading across your face as you looked up at him. "Yeah, but this time feels different," you admitted, feeling a rush of emotions wash over you.

JJ's gaze softened as he met your eyes, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. "Different, but in a good way," he reassured you, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance.

"Woah, looks like you two are happy to be here," Pope's voice pulled you out of your moment with JJ, and you turned to see him approaching, carrying some luggage on his back. His observation made you chuckle, and you exchanged a knowing look with JJ before responding.

"Yeah, can't you tell?" you replied with a grin, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Pope shrugged, shaking his head slightly as he made his observation. "Seems like there's more than just excitement radiating from you two," he remarked, his tone lighthearted but curious.

Your cheeks grew warm as Pope's observation hit home, and you shot a glance at JJ, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. Unsure of how to respond, you found yourself at a loss for words.

JJ chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. "Guess we're not hiding it too well, huh?" he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes.

Before you could reply, John B appeared behind Pope, joining in on the teasing. "Looks like you two are getting even closer these days," he remarked with a smirk, nudging Pope playfully.

You couldn't help but laugh nervously, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. "Uh, yeah, just happy to be back with the crew," you said, trying to play it cool despite the heat rising to your cheeks.

JJ nodded in agreement, shooting you a reassuring smile. "Exactly," he echoed, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before turning back to the group.

Pope's eyes narrowed slightly as he exchanged a knowing glance with John B, the smirk on his face growing more pronounced. "Alright, man, whatever you say," he replied, his tone carrying a hint of playful skepticism. With a shake of his head, he hoisted the luggage onto his shoulder and continued ahead, leaving you and JJ to share a sheepish smile before following after him.

JJ glanced around, taking in the familiar surroundings of the Cut. "Man, this place looks just like it did when we left," he remarked, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You chuckled at the remark, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, still looks like a junkyard," you joked back, the playful banter lightening the mood as you made your way towards the chateau.

The Pogues made their way into the chateau, their footsteps echoing through the familiar halls as they entered. Despite the passage of time, the place felt just as welcoming as it had before. With an air of familiarity, they began to make themselves at home, setting their luggage down in various rooms and taking in the familiar surroundings.

John B headed towards the kitchen, his eyes scanning the countertops and cabinets as he searched for any signs of activity since their last visit. Meanwhile, Kiara and Pope wandered off to explore the living room, their voices mingling with laughter as they reminisced about past adventures.

You and JJ made your way to your room, the anticipation of being back in the chateau palpable between you. The door creaked open, revealing the familiar space you had shared countless memories in.

As you stepped inside, a sense of nostalgia washed over you, mingling with the excitement of being back. You couldn't help but smile as you took in the sight of the room, every corner holding a piece of your shared history.

JJ followed close behind, his eyes scanning the room with a fondness that mirrored your own. There was a sense of comfort in being back in this space, a feeling of home that you couldn't find anywhere else.

You moved to the window, drawing back the curtains to let in the soft light of the setting sun. The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows across the floor as you turned back to face JJ.

He was standing in the center of the room, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Without a word, he closed the distance between you, his hands coming to rest gently on your waist as he pulled you close.

As JJ's arms wrapped around you, you felt a rush of warmth and familiarity wash over you. It was as though no time had passed since the last time you were in this room together, and you found yourself sinking into his embrace with a sense of contentment.

"Feels good to be back, doesn't it?" JJ murmured, his voice soft as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You nodded against his chest, feeling a sense of peace settle over you in his arms. "Yeah, it does," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, lost in your own thoughts and the comfort of each other's presence. The weight of the past two years seemed to fade away, replaced by the simple joy of being together in this familiar space.

But as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room, you couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered in the back of your mind. The return to the Outer Banks had brought with it a flood of memories and emotions, some of which you weren't sure how to confront.

As you and JJ settled into the room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Being back in this space with him felt like coming home in a way you hadn't realized you'd missed. JJ moved to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the space next to him invitingly. You joined him, sinking into the soft mattress beside him, the warmth of his presence comforting.

"So," JJ began, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. "What do you think about all of this?"

You glanced around the room, taking in the familiar sights and sounds of the chateau. "It's surreal, to be honest," you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "I never thought I'd be back here."

JJ nodded in understanding, his gaze soft as he looked at you. "Yeah, me neither," he said quietly. "But hey, we made it. And we're stronger now, right?"

