#ALSO HAND IN MARRIAGE MAYBE ANON???????

[stormyoceans]

(i'm afraid it's me again, the au genre anon. i loved your answer abt the regency we are au so much i had to write a little something based on what you said. it's nothing worth posting on ao3 and i don't think i can write further, but i had to share it since you were so inspiring!! i hope it's not annoying of me.)

//FIRST IMPRESSIONS//

After dodging several eager Mamas throwing their eligible offspring at him, Phum found Fang hiding in the back, pretending to examine some unremarkable painting as if it contained the secrets of the universe.

“Will you tell me finally what is the matter with you?” Phum demanded, doing his best to keep his voice from floating over the happy crowd of assembly-goers. But after watching his brother mingle with the noble and common families, all with a false smile and a tightness around his eyes, Phum had neared the end of his patience. Fang might be able to fool most people with his charm and good looks, but Phum knew something had deeply upset his brother since almost the moment they’d stepped foot in the assembly hall.

“Nothing’s wrong,” said Fang through a smile arranged as perfectly as his cravat. “Aside from me feeling somewhat over-warm. I didn’t expect it to be so crowded in here. Why are you wasting your time here with me? Go, dance! Try to have fun – though I know how loathe you are to do so.”

Phum rolled his eyes. As if this blatant attempt at distraction could work on him so easily! Fang pointedly turned away, going back to the painting he’d been using as a cover for his brooding. Apparently, the assembly hall patrons had had the idea to display artwork throughout the rooms to liven the evening, which Phum thought was an immensely silly contrivance. People didn’t come to these balls and assemblies and gatherings to enjoy art. They came to hunt for spouses, to brag about their houses or carriages or fashionable coats and dresses, and to get away from their families for a night. It was all part of an elaborate game that everyone had been playing for years and where Phum had, as always, stood on the outside looking in.

It was why he felt almost sorry for the artists themselves, who'd been invited to attend tonight's assembly. Almost being key. They were a small group, floating around the assembly, looking uncomfortable and keeping to themselves. Poor fools must be intimidated by the vicious Marriage Mart. Lady Fai, Fang’s fiancee, clearly felt sorry for them. Phum had spotted her chatting with a few of the painters earlier, her bright cheer putting everyone around her at ease. He wished she’d forget about them and pay more attention to Fang, who needed her more right now.

A nudge at his elbow startled Phum, and he realized he’d been glaring at the painting before him. It was Fang, staring at him curiously.

“Rather remarkable piece of art, don’t you think?” Fang asked.

“I don’t want to talk about the damn art,” Phum said crossly. “I’m here to find out why you’ve been upset this whole evening. Did somebody say anything to you? Do I need to second you in another duel at dawn?”

Fang smiled beatifically. “Beautiful brushwork.”

Phum made a harsh noise of frustration. He glanced once again at the painting, which he didn’t think he’d seen properly the whole time he’d been looking at it. It was just a seascape, nothing special, and he refused to examine it further. “Why you waste your time in front of this particular painting, I can’t understand. Do you really expect me to believe you’re so enamored of this trite, dull piece of art that you’ll stay here the whole time? As if anybody put any sort of real thought into this aside from ‘la, I suppose I’ll draw a pretty little sea and get to go to the ball!’ Please, brother!”

Fang’s unimpressed stare changed into a look of utter horror so sharply that Phum became uneasy. When the voice cut in behind him, the shock felt like he’d plunged into the cold waters of the painting.

“I assure you, I didn’t drag your brother in front of my painting.”

Phum whirled around – and came face-to-face with the most handsome man he’d seen in his life. Feline dark eyes set in a fine-boned face glared at him, then cut away. Phum was forced to step aside as the stranger walked past him to address Fang, ignoring Phum with the grace of a knife.

“Ah, it’s Peem, yes?” Fang said hastily, summoning his smoothest smile. “You seem to have come upon me teasing my brother most frightfully. The fault is entirely mine, I’m afraid. Is this your painting? I had heard from… from others that you were most talented. You must tell me more about this particular piece.”

Oh. Oh, no. Phum inhaled sharply and audibly. The strange man – Peem – shot him a disdainful glance, then turned back to Fang with a jagged smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of wasting your time further, my lord, with my meager thoughts,” said Peem. “You must have heard of me from my friend, Tan. He mentioned to me that you both had a prior acquaintance from town. I must say, from what I heard tell, I believed you to keep more gentlemanly company than present.”

His words dripped like honeyed poison. Without another look in Phum’s direction, as if he’d already gained an estimate of Phum and found him unworthy of further consideration, Peem bowed and marched off.

Fang had gone pale and his hands were trembling slightly. But Phum couldn’t focus on anything besides his own nausea and racing heart. What had he just done?

‘I must go after him and apologize,’ said a small voice inside Phum’s head, quiet and ashamed. Then he felt a rush of anger, the anger of being humiliated, of being so thoroughly misunderstood and cast aside. Cast aside if Phum was nothing.

“Well,” said Phum coldly, hearing himself as if from a distance. “It appears my small misstep has offended that young man. He could have waited for my apology instead of trying to humiliate me in front of this crowd. Don’t be too furious with him, brother. I hope it doesn’t get back to your friend. Who is Tan, anyway? You’ve never mentioned him before.”

There was a beat of silence. And then:

“No one,” said Fang softly. “He’s no one at all.”

SCREAMING AND HOWLING AND YELLING AND SHOUTING AND SHRIEKING AND SCREECHING AND RUNNING LAPS ON THE CEILING WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY SPINNING COUNTERCLOCKWISE ON THE FLOOR FOAMING AT THE MOUTH AND ENGAGING IN FITS OF FEMALE HYSTERIA

I RESPECTFULLY BUT FIRMLY VERY MUCH DISAGREE ON THIS NOT BEING WORTH OF BEING POSTED ON AO3 ANON THIS IS SOSOSOS OSOSSO SOOOOOOOOOOOOO PERFECT OH MY GODDDDDDDSDSJKGSF

im not good with coherent comments and there are SO MANY GOOD PARTS in this that im not quite sure where to start but i love love LOVE your phum's voice, you were able to capture him so well!!!!!! his thoughts about the ball!!!!!! the way he knows that something's off with fang!!!!!! how he ends up being so harsh with his words about peem's painting partly because of the frustration he feels at fang avoiding his questions!!!!!! his first instinct being to apologize to peem right away but then getting angry at being so unfairly treated!!!!!! and then there's peem with his cutting politeness and graceful disapproval!!!!!! and fang with his quiet yearning and pain and regret still trying to shield phum from reproach!!!!!!

Lady Fai, Fang’s fiancee, clearly felt sorry for them. Phum had spotted her chatting with a few of the painters earlier, her bright cheer putting everyone around her at ease. <<< I LOVE THIS DETAIL OF FAI TALKING WITH PEEM AND THE OTHERS!!!!!!!! they're gonna be friends!!!!!!!!!

“Did somebody say anything to you? Do I need to second you in another duel at dawn?” <<< PHUM HAVING TO BE FANG'S SECOND IN A DUEL LITERALLY THE MOST IN-CHARACTER THING EVER

“Is this your painting? I had heard from… from others that you were most talented.” <<< fang not wanting to give away the fact that he knows tan but also FANG NOT BEING ABLE TO EVEN SPEAK TAN'S NAME OUT LOUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“No one,” said Fang softly. “He’s no one at all.” <<< WHAT IF I WALKED INTO TRAFFIC

........anyway. sorry i kinda got carried away with this ;;;;;;; i know you said you probably can't write further anon, but if you ever feel inspired to do so JUST PLEASE KNOW I WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOVE TO GET MORE OF IT!!!!!!!!! AND IN THE MEAN TIME THANK YOU SOSOSOSO MUCH FOR SHARING THIS!!!!!!!!!!

[caramelkoo]

no questions asked— jjk

Jeon jungkook wants nothing more than to get settled with his girlfriend, but what if her fear of commitment makes him take a step back? Will he do it, or will he be able to changer her mind for good?

pairing : Jungkook X reader

genre : established relationship, smut, fluff

word count : 6.6k (im begging for forgiveness)

Based on this ask <33

warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature, oc is an anxious girly (same), mentions of emotionally unavailable parents, jungkook is a man of dreams, simp boyfriend jungkook, car sex, unprotected sex (be safe), begging, reference of titanic if you squint, yeah that's pretty much it.

a/n : this took million business days lmao but finally it's here. the sweetest anon requested a drabble but i couldn't do it and as much as i tried to make it shorter, it got stretched to 6k words 😭 so im deeply sorry anon. the rest of you who enjoy longer fics, dig in. I love you guys so much, you might not know this but yall are my besties for resties. kisses. 💌

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Your boyfriend is going to propose to you.

Oh god

Oh. my. God.

Anxiety is not a foreign feeling for you. Although this time, it’s an indescribable sort. Something which is lingering in the deepest pit of your stomach for a lack of better word. Besides, there’s a mayhem inside your head, the voices are loud and intimidating, causing you to bite your lip to a point where they bleed while also staring at nothing. 

Jungkook has been nothing but secretive— the poor boy has no idea that you have already seen the navy blue box sitting inside his side of the drawer. You can swear it was totally unintentional.

In your defense, you had been searching for your glasses and that was the only place left to fish around. Nobody could have prepared you for the utter shock when your eyes fell on that box and so for a minute or two you just stood there, horrifyingly still and stunned. However, you recovered quickly, because to be quite honest it was about time one of you mustered up enough courage to ask the question.

It’s supposed to make you thrilled right? So why does something feel… off? 

“Penny for your thoughts?”, as soon as Cherry’s voice reaches your ears, you snap out of it and flash her a forced smile. 

“Yeah-” you begin, “Yeah uh- I’m just thinking about nothing in particular.” 

“_____ you’re an amazing girl but you gotta work on those lying skills.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth. You shouldn’t even have bothered in the first place, the girl can read you like a book. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours huh?” 

She picks up the book before scanning it with the barcode scanner all the while you marvel if you should tell her or just let it go, but then you also know how she would become a pain in the ass if you don’t spill the beans to her. Anyway, she can;t make you overthink it any more than you already have. 

You bite your lower lip before saying, “I feel like Jungkook is going to propose.” 

If looks alone could kill, you would have been buried deep by now with the way the man wearing an olive green cardigan, probably in his 50s, gives you side eye when Cherry drops the book with a loud thud on the counter. 

You wince.

“I’m sorry what?” 

When you subtly signal her to pick what she’s dropped, she takes a hold of the book, apologizes to the man who— you’re hundred percent sure hates your guts now, and resumes her work. 

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Ha! Girl you better start telling me more or none of us are going home today.”

She’s talking to you but her hands keep shuffling between scanning the books and expeditiously typing on the keyboard.

A spark of hesitation finds a way inside your heart. The thing is, you’re not sure. Do you want to marry the love of your life? Absolutely. Do you think you can keep the marriage going and stable? No. 

There you said it.

And that kills you because jeopardising your bond and connection with Jungkook is the last thing you want to do.

Maybe, it’s because nobody in your family has been able to keep their inner spark alive after they had gotten married or you might as well blame it on the relationship your own parents have had before your eyes. 

For everyone who couldn’t see past the walls of your house, your parents were an ideal couple. A pair who were equally efficient and successful in their respective areas of life. With your father being a renowned businessman and your mother holding the title of a world famous fashion designer, they couldn’t have been a better partner for each other, right?

Wrong. Too bad you had the honor of being an onlooker of their facade slipping away before getting replaced by their real impudent selves. 

But that’s all you could do though. You were merely just an audience. Someone who could see everything shatter before her eyes and not do a single thing to put an end to it. 

Constant fights, fuming with jealousy over one of them achieving more than the other, sabotaging each other.

All hell broke loose when they began making you take sides. 

You think mommy is better don’t you, honey?

You should be proud of your dad, ____. You’re living such a luxurious life thanks to me. 

For the love of god you were five. What does a five year old know about luxury or human ego? What could you have possibly known about who is better? In your eyes, they were your mom and dad and not some squish mellows placed side by side from which you had to take your pick. Let’s not even start with the emotional unavailability they provided you with.

A knot lodges in your throat and you struggle to get the words out. “I happen to see the box inside his drawer”

“You’re sure it had a ring inside- Wait, don't answer that”, she shakes her head as if she just asked the most ridiculous question ever.

No shit.

“But that’s a good thing right? I mean you guys have been seeing each other for a while now and marriage is the final stop.” she continues and you can’t help but feel terrible, because she is making sense. 

A sigh leaves you, “Yeah no- I mean yeah it is but I didn’t expect him to take the initiative so suddenly. No hints were dropped at all. Marriage is, gosh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but it seems intimidating to me.” 

The queue has finally dissipated at this point so she faces you fully showcasing her engrossment in your dilemma. The girl feeds off drama but refuses to get involved in one.

Her expression morphs into something between horrified and sympathetic. “_____, is that because of your parents?” 

Your heart skips a beat. This whole time you and only you had authority over this thought that your fear of marriage is deeply rooted in your own parents’ fucked up relationship. A belief that lay sly and unseen.

Only after those words left Cherry’s mouth did you realise how venomous they sound. It makes you aware that the fear was not as concealed as you intended to keep it. What are you supposed to do when you find out that somebody else knows about your deepest terrors? Run? Hide? Or simply not say anything? 

Your mouth feels suddenly dry. “What?” 

Cherry takes a hold of your palm and rubs it gently, “If it is, I want you to know that it’s not the case for everyone. Marriage is a beautiful concept, a lovely commitment. Are there some pitfalls to it? Yes. But that’s the beauty of it. The way two people come together and resolve them-”

Your phone buzzes inside your pocket causing you to flinch. Releasing your hands from her hold, you take it out and see your grandmother’s number stare up at you. 

“I’ll just be back.” you excuse yourself just as a woman places a stack of books on the counter.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

“Hey, beautiful” you greet her, a smile lighting up your entire face.

“My baby, did I catch you at the wrong time?” her voice is like a balm to your heart. So warm and comforting. It reminds you of your movie nights with her where you didn’t have to be anything or pretend. You just had to exist and she made it worth it. Always. 

“Now you know even the devil himself can’t stop me from talking to you.” 

A loud chortle reaches your ears and you imagine her throwing her head back, laughing. 

“I was calling to ask if you and your eye candy of a boyfriend are visiting home this year for thanksgiving, dear?” 

Dear lord, you can’t believe you forgot about that.

Your eyes widen, and just when you think you could bubble up some other lie, she speaks up, “You forgot, didn’t you?” 

Yeah, bold of you to assume you can do that and get away. You actually need to work on your lying skills. For whatever reason. You want to pluck your eyelashes out one by one because of how gloomy she sounds.

“I’m genuinely sorry, grams.” pinching the bridge of your nose you continue, “I’ve just been busy with work and barely making ends meet. I promise this is the first and last time I let it slip my mind.” 

With the job you have, there’s only so much cash you can count and while you would love to make a career out of writing, the thought of publishing your own book sends shivers down your spine.

Every time you open the draft a new mistake pops up, taking a percentage of your self confidence down the drain. You’re only human. A microscopic slip catches your attention and you start questioning your life choices. 

“Honey, come home and give yourself some time off, what do you youngsters like to call it? Oh yes, grind. Yeah?” 

It’s your turn to laugh. “Wow someone has been too into love island lately.”

Cherry raises her eyebrows from across the room and you mouth her the word ‘grandma’. She nods with a smile on her face, going back to work. 

A long stretch of silence hangs in the air before you hear her ask, “_____, what else is wrong?” 

The smile which has been adorning your face this whole time instantly drops. You blink.

Once

Twice

Thrice 

“I don’t understand.” Liar.

“You know what I mean, baby. I want you to tell me more, because I know something has been bothering you. What is it?”

Humans are so funny sometimes. They can be as close to you as your own soul and not have a hint of your torment. Meanwhile, there is your grandmother, who despite being so far away from you just….. knew. But again, it has always been like this hasn’t it? 

Whenever you got tired of your parents throwing stuff around the house, making each other lick the floors, trying to make their own and your life a living hell, she knew. 

She was the one who allowed you to cry, and assured you that she would not call you dramatic if she happened to hear your sobs.

You were allowed to cry,

You were allowed to ask for help,

You were allowed to not hold back.

Sucking in a deep breath, you release it, “Everything else is perfect, grams.”

Mr William is always the first person to greet you everyday when you reach the apartment. He’s been working as a guard for years now and you’ve grown quite familiar with him. While being the sweetest man you’ve ever come across, he also brings his wife’s yummiest tarts for you whenever she makes them. Arguably, they deserve more hype than they get.

“She knows how much you love her tarts” he says, making you feel immense gratitude towards his kindness. 

This particular night, he seems…. restless. He’s shifting from one foot to another as you shut the cab’s door behind you. Striding over to him, you mentally try your best to figure out his uneasiness. 

Clearing your throat, your throat as you ask, “Is everything alright, Mr William?” 

Only after he hears your voice, he gains his composure. Or so he tries. 

He hands you a piece of paper which feels a bit wet and you wonder what could have been so intense that the man began having clammy palms.

It’s nearly concerning, not to mention it doesn’t help with your own anxiety at all. If not, shoot it up. 

“Your boyfriend dropped by around lunch time, miss. He handed me this and asked me to give it to you as soon as you come back from work.”

He couldn’t have given it to you yesterday when he was with you in the first place? Weird.

“I see, but why are you so tense? Has something happened?” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “My wife has been sick and I was supposed to leave early but I figured it would be better if I gave it to you safely before going home to her.” 

Fuck

“You could have given this to me later. Your wife comes first, sir.” you gulp, “Please, I appreciate your gesture but she needs you more. Thank you so much and please let me know if I can be of help.”

He releases an empty chuckle. “Thank you, Miss” 

With one last nod you walk inside the building while also hoping he doesn’t call you for help. Not because you won’t do anything it takes to help him, but because you hope it wouldn’t come to it. The moment you shut the apartment door behind and turn on the light, the piece of paper steals your attention. Without waiting any further, you unfold it, coming across Jungkook’s writing. 

The note alone feels like he whispered it into your ear before placing the softest kiss on your skin. Your lips stretch into a serene smile as you stride over to the bedroom, turning the doorknob as your gaze catches a purple bodycon resting on top of your bed. It is accompanied with a bouquet of pink tulips as well as a bar of Dubai chocolate. 

Your head that has been nothing short of a commotion is now finally at peace. Not entirely but at peace nonetheless.

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Jungkook was 12 when he went on his first roller coaster ride. He was, like every other child, afraid. Afraid that he might fall and hurt himself so bad, he wouldn’t ever be able to get up. The roller coaster had a massive drop followed by a corkscrew which took him upside down. Until the moment Jungkook saw a woman in yellow dress buying a bunch of tulips from the flower shop he very often visited, he had never felt his stomach bottom out as strongly as it did during that drop back then.

There she was, chatting with the florist as if they’re best friends. He could see her behind the glass picking out the pink tulips before sniffing them. Meanwhile, Jungkook stood across the road, soaked and enchanted as he wondered if he should ask for her number or chicken out. Eventually, the latter won. 

But here’s the thing, Jungkook is not one for losing. He hates losing, even the term makes him want to peel his own skin off. 

He saw her hair first, becoming curly locks reaching down to her waist and just above her hips. Granted that his line of sight only allowed him to see her side profile, he assumed she was gorgeous. It was not unlikely for him to see beautiful women on a daily basis, but something about her just sucked him in. His eyes could not leave her face and he believed even if they tried, he would pluck them out just to punish them. Was it weird that his hands itched to hold a woman he doesn’t even know? 

What’s her name?

Where does she live?

What’s her favorite color?

How does she like her coffee?

There’s a japanese phrase called koi no yokan which means that you eventually will fall in love with a person you meet. You’re going to grow so fond of that person that you would want to see no one by your side but them. She was that person for him. 

He rubs his hands for the nth time in a futile attempt to warm them up, waiting outside ____’s building. How is this evening going so slow? He has been here for perhaps half an hour now, so why does it feel like it’s been a decade? 

And funnily enough, the only person who can put him out of his misery is _____. At this point, the guy fears he wouldn’t be able to so much as look her in the eye, but not doing that will be the end of him too.

He looks down and lets his hands run over his black button down shirt, wondering if she would like it. She loved seeing him in black on the first date. A loud click clack of heels grab his attention, perking his ears up. He looked up and there she was in all her glory. 

Jungkook releases a breath and rubs his chest as if his heart hurts. As if it’s telling him how unworthy he is of this woman who is walking up to him, who may be as nervous as him but still chose him as her man. 

The woman who could have anyone she wanted wrapped around her pinky finger gave her days, nights and evenings to him. She smiled at him, for him and if he was lucky, because of him.

_____ stops before him while he’s still adjusting to the sight of her. “How do I look?” 

Unreal, exquisite and way out of his league.

He shakes his head from side to side, thinking of a single word that would suffice the answer to that. He fails and so instead he runs his fingers down her forearm until he reaches her soft hands and takes it into his own cold ones. 

Placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, he begins. “My imagination of you in this dress has got nothing on this vision.” 

Her face morphs into the softest expression of love, “And exactly how many times have you imagined me in this dress, Jeon Jungkook?” 

He takes a step forward, his chest almost touching hers. “I can’t answer that. You want to know why?” 

“Why?” Her voice is emotionless. His thumb grazes her lower lip as he tries not to smudge her nude lipstick. “Because if I do, we’ll have to go back into your apartment and try not to wake your neighbours up.” She swats his chest and softly pushes him back, dissolving into a giggle. 

“You’re looking quite handsome yourself.” she says as her eyes shamelessly check him out. His sleeves are halfway folded stopping just below his elbow, beautifying his tattooed forearms.

He’s also wearing his favorite blue baggy jeans with his usual black chunky boots. The same ones he goes for when he knows _____ might not be able to bear the pain caused by her heels, so he ends up swapping them with the boots.

He would argue carrying her all the way to her apartment instead, but settles elseways. 

Jungkook opens the car door for her and only after she’s well seated, he runs to his side and takes off. 

The ride to the restaurant is quiet despite the obvious tension that doesn't go unnoticed by either him or her. As much as he would like to spend the rest of the night snuggled into bed with her, he knows there is something more significant than that. So instead he indulges in caressing her thigh. 

“After you, angel.” He places a hand on the small of her back. 

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The ambience looks straight out of the movies. Like a paradise. Violinists are playing a chorus of Fuck her gently by Tenacious D far across the room. 

Jungkook catches an unknown look on her face. “Something’s wrong?” 

She shakes her head, flashing him a smile. “I love this song.”

He places a tiny kiss on her temple. “I know, baby. C’mon.” 

You know how women have this killer instinct of knowing if and when somebody’s watching them? It’s like they have a separate pair of googly eyes on the back of their head to protect them from creeps. 

From the moment you have entered the place, the man in the wine shirt has been making a hole in your face with the way he’s been staring at you. 

Is your dress too revealing? Are you showing too much skin?

“Oh I forgot to tell you. Your grandmother called earlier today.” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts. 

You gulp down the last piece of steak before answering. “Let me guess she asked you to join her for thanksgiving?” He nods, a bright smile on his face. “I told her I would love to.” 

A cheeky smile unfurls slowly on your face. Jungkook loves your grandmother. Maybe a little bit more than you do. Just a tiny bit though. Last year when you and he visited her, he was the first person apart from you to get a hug out of her.

Your grandma is not much of a hugger by the way. Her hugs are totally exclusive. 

“I’m sure she loves having my ‘eye candy of a boyfriend’ there.” 

Jungkook snorts, placing his fork down. “She called me an eye candy?” 

He dissolves into a fit of laughter when you answer his question with a nod. 

“See now that’s the biggest achievement I have had in a while. I mean what are the odds your wife’s grandma calls your an eye candy-”

Something sours in your stomach. The steak here tastes awful or maybe it’s just you feeling pathetic that as soon as he says ‘wife’ your expression morphs into something so dreadful that it causes him to stop. What are the odds that you just gave him a reality check and dragged him out of a fool’s paradise?

“Angel, what’s-” 

You stand abruptly, cutting him off yet again. His eyes bob all over you, and then a sad frown puckers between his brows. 

“I’ll just be back. I need to use the washroom.” You say as you grab your handbag as quickly as you can before leaving him there. Confused and wondering what the fuck just happened?

Few minutes later, just as you’re walking outside the washroom and making a way towards your table someone’s voice causes you to stop midway. 

“Excuse me.” 

Turning to face the person, you come face to face with the same man from earlier. The one wearing a wine colored shirt along with a nasty expression. You believe he’s trying to look cocky but is failing miserably.

“Can I help you?” 

A slow smile spreads over his mouth. “I couldn’t help but notice that the man you’re here with seems to upset you in some way.”

An awkward chuckle leaves you. “The man is my boyfriend and I don’t think it concerns you if he’s upsetting me or not.” 

He walks a little closer. Oh no, this is bad. 

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, “But clearly he’s not being a good boyfriend, is he?” 

The audacity of this man.

You huff out a frustrated breath, “Listen, you need to shut up and stay within your limits. It’s not healthy going around poking your nose into everyone’s business.” 

His sly smile grows even more as he steps closer than before. 

The hair on your body stands up, and not in a good way, but in a very uncomfortable way. You suddenly regret the idea of leaving Jungkook’s side. Bad, bad decision. 

Currently, you have two options. You can either just walk off and act like nothing happened, which by the way, is a safe option or you can kick the man in the balls and then act like nothing happened.

Since you're much more accustomed to the former option, you decide to do just that but when his hands grip your wrist with an iron grip, you settle on the latter. 

You knee him between the legs with an intention to hurt him as he grunts in pain, his hands gripping where you just kicked him. 

“You fucking bitch.” 

Before he can say anything further, you storm off. Your phone buzzes inside your handbag and you automatically assume it to be Jungkook’s call. As soon as you spot him across the room, you feel the clouds parting, there’s a feeling threatening to arise. It’s something between protected and anguished. 

Anguished because you let your mind speak so deafeningly that it silenced the oh so loud love Jungkook has for you. And protected because you know for a fact that if he had any idea about what that man just did to you, he would not think twice before dragging him by the hair before bringing him to his knees in front of you to apologize. 

He stands once he sees you and you waste no time running towards him. Your arms go around him as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. His arms immediately embracing you in return, securing you against his chest.

It feels warm.

Concern laces his voice as he says, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Breathe” 

You don’t even realise you’re panting unless he says that. You’re aware that at this point the way you flung yourself at him must have got everyone’s attention. But you genuinely don’t care. It might as well be an auditorium full of people watching you hug your boyfriend like an anchor, you just don’t care. 

You realise that’s exactly what Jungkook is. Your anchor. Someone who didn’t even ask as to what happened before he straight away began consoling you. 

His hand envelops the back of your head in a protective way while the other soothes your back. 

“Do you want to leave? We can leave right now if you want to.”

“Yes, please.”

His body shakes as though he just nodded. “All right, let me pay real quick and we’ll leave yeah?”

Your voice is muffled against his chest. “Yeah.”

You suck in a sharp breath as he lets you go. The small folder on the table grabs your attention. He opens it only to find a note inside of it saying— “It’s on me, gorgeous”. 

You can see the wheels in his mind turning, but before he starts asking you any questions which may or may not cause a breakdown of yours, you say, “I’ll explain it to you outside. Can we please go?” 

“Let me see wh-”

“Please?” He lets out a defeated sigh and nods. “Yeah- Yeah let’s go.” 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

At first when Jungkook saw that note, the first emotion that he felt was rage and a very serious one at that. But it was soon replaced by realization. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that something nasty went down after _____ left to use the washroom. Something he can’t wait to get to the bottom of. Nevertheless, he didn’t want her to be pressured to answer the more obvious question. 

Jungkook’s girl is attractive. She’s kind and empathetic and fucking stunning which makes her worthy of all the attention she gets. Of course men are going to want to be with her. 

Initially, it bothered him. A lot. 

Now, though? He’s grown rather used to it. However, it has never come to having someone pay for her in a restaurant. Even the thought of someone so much as speaking to her in an inhumanely manner makes him want to punch a hole through a wall. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

The silence is too loud inside the car. He can hear ____’s heart beating loudly or is it his own?

She’s leaning back with her head against the headrest. When she doesn’t respond, Jungkook speaks again, “_____ baby, will you please at least look at me?” 

Her eyes connect with his and he flashes her the softest of smiles.

Taking her hand, he kisses the inside of her wrist where he can feel her pulse. 

Thump thump thump. 

“I want you to give me something, angel. Anything.” 

He can see her gulp before admitting, “There was um… there was a guy outside the washroom and he kind of tried to force himself on me,” she closes her eyes for a brief moment, “Maybe I’m just being dramatic, but I handled him.” 

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He was right. His hands fly out to open the car door before _____ holds him back. “Don’t. I said I handled it.”

He turns back, his voice leaking with anger along with something more barbaric. “And I’m proud that you did, but if I don’t go in and beat that asshole into a new one I won’t be able to call myself a man worthy of you anymore. I need him to know that he can’t fuck with my girl and go about his goddamn day.” “Jungkook, please. I can’t take it anymore. Please stop.” 

And he does. For now. 

He leans back, running his hands over his face with frustration. For a few minutes he and ____ just stare outside the front glass of the car. The parking lot slowly gets empty as people leave for their homes one by one. 

Just when he thinks  _____ has dozed off, her voice reaches him. “Can I get one more hug?” 

“Come here.” 

He takes her into a warm embrace before kissing the top of her head, settling his lips there. His anger has yet not fully dissipated, but having her so close calms his heart. It calms his whole being. Her touch, her breath against his skin, her presence heals something in him.

Therefore, he made up his mind about spending his whole life with her. The little slip of words, which by the way was totally unintentional, soured _____'s expression and that didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

She’s scared but he fully intends to let her know that she doesn’t have to.

______ unwraps herself from his arms and pushes back. Just enough for their noses to touch.

She shakes her head, “Don’t give me those eyes.” 

Jungkook holds back a smile. “What eyes, angel?” 

“The same ones you give me when you want something dirty to happen. Those big brown eyes of yours.”

He lets a chuckle slip out. “I’m down if you are.” 

When she offers him her own laugh, gosh it’s as though he comes alive. If he could bottle up the sound, he would. Something passes in _____’s eyes. Lust? Desire? He can’t pinpoint. 

He wants to kiss the hell out of her though and he wants to do it desperately. Her eyes drop to his mouth and he takes it as a sign to lean forward and press his mouth against hers. 

Her lips part ever so slightly followed by her gripping Jungkook’s collar to bring him even closer. So close as if she wants their souls to intertwine. 

The feeling is very much mutual. 

She gets up from the passenger’s seat without breaking the kiss and straddles his lap. Her legs on either side of his thigh as their core’s touch. Jungkook is not sure how long he can endure this sweet pain of waiting. 

In all sincerity, he’s been holding himself back from the very moment he saw her walking up to him in that dress. Do with that information what you will. 

Now, he just wants to say fuck it and get inside her— only that he can’t, because he wants her to take her time and ask for it. Then and then only he will fuck her. If it’s inside this car then so be it. 

The kiss is electric and filled with passion, tingling his skin in all the right places as she matches his enthusiasm with her own.

______ pulls back with a deep breath, leaving Jungkook panting heavily. 

“Please.” she begs. 

A strand of hair falls on her face. He tucks it behind her ear. “Please what baby?” 

“Please fuck me, Jungkook. I want you so bad and I want you right now.” she whines.

He grins. “At your service, ma’am.” 

He hears _____’s light chuckle as he gets out of the car, carrying her with him while also making sure she doesn’t hit her head on the hood. She detaches herself from him once they’re out and settles in the back seat. Only after ensuring she’s comfortable enough, Jungkook follows her. 

His body lays on top of her and he wastes no time as their mouths collide. Her finger grip the hair on his nape and he groans with pleasure, his cock going thick. He rubs it on her lower stomach to show her how much he wants her, gaining a moan out of her. 

Jungkook’s head goes fuzzy with every passing second. He almost comes when she lifts her hips up and rubs a slow circle against his cock. 

“Fuck.” He groans, pulling back from the kiss. _____’s cheeks are heated and lips are swollen. He did that. Her man did that. 

Suddenly, he’s grateful for the tinted glass and his big car. 

_____ lifts her head up and kisses his sweaty cheek, swiping his forehead with her palm. “You’re sweating, honey.” 

“Yeah, I tend to do that in your presence. Do you know how hard it was for me to stay sane after seeing you look so unbelievably gorgeous?” 

She passes him a lazy smile, “You’ve always been so good at controlling yourself, haven’t you?” 

“Not anymore.” He sits up, knees on either side of her body and starts unbuckling his belt all the while panting with excitement. His pants slide halfway down letting his cock spring free. Thick, angry and leaking with precum. His shirt goes next.

______’s eyes flash with lust as she bites her lower lip. The straps of her dress have slipped down, leaving her tits bare and open for Jungkook.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” he leans forward as she runs a hand up his bare spine, hooking her legs over his hip.

“Please.” she whispers. 

A loud thunder outside the car grabs Jungkook’s attention. Nice, he’s so horny he didn’t even realise that it’s raining. Another rumble of thunder drowns their panting breath but he still only focuses on the woman beneath him. The goddess of a woman who trusts him with her body. How lucky he is to call her his own. 

She brushes his hair out of his face, her thumb dusting over the mole on the bridge of his nose before her hand follows the path of his tattooed arm, his rib, his ass, until she wraps a fist around his dick. 

He pushes into her hand. “I need to grab the condoms from the console, angel.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, the car filling with the pants and whimpers before she says, “I want you bare. I’m on the pill.” 

Jungkook has never gone without condom nor has he considered going without one, but this woman right here just asked him to get inside her bare and fuck if it doesn’t tempt him.

And so he gives in, but not before asking, “Are you sure?” 

“As sure as one can be.” 

He nods, bringing his lips back to hers. His hand finds her thong under the dress as he slides it down her legs. Then he strokes a single line up and down her slit, wetting his finger with her cum. When he brings the same finger to his mouth and sucks on it, _____ all but whimpers. 

His cock follows next and he does the same with it, rubbing himself up and down her slit as he coats himself in her before he presses his thumb down on the head of his cock, curls his hips forward, and pushes into her. 

Tortuously slowly, inch by fucking inch. 

She’s so warm and tight for him. He’s not sure how long he can take before he shoots his load inside of her. 

“More.” she pleads, her face morphing into the most beautiful expression of pleasure. 

Jungkook pulls back and pushes again, watching more of a length disappear inside of her. He’s not even halfway in and she’s already crying out his name. 

Leaning in, he bites her neck in an attempt to give her his all. All his love, all his nights and all his life. The question is at the tip of his tongue but considering what happened inside, he quickly holds himself back. 

“You’re doing so good for me, my angel. Taking me so well,” He thrusts again. “You’re made for me, aren’t you?” 

She cries out. 

“What was that?” She throws her head back. “Yes. Oh my god” 

Thrust. “Yes, what baby? I’m gonna need you to say it.” 

Jungkook takes her nipple in his mouth, sucking on it until she cries out again, “I’m made for you. Fuck.”

He releases the nipple with a loud pop. “That’s right you are.” His pelvic bone is flush with hers, ____’s legs as wide as possible to accommodate him. She dusts her fingertips up and down his spine while he slowly kisses along her jaw.

When she pushes her heels into his ass, urging him to move, he pulls out part way before pushing back in again. 

She lets out a moan quickly followed by his own. _____’s hands run over Jungkook’s abs, nipples, and wrap around his shoulders. 

He’s fucking her slowly, taking his time, feeling her body and letting her feel his too. Every brush, every graze, every breath is precious to him.

Soft and intimate. 

So when the next words leave Jungkook’s mouth, he blames it on the moment. “Marry me.”

_____’s eyes which were closed earlier, savoring the very moment, pop open and his movement halts. 

“What?” 

“Fuck. Okay, I know this is not a position or place a woman wants to be proposed in, but I have to say this before I go insane. _____, I know you’re scared and I also know the reason behind it. Of course, I won’t ask you why you kept that part a secret from me, because I respect you and want you to take your time. But baby,” he brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, “I need you to know that I will die before I let anything like that go down between us. I love you so much you don’t even realise. Sometimes I even shock myself with how much I cherish you. You’re a gift to me, a gift which brings out the best not just in me but in everyone she meets.”

He places a small kiss on her forehead before continuing, “I can go anywhere, see everything but it still wouldn’t match the level of affection I hold for you in my heart. Still wouldn’t match the beauty of your smile, you amazing woman. You’re all I have ever wanted. So please, make me the happiest motherfucker in the world by saying ye-”

“Yes” 

‘What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you. Now will you please shut up fuck me like you promised, husband?” 

He bites her jaw, “Oh, I’ll fuck you so nice you’ll be begging for more, wife.”

Soon enough, _____’s lower lip trembles as her orgasm takes over, and he has the privilege to watch it all. The fluttering of her lashes, the marks of her nail down his arm and the way she calls him her husband again when she’s able to find her words. 

He’s so gone.

About half an hour later when he asks her again as to what changed her mind about marriage, she says something so deep yet in such a casual way, he wants to cry. 

“When I hugged you inside, you didn’t ask questions. You just let me be and that may seem like a miniscule thing for someone else, but for me it was enough. Enough to stay with you until I turn all wrinkly and grey haired.” 

[carnalcrows]

HOW TO STEAL A MAN (AND HIS GROCERY LIST)

pairing: gi-hun x top male reader

synopsis: When Gi-hun’s late-night cat-feeding routine attracts a stalker with a cart full of cat food and questionable social skills, chaos—and maybe romance—ensues.

content warnings: 18+, top male reader, stalking, blowjobs (reader receiving), missionary, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, reader wants to get gi-hun pregnant asap, age gap (reader is in his 20s and gi-hun is in his 40s).

word count: 2.2k

A/N: ty anon for the request!! i had fun writing this one

Seong Gi-hun’s life wasn’t glamorous. Every evening, after whatever sorry excuse for a day he’d had, he stopped at the corner store, bought a packet of cheap cat food, and made his way to a run-down alley to feed a scruffy stray. It was the one bright spot in his life, and he looked forward to it more than he cared to admit.

What he didn’t know was that someone else looked forward to it too.

That someone was you.

You first noticed Gi-hun a few weeks ago while wandering through the neighborhood. At first, you thought he was just some random guy lingering in the alley, but then you saw him crouch down and pour food into a chipped saucer. His voice was soft as he spoke to the stray cat, coaxing it to eat.

It was... oddly endearing.

From then on, you couldn’t help yourself. You started following him—not in a creepy way (okay, maybe a little creepy)—but you were curious. Who was this man? Why did he care so much about a stray cat?

Your fascination grew, and soon, watching him feed the cat became part of your routine. But you wanted more than to just watch. You wanted to talk to him. To know him.

One evening, as you watched Gi-hun walk into the corner store, you got an idea. A foolproof, albeit slightly unhinged, plan. You hurried inside ahead of him, grabbed every single packet of cat food off the shelf, and went to pay, ignoring the cashier’s confused look.

When Gi-hun arrived at the pet aisle, you lingered near the exit, pretending to browse.

“What the…?” Gi-hun muttered, staring at the empty shelf. He rubbed the back of his neck, sighed, and turned to leave, only to almost bump into you.

You were standing there with a massive bag filled with cat food packets.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you said, pretending to be startled.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re the reason the shelf is empty?”

“I feed a lot of strays,” you said innocently, though the amusement in your voice probably gave you away.

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You think I could buy one of those off you? There’s a stray I feed every night, and now I’m empty-handed.”

You pretended to think about it, then smiled. “I’ll give you one… if you let me come with you. I’d like to meet the cat.”

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considered your request. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. But don’t scare it off, okay?”

That’s how it all started.

What was supposed to be a one-time thing turned into a routine. Every evening, you’d meet Gi-hun at the corner store, walk with him to the alley, and sit on the curb while the stray cat ate. Over time, you learned bits and pieces about him: his failed marriage, his gambling problems, and most importantly, his love for his daughter, Ga-yeong.

“She’s all I have left,” he admitted one night, his voice soft.

You nodded, unsure what to say. It was clear how much he cared for her, even if he didn’t always show it in the best ways.

As weeks passed, you also got to know Ga-yeong, who was surprisingly cool for a kid. She started teasing her dad about how much time he spent with you.

“Are you two dating yet?” she asked one evening, smirking as she watched you and Gi-hun prepare dinner.

Gi-hun spluttered. “W-what? No! We’re just friends.”

“Sure, Dad,” she said, winking at you.

You laughed, enjoying how flustered he got.

One rainy evening, you were at Gi-hun’s apartment again, helping him cook dinner. The kitchen was small and cramped, but it felt cozy with the two of you working side by side.

As you chopped vegetables, you glanced at him. “You know, you’re not half bad at this.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m just saying,” you teased. “You’re full of surprises.”

Gi-hun smiled, but when he noticed you staring, his brow furrowed. “What? Do I have sauce on my face or something?”

“Nothing,” you said, setting the knife down. “I just… I’ve been wanting to do something for a while now.”

Before he could ask what, you stepped closer, your heart racing. Gi-hun froze like a deer in headlights, his hand awkwardly holding a ladle full of stew.

“What are you—”

You cupped his face with both hands and kissed him.