You smiled at his words, feeling a surge of gratitude for the unwavering support he had always provided. "Definitely," you agreed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "And having you here with me makes it all a little less daunting."

JJ's smile widened at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest at the sincerity in your voice. "Glad I could be of service," he joked, nudging you playfully with his shoulder.

You chuckled, leaning into his side as you felt a sense of peace settle over you. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to relax, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, you and JJ would face them together.

"Hey, JJ?" you quietly began, your voice barely above a whisper, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you.

"Yeah?" JJ replied, turning to face you, his gaze soft and attentive.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking. "I just wanted to say thank you," you said earnestly, meeting his eyes with a sincerity that spoke volumes. "For everything. For being here, for always having my back, even when things get tough."

JJ's expression softened even further at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest. "You don't have to thank me," he replied gently, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "You know I'd do anything for you, right?"

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat at the depth of emotion in his eyes. "I do," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the evening breeze. "And I'm grateful for you, more than you know."

A smile tugged at the corners of JJ's lips as he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "Anytime, Y/N," he murmured against your hair, the sound of his voice soothing in the quiet of the room. As you rested against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would always have JJ by your side, a constant source of strength and support in a world that often felt uncertain.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, the tranquility of the room was shattered by the sudden clamor emanating from the front of the chateau. It was as if the peaceful atmosphere had been pierced by a sudden storm, pulling both you and JJ from the cocoon of warmth you had created.

You exchanged a puzzled glance with JJ, the unspoken question hanging in the air as you listened intently to the rising noise. For a brief moment, the only sound was the rustle of the curtains and the distant hum of the waves outside, before it was drowned out by the voices from the front of the chateau.

With furrowed brows, you sat up, your senses on high alert as you tried to discern the source of the disturbance. JJ mirrored your concern, his gaze locked on the door as if he could see through it to the chaos beyond.

"Should we go check it out?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked to JJ for guidance.

JJ nodded, a flicker of apprehension in his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. He offered you a reassuring hand, and you took it gratefully, allowing him to help you up as you both prepared to face whatever lay ahead.

As you made your way towards the front of the chateau, the noise grew louder, a cacophony of voices mingling together in a chaotic symphony. With each step, your heart pounded in your chest, the sense of unease growing stronger with every passing moment.

You and JJ shared a silent exchange, a wordless acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. Whatever was happening, you both knew it was bound to be significant, and you braced yourselves for whatever lay ahead as you ventured further into the fray.

As you trailed behind JJ hesitantly and slowly, he held up a finger to his lips, shushing you gently as he approached the side of the hallway wall that led to the living room. His movements were cautious, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger as he edged closer to the source of the commotion.

You mirrored his actions, your breath caught in your throat as you tried to suppress the rising sense of apprehension. The voices grew louder with each step, a jumble of sounds that made it difficult to discern what was being said.

Peering around the corner, you and JJ caught sight of the scene unfolding in the living room. The other Pogues were gathered there, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion as they stared at something you couldn't quite see from your vantage point.

JJ motioned for you to stay back, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly as he edged closer to the doorway. You obeyed, lingering in the hallway as you watched him disappear into the room, disappearing from view as he joined the others in their vigil.

Your heart raced in your chest as you waited, the tension in the air palpable as you strained to hear snippets of the conversation drifting out from the living room. Whatever was happening, it was clear that it was something significant, and you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a heavy blanket.

As the seconds ticked by, the tension in the air became palpable, each passing moment feeling heavier than the last. You could practically hear the collective racing of hearts, the anticipation building to an almost unbearable level.

Then, like a thunderclap breaking through the silence, Sarah's voice erupted in a piercing scream, echoing off the walls of the chateau with a raw intensity. The sound seemed to reverberate through the very core of the building, filling the space with an electric energy that sent shivers down your spine.

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, time seemed to stand still as you strained to make out the words she was screaming. It was as if the entire world held its breath, suspended in a suspended state of anticipation.

As the standoff continued in the living room, your impatience got the best of you. The distant commotion outside the chateau only added to your sense of urgency, prompting you to barge into the room and demand answers from the other Pogues.

"Okay, what's going on?" you blurted out, your voice tinged with a mixture of concern and frustration as you scanned the room for any clues.