At first, he didn’t move, his eyes wide with surprise. But as you pressed into him, his shoulders relaxed, and the ladle clattered to the counter. Slowly, tentatively, he kissed you back, his lips warm and soft against yours.

It started gentle, careful, like he was afraid to mess it up. But as the seconds ticked by, something shifted. He leaned into you, his hands nervously gripping your waist, pulling you closer. You smiled against his lips, enjoying how hesitant he was, even as his breathing grew heavier.

“Relax,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his. “You’re doing fine.”

“I—I don’t—” he stammered, but you cut him off with another kiss, this one deeper, more insistent.

Gi-hun let out a muffled sound of surprise, his hands fumbling as they slid up your back. His inexperience was endearing, and it only made you want to kiss him harder.

Somehow, the two of you ended up pressed against the counter, the dinner long forgotten. Gi-hun’s hair was an absolute mess from your hands running through it, and his cheeks were flushed a deep red.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered breathlessly, his forehead resting against yours.

“Good,” you said with a grin, leaning in to steal another kiss.

The smell of burning stew eventually snapped the two of you out of it, but not before you got one last, lingering kiss. As Gi-hun scrambled to salvage dinner, muttering curses under his breath, you leaned against the counter, watching him with a satisfied smirk.

“I like you,” you said casually, making him freeze mid-stir.

He turned to look at you, his expression somewhere between flustered and incredulous. “You think?”

“I know,” you corrected. “And I think you like me too.”

Gi-hun sighed, his lips quirking into a small, shy smile. “Yeah... maybe I do.”

You laughed, reaching out to tug him back toward you. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Your mouth found his once more, and you slowly lifted the man onto the countertop. He yelped in surprise, and you used the opportunity to slide your tongue, relishing in how he tasted.

His hands gripped onto your shoulders, while you held his waist, steadying him. You slowly trailed butterfly kisses from his jaw to his neck, stopping at his Adam’s apple before lightly nipping on his ear lobe.

Gi-hun was still quite unsure of what he was supposed to be doing, not having engaged in such…activities for far too long.

“You do want to do this right? We can stop the moment you tell me to,” you said to him, your tone soft. After a second of pondering, he gripped your shoulders with determination, and latched his mouth right onto yours.

You took it as a sign to continue, and slowly broke away the kiss to close the stew before continuing to have your way with him.

You slowly picked him up from the countertop and carried him to the couch, revelling in how surprised you were. Carrying those giant bags of cat food was worth it.

You laid him on the couch gently, its base creaking with the sudden weight. Gi-hun hastily pushed your pants down, tugging at the strap for a few seconds before it made way. Your cock sprang out, hard and leaking.

His eyes widened, and he looked up at you. Your eyes were soft, letting him know that this didn’t have to continue if he didn’t want it to.

Before you could say anything, he licks a stripe across your length, savouring the musk emitting from the base. You let out a groan, gripping onto his hair–but not too tight; not yet.

You let him experiment with your dick, leaving small kisses along the underside, while his hand moves up to clutch your balls, heavy with your seed. He wonders to himself on how your cum would feel inside him, and the thought makes his ears burn a bright red.

“Don’t take this long darlin’, wanna please you too,” you mumble, wanting him to speed up just a little bit.

He slowly wraps his pretty lips around the tip of your cock, making you let out a garbled moan. His mouth was just so, so warm.

“Breathe through your nose baby, that’s it,”you cooed, watching him struggle to take your length all the way.

He slowly bobbed his head up and down, savouring the precum hitting the back of his throat. Your moans were getting louder and louder, to the point where you had to muffle the noises with the back of your hand. The walls of his house were quite thin.

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes as he struggled to swallow you whole. Your grip on his hair had gotten significantly tighter, as you push his head to take you all the way. His garbled mumbles did nothing but send vibrations straight up your dick, turning you on even more.

“So good f’me baby, I’m almost done,”you groan before releasing your grip on his hair and pulling out of his warm throat, before ejaculating all over his face. 

He looked up at you in shock, his face a mixture of tears, sweat and semen. It truly was a sight to see. Your dick stood right back up.

His eyes widened, but before he could say anything, you quickly turned him around on the couch, his ass up towards you.

You pulled his pants down, along with his boxers, to reveal his tight hole, clenching around the cold air. He hissed when he suddenly felt a finger at his hole, slick with lube (where did that come from).

“This might hurt a lil’ bit,” you said before slowly pressing your finger into his hole. His back arched with the intrusion, the pain mixed with the pleasure going straight to his cock, the tip red and weeping.

You slowly added another finger, watching as his ass practically swallowed them whole as you pumped them in and out.

After adding a third finger, you deemed that he was prepped enough to be fucked. He already looked out of it, that was a different thing altogether. His shoulders were slumped and his elbows were the only thing keeping him upright.

You positioned you cock at his entrance, and slowly slid in, groaning at how tight and inviting his hole was, as if it was made just for your dick.

Gi-hun let out a loud moan, it was almost pornographic. He had never felt this full in his life– your cock was almost ripping him in half!

You bottomed out all the way to the hilt, and you slowly started to move, whispering dirty nothings in the older man’s ear.

“How does it feel, getting fucked by a man half your age, hm?” Gi-hun could only blabber at this, his brain could no longer form coherent words as his mind was so focused on how your cock was hitting the right spot with every. single. thrust.

You felt his hole mould into the shape of your cock, and every time you hit his prostate, his moans got more high pitched. One of your hands caressed his stomach, and you were surprised to find his belly bulging with every thrust. He squealed when he felt it, his brain was feeling so empty. 

“Y’know Gi-hun, your daughter must be quite lonely, considering that she is an only child. Wanna give Ga-yeong a sibling?” you teased, to which he could only moan, his head filled with the thought of you making him pregnant with your seed. The thought didn’t seem too bad.

To this, you lifted him up and sat on the couch with him on your lap, his back to your chest. You lifted his legs up in such a way that every single time you lifted him up and dropped him back on your lap, your dick would hit places he didn’t even know existed.

He threw his head back, eyes rolling to the back of his head with the vigour of your thrusts, fucking into him like you were an animal in heat. At this point, it really felt like you were trying to get him pregnant. A man couldn’t biologically get pregnant, but all rational thought had flown out the window, and who said you couldn’t try?

As your thrusts started to stutter, you knew you were at a climax, so when Gi-hun came with a cry, painting his abdomen white, you pushed into him all the way to his imaginary womb before coming undone with a loud groan, painting his gummy walls a pearly white.

You kept your cock in him for a while, letting him relax. His hole clenched and unclenched around your dick, while only spurred you on even more.

Gi-hun turned around to face you lazily, but with surprise, as he felt your cock harden in him once again.

“We can’t stop yet love, I need to give you a baby after all,” you smirked before pushing Gi-hun back down onto the couch.

He was fucked.

And somewhere out there, a stray cat was probably wondering why its dinner was late.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and I take genuine effort to do them.

[ro-is-struggling]

Safer In His Arms || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: Since you were little you always dreamed of meeting a noble and brave knight, falling in love and marrying him to rule your kingdom together until the end of your days. But as you looked around at the men that had come to the banquet to ask for your hand in marriage, it was clear that those dreams were nothing more than a fantasy. Or at least that's what you thought until fate crossed your path with Geralt of Rivia. The witcher, with his hard expression and cold stare, was the last person anyone would describe as warm or chivalrous. But not you. From the moment you met him, you saw nothing but kindness in his eyes. And when he managed to rescue you from the hands of bandits, you knew that maybe there was still some hope that your fantasy could come true —just maybe not in the way you had always imagined. 

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of sexual assault (nothing happens but if it’s triggering for you I wouldn’t read it), protective!geralt, SMUT MINORS DNI, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, loss of virginity (not accurate this is just porn!), dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, aftercare, fluff

English is not my first language

Word count: 13500 (not even sorry)

Notes: I don't know why I keep giving every princess I write a sad/tragic story, sorry about that. Also this ended up being way more smutty than I anticipated, sorry about that too (not really). It was supposed to be a fun little hurt/comfort fic about Geralt saving the reader but it developed a mind of its own and ended up being another excuse to write more smut. I tried to make the smut a bit more fluffy than normal since it's supposed to be the reader's first time, but I didn't want it to be too fluffy given that they technically barely know each other, so there's no actual love between them (if that makes sense?). So, sorry if it's a bit all over the place!

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The cold breeze of the summer night hit your skin the moment you set foot outside, reminding you that you should have taken a coat. While the days tended to be hot this time of year, once the sun set over the horizon a cool breeze embraced the entire kingdom, courtesy of the ocean forces that surrounded the borders of the land. It was quite peaceful. On a quiet night you loved to sit in the courtyard listening to the waves crashing against the rocks and smelling the scent of the salty water that was carried by the winds and mingled with the sweet perfume of the garden flowers. It seemed to always bring peace to your troubled mind, and that was exactly what you needed right now.

You could still hear the noise coming from inside the castle, though it was slowly getting lost in the sound of the sea. The laughter, the chatter, the joyful music, it all faded into the background as you plopped down on one of the seats in the courtyard, allowing yourself a moment to take a deep breath and let the beauty of your kingdom impart some of the wisdom you so desperately needed. All the guests were there for you —to talk and dance with you, to make unattainable but romantic promises in exchange for your hand in marriage— and yet all you wanted to do was disappear. You were tired of the politics, the diplomacy, tired of feeling the pressure of having to decide the future of your life and your kingdom in one night. The choice of a husband was very important to your parents, to your people and it should be to you too, but all you wanted was for the day to be over.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one feeling overwhelmed in there." A deep voice startled you. 

Looking up you were met with a tall man leaning against one of the stone pillars supporting the roof of the covered section of the courtyard. His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles showing through the fabric of his clothes. His white hair hid part of his face, though you could still make out his hard expression and defined jaw. But what caught your attention the most was not the size of his muscles or the fact that the clothes he was wearing seemed too elegant for someone like him. No, what caught your attention the most were the amber eyes that watched you, admiring you from a distance, hiding behind a few rebellious strands of hair. You had never seen such beautiful eyes before. They were piercing, and yet there was a softness in them. Like the sun on a summer afternoon, they shone with an intensity that would have blinded anyone. But you were mesmerized by them, unable to look away. 

"Though I must admit I did not expect to find you here, your highness, given that you are the center of the party."

"I needed some fresh air." You managed to say, forcing yourself to look away from his eyes. "I lost count of the number of men I danced with tonight...I just needed a break."

"That bad, huh?" His lips curved upward slightly, giving his hard expression a softer look. "I suppose if any of them had made a good impression at least you would remember their name."

"It wouldn't matter anyways. My parents have a very strong opinion about the one I should choose." You let out a bitter chuckle. "This banquet is just a formality, a contingency plan.... Give everyone a false sense of hope so they won't attack us for feeling left out."

"I'm sure you still have some sort of control over the whole thing. You're the one getting married after all."

"Since when does a woman's opinion matter when there's wealth and power involved? I'm just a pawn in their political game." Your gaze dropped, focusing on the embroidered details of your dress to avoid facing the intense gaze of the man in front of you. "When I was a girl I used to dream of growing up, meeting a brave and honorable prince and falling in love with him... now I know that feelings come after marriage, if they come at all."

Geralt watched you walk arround the courtyard, your fingers tracing the petals of the flowers that decorated the place without paying much attention to your movements. You had a blank stare and a sad expression adorned your delicate face. He was not a big lover of royalty —he didn't care about politics and didn't like the arrogant tone with which most of them used to speak—, but you were different. When he looked at you he didn't see a spoiled, arrogant princess or a manipulative political figure capable of anything to get their way. He only saw a sad and disillusioned young woman, confused about her future and the responsibility that fell on her shoulders. 

Geralt felt bad for you and had an inexplicable urge to hug you, though he restrained himself. He opted to move closer to you, just took a couple of steps forward and he was already able to breathe in the scent of your perfume. His nostrils were pleasantly assaulted by the sweet scent emanating from your skin and hair. It was special, a blend of jasmine, vanilla and a hint of sea water. It was like nothing he had ever smelled before and he was sure that your scent would linger in his memory for a long time.

"It is still your life." He spoke behind your back and you turned to look at him. He seemed much bigger now that he was closer to you. His figure towered over you imposingly, yet his eyes were soft. "You can always take back your control over it." Your lips curved upward slightly and Geralt thought the smile suited you much better than the grimace of sadness. 

You appreciated his effort to improve your mood. He was a complete stranger who had no reason to listen to your complaints about a life that many considered privileged. And though his words were simple, they accomplished their purpose. You felt so helpless and trapped that you were unable to see that things didn't end there. Yes, you were forced to marry someone you did not love for the sake of your kingdom, but that was not the same as giving up your life, your control and power over it. There was still hope.

"Thank you..." you trailed off, realizing at that moment that you had opened yourself so sincerely to a man whose name you didn't even know. 

But before he could introduce himself, a voice in the distance interrupted you, answering for him.

"Geralt! There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you. You are supposed to protect me, you know."

Geralt let out an irritated sigh as the man you recognized as one of the many musicians hired by your parents to play at the banquet approached you. You had to stifle a chuckle as you realized that rather than escaping the noise of the party, he had come there to get a break from his friend's vibrant and cheerful personality. They were an odd pair, but you had no doubt that there had to be trust between them from the way the bard addresses him.

“I’ve been doing the impossible to hide from Lord Kaius for ages! What the hell were you doing out her–” The artist's complaints were cut short when his eyes finally rested on your figure. "Your highness." He gave a subtle bow, the tone of his voice changing to a lower, more subtle one from one second to the next.

"I'm afraid it's my fault. I was preoccupying your friend with the problems that afflict my mind on this fine evening and he was too kind to interrupt me. He was a great help, but you can take him back now. You clearly need him more than I do."

"Won't you come inside, your highness? You wouldn't want to miss your own party." The bard asked and you smiled at him. 

"In a moment. I'd like to enjoy the peace and fresh air for a while longer."

Geralt didn't know why, but his eyes kept searching for you in the crowd of people dancing and eating like there was no tomorrow. After Jaskier dragged him back to the banquet hall —and after saving him from the fury of the man whose daughter had lost her innocence in the hands of the bard—, he kept his eyes on the big dark wooden doors, waiting to see you enter. But the minutes passed and there was no sign of you anywhere. He hadn't seen you come through the door and he couldn't find you in the crowd of people or see you at the royal table sitting next to your parents. You had disappeared and some people were beginning to notice.

For a moment, Geralt wondered if perhaps his words had encouraged certain behaviors in you. Maybe your way of taking control of your life was to run away from there, leaving your parents, your suitors and your responsibilities behind and start from scratch. He was wondering if perhaps he should go out to look for you, when his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden entrance of a man running towards the king and queen waving a paper in his raised right hand.

"The princess has been kidnapped." He announced loudly, causing the entire room to fall into a deep silence. 

The musicians stopped playing, the people dancing stood motionless in the middle of the room and the queen almost fainted at that very moment. There was a collective sigh and then nothing. Pure silence while the king read the note that had been left behind by the bandits, establishing a payment for the recovery of the princess.

However, the silence did not last long. It was a room full of princes, knights and lords who were there to win the heart of the princess —or at least, the political interest of her parents— so chaos was bound to break out at a time like that. Lord Einar, the one who had found the note in the courtyard, was the first to offer his services to save the princess. His bravery set off a chain reaction of man after man appearing before the king to justify why they were the best suited for the task and not their competitors. And as they fought among themselves, Geralt decided to take matters into his own hands. 

He finally felt comfortable as he inspected the courtyard and its surroundings for some sort of clue as to your whereabouts. For the first time since he had arrived at the castle he felt as if he actually had something to do there. Banquets and politics weren't his thing, but tracking down and hunting evil was. And while his area of expertise was monsters, he was willing to make an exception —anything to find an excuse to get him out of the political mess unfolding in the banquet hall.

His senses enhanced by the mutation allowed Geralt to follow the path that your scent had left in the air. He only had to take a couple of deep breaths and he immediately caught the fragrance of jasmine and vanilla that he had smelled on your skin. It stood out above any other scent near him, almost as if he had you in front of him once again. All he had to do was follow it to the outskirts of the castle, where his tracking skills allowed him to form a clearer picture of the situation.

They were heading north, away from the ocean and into the forest. The four pairs of footprints in the dirt indicated the presence of three heavy men who were accompanied by a fourth subject that was not so pleased to be there. The footprints were more shallow and imperfect. They belonged to a person of smaller build who was being dragged by those men. Geralt found no blood on the path, so he felt optimistic. You were conscious and had no serious wounds that would leave traces of your blood on the road, so there was a high chance that he would arrive in time to save you.

Following the path became a little more complicated the deeper he went into the woods, but fortunately for him the vegetation was not so lush and the bandits had not hidden very far away. Soon he was able to hear their angry mutterings in the distance. The night wind carried your sobs with it and Geralt followed them as if it were a map straight to your whereabouts. 

You were being held captive in what appeared to be abandoned land. There was a dirty old shack and behind it, in the distance, Geralt could make out a barn that he had no doubt was in the same condition. A dim light was escaping through the half-open wooden door, so he knew that was where he had to go. 

Two of the bandits scattered around the property to control the perimeter while one remained inside with you. Geralt was able to slip past them unseen with ease. Clearly, they were not men of great intellect and wisdom. Only a fool would kidnap a princess on the one night she was surrounded by strong and capable noble knights looking to prove themselves to her. Although glancing around, he was the only one there, so perhaps the bandits had a point.

Geralt was very careful with his movements, seeking to stay in the shadows as long as possible to assess the situation. He knew he could take out those men without breaking a sweat, even if they attacked him all three at once. But he had to consider that you were in the middle and any mistake he made could end badly for you. So he took his time, stealing a glimpse of the barn through the cracked door. His vision was limited by the odd angle from which he was forced to observe the scene, as well as the dim light that illuminated the room. Geralt was considering going in with his sword held high and end it all, when a sudden movement forced him to retreat so as not to be found.

Still, he got to see the way the man was mistreating you, pushing you violently against a pile of hay while you cried and begged for your life. And he got to hear the string of degenerate words he spat at you, enjoying the fear in your voice as you struggled to keep your distance from him. It made Geralt angry. Very angry.

The next sequence of actions happened so quickly that it was hard for you to process it. Although, to be honest, your mind wasn't quite there either. A part of you was completely missing, preparing to face the worst. When your captor lunged at you, effectively imprisoning you against the hay and almost completely restricting your movements, your mind transported you to another place. You could still hear his voice in the distance, smell his unpleasant odor and feel his weight on your body, but it all felt distant, muffled by the sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the rocks and the smell of salt water. Your body was still struggling to break free and tears were still streaming down your cheeks, but your mind was preparing to face the horror you knew was coming.

"You can cry all you want, no one is coming to save you." The man clicked his tongue, an evil smile forming on his lips. "A castle full of people and not a single man in sight, what a shame! But don't worry, princess, the time has come for you to know what a real man is." He moved his hands to the buttons of his pants, his leering gaze roaming over your body. You felt like screaming, crying and vomiting all at the same time, but you remained immobile, not knowing how to react. You simply closed your eyes, concentrating on the images of the sea you loved so much, waiting for the moment to pass.

But instead of feeling the weight of your captor's body on you again, you felt the splatter of warm liquid on your skin. Droplets rolled down your cheeks, mixing with your tears, and streams fell on your clothes. When you opened your eyes you found the sharp point of a sword poking out of your captor's pierced stomach. It was his blood that drenched your body, his blood that stained your clothes. It poured down on you from the wound in his stomach and from the cut in his throat that prevented him from producing more than broken cries as he drowned in his own blood.

It took you a few seconds to understand what was happening. Your confused mind, on high alert for new dangers, was not able to comprehend that the death of your captor was something positive for you. You only saw blood in quantities you had never seen before and could not help but scream as you watched in horror as the sword disappeared inside the bandit's body —splashing a few more drops of blood on its way out.

In the blink of an eye, the dying body of your captor was removed from above you and was replaced by a hand that pressed over your mouth to silence you. You struggled against it, your own hands snapping out of their state of shock to clutch at the arm of the new danger in an attempt to separate it from you. But then your eyes focused on the man leaning over you, the one who had saved you and who was desperately asking you to keep quiet.

A surge of calm ran through your body as you made contact with those golden eyes that intrigued you so much. You knew then that you were no longer in danger for Geralt had come to your rescue. Your heart was still beating almost inhumanly fast, pumping adrenaline throughout your body, and your breathing was still rapid, but you were able to calm your whimpers of protest under his hand. You stopped fighting him, trusting that you would be safe under his care.

"There are more-" You tried to warn him as he removed his hand from your mouth, but Geralt shushed you.

"I know, they're outside. That's why I need you to stay quiet and hide while I deal with them. Can you do that, your highness?" You nodded slowly, letting Geralt lead you to the back of the barn. He settled you behind a pile of hay that was large enough to hide your crouched figure, asking you to stay there until he came back for you, no matter what you heard outside.