The Pogues turned to look at you, their expressions a mix of surprise and bewilderment at your sudden intrusion. John B opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off before he could utter a word.

"Where's Sarah?" you demanded, your eyes narrowing as you realized that she was conspicuously absent from the group.

The tension in the room skyrocketed as the other Pogues exchanged uneasy glances, a palpable sense of unease settling over the room like a heavy fog. It was clear that something was amiss, and the feeling of dread that washed over you made your stomach churn with anxiety.

JJ's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, his tone gentle but firm as he addressed you. "Hey, just… stay out of it for now," he urged, his eyes meeting yours with a silent plea for understanding. "Sarah's handling something, but we'll figure it out." His words were meant to reassure you, but the underlying tension in his voice betrayed his attempt to conceal the seriousness of the situation. Despite his efforts to keep you from worrying, the gravity of the situation hung heavy in the air, leaving you with a gnawing sense of unease that refused to be ignored.

But the reassurance did little to quell the rising tide of worry within you. You shook your head again, your eyes wide with fear. "I need to know," you insisted, your voice trembling. "Please, just tell me."

Kiara's sympathetic yet worried expression mirrored your own emotions, her voice carrying a sense of understanding as she spoke. "Listen to JJ, Y/N," she said gently, her eyes filled with concern. "Sarah knows what she's doing. We just have to trust her for now."

As the tension in the room thickened, you glanced around at the faces of your friends, their silence only adding to your frustration. Outside, the noises persisted, amplifying your worry with each passing moment. With a mixture of exasperation and determination, you scoffed and folded your arms across your chest, issuing a demand to the room. "Either someone tells me what's going on, or I'm going out there myself."

"Y/N, you're not going out there," JJ interjected firmly, his voice laced with concern as he stepped closer to you.

You frowned, telling him firmly, "You can't tell me what to do, JJ. So either say it, or I will."

JJ sighed, his expression reflecting the internal struggle he was facing. "It's not safe out there right now," he explained, his tone gentle but firm.

You were about to retort when a loud crash from outside the chateau interrupted the tense moment. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, amplifying your concern for Sarah's safety.

"See, something's happening!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with urgency.

JJ's jaw clenched, his eyes darting between you and the door. "Y/N, I can't let you go out there. It's not safe," he insisted, his tone firm yet laced with worry.

Your frustration peaked, the need to know what was happening outside overwhelming you. "So you're letting Sarah face whatever's out there alone?!" you shot back, your voice rising with each word.

"No, Y/N, it's dangerous for you," JJ replied, his expression pleading for you to understand.

You paused, feeling torn between your concern for Sarah and JJ's protective instinct. The adrenaline pumping through your veins urged you to act, but JJ's words anchored you to the spot, reminding you of the risks involved.

The commotion outside intensified, the urgency of the situation weighing heavily on everyone in the room. You glanced around, meeting the worried gazes of your friends, each one silently pleading for you to stay put.

Despite JJ's attempts to dissuade you, your concern for Sarah outweighed any sense of caution. You couldn't bear the thought of her facing danger alone, especially when you could potentially help. Ignoring JJ's warning, you made up your mind to go outside and find out what was happening.

"Sorry, JJ," you muttered, determination etched on your face as you brushed past him towards the door. "I can't just sit here."

JJ's expression softened, a mix of admiration and worry crossing his features as he watched you go. "Y/N, wait—" he called after you, but you were already on a mission.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped outside, the cool night air hitting your skin as you surveyed your surroundings. The commotion seemed to be coming from the direction of the dock, and without hesitation, you started making your way towards it, your heart pounding in your chest with each step. Your heart leaped into your throat as Sarah's shrieks pierced the night air, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Without hesitation, you sprinted towards the source of the noise, every fiber of your being focused on reaching her as quickly as possible.

Your steps faltered, the urgency in your stride giving way to a sense of unease as you neared the source of the commotion. The air around you seemed to crackle with tension, a palpable energy that set your nerves on edge.

As you rounded the corner and caught sight of Sarah, standing face to face with someone, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Your mind raced with possibilities, but none of them prepared you for the sight that greeted you.

There, standing before Sarah, was Rafe.

His presence was like a punch to the gut, sending shockwaves of disbelief through your body. You couldn't tear your gaze away from him, his figure casting a looming shadow over the scene before you. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you processed the sight before you. The air was thick with tension, and you felt as though you were walking into a storm, unsure of what awaited you on the other side.