"Wait! Don't leave me!" you panicked as he took a step away from you. Your hand flew to his arm, clinging to his clothes in an attempt to keep him from leaving. You knew what he had to do, but the thought of being alone again terrified you.

"Everything will be fine." Geralt tried to calm you, his voice a soft whisper. "I promise I will come back for you." 

He gave you a moment before trying to leave once again, waiting for you to let go of his arm willingly rather than forcibly push you away. Geralt knew you were terrified and needed support, and he was more than willing to give it, but first he had to take care of the bandits that were still on the loose. And it would not be wise to fight them while you were present. It would only distress you further and put you in unnecessary danger. So, with a slight nod, he left you in the barn once more, disappearing into the night to finish what he had started.

You curled up in your place, listening to the distant sounds of the fight as you let another wave of tears roll down your cheeks. The smell of blood and dirt surrounded you. You were covered in it —in dirt, from being pushed back and forth around the place; in your captor's sweat, after he threw his body over yours; and in his blood, thanks to Geralt's fierce but effective attack. It made you want to vomit. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in, and your mind was slowly beginning to understand the great danger you were in and how lucky you were that Geralt showed up when he did.

“Princess?” 

His voice brought you back to reality. He was kneeling beside you, looking at you with concern in those beautiful yellow eyes. The skin on his face was stained with a few drops of blood, as you imagined yours to be, but that did not lessen the softness of his expression. You threw yourself into his arms without a second thought, hiding your face in his neck as you sobbed in relief to know that the danger was over.

"It's okay, you're safe. I'm here, it's going to be okay." Geralt muttered against your hair, pulling you into his arms hoping that would be enough to help ease your nerves. 

He held you against his body for as long as you needed him to, stroking your back with his hand in a slow, delicate way to inspire some sense of calm in you. He didn't move for a moment, not even when your sobs began to fade and your breathing became regular. No, Geralt waited for you to make the first move, breaking away from him when you were ready to do so. 

"It's all right. You're fine. Just breathe with me. In...and out...in...and out. All right." 

You let the soft but deep tone of his voice slowly wash away the paralyzing fear and nerves that plagued you. You focused on the warmth of his body and the way his arms wrapped around you, making you feel safe. You mimicked the rhythm of his breathing, letting him slowly guide you back to normal. 

When you opened your eyes again the world around you was no longer spinning. Your vision was still a little blurry from the tears, but you could make out perfectly the yellow eyes, bright as the summer sun, watching you carefully.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a small smile. "Did they hurt you?" You shook your head. Most of the blood on you at that moment wasn't yours, thankfully. Beyond a couple of bruises on your wrists from the bindings, and a split lip from a slap, you weren't injured. Your head hurt and you had twisted your ankle in an attempt to escape but it was nothing you couldn't handle.

"Who were they?" You asked in a shaky voice as you tried to stand up. You winced in pain as you put weight on your injured foot, but Geralt caught you in his arms before you lost your balance.

"Trust me, you're not going to like the answer to that."

A collective sigh was heard as you and Geralt entered the war room, where the king and queen were coordinating a rescue party with some soldiers and half of the suitors present at the banquet. It was a sigh of surprise rather than relief. It was clear that no one expected to see you there, much less with the disheveled appearance you had. 

Your mother was the first to react, running up to you with tears in her eyes. Although she couldn't bring herself to hug you, the blood that stained your ball gown was still fresh, so she settled for holding your cheeks in her hands while repeating over and over again how happy she was that you were safe. Your father reacted by sending the guards to arrest Geralt as his worried mind believed that the witcher somehow had something to do with your kidnapping. You had to stand between them, taking your savior's hand in yours to make your position clear. 

"What you imply is ridiculous! He saved me, father. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him." you stated firmly, keeping your head held high and holding back tears in your eyes. 

"He very well could still be behind all this. He's a witcher who wasn't officially invited to the festivities and conveniently vanished in the middle of the night without a word. No one can attest to him but that bard..."

"No offense, your majesty, but I just felt as though the situation was not being treated with the necessary urgency." Geralt interjected, speaking in a calm and slightly defiant tone. "I knew for a fact that she couldn't be far away and that time was of the essence, but everyone at that feast seemed more interested in proving themselves worthy of glory and respect than saving your daughter's life. I just did what had to be done."

"How dare you speak that way about these noble men, witcher! Any one of them would be more than willing to give his life for my daughter!"

"He is right, father. If you want to find a culprit, you should direct your gaze to Lord Einar."

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. But his gaze was focused on you, staring at you with a fury you didn't know if the others were able to detect. He took a step forward and you tightened your grip on Geralt's hand, instinctively seeking his support. He stuck to your side, silently letting you know that he was ready to come between him and you if necessary —though he seriously doubted that Einar would be stupid enough to try to hurt you in front of the king.

"This is absurd!" Lord Einar complained with exaggerated outrage. "I will not allow myself to be disrespected in this way! I was invited to this feast to formalize my interest in the princess, which is greater than that of anyone in this room, if I may add. Have you forgotten that it was I who noticed the princess's strange disappearance? If I had not gone out to look for her, perhaps the news of her disappearance would have come too late. And may I remind you, your majesty, that it was I who first offered my services to bring her back safe and sound."

"That was the plan, wasn't it?" Geralt spoke through gritted teeth. "To pay some coins to a bunch of desperate bastards to take her so that you could rescue her and thus win her and the king's heart."

"I will not allow this... thing to disrespect me like this!"

"Your scent was on their clothes. Your name was the last thing they uttered before I slit their throats. You knew you didn't stand a chance with her, so you found a way to force your name to the top of the list."

Intimidated by Geralt's cold, hard stare, Lord Einar turned to look at the king. "These are nothing more than baseless accusations made by someone who clearly wants to distract us from his own guilt and involvement." he said, keeping his head held high as he lied through his teeth. "I beg you, my king, to consider punishment for this insolent witcher."

"Is this proof enough for you?" you snapped, tossing an object on the table. 

After the bandits were dead, Geralt had searched their bodies for some kind of proof that their words were true. That's how he had found a ring in the pocket of one of them that clearly didn't belong to them. It was made of a fine metal and in the center, engraved in gold, was the seal of a noble family: the Blakesley family.

The ring rolled against the dark wood, exposing Lord Einar's lies with each flick of the ring before the gaze of all present. There was nothing he could say to avoid the punishment that was coming, so when your father gave the order and the guards took him by force, he decided to take his rage out on you. His voice echoed through the corridors as he was escorted to the dungeon, shouting a string of insults at you. He questioned your honor and your ability as a ruler, claiming that he only wanted to marry you to ensure that the kingdom would not perish when your father died. 

Those were nothing more than the words of an unstable man who was filled with spite, angered by your rejection. You knew it meant nothing, but you still couldn't help but feel humiliated as he shouted all those things in front of so many people. Your eyes filled with tears and you clung to Geralt almost instinctively, hiding your face in his neck so no one would see you cry. He wrapped his arms around you, ignoring the very unfriendly looks that several of the men in the room gave him. 

Your mother ordered the room to be emptied, realizing that the crowd was doing nothing to help your condition. The last thing you needed at that moment was to feel watched and judged by a bunch of people, so she personally closed the doors behind the last guard to leave the room.

"You should take a long bath, my love. I'll send someone to prepare the tub and clean clothes for you. That will certainly make you feel better." Your mother spoke in a soft voice, placing a hand on your back. "And you, witcher, are more than welcome to stay tonight. I'll have a room prepared for you and bring you some clean clothes. We can talk more in the morning."

You gave your mother a smile as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, trying to convince her that you were fine. She knew you weren't, but she also knew you well enough not to push you at that moment. So she left the room without adding anything else, leaving you alone with Geralt once again.

"Thank you... for everything." Your voice broke the silence, your eyes traveling from the door to Geralt's face. "I just realized I didn't thank you yet." 

"You don't have to." He didn't need to hear it from your mouth, he could see in your eyes how grateful you were. Your expression hadn't changed much since he had found you, even though you tried hard to hide it, there were still traces of fear and distress in your eyes.

"Of course I have to! You have saved me from a terrible fate, not only at the hands of those bandits, but also at the hands of that... man." There were other words with which you would have liked to describe him, but you decided it was not appropriate for you to utter them. He didn't even deserve that from you. "I'm glad you were dragged here... I don't know what would have become of me without you tonight, Geralt."

The room fell silent as you looked into each other's eyes. You lost yourself in the amber that surrounded his pupils —which seemed to be more dilated, although it could well be an effect of the light, you thought—, trying to discover the secrets hidden in his eyes. Geralt was not easy to read, no matter how hard you tried, you had no idea of the things that could be going through his head at that moment. And yet, there was something in his eyes that calmed you. When he looked back at you, there was a softness in them that invited you to continue to admire them forever. It was a connection unlike anything you had ever felt before. It piqued your curiosity and some other things you didn't quite know how to explain. 

Your hand was still intertwined with Geralt's and you weren't entirely sure for how long. Although you weren't complaining, you found the warmth of his skin against yours extremely comforting. It made you feel less alone, less vulnerable. You trusted him with your life, you knew that as long as he was around nothing bad could happen to you. And boy did you need that at that moment. You were still quite affected by everything that had happened and the idea of being alone terrified you. You needed company, but not just anyone. You needed his company.

"Would you mind escorting me to my chambers?" you broke the silence, clearing your throat to make sure your voice sounded firm. "My foot still hurts a little and I wouldn't want to fall down the stairs."

It was a foolish excuse. You knew it. Geralt knew it. The twisted foot you got while struggling with your captors was not a cause for concern. It hurt a little, yes, but you could still walk normally. All you wanted was an excuse not to be separated from Geralt and luckily for you, he played along. He allowed you to take his arm for stability and walked with you to your quarters. You appreciated his proximity, enjoying the feel of his body pressed against yours as his warmth enveloped you. But unfortunately it only seemed to aggravate his absence when he pulled away from you, willing to leave you alone so you could rest.

Your hand closed around his arm almost as an unwilling reflex. Your body craved his closeness. Your mind needed his company to be at ease. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't let Geralt leave. Not tonight at least. His eyes lingered on your hand, admiring how small it appeared when compared to his arm, before he looked up into your eyes, searching your expression for an explanation.

"Stay, please." Your voice was almost a whisper. Your eyes had trouble making eye contact with him for the first time since you had met. Geralt knew then that you were embarrassed of uttering those words. "I need you. I... I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Are you sure?" He said after a few seconds of silence, his expression firm but gentle. You nodded, looking at him with pleading eyes as you released his arm from your grip. Geralt sighed and finally crossed the threshold of the door, closing it behind him. 

Geralt allowed you to guide him across the room to a door that hid a large private bathtub on the other side. It was already filled with water and salts, ready for you to use it. Everything smelled of you, of that delicious combination of jasmine and vanilla that Geralt found so special. It was intoxicating, like he was breathing in your scent straight from the source. 

"Would you mind helping me with the lace?" Your voice brought him back to reality. Geralt watched as you turned around, gathering your hair over one of your shoulders to expose your back to him so he could unfasten your dress. He knew it was inappropriate and that he was probably breaking some rule —not to mention, taking advantage of the king's hospitality—, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Not when you were offering yourself to him like that.

Geralt's hands caressed your back first, his fingers slowly tracing a path from your shoulders to where the lacing of your dress ended. You closed your eyes, holding your breath as you felt him slowly loosen your dress. You could feel his imposing figure towering over you. He was so close that you could hear his breathing and feel the heat radiating from his body. You liked the proximity, probably more than you should.

When Geralt finished his work and your dress began to slide down your shoulders, you knew you should have been embarrassed. You were used to being naked in front of servants, but they were always women you trusted, handmaidens who had taken care of you since you were little and helped you dress or bathe. You had never been so exposed in front of a man before and you should definitely feel ashamed, but you were not. You simply let the dress fall to your feet and stepped into the tub as if there was no man present.

The water was warm and the tub was deep enough to hide your modesty if you sat in the right position. The dim candlelight also helped, though ultimately you really didn't mind feeling Geralt's gaze on your body.

"Join me, please. The water's nice and there's room enough for both of us."

Your curious eyes unashamedly traced the muscles of his arms and torso as he revealed himself to you. You noticed the scars that marked his skin, some smaller and some larger, and you couldn't help but wonder what the stories behind them were. Geralt was an exceptional man, unlike anyone you had ever met in your life. He was so rigid and reserved, and yet he had shown nothing but kindness and gentleness in your presence. He was a mystery and you wanted nothing more than to discover what he hid behind those beautiful amber eyes.

Out of respect —and some embarrassment—, you looked away as his hands undid the buttons of his pants. You focused your attention on the jasmine petals floating in the water, feeling your cheeks grow warm as a small voice in your head encouraged you to look up. 

Geralt settled next to you in the tub, avoiding being too close or sitting in front of you so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable or self-conscious in his presence. However, you needed his closeness, so you shortened the distance as much as you could, pressing your arm against his. When he didn't complain, you went a step further and rested your head on his shoulder. Geralt stood still for a moment, debating once again whether his actions were appropriate, but in the end he relaxed. 

He put his arm around your shoulders, effectively pulling you closer to him. A smile formed on your lips as you adjusted yourself in the new position, hiding your face in his neck. Geralt's fingers traced soft lines on the skin of your arm, a caress that both relaxed and excited you. That kind of intimacy was something new to you. Feeling his naked skin against yours, inhaling that musky scent mixed with something you couldn't describe as anything but his own essence, feeling the soft caresses of his calloused fingers, everything made you feel a certain way inside. You didn't have the exact words to describe it. It was like a flame, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and exciting. Ultimately, you didn't care about being able to put a name to what you felt. You just wanted to stay close to Geralt for as long as you were allowed.

Without even realizing it, your hand traveled up to his chest, your curious fingers tracing the jagged lines that marked his skin. You used the scars as a map to his body, letting them guide your path as you explored his chest with your touch. And as your fingers moved, you imagined the heroic stories behind each one, wondering what kind of monsters had inflicted them and if there were any that were human-made.

"I wonder how many princesses you've saved to end up like this." You broke the silence, your voice soft as you got lost in thought. It was mostly a joke, but there was some genuine curiosity hidden in it. 

"Surprisingly, less than you're probably imagining."

You didn't quite know why, but hearing Geralt say that put a smile on your lips. It made you feel special, in a way. He hadn't been hired to save you —technically he hadn't even been invited to the party—, he had no obligation to you or your family, and yet he had risked his life to help you. There was something in you that awakened in him his noblest instincts.

"I'm sure that's what you tell everyone." You laughed, looking up at him from your position on his shoulder. You could admire his profile, his sharp jawline and the way his lips curved upward slightly as he let out a huff.

"Often delicate young women like you find my methods to be too... grotesque. They don't see me as being much different from the monsters I kill." Geralt spoke honestly, remembering the horrified expressions on the faces of the maidens he had sought to save from danger in his past, when he had little experience as a witcher. He was young and naive at the time and believed he could use his skills for more than just hunting monsters. After all, evil came in all shapes and sizes, even in humans. It didn't take him long to understand that humans didn't see a knight of noble spirit when he intervened in such situations, only a mutant designed to kill.

You noticed his thoughtful expression, his eyes looking straight ahead as if his mind was transporting him to another place. You wondered what kind of memories he might have swirling around in his head at that moment, outraged to think that someone could treat him badly after he saved their life. You admitted that he had quite an imposing figure and that his expression wasn't very friendly most of the time, but you still couldn't understand how anyone could be afraid of him. Even before he saved you —when he was just a stranger who took the time to listen to your problems— you saw nothing threatening in him. His beautiful yellow eyes inspired nothing but trust in you from the first moment you made contact with them.

“Then they were all fools." You sat up straight, one hand resting on Geralt's cheek to force him to look at you. "I don't understand how anyone could look at you and see danger in you. Even covered in blood, all I see is... safety and comfort." You gave him a small smile as your finger carefully wiped a small spot of blood from his cheek.

"Or maybe you're being naively nice."

Geralt took a cloth that rested on the edge of the tub and dipped it in the warm water. Then one of his hands cupped your chin, tilting your face slightly so he could get a better look at you in the candlelight. The flames danced in the air, creating shadows on your delicate skin. But even in the dim light he could still see the splashes of blood that stained your beautiful face. They made such a contrast that it was impossible to ignore them. The implication of such a violent act had no place on the delicate face of a princess like you. He hated to see the scratch on your lip, the dirt on your cheeks, the dried blood on your skin. You should not have been subjected to such horrors and he wanted to do everything in his power to erase the evidence from your body. So Geralt took the trouble to wipe the blood away, carefully running the wet cloth over your skin until it was all gone.

You remained silent as he worked on you, completely immobile while you watched him closely. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, but his expression was gentle. His hands moved delicately over your skin, as if he was afraid of breaking you if he wasn't careful. You could barely feel the cloth brushing against your cheek from how slow and gentle Geralt was being. But his fingers... his fingers were another story.

They were warm against your skin, caressing every little spot the cloth passed through to soothe any possible irritation the fabric might arouse. They awakened a tingling sensation as they traveled down your face. When they reached your neck, you knew that Geralt could feel the accelerated pulsing of your heart against his fingertips. It was impossible that he couldn't when you could hear the beating in your ears yourself. His hands felt so big against your neck. If he wanted to hurt you, he could probably do it with just one hand. That should have scared you, considering he was a man you barely knew, but it didn't. You knew he wasn't going to hurt you, not when he caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and collarbones with such gentleness.

"Maybe I'm naive," you broke the silence, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. "But I honestly don't think a mutant designed to kill, as you say, would go to the trouble of caring for me the way you are doing."

Geralt's eyes looked up at you, that intriguing yellow you loved so much capturing you in a transe. They were calling you, daring you to dive into the ocean of honey and mystery that was his gaze. And you obeyed without the slightest resistance, letting your heart take the reins of your body. You leaned towards him, slowly. His hands were still on your neck, but he didn't use them to stop you. On the contrary, he leaned towards you too and when your lips finally collided, he used his grip on your jaw to deepen the kiss.

The kiss started slow, a quick brush of your lips as you finally let yourselves indulge in your deepest desires. But as you became more comfortable in each other's arms, the kiss intensified. You let Geralt guide you, knowing that he would undoubtedly have more experience than you. You surrendered to his lips and the caresses of his tongue, giving yourself to him completely as you struggled to keep up with him. 

That wasn't your first kiss, however, it was the first kiss that felt like this, so... intense, passionate. You barely remembered the boy who had given you your first kiss, but you knew you would remember Geralt for the rest of your life. You didn't know how he did it, but the simple touch of his lips and the strokes of his fingers on your skin turned you to mush between his hands. You had never felt anything like it before and you didn't want to stop. But despite your protests, Geralt suddenly pulled away from you.

"What are you doing?" He didn't sound annoyed or confused, more concerned. 

"I'm taking control of my life." You leaned into him once more and Geralt accepted your kiss, his desperate lips demonstrating his true intentions. He let his desires consume him for a moment before regaining control over his body and pulling away from you again.

"Are you sure?" It wasn't that he wanted to stop, but the voice of morality in the back of his mind compelled him to make sure you wanted the same. He needed to know that he wasn't taking advantage of you, that you weren't throwing yourself into his arms as a result of your vulnerable state after the attack.

"For as long as I can remember, I have always dreamed of meeting a noble prince who would protect me from danger. We would fall in love and live a long and happy life together after our marriage. Now I know that is impossible. I cannot choose who I marry. I cannot choose to marry for love. There's nothing I can do to change it, that's just the way things work." You paused, your hands reaching for Geralt's to entwine your fingers. "But I can still choose who to give myself to, body and soul, for the first time... and you're the closest thing I have to that fantasy."

There was a sadness in your eyes that made Geralt feel bad for you. He didn't know you very well, but he knew you deserved better than a future you didn't want. The inability to choose your own path in life was something that seemed to affect you greatly, and if he was able to bring you some peace he was willing to do so. But the tub full of dirty water was not the place for it, much less considering it would be your first experience of something like that. 

"Speak freely." You said after a few seconds of unbearable silence. "If you don't want to be with me because you don't like me I'll understand. But please don't turn me down just because you think you're guarding my honor or something. I want this... I want you."

Those last words seemed to do the trick, because Geralt's lips joined yours once again. Only this time the kiss was different, much slower and more sensual, though just as desperate. His lips moved in time with yours, tongues intertwined in a sinful dance as Geralt allowed his hands to slowly explore your body. His fingers ignited flames on your skin in their path, pleasure and anticipation building inside you. 

The water in the tub swirled violently as Geralt lifted you into his arms, moving you to sit on his lap as if you weighed nothing. You clung to his shoulders for support, feeling his fingers dig into the sensitive skin of your hips. But it didn't hurt, at least not in a bad way. It was a pleasant ache that made you feel alive. Just like his kisses, which trailed down your jaw to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin. 

Geralt's kisses continued their way down and you couldn't help but buck your hips against his when his lips closed over your nipple. You pushed your chest into him instinctively, giving yourself to him as one of your hands got lost in his hair. Pure pleasure traveled through your veins as his tongue played with your breasts, giving attention to one before moving on to the other. He held you tightly against his body, one strong arm stretched across your back while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his growing erection. 

You both moaned as your cunt made contact with his cock. The sensation you felt when the tip brushed against your little bundle of nerves was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The pleasure was much more intense, much more raw. You could feel it spreading through your body and into your bones. So, naturally, you sought it again, creating a rhythm that had you panting in no time. 

You were forced to stop when Geralt suddenly stood up, carrying you in his arms. Your moan of pleasure turned into a cry of surprise, the water in the tub moving violently, flooding the room as he moved towards the exit. You clung to his shoulders, afraid of falling, as you asked him what he was doing.

"We can't do it here. It has to be done properly, in a bed where you’ll be comfortable, and not in a bathtub full of filthy water."

You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you understood the meaning of his words. Once again, Geralt was looking after you, worrying about you and your well-being more than any other man in your life had ever done. He wanted to make things right, to make sure that your first sexual encounter was a positive experience. And while he wasn't exactly the man you had imagined doing it with, he was quite close to it. Every thing he said, every gesture he made to you, made you feel more confident in your decision.

Geralt carefully laid you down on the bed, making sure you were comfortable before continuing his assault on your body. He kissed you again and, as you let his tongue explore your mouth, you couldn't help but think how much bigger he felt now that he was leaning over you. He had one arm on either side of your head, holding himself up so he wouldn't crush you with his weight. One of his toned legs rested in between yours, keeping you open and exposed to him. You were essentially trapped under his body, completely at his mercy, and you liked it.

The pleasure building up inside you was starting to feel too overwhelming. As much as you enjoyed Geralt's wet kisses, you needed more. You needed relief. So you pushed your hips into him once more, seeking that intoxicating pleasure you'd felt in the bathtub. Your wet pussy slid easily up his thigh and a wave of pleasure coursed through your body. 

"Fuck!" Geralt moaned as he felt your wetness trickling down his leg. You looked so sensual moving your hips against him with adoring desperation, struggling to find some relief. The little moans that fell from your lips in between ragged breaths drove him crazy, making it difficult for him to control his instincts. He had to be gentle with you, it was your first time and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't pin you down and fuck you until your legs shook.

"Tell me, princess, have you ever touched yourself?" Geralt spoke against your skin as his lips continued their path of wet kisses down your body. "Perhaps when you were alone at night, hidden in the darkness of your chambers."

It took you a few seconds to process Geralt's words, your mind distracted with the way his kisses slowly trailed down your chest, barely pausing on your breasts before continuing to travel down. It made your body tremble with anticipation, wondering what he was up to. He was watching you from his position on your abdomen, lips barely pulling away from your skin so he could observe your face more comfortably, waiting for an answer. The color of his eyes had darkened, the yellow glowing like the flames of the candles that lit the room. There was hunger in them. Geralt was looking at you like a wolf at its prey. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, managing to answer him with a simple negative shake of your head. 

"So you don't know what real pleasure feels like, huh?" You weren't sure if it was a question for you, but you shook your head again anyway. You felt Geralt's lips curving into a smile against the sensitive skin of your lower belly and a shiver ran down your spine when you heard his next words. "I'm going to change that."

Despite the firmness in his voice, Geralt was slow and gentle with each movement he made next. He was careful to position himself between your legs, pushing them open and revealing your most secret part to his hungry gaze. He noticed almost immediately the way you tensed with embarrassment, feeling vulnerable, so he was quick to spread sweet kisses on your right thigh, while gently caressing the skin of your left. He could smell the scent of your arousal with every breath he took. It was intoxicating, the sweet nectar he had been waiting to taste all this time. But first he had to make sure you were comfortable. He was there to pleasure you, nothing mattered if you didn't enjoy it.

"It's okay, my sweet. You don't have to be ashamed, you're beautiful." He spoke against your skin, his voice a raspy, sensual, whisper. "I have to get you ready for my cock, all right? This will feel so good, I promise. But if it doesn't, I want you to tell me, can you do that?" You nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. "I need you to use your words."

"Yes, Geralt, I will."

"Good."

Geralt gave you a few seconds to relax before diving into your cunt, spreading wet kisses down your inner thighs as he got closer and closer to the place where you needed him most. When his tongue finally made contact with the sweet nectar trickling down your folds, he let out a sound that vibrated in his chest with force. All hint of self-control disappeared then, buried under the primal desire that the taste of your arousal awakened in him.

He ate you like a starving man, his tongue exploring your most intimate place with expert skill. Your hips jolted as his lips closed over your small bundle of nerves, your whole body convulsing as you felt pleasure like you had never felt before. It was so intense it was almost too much. It scared you in a way, as it felt like your own body didn't respond to you —like it didn't belong to you. It belonged to Geralt now, and only responded to the stimulation he gave your body.  You were torn between the need to pull away from his entrancing lips —which were no doubt uttering some spell to claim ownership of your innocence— and your body's carnal desire to surrender to his clever tricks in order to continue to feel such pure pleasure.

"Does it feel good, princess?" Geralt spoke between your legs, his warm breath crashing against your pussy and sending shivers down your spine. 

"Yes! So good... please don't stop." You didn't recognize your own voice as you spoke. It sounded raspy from all the moaning, and there was a hint of desperation you'd never heard in yourself before. It wasn't the first time you had begged someone for something you wanted, but it was the first time you actually meant it.

"I won't, I promise. I'm here to make you feel good." Geralt assured between slow, long licks, focusing his attention on your clit before continuing. "But if you're going to take my cock, I'll need to stretch your tight hole." You tensed again and once more he used his strategy of stroking and kissing your thighs to calm you down. You knew that penetration was an important part of the whole thing and you were ready to face it, but still, the unknown scared you a little. "I'm going to insert a finger inside you, is that all right my sweet? It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise it will feel great afterwards. But first I have to know that you still want this."

"Yes, Geralt, I want this. I trust you, please." You gave him a shy smile, looking at him with complete admiration. He saw the desire in your eyes, mixed with anticipation and a hint of fear. But you were confident in your decision, so he continued.

"Relax, I'm going to take care of you." He murmured against your skin, his kisses slowly moving closer to your wet cunt. "Just focus on the pleasure."

Geralt's voice echoed in your mind, your body obeying his commands as if he had cast a spell over you that left you with no other choice. You focused on the fire burning inside you, on the skillful way he flicked his tongue against your abused bundle of nerves and on the knot in your stomach that tightened with each passing second. You tried not to tense up as you felt Geralt's finger press against your entrance, biting your lip and taking deep breaths to calm your nerves. His tongue was doing a good job of distracting you, but you could still feel the slightly painful drag of his finger inside you. 

"You're doing so well for me." Geralt complimented you, keeping his finger still inside you to give you time to get used to the new sensation. You couldn't hide how much it pleased you to hear those words, because your walls clenched around his finger, revealing your deepest desires. Geralt grunted against your pussy, fantasizing about how good your tight hole would feel around his cock. 

It took you a moment to get used to the strange sensation of his intrusion. It wasn't painful exactly, mostly uncomfortable since your walls weren't used to stretching like that. But eventually the discomfort faded into pleasure, bringing new sensations as he slowly began to move his finger inside you. 

Your moans became uncontrollable, increasing in volume with each of Geralt's caresses. If you weren't so wrapped up in your own pleasure, you would have worried about the possibility of being overheard by some servant or guard walking down the corridor. You knew it might potentially ruin your reputation, but you couldn't focus on anything other than the way Geralt's long, thick finger stretched you, making you feel full in the most pleasurable way possible. 

"Geralt I-" You tried to speak, but the air caught in your throat as you felt the knot in your stomach becoming incredibly tight, threatening to snap.

"I know, my sweet, I know." Geralt interrupted you as he noticed your trouble forming coherent sentences. He could sense you were getting close to relief in the way your walls tightened around his finger, your juices dripping down your legs and soaking his hand. "Just let yourself go. I've got you."

Geralt added another finger inside you, stretching your walls even further. He was careful, his movements slow and precise as he both prepared you for his cock and brought you closer to the edge. His mouth focused on your clit, his lips closing around your sensitive pearl as his fingers explored your insides, reaching that spongy place deep inside you and rubbing it until your whole body shuddered with your orgasm.

It felt like your insides exploded, the tension that had been building in your core suddenly snapping as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. Your mind went blank, eyes rolling back as Geralt did his best to hold back the violent spasms of your muscles. 

And then your body fell limp on the sheets. You could barely hear the world around you over your racing heartbeat that throbbed in your ears. You knew Geralt was muttering things against your skin as he kissed his way back up, but your mind was too lost in the pleasure to make sense of his words. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, your body desperate for oxygen as it struggled to regain control.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a soft smile as you opened your eyes, his face slowly coming into focus on your clouded vision. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine! That was..." you paused, searching for the words to describe it. Although explaining your feelings proved to be more difficult than you expected. You were convinced that there were no words in any language you knew to describe what he had made you feel. So you let out an airy laugh, hiding your face in his neck and spreading small kisses over his skin.

"Do you still want to go through with this?" Geralt asked you, pulling away from you a little so he could look into your eyes. You kissed him back, tasting the sweet flavor of your arousal on his tongue. It was strangely erotic for you to feel your own essence on him, like a mark that, though temporary, showed to whom his lips belonged. It sent a rush of desire and confidence through your body, igniting the fire inside you once more.

The pressure of his cock was nothing like his fingers. While the stretching sensation was not completely foreign to you, Geralt's cock was much longer and thicker than his fingers so it hurt a lot more when he began to push it into you. The mixture of your arousal and his saliva helped his member slide more easily through your walls, but you still couldn't hold back the whine of pain, which vibrated against Geralt's lips. 

"It's all right... you're all right. Just a little more." He crooned as he rested his forehead against yours. His fingers caressed the skin of your hip, giving you comfort as you clung to his shoulders. "You're doing so good for me, my sweet." His voice was soft, but erratic, laced with the clear pleasure that sliding so torturously slow inside your tight walls brought him. 

Geralt remained immobile once he bottomed out, spreading kisses all over your face and neck as he gave you time to adjust to his size. It was the hardest task he had ever had to do in his life. Facing any monster was easier than staying still when your warm, wet walls wrapped around him so well. He was desperate to move, pull out of you almost completely only to slam back in, thrusting his hips against yours as he pinned you against the bed. But it was your first time, so he had to be gentle with you. You weren't ready for that kind of rough loving, so Geralt pushed his dark desires aside and waited for you to give him the signal to move. 

After a while, your moans of discomfort turned into whimpers of protest, not from pain, but from the growing fire inside you that wasn't being tended to. You experimentally moved your hips against Geralt's, just to see what it would feel like. It was a small movement, but it was enough to push his cock deeper inside you, sparking a pleasurable tingling sensation that spread throughout your body. So you did it again, moving with more confidence this time. And again, only this time, Geralt met you halfway, grinding his hips against yours.

Your walls tightened around his cock and the growl that escaped his lips was so deep and primal that it almost pushed you over the edge once more. Something about knowing that you were the cause of those moans, that your body, your pussy, your caresses, were responsible for such reactions was so arousing. Knowing that even though you were inexperienced you were able to elicit such pleasure in him made you feel more comfortable and confident. You were turning his world upside down as much as he was turning yours.

"You look so beautiful like this." Geralt said as he slightly increased the rhythm of his hips. "So small and fragile underneath me, eyes filled with lust as you try your best to take me in your tight hole." 

You moaned into his mouth, desperately searching his lips for something to keep you grounded as pleasure took over your body and mind. Your cunt clenched at his words, finding the mix of softness and roughness in his action incredibly arousing. His hips moved against yours in a consistent and deep, yet slow and sensual rhythm. His calloused fingers roamed over your body, caressing you in such a subtle way that it gave you goosebumps. His filthy words perfectly balanced flattery and roughness, awakening feelings you didn't know you had. It was all a dangerous, overwhelming mix, slowly getting to you close to the edge.

"Does it feel good? Do you like feeling me deep inside you?" You could only moan incoherently in response, hiding your face in the crook of Geralt's neck as your nails dug into his back. "I like it too. You feel so good wrapped around me, my perfect princess."

"Yes, I'm yours! I'm all yours, please..." You begged, for what, you weren't sure. But that didn't really matter, you just wanted Geralt to do whatever he wanted with you. You knew there was no future in your relationship, but this was no time to think about tomorrow. At that moment you were giving yourself body and soul to him, allowing him permission to use and explore your body as he wished.

"Yes you are, but not just for tonight." Geralt moaned in your ear, his voice a deep hoarse whisper. He sucked a mark just below your earlobe, nibbling the sensitive area playfully before continuing to speak. "You will always remember this night and think of me when your future husband takes you to bed on your wedding night. He's not going to compare to me... to how good I'm making you feel. But that's fine, because at least you had a chance to know what it feels like to be adored like you truly deserve, my princess."

"Fuck, Geralt! I'm-" Your warning was interrupted by a moan as you felt him sink his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck at the same time he pushed his member incredibly deep inside you.

"I know, I can feel you squeezing me so tight. It's alright, just let go for me, my sweet. I want to feel you as you come undone on my cock." 

His hand traveled south, calloused fingers pressing against your abused bundle of nerves, drawing circles over it. The way your pussy clenched around his cock made it hard to focus, his own orgasm approaching with alarming speed. But he kept a steady rhythm, his hips moving in a slow, sensual way to make sure his cock brushed that special place inside you without causing you any pain.

"That's it, keep making those pretty notices for me. You're doing so good for me, my beautiful, perfect, princess. Just let go, I've got you. You're safe with me, just let go."

It was the softness in his husky voice that finally pushed you over the edge, your whole body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Geralt's name was the last thing you uttered before the world around you disappeared behind the waves of pleasure. It was a pathetic whimper, a plea for mercy as you felt frightened by the sheer intensity of your orgasm. Geralt was sure he had never heard a more sensual melody. The way you had uttered his name just before the pleasure exploded inside you was something he was never going to forget.

"That's it, my sweet. You did such a good job for me." He complimented you, slowing down the rhythm of his hips to give you time to recover. "You're alright. I'm here, I've got you. Just breathe... that's it." 

Geralt's voice helped you refocus on the real world, his sweet kisses slowly lifting the fog that clouded your mind. You could still feel him inside you, his cock throbbing desperate for relief. The shallow thrusts weren't enough and you needed to feel him falling apart inside you. You needed to know what it felt like to have a man —and especially him— come inside you. And you knew it was safe with him since witchers were incapable of fathering children as a result of their mutations.

"Geralt, please... I want to feel you." You managed to say between gasps, locking your legs around his hips to keep him in place, pressed inside you. He let out a deep growl as he understood the meaning behind your words, his eyes darkening with lust. You were definitely going to be the death of him.

"Of course, my sweet, how could I deny you anything?" He murmurs against your lips, slowly increasing the rhythm of his hips. "You want to feel my seed deep inside you, is that it? You want me to fill you up, leave a part of me inside you so you won't miss me so much when I'm gone?"

His words alone were enough to ignite that flame inside you again. Your body was tired, but still screamed for more. Geralt's thrusts became erratic with each passing second, desperate to reach his own relief. And in the search for his pleasure he was taking you with him to a new limit. 

"I will give it to you, my princess. I will give you all of me. I could never deny you anything, my sweet, beautiful girl."

His sweet words contrasted with the harshness of his movements, hips crashing against yours in desperate thrusts. He was getting closer to his relief and he could feel in the way your cunt clenched around his cock that you were too. His thumb focused on your clit once more, one, two, three strokes accompanied by his thrusts and you were crying his name again. But he didn't get to enjoy much of the way you tightened around him, because he came seconds later, shooting his load deep inside you.

Geralt collapsed on top of you, his body crushing you against the bed as you both tried to catch your breath. But even though he was much bigger than you, it wasn't an uncomfortable position. The weight of his body felt comforting against yours. You liked the way he hid his face in your neck, breathing heavily against your sweaty skin. It gave you the opportunity to stroke his back and run your fingers through his hair. It felt intimate, in a completely different way than the sex you'd just had. 

You whined in protest as he rolled to the side, feeling the mixture of your arousal and his sliding down your legs now that his cock had left you. It was a strange sensation to feel empty without him inside you. You didn't know such a feeling was possible, for you that used to be normal, the only way to feel. But now that you had had Geralt buried deep inside you, that you had felt his seed filling you to the brim, you would always be aware of that strange emptiness between your legs.

"How are you feeling?" you heard him say and you struggled to open your eyes, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He was standing at the foot of the bed, a cloth in his hand, and you wondered when he had moved from your side without you noticing.

"Great! That was... great." You mumbled, still unable to find an adequate word to describe how good he had made you feel.

Geralt gave you a small smile before lowering his face to your legs, placing small kisses on your skin as he moved closer and closer to your center. "Open up for me, my princess. I need to clean you." 

You reluctantly complied, feeling much more exposed and vulnerable now that the deed was done. However, he was gentle with you, moving carefully as he cleaned you so as not to irritate your sensitive, abused cunt. And when he was done, he kissed his way down your face, caressing your skin with his lips, culminating his journey in your mouth.

"What about you?" you tried to sound casual as you spoke, though you failed miserably. "Was it... good for you too?" You immediately regretted your choice of words, worrying that you had ruined the moment.

"I thought I had been quite clear if not with my words, with my actions at least." Geralt let out an airy laugh and you followed suit, feeling a little more relieved. 

Then the room fell into silence. It wasn't an awkward or uncomfortable one, but a peaceful one. You got lost in Geralt's eyes, admiring the yellow glow that was much softer now, though just as captivating. The candlelight reflected in them in a special way, highlighting their unique beauty. You could stare at them for hours if it weren't for the tiredness that was slowly beginning to take hold of you. 

You didn't realize you had closed your eyes until you felt Geralt move beside you. You stopped feeling the weight of his body on the bed, so you opened your eyes immediately. Your hand flew to his arm, fingers closing around his wrist. "Please don't go," you begged as you saw that he had sat up in bed. "I want you to stay with me tonight."

Geralt smiled, the corners of his lip curving slightly upward as he reached out with his free arm to grab the blanket that had been left forgotten at the foot of the bed. His eyes lowered to your hand and his expression turned hard as he noticed the ligature marks on your skin. He hated to know the horrible treatment that someone as delicate and beautiful as you had to go through at the hands of those bandits. Even though he had rescued you before something even worse happened to you, as he looked at the marks on your wrists he feared he had not been quick enough.

Noticing the change in his expression, your eyes followed Geralt's gaze with curiosity. You felt embarrassed when you realized what he was looking at with such intensity and released his grip on his arm, seeking to hide your injured wrist. But he didn't let you. Geralt intertwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand to his lips. His eyes didn't break contact with you as he scattered delicate kisses over the irritated area of your wrist, showing you that you had nothing to be ashamed of with him.

"I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to, my princess. I'm here to serve you tonight." Geralt said as he lay down next to you once again, covering you both with the blanket.

You took advantage of his words and his desire to please you by curling up against him, resting your head on his chest. Geralt wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you even tighter against his body as he let his fingers trace invisible patterns on your skin. It was extremely relaxing, his gentle touch and the warmth of his body enveloping you was exactly what your tired mind needed to rest. All the fear, the terrifying memories of your attackers and the feeling of danger completely disappeared as he held you in his arms. 

"Good, because I feel safer when I'm in your arms." You mumbled as you closed your eyes, feeling sleep slowly overcome you.

It was hard to say goodbye to Geralt when the time came for him to leave. He had only stayed at the castle for a couple of days at your father's insistence, but that had been more than enough for you to grow fond of him. He was not a very talkative person, but that only made your conversations more interesting. He was intriguing, a closed book that only opened with the pronunciation of the right words. You had fun unraveling some of his history, hearing about his adventures and the monsters he had faced. He was definitely the most interesting man you had ever met - far more interesting and noble than most of the men who were competing for your hand in marriage. And now you had to see him go.

You always knew that your days were numbered, that Geralt would eventually leave and you would have to go back to reality. You thought you could do it, enjoy his company and the illusion of freedom you had created with him and then say goodbye as if nothing happened, but you would be lying if you said you weren't a little sad about his departure. Especially because you didn't know if you would ever see him again. Maybe on your wedding day, if you invited Jaskier to play at the festivities he would bring him as security again. Or perhaps, if the kingdom was haunted by some evil creature he would find his way back to you. But nothing was certain and that made you feel quite sad.