Your breath caught in your throat as the gravity of the situation unfolded before your eyes. The sight of Rafe, waterboarding Sarah with a malicious glint in his eyes, sent a shiver down your spine. Anger and fear surged within you as you watched him mercilessly drag her in and out of the bucket of water, his grip tight around her throat.

"Rafe, get off of her!" You yelled instinctively to try and advert his attention away from Sarah, giving her room to get away.

The air seemed to crackle with tension as Rafe's gaze snapped towards you, his eyes widening in shock and disbelief. For a moment, the world around you faded into the background as you locked eyes with him, a myriad of emotions swirling between you.

His grip on Sarah loosened slightly, his attention momentarily diverted by your unexpected presence. The horror etched on his face mirrored the turmoil within you, a stark reminder of the tangled web of emotions that still lingered between you.

"Rafe," you called out, your voice tinged with a mixture of concern and defiance. It was a desperate attempt to break through the darkness that had enveloped him, to remind him of the person he used to be before everything spiraled out of control.

But even as he turned to face you, the haunted look in his eyes spoke volumes. It was as if he were wrestling with his own demons, trapped in a battle he couldn't escape. For a fleeting moment, the weight of your shared history hung heavy in the air, the unspoken words echoing between you. But as the seconds ticked by, it became clear that this encounter would be anything but simple.

"Y/N, is that really you?" Rafe's voice was barely above a whisper, his tone laced with disbelief and a hint of desperation. It was as if he couldn't quite reconcile the sight of you standing there before him with the reality of the situation.

"What the fuck are you doing, Rafe?" Your words cut through the air like a knife, carrying with them a mix of accusation and disbelief. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon you, the sight of Sarah struggling against Rafe's grip searing itself into your memory.

Rafe's expression shifted, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face—shame, guilt, and a hint of defiance. "I..." he began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words. But before he could utter another syllable, Sarah's frantic cries pierced the air once more, a stark reminder of the danger she was in.

You took a step forward, your gaze never leaving Rafe's. "Let her go, Rafe," you demanded, your voice firm and unwavering. It was a command born out of necessity, fueled by the need to protect your friend from further harm.

For a moment, there was silence—a palpable tension that hung in the air like a heavy shroud. And then, slowly, almost reluctantly, Rafe released his grip on Sarah, allowing her to stumble backwards, gasping for breath.

As Sarah retreated to safety, you stood your ground, your eyes locked with Rafe's. There were no words that could adequately capture the tumult of emotions swirling within you—the anger, the fear, and the lingering traces of a love that had once burned bright.

But in that moment, all that mattered was ensuring the safety of your friend, even if it meant confronting the demons of your past head-on.

"I didn't think you'd actually come back," he repeated, his tone tinged with disbelief.

You took a moment to steady yourself, the weight of Rafe's gaze bearing down on you. Memories of your tumultuous past together flooded your mind—the moments of passion, the heated arguments, and the painful goodbyes that had brought you to this point.

"I came back for John B," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "He needed us, and I wasn't about to let him face this alone."

There was a flicker of something in Rafe's eyes—regret, perhaps, or maybe a hint of longing—but before you could dwell on it, Sarah's voice broke through the silence, a stark reminder of the danger that still loomed over you all.

With resolve coursing through your veins, you moved closer to Sarah, keeping a wary eye on Rafe. His presence was an unwelcome complication in an already tense situation, but you pushed aside the torrent of emotions threatening to engulf you.

"Sarah, are you okay?" you asked, your voice laced with concern as you reached out to steady her.

Sarah nodded weakly, her eyes wide with fear as she clung to your arm. "Y-yeah, I'm fine," she stammered, her voice trembling slightly.

You shot Rafe a pointed look, silently daring him to make a move. Despite the turmoil swirling within you, you refused to show any sign of weakness in front of him. Rafe held your gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. There was a tension between you, an unspoken history that lingered in the air like a palpable force.

As you kept your gaze on Rafe, you suddenly felt a large hand wrap around your bicep and spin you around, much to your surprise. "Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?" JJ's voice was low, his eyes dark with concern as he studied your face.

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in as you met JJ's gaze. "I-I don't know," you admitted, your voice wavering slightly. "I just... I had to do something."