"I guess this is our goodbye." You watched Geralt settle his horse's saddle, tucking away his swords and clutching his bag as he prepared to leave. You tried to hide the grimace of sadness that wanted to form on your face, but the disappointment in your voice betrayed you. "I'll never see you again, will I?"

Geralt stopped what he was doing to look you in the eyes. You could have sworn you saw a glint of sadness in the golden fire of his irises, though it disappeared as he blinked. "It'll probably be a while, yeah." He sighed. "But nothing is set in stone. Maybe the search for a job will bring me back down these roads."

You smiled. Even moments before he left, he was still making an effort to make you feel good. "I'd like that." You took a couple of steps closer to him, taking his hand in yours to feel his skin against yours one last time. "The gates of this castle will always be open to you, Geralt of Rivia. And as long as I am alive, you will always find safe passage through these lands."

"Thank you, your highness. It is an honor." He bowed slightly even though he knew it was not necessary. Formalities had been forgotten between you since your night together. Then, he took your hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips caressed your skin gently, planting a soft kiss of farewell. "Until we meet again."

You held back the urge you had to taste the flavor of his lips one last time, knowing that there were too many eyes around you that would deem such behavior inappropriate. And perhaps they were right, after all, a respectable maiden like you, in search of a husband to marry and rule with, could not be seen kissing anybody. You knew you would probably regret it for the rest of your life —especially if Geralt never stopped by again—, but it was the right thing to do. Your days of freedom were over, now you had to resume your responsibilities as a princess and that meant holding back the urge you had to run after Geralt, get on his horse and let him take you wherever he wanted. So you just watched him leave, seeing how his figure became smaller and smaller on the horizon while you wished with all your soul that fate would cross your path again.

[tender-rosiey]

hiii this is my first time requesting so i dont know how specific or vague i should get :,) but maybe a scenario between sukuna and reader on how their wedding ceramony(and maybe afterparty) went? i saw an edit of sukuna with lana del rey’s margaret and immediately thought you could write this scenario since all of your husband!sukuna works are chef’s kiss “:D

true oath — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: so glad you like my husband!sukuna works anon and I hope you like this as well 🥹 ALSO special thanks to @lexiene and @camelnose for beta-reading BIG HUGS TO BOTH OF YOU SRSLY MWUAHHH

the servants scurry all around the room, trying to finish as much as possible in the time frame they have been given.

meanwhile, you are sat in front of your vanity with your personal maid who is putting the final touches to your makeup. you let out a soft giggle at the franticness of the others then look at the mirror to examine yourself.

the kimono had been handpicked by sukuna himself, something he believed was only logical—given that, according to him, nobody knows you as well as he does, and of course, that you’re getting married to him.

you thought he was being overconfident in his abilities, but to your surprise, he really did end up choosing something that—both—fit you well and you liked very much.

though, you wouldn’t tell him that. you wonder what his reaction would be to how you actually look in it, especially since you barely made him agree to not seeing you until the ceremony.

“no.”

“sukuna, come on,” you huffed, clinging onto his arms, “it’s a tradition!”

“I don’t care about traditions, you know that,” he replied simply and carried you in his arms.

you pouted and rested your head on his shoulder, looking up at him with your best puppy eyes, “please, honey?”

he looks at you for a few moments before clicking his tongue and looking away, “fine.”

“yay!”

you let out a chuckle at the memory and are interrupted by the door opening. the servant at the door is heavily panting as he speaks, “the l—lord demands to begin the ceremony right now.”

one of the maids looks at him incredulously, “what?! we still have much to prefer like the pathway to his highness and the food!”

the servant nods in understanding, “I know I swear,” he gulps, “but he is getting real impatient and has expressed the need to see her highness more than once.”

you roll your eyes and stand up, “well, tell him that we will be on our way.”

the main maid gasps, “but my lady—”

“don’t fret,” you smile, “if he asks about the unfinished tasks and preparations, I will tell him that you were working on it, but his insistence on speeding things up halted you from your duty, understood?”

they all nod hesitantly. you clap your hand and grin, “well then, lets go! I am excited to see my dear future husband.”

the maids smile nervously, still trying to come to terms with your marriage to sukuna. staying by his side as his lover is one thing, but to officially be declared his wife?

they have come to the conclusion that either you are as crazy as him underneath or you simply managed to tame him—to an extent at least.

you finally exit your room, and as you walk down the hallways, servants clear the way for you, bowing their heads as they offer you their blessings.

you look around the halls, finding them decorated with flowers already, so they are probably talking about the path in the main room.

the flowers are all of your choice, and it fills you with a sense of joy that each one that you pointed out on your outings with sukuna has been placed meticulously in the arrangement that litter the halls.

you slow down your pace, partially to soak in the view a bit more and partially to tease sukuna who is probably waiting with the last smidge of patience he can manage.

sukuna, who is sat on his throne, hand on his knee as he tapped it in waiting. he knows what you’re doing. you have always tried to test just how much you can get away with, which is admittedly a lot at this point.

for example, the first time you did something that he considered audacious is when you were strolling the gardens when you first came to the palace.

you were faced with sukuna who was stood in the place where you usually lounged.

it irked you cause he had the entire garden but chose the most secluded spot—which was usually where you sat so the servants can forget about doing any chores.

you frowned, “that is my spot.”

he quirked an eyebrow but didn’t look back at you. he let out a chuckle, “and this entire palace is mine.”

“nice try,” you quipped, “but I know the palace belongs to sukuna, the king of curses.”

at that, he turned to look at you. he leaned back against the tree, arms crossed and a cold stare on his face, “and who do you think I am, human?”

“oh—shit, okay,” you spluttered, “so you’re sukuna? you look more handsome than I thought.”

a smirked plays at the corner of his lips.

he didn’t reply to you, and you—rightfully—thought that you have dug your own grave. you started to shift your footing from your tip toes to your heel, and you looked away.

he stood up, an amused smile on his face, and he passed you, “I am expecting more from you, so don’t disappoint me.”

you tilted your head, watching his retreating figure. he had left one last comment, “but the next time I see you, I expect you to kneel at my presence.”

that was the moment that sukuna started wanting to see more of you, to see how far you could go. it was a new thing to amuse himself with, so it was more than welcome.

he just doesn’t know when it started being the other way around, because you, in fact, did not kneel.

instead, you started treating him like someone who you genuinely enjoyed their company, and it threw him off slightly; however, that is one of the reasons why he is currently waiting for you, his bride to appear.

the door finally opens, and it reveals you.

sukuna’s heart doesn’t skip a beat at how the kimono fit you exactly how he thought, how your make up was simply perfect, nor how the smile on your lips exuded both happiness and mischief.

what sukuna feels instead is booming pride.

you were always his, since the moment you entered the palace, before he even laid eyes on you. but this silly tradition simply solidifies it even more in the eyes of the others.

he smirks as you finally stand in front of him. you can barely contain your grin, “hello, future husband.”

he didn’t think that a tie to him would ever make somebody so joyed. he smirks at you, patting his lap, “you should know by now that I know you best, you silly woman.”

instantly, your expression falls, and you retort, “way to ruin the mood, king.”

amusement glints in his eyes, and he pulls you close to him, “don’t you ever get tired of giving me attitude? you ought to learn your place.”

“is it not by your side, my lord?” you hum, and he chuckles, content when you finally settle on his lap.

“damn audacious woman,” he looks up at the servants that fill the room.

they are all bowing, some trembling, others alienly still. then there is you who is swinging her feet as she sits on the lap of the king of curses.

he lets out a small breath then speaks loudly, “get the rings.”

in a moment, a servant comes in, carrying a cushion where two golden rings lay. your eyes widen at the sheer amount of patterns of gems on one of the rings.

the servant kneels in front of you two, and sukuna takes the ring decorated with gems in one hand and your hand in another. it slips perfectly onto your finger, and you raise your hand.

you feel your jaw slack a bit at how intricately made it is. and upon closer inspection, you see that one of the patterns is actually sukuna’s name.

you look up at him, and he is already looking at you with a small smirk and a confident look, “you should see the look on your face,” he muses.

he takes your hand into his and raises it slightly.

he examines it quietly before letting go. you blink confused but shrug the thought of your mind. you hold his hand in yours gently, and you put the ring on him.

his ring, contrary to yours, is a lot minimal. it’s a simple golden band, but what surprises you is that your name is etched on the surface.

“sukuna, my name…?”

he looks at the ring on his finger and flexes his hand. he looks at you simply says, “figured you would like something like this.”

you smile widely and giggle, “you know, people usually carve the name of the inside.”

“and I am not usual, am I?”

you nod gently and lean against his chest, “no, you’re not.”

you honestly didn’t know what to expect from a wedding ceremony in the ryomen sukuna “style”. however, sukuna was set on…standing out and making it a memorable event.

the room was flooded with servants carrying trays upon trays of food—all which you have noticed were your favorite—and dancers that put one of the most fascinating shows you’ve seen.

you gape at how they make their moves so effortless, which you can see through just how much practice was put into it.

you look at sukuna, and you seem him smirking down at you, clearly proud of the reaction the show has gotten out of you.

“how—how long have you been preparing for this?” you ask the man.

he glances at the dancers then replies, “6 months; I needed it to be perfect, and these humans take so long to learn things.”

“also, I know that the show I organized is great—“ he says before holding your chin and making you face him, “but that enamoured face should be directed at none other than me, got it?”

you nod frantically, not out of fear, but he is staring directly into your eyes in a way that simply is far too intense. he releases your chin, humming in satisfaction.

the dance finally comes to a close, and everybody in the room bows down to the both of you.

uraume speaks up from beside you—when did they get there—head held down humbly, “it is time for you to exchange vows, my lord and m’lady.”

vows? sukuna prepared vows?

tilting your head in confusion, you look at sukuna, and he is already looking at you. he rolls his eyes, “I didn’t prepare anything, brat; don’t get ahead of yourself.”

okay, that tracks. you give him a thumbs up.

but he is quiet for a moment before speaking up, “I have no need for that; all that you need to is that,” he leans closer to you, "you are mine, entirely and without exception, in every breath you take,” he spoke lowly against your lips, “I won’t let you forget that.”

he lets out a breath of amusement at the way your eyes widen and the glimmer behind them. he wastes no time in locking his lips with you, sealing your contract for life.

—

“wooo! I am married!” you say drunkenly, giggling and swaying slightly beside your now husband.

you whip your head back at him, almost falling in the process but his hand easily steadies you, “sukuna, I am married!”

“I know,” he replies, eyeing the empty cup that was full of sake. he hums, “uraume, what was the intensity in the sake?”

they both glance at you, standing on top of a table, babbling a kind of song about your marriage and being a queen now.

you nearly trip on the covers, but sukuna nods for uraume to stop your fall. they hold you up with one hand, maintaining a safe distance, so sukuna doesn’t get protective.

“high, my lord.”

you keep giggling and squealing, and he sighs, “certainly looks like it.”

he rests his chin on his palm, watching your figure run around and keeping an eye for you. however, in the corner of his eyes, he spots a couple of men staring at you, eyes full-blown and open.

it irks him that even after that display, they still dare to look at what belongs to him.

with minimal effort, he flicks his finger, and their heads go flying to the corner of the room. some of the blood splatters onto the floor, but he pays it no mind.

“ooo, red wine!”

“don’t you dare drink that, you stupid woman!”

after a while you find yourself laid down on the bed, head dazed as you try to make sense of your surroundings. you can hear a door closing, and some heavy footsteps getting closer and closer.

finally, your husband comes into view with his arms crossed. you pull on his sleeve gently, “what about the after-party?”

he sits down beside you, and you take the chance to lay your head on his lap. he allows it but grunts in response, “after-party with you all delirious like this?”

“I am fine!” you protest, huffing and giving him the most intimidating glare you can muster.

he simply flicks your forehead, and you yelp, shielding your face away from him, “you’re so rude!”

“pretty sure, you aren’t supposed to reply your king and husband like that,” he states. he squishes your face with one hand and quirks an eyebrow, “you’re testing your limits.”

“I don’t care!”

“oh?”

you note the change of tone almost instantly, and it is enough to sober you up.

you look up, wide-eyed at him, and on his face is a devious smirk, and behind his eyes are thoughts that are probably going to be the end of you tonight.

he leans down slightly, “I have a different kind of after-party in mind,” one of his hands trails to hold your wrist, “which I think you will quite like,” you try resisting for even a second, but you’re no match for him, “starting now.”

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[cherry-leclerc]

million dollar man ☆ toto wolff

genre: age gap, porn with plot, angst, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature, mentions of homicide, bits of humor, child neglection, divorced!toto

word count: 16.5k

Toto Wolff, self-made billionaire, is on cloud nine; he has all he’s ever wanted. A beautiful wife, family, a great team. But when that starts slipping from his fingers, he desperately tries to keep hold of what is not his anymore. As a possible solution to cure his blues, Lewis kindly invites him to a place he runs off to when times get tough; to relieve some stress. But he just never expected a cosplaying angel, dancing around a metal pole, to be his salvation. And also, his cruelest life lesson. 

nsfw warning under the cut! 

18+…dry humping/ thigh riding, sexual tension, penetrative sex, oral sex (m!receiving f!receiving), size kink, breeding kink, praise, foreplay, riding

inspired by million dollar man, lana del rey , yayo, lana del rey !

STOP AND READ:

Typically, we keep it light here: occasional minor angst fics, but light, nonetheless. That will not be the case this time around. Because of that, I firmly believe that it is necessary to give a few warnings. There will be mentions of drug-use and homicide and if that is not something you are comfortable with then that is totally okay! I have more options for you to read over at my masterlist! This is purely fictional. With that, this story is based and inspired by Million Dollar Man and Yayo by Lana Del Rey (*run*)—what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. 

cherry here!…toto is like—a special appearance, here in this blog. probably won’t write for him all the time, but hey! we love him!originally this was going to be named yayo but have since changed my mind to million dollar man. IT WILL MAKE SENSE AND I’M SORRY, ANONS. please don’t hate the villain in me. consider yourself warned. 

There was no room for love when it came to the world of motorsport. Toto’s first marriage was a transparent reminder, given its falling out. The Austrian didn’t seem to care, almost; Mercedes was at their prime, but by then, when Susie came along, he felt a gist of hope. She must’ve known the sacrifices that would be made—the expectations. 

And yet, he sat there, signing the divorce papers once again. What had he done wrong this time? He had given her everything she could have ever wanted—spent time he didn’t even have—with her. 

Neither of us were happy anymore, she would whisper apologetically, eyes trained downwards. But I’ll always love you, Toto. You must remember that. 

Suddenly, he was fifty-two and with no true purpose in life other than to stabilize his broken team. If it wasn’t false accusations from other team principals, then it was trouble with the hydraulics, and if it wasn’t that, then it was losing his World Champion. Mercedes was already dwindling down to a mess, but with Lewis leaving—it felt like he was losing his mind. 

“You understand where I’m coming from, right, Toto?” 

Looking up at Lewis and Penni, his manager, the Austrian sighs, forcing a tired smile. No. He didn’t understand—did not want to understand. But he had no right to prevent the Brit from expanding one final time before retirement. I just feel like I need to do this for myself, but thank you for the infinite support. Mercedes will always be home to me. 

Promises. Fuck them, they meant nothing at the end of the day, so why bother? 

“Do what you need to do. I’ll always be here for you; no matter what.”

It was a bittersweet feeling to have. On one hand, the brunette felt optimistic. Maybe this was a chance to start over, perhaps offer up the golden seat to Carlos or Kimi. They had proven themselves in their own way and maybe that could bring better opportunities towards the team.

On the other, he felt like this was it. Maybe it was time to move on, retire with a sorrowful smile and live out the rest of his years. He could try fixing things with Susie. The thing was, he just re-signed as team principal, so none of that would work out even if he wanted to. 

Running a large hand through his brown hair, he groans and takes a sip of whiskey. Wincing at the taste, he jumps up in alert from his seat when there’s a knock on the glass door. May I? He nods.

Entering with an easy smile, Lewis raises his dark brows in a teasing manner. “Drinking ain’t gonna help, I promise you that.”

The brown eyed man grins. “You have something else in mind, cause if so, I’d like to hear it.”

The Brit hums, tilts his head to the side. Lewis had been with Toto for as long as he can remember; he was there when Toto and Susie met, and long after when they tied the knot. He swore they were happy, and that may have been once true, but he also knows sometimes even that can’t be enough. So, when news came out to their inner circle that the two were getting divorced, he felt sorry for him. He knows what it feels like to have it all, to suddenly go to sleep alone every night. But there was always one place that always helped— even people like him.

“You up for Vegas?”

-

He should have said no. He was too old for any of this nonsense. Too mature. Only, one thing led to another, and before he knew it, he was entering one of the top-tier stripclubs in all of Las Vegas. He knows that while there is nothing wrong with the profession, he can’t help but feel sinisterly dirty. He blames it on the fact that Lewis was beaming right besides him. Maybe if he hadn’t once been his boss, then the feeling would be different.

“Oh, c’mon. Ease up. No one will even know that you were in here.”

It’s true. While the club was a part of the infamous Vegas strip, it was also exclusively exclusive. No one could get in if there was no form of proving to be millionaires, and even that was ridiculously low. NDA’s would be signed as if it were something normal. Made him wonder what kind of things occurred between these four walls. 

Toto chuckles deeply, dark eyes roaming the entire room, loud music blaring. “How did you even know this place exists?”

Lewis winks, lousy arm waving at the bouncers. “You know how everyone thinks Formula One drivers are players and are up to no good?”

“Yeah?”

He smirks. “Well…they’re fucking right.”

After a couple of drinks, a few new friends—who would make great potential business partners—and a bit of gambling, the fifty-two year old found himself having a decent time. The atmosphere was a tad bit suffocating, but one time won’t kill him. He deserved it. 

“Oh, oh, you might want to take a seat,” Lewis chants excitedly. “People get pissed if you block their view.”

Abruptly, the stage lights up. It was a bit alarming, the sudden speed these men took to claim their seats, trampling over each other to get front row. Carefully, he crouches down onto the couch of giddy men. This wasn’t a normal setting; girls were caged behind glass as if to protect them from these males and their slithering actions. A red head professionally swings around the steel pole, black skirt flowing, adding to the illusion men love to taste. 

Whoops and hollers echo the red room as the Brit nudges Toto’s broad shoulder with a wicked grin. “Good, no? She’s my favorite.”

The Austrian scrunches his nose, half joking, half not. “Is this why you were always dozing off during our meetings?”

“Exactly why.”

It was an impressive art, he’ll give credit where credits due, and his eyes were bulging out of his head, but that’s about it. When he stood up to go and order a new drink, a string of boos were thrown at him. Even Lewis shook his head with disapproval. Man, you’re missing the show! He sends a sly grin. “I’m tough to win over, but they’re great, don’t get me wrong.”

The bartender shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s what they all say. Until they lay eyes… on her.”

“On who?” He’s quickly hushed as soon as the room changes gears. The once red club enhances into a soft yellow glow, the fast paced music slows down to an angelic piano intro. 

A round of applause for everyone’s favorite girl—Peaches!

If the fifty-two year old ever thought he’s heard it all; loud cheers from fans, loud cheers for the other dancers; then he must have been mistaken, and awfully foolish. His ears ring with the sudden howls from everyone in the room. Turning around, he’s found with a girl, standing with golden angel wings. A shiny reflection colors her hair as she delicately bows, shy smile sewn onto her pouty lips. White dress wrapped around her figure as if it was tailored for her, and only her. 

Yayo.

The way she pranced inside the glass box like a butterfly makes the men grow wild as they pant feverishly. She’s barely doing anything—hasn't even done half as much as what the other girls had done—and somehow, all eyes are drawn on her like a sticky potion. Toto’s heartbeat gets stuck in his throat as he tries his best to swallow it down. Sad eyes flicker throughout the club as she spins, dress fluttering like a flower in the summer breeze. 

You’re someone desirable in all senses, and it appears as if you know it as well. 

Let me put on a show for you, daddy. 

Dropping down to your knees, you crawl towards the glass as you draw your soft brows together, as if pleading to be let out. Hot breath paints the glass before you press a kiss. 

Then, you’re looking at him, and it’s as if you could point out all the fucked up shit he’s ever done. His heart speeds up as you tie your shiny legs along the pole, sensually spinning as you throw your head back. Like a signal, water sprinkles inside the box as it lubricates you down, dark mascara trickling your features. 

Arms toss your hair back before sharing a quick wave as you step out, red lights turning back on. And just like that, Toto is left empty and alone once again.

“That shit was insane,” the Brits voice shakes him away from your spell as he flops down on the stool right next to him. “She must be new because I for sure wouldn’t have forgotten a pretty face like hers. What’d you think?”

Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”

-

Thank you, Ro, you say as you sign on the bottom x, waving him off as he tilts his head in agreement. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be outside, like always. 

Even after all this time, you still got trepidatious. There came times where the connection was completely off, that you just wanted to bolt away, screaming like a baby. But you needed this job to survive, plus, it paid a pretty penny. 

“Where do you want me?”

Once you spot the massive businessman, manspreading on the couch that he made out to look like a toy, you gulp. You had caught a glimpse of him already, basically performed for him, but you didn’t think he was the one who called for you.

He’s strikingly handsome in a way you couldn’t quite comprehend. Dark, untamed hair covers his face. Long nose catches your attention as you squirm. His hands are practically the size of your face and you could only imagine what his thick fingers must feel like. Curiously, your eyes dwindle down to his lap as you picture what rests between his legs.

“Oh, right. Um…”

You grin. “First time?”

He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”

“Hmph. Heard that one before.” Inching closer, you pour a glass of water. “Here. It’ll help.”

His hand swallows you whole as you gape down at the difference. Electricity zaps you as you flinch and he catches on. Bringing the cup towards his pink lips, he closes his eyes, lashes fanning his tan skin. Being taken care of by a beautiful, young lady, made him cringe in all kinds of ways. He felt like a child, then like an old man. To be fair, he sort of was.

“I’m not here for…you know.” You quirk a neat brow. You don’t want to fuck me? Your question has him choking on the ice as he raises his hand up. “N-no, I just th—”

“I’m afraid you’re just wasting my time, and time is money. Have a good day, Mr. Wolff.”

Gaining his composure, Toto storms over to you, grabbing your hand. “I’ll still pay you. Triple what you make, but please don’t go.”

Your cheeks are dusted light pink when you turn around, wings brushing against him. If you’re lucky, you reach his toned chest, but the height difference was scary. Enticing. You almost wish he would fuck you like a pornstar. 

“You know what a girl wants to hear. I’m in.”

Turns out, he just wanted a companion. Someone who wouldn’t pity him. Didn’t hurt that you were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, either. Narrowing your eyes, you click your tongue. “She said that?”

He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”

“Perhaps, but that’s what a marriage is for. You change, sure, but you change together. Things can’t possibly stay that same, that’s just stupid.” Tucking your legs beneath your butt, you continue. “And what? Your number one driver decides to leave out of the blue? Even after it was mutually decided that he would stick around at least until 2026?”

That was something no one knew, but who were you going to tell? Toto grimaces. “It sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“It fucking sucks.”

The Austrian chuckles deeply at your outburst. You blush at the cunning sound. “You’re a terrific listener. I’m glad you stuck around to talk.”

“I’m glad I did, too.” You play with the hem of your dress. “You’re a kind man, Toto. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

-

He slips away that night with a tranquility he hasn’t felt in quite a while. On the way back to Monaco, he wonders if you were some kind of guardian that he had to meet in order to move on from his bittersweet feelings. Because it sure did feel like it since he felt he now knew what it is that he had to do in the upcoming season. All thanks to you. 

“…Toto….Hello?” Bono smacks his hand against the table and the Austrian flinches. They were in the talks of what position he would stay in now that Lewis was departing from his life-long engineer. “Do you want me to continue or?”

The brunette clears his throat, awkwardly. “We have a few weeks of break before the new season begins, correct?”

“Correct.”

He stands up to his full height. “Then let’s talk later. Enjoy your break, Bono. See you soon.” Then he’s walking out the sliding doors, with a dumbfounded engineer piercing his eyes at his large back.

Elizabeth, Toto’s rough voice speaks to his personal assistant. Clear my schedule for the next few weeks. Oh, and also; get me the first flight out to Las Vegas. 

-

Cursing at the dusty wind, you huddle your way into your beat up car, fingers sliding your Dior glasses down the bridge of your nose. They were a gift from a recent client, and you never shamed them away. Taking a sip of your sparkling water, you sigh in relief at the refreshing taste. Screw Nevada for being annoyingly hot. 

Tap tap. 

Squinting your eyes at your window, you only catch a glimpse of a man’s clothed crotch as you yelp. Swinging the door open, you take out your pepper spray. “Go away creep, I will use this if necessary!”

"Warten! Warten!"

“Huh?”

“I said wait,” a thick accent clarifies. You bite back a smile. “Hello.”

Bringing your hands up to your hips, you giggle. “Hello, Mr. Wolff. Back for more?”

He can try and pretend that he was better than crawling back to you, even if all you both did was have a meaningful conversation, but he doesn’t have time for lies. 

“I just wanted to thank you.” Your lips separate, slowly. “For everything. You helped me figure out lots of things.”

“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”

Intaking your soft aura, he closes his right eye due to the bright sun. “Can I take you out for coffee?”

-

You didn’t go out for coffee at a local cafe, but rather at his mansion he just blew his money on without batting an eye. Inhaling the yummy scent, you swoon. “This smells amazing.” 

He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”

“Authentic. How’d you get it?”

“Don’t underestimate power.” Your eyes grow wide at his cold tone and the Austrian laughs. “Relax. I’m from Germany. It’s my favorite, so I always carry one with me. Call me old-fashioned.”

“Let’s just leave it at old.”

He flashes a devious grin, lines tracing his face. “Ha-ha. But seriously, thank you for helping me out of my little…crisis.” Midlife crisis, you correct him as he glares. You snicker. 

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

“Can I ask you something?” Sure, you cheer as you sip on the hot drink. He fixes his glasses. “How did you end up working at Machiavellian Nights?” Your stomach drops. “You don’t have to answer.”

“No.” He nods. “I’ll tell you, because oddly enough, I trust you.” Okay, he whispers. “Are you close to your parents?” 

“What?” Are you? He nods again. You smile sadly. 

“That’s lovely, Toto. Appreciate that.” You release a shaky breath. “My father passed away when I was fifteen and my mother pretends to not know me.”

He gulps and you continue. “It was not always like that, though. We had a close relationship. She would braid my hair every night before bed. I would curl hers before every date. She was an amazing woman. One I could admire.”

“What happened?”

You lower your head, lips wobbling. Letting out a wet laugh, you brush a hand up against your nose. “Men are deceiving. Men are shit. Men are a complete waste of time and— I miss who my mom used to be.”

Handing you a napkin, you silently thank him. “She met him when I was only seventeen. It was fine at first; I was so happy for her. I would be moving out for college eventually, so I felt relieved that she had someone to rely on. Connor was great.”

The fifty-two year old is momentarily lost. Nothing sounds as bad as it seems, but he refrains from telling you so. “Then she got pregnant. Oh, Toto, I was so excited. A baby sister. Could you imagine? I bought everything my first job could afford. Onesies, blankies, pampers, I bought it all. And I never once expected anything in return.”

“That’s where things began to change. Connor swore I was trying to win my mom over and leave Rosie with nothing. Kicked me out before I even had a chance to defend myself. I thought —okay, I’ll just talk to her and explain that it was never my intention to do any of that. But she wouldn’t listen. She gave birth six months ago.”

“And you ended up...” You hum, bringing the mug up to your lips. 

“It was either that or fast food. Salary is shit in that industry. And the customers aren’t bad. I could say yes or no at any given time.”

The brunette fiddled with his watch. “So, you could have turned me away?” Laughing, you nod. He fakes a smug look. “And why didn’t you?”

Tapping a lazy finger onto your chin, you close your eyes before fluttering them open. “I had a feeling you had shit locked away. Just like me.”

-

He bids you farewell, claiming he was glad to have met you, even with such circumstances. The way he hugs you goodbye makes the pit of your stomach fuel with fire as you brush away the urge to climb onto him and kiss his pain away, even if he promises to not feel any. 

Take care of yourself, you beg, head resting beneath his heart. His breath hitches. You need to look after yourself, above all. Oh. And good luck with the new season. 

He wonders why such a pretty plea makes his heart break. Perhaps it was because even though your life was at rock bottom, you still looked out for others. Or maybe it was him, but he couldn’t pinpoint it at all. He wouldn’t try either because as stated before, he was leaving for good. He could make room to visit you the next time he was here for the Las Vegas GP. Even then, he wouldn’t risk you like that.

But like a kid at a candy shop, he finds himself signing the NDA once again. Welcome back, Mr. Wolff. The usual? “That sounds great, thank you.” Taking a seat, he watches the vivid room, hoping to spot you. Set after set, he’s torn when you don’t show up. Others seem to notice you missing as they violently spit slurs of; Bring out the pretty one! 

“Would you be kind enough to treat me to a sweet drink? Paloma’s are my favorite.”

Your sultry voice salutes him like a perfect hug as he looks down to where you bite down onto the inside of your cheek. Your eyes crinkle as you beam up at him. “You’re here…”

“I always am.”

He cringes, desperation humbling him as you take a seat. “Your act…you didn’t go on and I just thought you were out sick or something?” Leaning over to take a sip of his dark drink, loopy eyes train on him before sighing.

“Ugh, I wish. I’m on my period. I asked for the night off, but I’m still up to no good. Make a little bit of money, eh.” He clenches his jaw. “What are you doing here anyways, Toto? Oh shit—Mr. Wolff.” Smiling warmly at the bartender, you hug your red lips around the glass.

“I wanted to see you.”

Choking on the fruity drink, you clutch onto his thigh. He stiffens, but still pats your exposed back. You wore a silky red dress, just like the rest of the girls strutting through the busy club, but somehow, it looked better on you. Enhancing your soft features, tugging against your curves like an envelope. Perky tits begging to be licked— sucked on. 

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know.” You frown. “I have no idea, but you’ve lingered on my mind from the moment I saw you, dancing sadly. Why was that?” 

You purse your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs. “Think a little bit harder, then.” His firm tone makes you sit up straight, drawing circles on his lap, as a tactic to not pull your strong gaze away. You don’t even notice his hard cock pushing up against the denim. 

“I had just received a restraining order against Rosie.” He deflates. “I’ve never even met my newborn sister and they got a fucking restraining order.” You scoff. “Unbelievable.”

Toto was lucky enough to be a part of his kids' lives, but simply picturing the idea of Stephanie or Susie getting a restraining order against him, crushed him. Seeing you so upset about it makes him want to track down your mother and Connor and yell at them for how they’ve treated you. But then he would probably find himself with a similar piece of paper.

“Just when I think they’ve done it all, there always seems to be more.” You laugh, taking another sip of your cold drink. “They’re getting clever.”

“How are you so okay with any of this?”

You narrow your eyes, offended by his question. “You think I am? Toto, I feel like the odd one out. My own mother makes me feel like a culprit for simply wanting to give my baby sister a pair of shoes.” The brunette furrows his brows. You giggle. “I got Rosie a pair of ballet shoes. They’re the cutest thing you’ll ever see.” 

His lips quirk upwards. “So, you’ve tried to meet her?” You shake your head, hair whiplashing. I called my mom, brought up the idea. I guess she didn’t like it because next thing I knew, hello, restraining order. It’s sick. “They don’t deserve you.”

Your mouth stays agape as you blink back at him, doe eyes ringing him in. “I’m done trying. I get tired too, y’know?” Edging closer to your seat, you cup your hands against his ear, getting a whiff of his musky, expensive scent. You almost let out a moan. “You have kids, right? Were they cute when they were babies?” 

He nods, enthusiastically. “They’re heaven sent.” Your eyes twinkle, and he feels bad for a split second. “Want to see?” He dangles his phone towards you as you beam. Do you mind? “Not at all. As a father, you must know, I like to brag about them.” Rolling your eyes, you swipe through his gallery as you coo.

“Oh my goodness! She looks just like you,” you point out when you spot a blond girl. He grins. That’s Rosa. Flickering your eyes up to him, you gasp. “Rosie.” 

“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”

Your grin widens. “Oh, handsome. Just like his father.” Benedict, he informs you as he blushes at the comment. Swiping once more, you tilt your head. “Very cute—like insanely adorable—but he doesn’t resemble you at all.” He laughs, throwing his head back.

“That’s my youngest, Jack. He looks just like his mother.” He retrieves the phone from you before handing it back. Squinting, you analyze the older blond. “Identical. It’s almost as if you didn’t partake in the game, Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

Burning up, you rip your gaze away from the device, trying to erase your filthy thoughts. Especially of him and his ex-wife. “She seems nice. Beautiful, too.” He hums, slipping his phone back into his pocket. 

“I can tell you have a soft spot for kids.”

“I don’t want to scare you off, but it’s an obsession. I can’t wait to be a mommy.” He swallows a groan at your innocent wish. “I would try to be the best; I just know I would.” 

The Austrian rubs his arm. “It’s getting late. Are you still going to be around?” 

You yawn. “I think I’m out of here, too.” 

“Can I take you home?”

The sexual tension is as thick as thieves. It suffocates you whole as you stare out the window of his Mercedes Benz. His digits taps against the leather wheel, legs barely fitting from how massive he is. Head almost touching the roof of his car. I swear I’ll go back to school, God, but please help me keep the last bits of my dignity. 

“How tall are you?” Come again? You gulp. “What’s your height? Curious, that’s all.”

His head rolls back, Adam’s Apple jumping up and down. “Meters or in feet?” You bite down on your tongue. Smart-ass. 

“Feet, if it’s okay with you,” you reply sarcastically. He clicks his tongue in amusement.

“6’5.” 

“Oh my God.” You smile sheepishly when he frowns. “You’re huge.”

“They normally say that after I have sex with them, but thank you.”

Heat rushes to your cheekbones and the tip of your ears. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, of course, my mistake.” Pulling into your small driveway, he blinks slowly. “You live here?”

“Yes, don’t drool over it, please,” you growl at his rude tone. His brown eyes spin towards you when you hurriedly grab your things. He grabs the back of your dress quickly and you freeze.

“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s lovely, but I just thought…you said you made good money?”

High heels crunch against small pebbles as you scowl at the fifty-two year old. “I want to go back to Uni and I’m saving up, is that so wrong?” He’s embarrassed now, fixated on the empty passenger seat. You scoff. “Glad we agree. Good night, dickhead.”

Toto lets out a quiet laugh. Your eye twitches at the sound. Marching over to his window, you click your fingers as he rolls it down. This is funny to you? “Not at all. You acting like a child is.” 

“I am not acting like a child—”

“Oh, you’re not? Fuck. Again, my mistake.” Grinding your molars, you glare at the brunette. He aims for a soft smile. “I wasn’t making fun of your living arrangements, please, do you really think that low of me?” You look away, wiggling your neat brows. “Come and live with me.”

“Excuse me?”

He climbs out of the car, making you stumble back. “In the meantime, while I’m here, which is not for long. When I leave, you can keep the house.”

You grow light headed from his delirious offer. “Are you asking me to have sex with you in return for a new home?” His jaw drops.

“No, I’m being a good friend. You’re a sweet girl who has dealt with some shitty people and I want to help. Please, accept.” His voice is soft but somehow demanding. As if he already knows you’re going to agree. 

Inching closer, you poke his chest. He raises his arms. “Are you real?” Super real, he states, rolling his chocolate eyes. What do you say? 

“But my things—”

“I’ll send for them.”

“My downpayment—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Cool!” you cheer. “Let me just go grab my boyfriend.” His smile falls. Letting out an evil laugh, you clutch onto your stomach. “Ha! You should have seen your face.”

He pinches your forearm and you yelp in surprise. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Too late,” you yodel as you skip around, back into the black Mercedes. “You’re going to regret it anyways.”

-

We still have to talk about the preparations required for the unveiling of the W15. Please tell me you haven’t forgotten? 

Massaging his temples, Toto grimaces. “I haven't, but also, we don’t have to. It’s all ready to go; George and Lewis just need to show up.”

Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”

“Elizabeth, that was implied.” The assistant hums sheepishly as she continues talking his ear off. He groans. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. You’re doing a great job, keep it up. And please, enjoy your break. You’re going to wish you had when the season starts.”

“Of course. Take care, Toto.”

Once they hang up, he picks up on reading through articles about everything and anything people have been saying about Lewis’ new contract with Ferrari. He was happy for his driver, but it still stung. 

“You look tired.”

Chocolate eyes direct over to you where you stand with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. At least he hopes. “Oh, y’know. Catching up on work. Can’t be gone for too long, if not things get out of control.”

Rolling your eyes sarcastically, you slide your way closer to him. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

Squinting at the screen, your eyes glimmer brightly. “I love all things gossip. It’s my guilty pleasure.” Taking a seat on his thick lap, your delicate fingers start playing with the keypad. He grunts, placing both hands behind his head as his jaw ticks. “Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton: The Unstoppable Duo.” You giggle. “He’s cute. Take it back, they both are.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “You’re evil.” 

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you shrug. It looks so soft, he’s itching to run his fingers through it. “I see why you’re upset about this whole—‘I want Lewis! No, I want Lewis!—thing.” His smile falters. “It’s brutal.”

Hauling you off of his lap, he places you on the chair next to him, hoping you wouldn’t notice his hard print. “Is it?”

“Mhmm,” you chirp, chin propped onto your knees. “You must not mind people talking about you.”

“I do mind. I mind a lot.”

Perplexed, you take in his exhausted state. You never wanted to be famous, and seeing him live like this made you realize you had made the right choice. With slight hesitance, you brush his hair back; he sighs in relief. “It’s good to take breaks in between. That way you don’t have a stroke, old man.” His eyes fly open.

“Just because you’re younger, that doesn't mean I’m about to drop dead, sweetheart.” You squirm, forcing his orbs back closed as he squirms at the clumsy action. 

“Wanna feel something nice?”

Toto’s mind wanders to a steamy place once you leap off your chair. His chest heaves up and down from nervousness, hearing your soft steps. Straddling him, you press a soft kiss onto his cheek. Relax, Toto. He nods, grips onto the sides of the wooden chair, knuckles turning ghost white. Digging your hands into his broad shoulder, you begin to massage him at a steady pace. He moans. “How are you so good at this?” Your lips curl.

“I like to think I was a masseuse in my past life, now shhh.” 

The brunette’s main focus was between two things; actually letting loose and enjoying the much needed massage and the urge to slide your panties to the side and fuck you senselessly. Both were pretty good ideas in his book.

“Stop grunting,” you whisper in the nook of his ear as he shudders. You bite down on your pouty lip, leaning all the way back, and his hands instinctively reach out to catch you. His brown eyes flutter open as he admires the way you tower over him, even as you lay back, but also the way your fingers push adamantly against the knots in his shoulders. He growls animalistically. “What did I say, Mr. Wolff?”

Cold stare. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

Grabbing his large hands, you place them over your hips, an inviting smile dancing across your pink lips. Squeeze if you have to. He almost comes inside his pants as you lick your lips once more before continuing your actions. And it almost seems like you want to get a rise out of him. To make him groan, moan, grunt, cry out— for you. 

Purposefully, you dig your knuckles extra hard before pinching down with your nails. He hisses, grasping your sides hard as he throws his head back, floppy hair hitting the chair. You force a whimper away as you feverishly grind against his crotch. That kind of hurt, Toto.

“Fuck…I’m sorry,” he spills out as he starts a massage of his own. You smirk, repeating the same painful actions, pushing him to do the same as before. This was no longer a peaceful massage, you both knew that. It really hurts, you whine as you place a small hand against his chest, hips moving feverishly against his rough pants. The burning sensation makes you let out a pathetic wail as you rest your head against his shoulder. “A-are you okay?”

Then, you press your forehead against his; lustful gaze challenging him while tears cover up your pretty eyes, making them shimmer even more than before. “Never been better.” With one last rub against his slacks, you’re climaxing as you plow your red nails onto him.

Gasping for air, you return to tracing soft circles against his wide shoulders as he’s left dazed and confused. His cock still hurts from how hard he is, but you don’t seem to notice. Or you ignore it. It doesn't matter, because you’re already jumping off him, lips bruised from how hard you had bit down.

“I thought your hands would hurt a lot less, Toto. You ought to be nice to me.” 

Then, you’re skipping away, back into your room like a shy rabbit.

-

After the encounter in the dining room, you pranced around as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. Toto’s mind was probably playing tricks on him because there was no way you could act so nonchalant, hallowing your lips around the cherry popsicle. Is it red? You stick your salivating tongue towards him.

“That’s a dumb question.”

You frown. “Grump.” A beat. “Can I take the Mercedes on a spin?”

“No.”

The frown grows deeper. “Why not? I swear I won’t scratch it. In fact, I won’t let anything happen.”

“Tempting, but still no.”

“Fine,” you grumble, munching down on the icy treat. He smiles, fingers typing against his computer. Can I ride you? His digits freeze midair as he flickers his brown eyes over at you. Holding the car keys directly to your face, you hum playfully. Yeah. Why not, Peaches? Just take care of me! “Of course, my sweet Benz. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“You are worse than my four year old.” He inhales sharply, rolling up his sleeves as he tries to ease his crazy heartbeat with water. You giggle.