JJ's expression softened, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he searched your eyes. "You could've gotten hurt," he murmured, his voice laced with worry.

"Well look who it is, JJ Maybank," Rafe's voice cut through the moment, causing JJ to snap a look his way.

JJ's jaw clenched as he turned to face Rafe, his expression hardening with a mixture of anger and frustration. "What the hell do you want, Rafe?" he demanded, his voice sharp.

"Heard the Pogues were back in town. Had to check it out," Rafe smirked, his tone laced with a hint of arrogance.

JJ's expression hardened at Rafe's words, his grip on your hand tightening almost imperceptibly. "You don't belong here, Rafe," he replied sharply, his voice laced with a warning.

Rafe's smirk only widened at JJ's response, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you," he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You could feel the tension crackling in the air between them, the animosity palpable as they faced off against each other. It was clear that there was no love lost between Rafe and JJ, and the presence of the Pogues in town only seemed to exacerbate their rivalry.

Rafe's smirk widened as he found amusement in the rise he was getting out of JJ. "Aw, don't tell me you're still clinging onto her, Maybank," he taunted, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Thought you'd have moved on by now." He leaned back, crossing his arms confidently, clearly reveling in the tension he was causing.

Rafe's smirk slowly faded, replaced by a flicker of hurt and anger in his eyes as JJ's words hit him. His expression became a battleground of conflicting emotions, each vying for dominance. Hurt pierced through the facade of indifference he tried to maintain, while anger simmered just beneath the surface. His gaze darted between you and JJ, his mind racing to process the revelation. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable as Rafe grappled with his emotions. His jaw clenched tightly, knuckles whitening as he fought to regain his composure. It was as if time itself had slowed, each heartbeat echoing loudly in the silence that enveloped them.

Rafe's voice dripped with disbelief as he muttered, "No fucking way." His words were laced with incredulity, his eyes darting back and forth between you and JJ. It was evident that JJ's assertion had rattled him to the core, piercing through his façade of nonchalance. The hurt and anger simmering beneath the surface erupted, seeping into every syllable he uttered.

"Is that what you came for, Rafe? To see her? I bet it is," JJ's voice cut through the tension, his words laden with accusation.

"I bet you spent every day the last two years hoping she'd come back for you, but the whole time she was with me," JJ spat out, his voice laced with bitterness and defiance.

Rafe's expression twisted into a mixture of disbelief and rage as JJ's words sunk in. He clenched his fists tightly at his sides, his jaw working as he struggled to find a response. Finally, he managed to choke out, "You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Maybank."

But JJ wasn't finished. "Oh, I know exactly what I'm talking about. And she knows it too," he retorted, his gaze unwavering as he stared down Rafe.

The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with animosity and unresolved emotions. Sarah, still recovering from her ordeal, watched with wide eyes, silently pleading for the confrontation to end.

You stood by JJ's side, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the exchange unfold. Despite the fear and uncertainty coursing through you, you felt a sense of solidarity with JJ, a shared determination to stand up to Rafe and protect each other.

Rafe's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his gaze flickering between you and JJ, his mind undoubtedly racing with conflicting emotions and thoughts. But before he could say anything else, JJ stepped forward, his voice low but firm.

"Stay away from her, Rafe. She's mine now," JJ warned, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Your heart sank as Rafe's gaze pierced through you, his eyes reflecting a mix of hurt and betrayal that cut deep. Despite everything, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that washed over you, knowing that your presence had ignited this confrontation between two people you cared about deeply.

For a moment, you were paralyzed by the weight of Rafe's stare, feeling as though you were the one responsible for causing him pain. But as the seconds ticked by, you forced yourself to look away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer.

Rafe's bitter laughter echoed through the tense atmosphere, his gaze flickering between you and JJ with a mix of disdain and resignation. With a scornful shake of his head, he pointed accusingly at the two of you, his voice laced with venom.

"You know what? You two deserve each other," he spat, his words dripping with bitterness and contempt. It was clear that the sight of you and JJ together had stirred up a storm of emotions within him, and his resentment was palpable in every syllable he uttered.

The sting of Rafe's words cut deep, igniting a surge of conflicting emotions within you. His accusation hit a nerve, dredging up memories of the tumultuous history you shared with JJ during the turbulent times of your breakup with Rafe. Despite the hurt and anger simmering beneath the surface, there was also a pang of guilt and regret as you grappled with the complexities of your past. Flinching at Rafe's anger and the implication behind his words, you felt a knot form in the pit of your stomach. His comment struck at the heart of your insecurities, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in the harsh glare of his judgment.

"Fuck you, Rafe. You have no right to be mad that I'm with JJ now," your words cut through the tension like a knife, laced with defiance and frustration. The pent-up emotions simmered beneath the surface, boiling over in a torrent of raw honesty. With each syllable, you reclaimed a fragment of your shattered resolve, refusing to be reduced to a pawn in Rafe's game of manipulation and guilt. The anger in your voice mirrored the intensity of your inner turmoil, a fierce declaration of independence against the shadows of your past. In that moment, you drew a line in the sand, daring Rafe to cross it and face the consequences of his actions.

"You ruined my friend's life and you ruined mine. You're the fucking reason I left this place in the first place! Everything would've been fine if it wasn't for you." Your words were like daggers, cutting through the air with a ferocity that left no room for ambiguity. Each accusation carried the weight of years of pain and resentment, a damning indictment of Rafe's role in the chaos that had engulfed your life. The force of your shove mirrored the intensity of your emotions, a physical manifestation of the pent-up anger and frustration that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long. In that moment, you refused to be silenced, your voice a defiant cry against the injustices of the past.

As the echoes of your words faded into the silence, you stood your ground, your chest heaving with the effort of holding back tears. You refused to be cowed by Rafe's presence, your gaze unwavering as you met his eyes with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. For a fleeting moment, you saw a flicker of remorse in Rafe's expression, a shadow of the boy you once knew hidden beneath layers of bitterness and regret. But you refused to let his momentary weakness sway you, your resolve unyielding in the face of his deception and betrayal.

Rafe's whispered words hung heavy in the air, carrying with them a raw vulnerability that cut through the tension like a knife. "I knew you'd be back here," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I had to show myself that you were still real."

His admission struck a chord within you, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions that you struggled to contain. "Why does it matter to you if I'm back or not?" you challenged, your voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and uncertainty.

Rafe's gaze softened as he peered down into your eyes, his expression a tumultuous mix of regret and longing. "Because… because you were the only good thing in my life," he confessed, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.

As Rafe's words washed over you, a wave of conflicting emotions threatened to engulf your senses. You shook your head in disbelief, your eyes tightly shut as you fought to keep your composure. The weight of his confession bore down on you, threatening to break through the walls you had erected around your heart.

"I can't do this," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you struggled to keep your emotions in check. The pain of the past, coupled with the raw vulnerability of the present, was almost too much to bear. But you refused to let Rafe see the depth of your turmoil, steeling yourself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from him, unable to meet his gaze as you took a shaky step back. "You need to go," you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of sadness and resolve. Deep down, you knew that confronting the ghosts of your past would only reopen old wounds, wounds that had yet to fully heal.

As Rafe stood before you, his expression a mirror of your own inner turmoil, you felt a pang of regret tugging at your heartstrings. But you knew that for both of your sakes, it was better to leave the past where it belonged and move forward, even if it meant walking away from the one person who had once meant everything to you.

Rafe nodded in acknowledgment, his expression reflecting a sense of resignation. "Okay. Just... don't leave again because of me," he responded, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

You swallowed hard, your throat constricting with emotion as you struggled to find the right words to respond. "I won't," you promised softly, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a vow made not just to Rafe, but to yourself as well—a pledge to confront the demons of your past and carve out a new path forward, one untainted by the shadows that had haunted you for so long.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from him once more, the weight of his gaze lingering on you like an invisible tether binding you together. But as you walked away, a newfound sense of determination welled up within you, propelling you forward into the unknown with a courage you hadn't known you possessed.

With a heavy heart, Rafe turned away, his steps weighted with the burden of his past and the uncertainty of the future. As he walked away from the scene, the echoes of the confrontation lingered in his mind, haunting him with the knowledge that some wounds may never fully heal. Despite his efforts to bury the pain, it seemed to follow him like a shadow, a constant reminder of the choices he had made and the consequences that ensued. With each step, the distance between him and the chateau grew, but the memories remained, etched into the fabric of his being, serving as a constant reminder of the tumultuous journey that had brought him to this point. And as he disappeared into the night, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the moonlit sky, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held, and whether redemption was truly within reach.

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