“He said yes.”

“The car talks now?”

You blush. “That’s what I’m sayinggg…”

Analyzing the strand of hair that hits your chin, he folds his hands. “How did you choose Peaches as your stage name?”

You swallow the last piece of your popsicle. “It’s not an interesting story. I have a co-worker who goes by Foxy because she once fucked a fucking grandpa in the woods and he died of a heart attack once he saw a fox. Pretty cool, huh?”

His jaw drops. “You’re crazy.” Shrugging, you kick your legs up on the armrest. He swallows. “But I still want to know. No matter how boring it may seem. I can guarantee you I won’t think the same, pessimist.” 

Gingerly squinting your round eyes, your lips for a thin line. “When I was younger, my mom would bring me a peach everyday after work. That way, when she would pick me up from school, she would have it ready. The sweetest ones were during summer, of course, but the ones out of season were still pretty good. Up to this day, I still don’t know how she got her hands on those.” He nods. “Simple as that.”

“I think it’s sweet.” His long legs stretch out to kick your chair away. You squeal. “Makes you seem a tiny bit human.”

“Hey!”

He smirks. “Way better than Foxy. That story is just a murder case waiting to be taken to trial.”

“She did receive a handsome inheritance,” you whistle and his eyes grow wide. You snicker. “I’m kidding.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Do you enjoy your job? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?” You shake your head.

“Wait, let me rephrase. I do enjoy pole dancing. So many outsiders assume we’re sluts, but it’s not like that. It’s an art, whether you believe it or not.” I agree. You grin. “I have fun, but no, I don’t want to do this forever. I want to be an elementary school teacher.”

“Really?”

You wince. “Seems inappropriate, I know, but I think I could be really good at it. I would cut them slices of sweet peaches any chance I get. I’ll even figure out where to buy some more once the season ends.” Scooting closer to the table, you flick your wooden stick onto his lap. He aims for a deadpan expression. “And I just want to make it clear that I do not sleep around. But when I do, it’s because I want to. I have needs too, Toto.”

The fifty-two year old grinds his teeth together. “I’m sure you do.”

-

Wobbling against the shiny tiles, you gasp before a warm hand saves you. You let out a breath of relief, turning to see Toto shaking his head in disapproval. 

“This is why you should leave to work on time. Now you’re just a mess.” Glaring at him, you fix your rollers as you walk out onto the private driveway. You were excluded from the rest of society, but part of you liked that. “How are you even going to get there?”

Spinning around, you almost crash into his chest before you regain your composure, close proximity making you struggle to find the words. “Toto, I never told you this, but…I can fly.”

“I’m being serious.”

You shrug. “I’m going to take the bus. Go back to your precious emails.” As soon as you twiddle your finger, he scoffs. 

“I would take you—”

“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”

“Can you stop talking?” Beady eyes narrow up at him as he continues. “But I can’t because I’m drowning with work…You can take the Mercedes.” Your eyes light up. 

“Are you fucking with me?”

He wishes he was fucking you, but no. “You better treat it like your own.” You click your tongue. See, you shouldn’t have said that because now my alter ego just grew. He points accusingly and you scrunch your nose. I promise. Handing you his keys, he watches carefully as you pull away, blowing him a kiss. 

A few hours pass by before he feels the need to check up on you. He tries texting first. Busy night? Nothing. He tries calling. Nothing. He starts thinking you might've crashed on your way there, so he hurries out the door. 

Paying the taxi driver, he marches past the doors as he is handed a piece of paper. He smiles back politely. “Don’t you guys think we’re past this?” The men take a quick glance at each other before nodding. Have a lovely night, Mr. Wolff. 

Loud music makes the brunette wince, face twisting uncomfortably. Brown eyes study the club as he tries to decipher where you could possibly be. Maybe you didn’t make it and he was right after all. Jogging over to the bartender, Toto pants. “Peaches? Have you seen her?” 

The young man points to the glass box, where you start your set. He sighs in relief as he takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he admires. Everyone cheers as you smile erotically. The Austrian can’t help but be one of them too. 

Spotting him, you freeze. You narrow your eyes for a split second before you snap out of it, continuing your desirable movements. The music ends and just like that, you’re done. Hollering echoes the room when you brush past by. 

“What are you doing here?” 

A cheesy grin plays out. “I came to see you.” Weren’t you busy with work? He shakes his head. “Well, yes actually, but I thought you were dead in a ditch when you didn’t reply to my message or answer any of my calls.”

“Why could that be? Oh. Maybe because I’m working,” you hiss. “Listen, if you’re here as a client— fine. But if you’re here as Toto— leave.”

He narrows his eyes sharply and your breath hitches. “It’s Mr. Wolff, darling.”

You purse your lips. “Very well, Mr. Wolff.” Strutting away, you make sure you sway your hips. The brunette groans, falling back against his chair. 

The night flies by as usual, until they book you. “Mr. Straforx, sitting in the back booth,” Ro informs you as you suck on your bottom lip, listening attentively. “Interested?” 

“Very.”

“Actually, I am too.”

The rich accent makes your stomach flip as you muster up a stern glare. Toto’s lips form a firm line as he stands as tall as a sequoia. Fuming, you shake your head, perfectly done hair slapping your face. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wolff, but I already agreed to somebody else. But rest assured, if I have time left, then I will get to you.”

“Is money the issue here?”

Your jaw ticks, temples grinding together harshly. “You think that’s all I care about?”

He shrugs. “I could lie and say no, but who am I kidding? We all care about money.”

Flustered, you scoot closer to Ro, who stands amused with the entire interaction. “Ro, tell Mr. Straforx that I’ll be there in a minute, and make sure to apologize on my behalf.” The older man nods, tipping his head towards the Austrian as he strolls away. “What are you trying to do, Toto?”

His lips flip to a teasing smile. “Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, don’t you dare pull that card on me.” Your face pinches up. “This is an important client, I can’t say no.”

“How much do you want in order for you to come with me instead of him?” Your berry lips separate. “Name a price. I’m a self-made billionaire, sweetheart—a couple of millions are nothing to me.”

“I could never ask for you to do that,” you whisper, timidly fiddling with your necklace. “Deal with it. You’re not my boyfriend.”

His nose flares at the cruel reminder. “I never claimed to be. I’m a client.” Pause. “Two million.”

You gasp. “Are you insane?”

“You’re right, that’s childsplay. How about five?” When you still don’t say anything, he grins devilishly as he places a large hand on the lower part of your back. “Ro! Yeah, tell Me. Straforx that she’s coming with me. I’ll give you a bonus, don’t worry.” Your friend nodded happily. Press the button if you need anything. 

You roll your eyes, sourly. “Thank you, Ro. Thank you so much.” Pushing you into the private room, you yelp. “Let go of me!”

The brunette scoffs. “Calm down, I was barely even touching you.”

Shivering, you focus your attention on the luxurious drinking options. Half of these were probably worth what you make in a year, but the rich fed off of that. The brown eyed man hums. “Is that something you’re interested in?” You quirk a brow. A drink? He shakes his head. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You blink up at him swiftly, rubbing your thighs together. “You’re reading into it. I don’t.” Digging his large hands into his pockets, he clicks his tongue. Okay. Then ask me to leave. We can pretend none of this ever happened. A sad whine bubbles up your throat as you fear that he might actually walk out if you even dared to imply. “Just don’t be a jerk.”

A threatening chuckles booms past his lips as he serves himself a drink you can’t even pronounce. He takes a slow sip before he raises his glass up towards you. “You’re getting to me a  bit more than I’d like to admit. I mean, you must know that, right?” Demented, you play with your dress. 

Tonight, you were cosplaying a wide-eyed devil. There was nothing threatening about your appearance, not if you didn’t count your crimson red lips. Plump, round, tempting. Your black gartner drives him to complete insanity as you bite down on your bottom lip, nervously. Your red dress is too short for his liking, but only because others get to enjoy the sight of your heavenly legs. The ones he was drooling over to nuzzle his face in between. Then your horns tussle your hair messily as you pant. He hasn’t even touched you and you were already dripping.

“That’s not true, Mr. Wolff.” The grin widens.. 

“You can call me Toto when we’re alone, sweetheart.” You shiver, lowering your gaze. No, you were right. It has to stay professional in this setting. The brunette rolls his tongue before squinting his eyes at you, fine lines forming. The sight alone makes you melt. “You should have thought about that before you came all over my thigh.”

Shocked at his vulgar words, you bat your eyes, flustered by the reminder. You had done that. But you had the upper hand that day and that was long gone as he towered over you. Inching closer, he drops down to his knees, him still appearing taller even with the action. You squirm. 

“You were not playing fair that day. How come you only got to finish, and I didn’t?” You were hurting me, you cry out like a child as he scoffs at your weak attempt. Tugging you closer to him by your smooth legs, he droops them over his wide shoulders. Oh God. Turning his head to the side, he presses warm kisses. Your skin burns with every single one. “You know that’s not true.” Then, he’s hiking your tiny dress up.

Toto is hit with instant lust as he spots the wet patch of arousal. You whine, legs shutting around him. Do something—anything—but please, touch me. The corner of his lips lift up as he bites onto your red undergarment, pulling it down. Oh, you sigh at the intimate vision. Once you’re on full display, he groans. Your pussy glistens back at him, begging to be stretched out. “You’re…”

Humming, you place your soft palm against his cheek. “Toto…”

Like a starved man, he dives in, lips sucking on your clit as you fly forward, eyes screwed shut. He eats you out as if this was his true calling in life, the way he pinches your hips when you rock yourself against his face. He’s enjoying every second, every drop, as you find pleasure with the way his tongue swirls inside of you, finding new places you didn't know existed. The brunette nips quickly as you gasp, then he strikes his tongue. Warm sensation settles inside of your stomach. T-toto, holy fuck, oh my God. 

You can feel the way he grins against your pussy as he continues his handy work. Slurping your juices, his dark eyes find yours as you pant, light sweat fanning your face. His large hand presses your dress down, further adding to the friction as your tummy is pushed down as well. Wailing, you writher an embarrassing amount that would normally have you pouring out apologies if it weren’t for his strong gaze. 

“Taste so sweet,” he chants, kitten licks taking place. Your head rolls back against the couch, hand clutching onto his hair as he grunts. “Open your eyes for me, schatzi.” But you’re too busy trying to make this moment last, ignoring his command. Pressing his nose against your small hole, you squeal and look down. A coy expression takes over as he pulls away and rubs his fingers against your puffy clit. 

“You s-so fucking good at this,” you pant, chest rises up and down, horns sliding down a bit before he extends his long arm, pushing it back. Your chest tightens. “I know what you’re going to do…Go easy, please.”

Taunting circles edge you further as he bites the squishy part of his cheek. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to try and make your fingers fit.”

Your words come out menacing as you scrunch your eyebrows together, a worried look clear to the Austrian. Kissing the inside of your thigh, he nods. “You’re an extremely smart girl.” Another kiss. “I’ll go slow. You won’t even feel any discomfort, just pleasure.”

“Wait!”

Panic strikes his face as you disconnect his left hand from your breast. Bringing his hand up, you inspect the wedding band. Why are you still wearing this? He groans. “Publicity. No one knows yet. They won’t know for a while, so I can’t take it off until then.” You hum, then slide his ring finger into your mouth. You can taste yourself, long digits immediately hitting the back of your throat as you gag. “What are you—”

Then he feels it. Your soft tongue and the way it lubricated the steel before you gently bit down and started pulling his hand back. His cock grows more pained from how hard he’s become. With a pop you smile, eyes crinkling as you show off the metal. “Better.”

“You’re…” I know, you seductively whisper as you return his hand to where it laid. Is that not what you like about me? The man practically growls as he slams two thick fingers inside of you. Your body jolts as you cry out. So good, Toto. His cock twitches at you ragged praises. His fingers barely even fit inside your tiny hole, but it sure as hell reaches your g-spot. White splotches burn your eyes as you dig your nails onto the side of his thick neck. 

“Just like that. Oh, Toto.” He adds a third finger, and you hiss at the burning sensation. “That’s too much! Fuck.” He makes up for it, drawing figure 8’s between your velvety walls as you open up to him. Your legs start to slip down his shoulders as he spits. Keep them in place. You whimper, but obey, nonetheless.

The pad of his fingers continue assaulting your sweet spot, curling at a perfect angle. Your moans grow louder. Chocolate eyes flicker up to face your fucked up state. “Close?” You nod, vigorously. A warm strip teases your slippery lips. “Good. You’re doing so good, Peaches.”

Your hips buck suddenly as you suffocate him with your body, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Picking up on your candy nectar, he groans like a madman, greedy tongue swiping to lick every last drop. Shuddering at the feeling, you push his head away from in between your legs and grab him by the collar. For a second, he thinks you might kiss him, but when you don’t he realizes he’s disappointed. Instead, you plant a kiss on his cheek, hot breaths wrapping around his skin.

“Guess that makes us even, Mr. Wolff.”

-

“And then I rode a pony! I begged mama to let me get on a horse instead, but I just got a good scolding. But you would’ve let me, right papa?” Toto theatrically grins at Jack. 

“Don’t tell her, but yes. I would have let you because you're a big boy now, aren't you?” The four year old nods, blond hair covering his eyes as he brushes it away with powdered hands from his donut. I miss you. When are you coming back?

Pressure tugs at the Austrians chest as he sighs. Jack was too young—he wouldn’t understand that he and Susie would no longer be living together. It was a mutual decision to tell him when the time was right, but it still killed him to lie to his son. Especially when he beams back with bright eyes. Toto winces. “Soon.” A pin drops. “Have you eaten your vegetables for the day?” Jack sprints away.

A soft laugh is heard from the other side of the screen as Susie comes to view. “He has not, by the way. Hi, Toto.” The brunette waves. “Are you actually busy with work or are you trying to forget about all your fatherly duties?” 

“Is it that obvious?”

The blond chuckles. “Whatever it is, it’s great that you’ve taken time to yourself. Just don’t take too long.” Signing off, the fifty-two year old is left staring at his own reflection. 

“He’s cuter than the pictures.” Toto flinches with surprise. Standing in a summer dress, you lick your lollipop. “His voice is super squeaky; it’s adorable.”

“Do you need something?”

His question may seem rude, but it’s not meant to come off as so. His voice is filled with genuine concern as he furrows his brows. You shake your head. “I’m bored, that's all.”

The brunette scoffs. “And by all means, you came to bother me.” A giggle dances out of you as you brush your hair back. Your sweet scent reaches him, even though you stand far enough away to make a run for the hills. “But I do have time. What do you have in mind?”

“I want to talk to my mom.” Your words shock him but he listens attentively, watching you as you sit on top of the table, legs swinging with rigidness. “I want to try and fix things.” He frowns. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You shift in an uncomfortable manner. “Well…”

“What did you do?”

“Remember how I got a restraining order, but I’ve never stepped close to Rosie?” He nods. You nibble on your thumb. “I s-sort of lied.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve met her, kind of…” You pout, hazed expression carving out through your doll features. “But I can explain.”

He sighs. “Please do.”

Your cheeks flush. “A few weeks before I met you, Connor called me. And I picked up. He told me he was willing to let me meet my sister, but only if I let him borrow fifty grand. To be honest, I don’t care if I never get my money back— I just wanted to be able to recognize Rosie’s face. Of course I said yes.” The Austrian listens carefully, loopy eyes dedicated to you. “I bought her ballet shoes, the one’s I told you about.”

“She was perfect. She giggled like the most angelic thing and her eyes crinkled in a way that made me love her instantly. I asked why Connor needed the money and if they were in trouble, but he only ignored me. Then he tried to kiss me.”

“He what?”

A timid smile plays out. “It’s okay, he does that sometimes, but I’m always able to push him off because most of the time he’s drunk out of his mind. I don’t normally care, but he had Rosie… What if because of some stupid mistake he put her in danger? I gave Rosie her gift and paid an Uber to take them back home.”

“My mom found out about the meet-up and marched right to my work. Don’t ask me how she got in. She yelled at me with such anger that I almost wanted to cry. She said I wanted to steal both Rosie and Connor from her. I promised that wasn’t true, but she didn’t care. Then I got my restraining order.”

The brunette’s words get stuck as he gapes at you. Clearing his throat, he drums his fingers against the table. “You should have told me the truth,” he begins. Hurt slashes your face—you thought he would understand. He offers a friendly smile. “But still…you’ve done nothing wrong.” A beat. “I can help you. Well, my lawyers can.”

Tears form inside your jello eyes. “Are you serious?”

He nods. “Your sister can’t grow up in a household that doesn’t want her, but keeps her just to twist the knife. Connor will pay for what he’s done to you.” Leaping off the table, you cross your arms. No. You can’t bring that up. He sends a sharp glare. “What he did was wrong, can’t you see?” Your bottom lip wobbles. She’s going to hate me even more. Tenderly, he sighs as he strolls over, cupping your face. “She shouldn’t, but if she does, at least you’ll be free from him. Has he only tried to kiss you?”

Closing your eyes, you release a wet breath. “He’s touched me a couple of times.” The Austrains eyes darken. Pushing his hands down, you quickly take a step back. “But by then I was due to move out, so it doesn’t really matter!”

“It matters a little,” he growls. “None of this is normal.” You flinch at his strong tone. “Sweetheart, tell me one thing; what would you do if God forbid, he did the same thing to Rosie?” 

You gasp. “I would murder him.”

“So, you agree that we have to do something about this?” Hesitantly, you nod. “I’ll reach out to my attorney as soon as possible. I promise you that all of this will get taken care of.” Muscular arms drape over your shoulders as he hugs you. Bewildered, you blink as you stiffen. “You don’t hug much?”

“Nope.” 

He booms with laughter, chest vibrating as you smile at the feeling. Everything about this feels right, so then why does that scare you?

-

He vows to be back as soon as he’s done with the car reveal. I don’t care, you reply as you pop a mint into your mouth, getting ready for work. 

You’re going to miss me, watch.

And damn him, the fucker was right—you did. A part of you wishes he would rush past the doors, yapping about he thought you were dead and didn’t ask for permission to take the Benz. But he was across the world, smiling wide at media duties as you watched behind a tiny screen. It’s good that he’s taking time to see Jack, too.

“Why are you sighing so sad?” Roxy asks, fixing her combat boots. “Not getting any clients? Though I doubt it. They love you.”

You let out a forced laugh. “I’m not sad—tired.”

The red head furrows her brows suspiciously before hugging you. Your arms dangle lazily as you scrunch your nose. She giggles. “Does this have to do with Mr. Toto Wolff? He’s hot—crazy hot.” She untangles herself from you. “He must be the devil himself.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” she cheers happily. “But also, you’re totally in love.” Your stomach drops. No, I am not. Roxy rolls her eyes. “You’re a good liar, but you’re not that good. I’ve noticed the way you look at him. Like you want to eat him alive as you kiss him until your lips snap.”

You wince at the image. “You have a way with words…”

She beams, thin brows raising up. “I’ve also noticed that you haven’t gone into the private room since he walked in through those doors. So what, you’re just going to keep pretending?”

“You’re such a creep!” you squeal, delicate hand slapping her thigh. She squeals lightheartedly. You’re missing out on a shit ton of money. We’re talking dough. And yet you don't bat an eye because you don’t want anyone but him. Did I nail it?

You pinch your fingers together as you huff. “You’re crazy. Crazy. There is no way I could be in lo—” Hey! The ringing sound makes your blood run cold as you fear to turn around. Look at me. Foxy stares back at you with anxious eyes. Do you know her? Looking down onto your lap, you nod. “That’s my mother.”

“Oh shit.”

A dry hand yanks you by the arm as she spins you around. “I’m talking to you. Why won’t you look at me?” 

You flinch. “I’m working, you can’t be doing this—”

“I don’t give two shits if you’re working or not, if I say we need to talk, then we need to talk.” Ro shakes his head, distressed as he apologizes. I’m so sorry, Peaches. She said she was your mom and I…I didn't know what to do. You smile back softly. 

“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”

As soon as your mother enters the dark area, she whistles. “Fancy, but really? Bending over for any man willing to pay you a couple cents? That’s disgusting.”

Your cheeks burn up as you fight back tears. “What do you want? Is Rosie okay?” Panic rushes through your veins as you grab her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. She’s so thin, you think you might break her. “Is she okay, I said?”

“She’s fine,” she yawns. “So…this is what you’re up to? It always…catches me by surprise. Not really.”

“I had no choice,” you whisper meekly. “You gave me no choice.”

The older woman smirks. “Don’t you dare blame me. No one makes you do anything— this was your decision.” 

You let out a tired sigh. “Just tell me what you want…”

Her eye twitches, as if she remembers why she was so angry to begin with. “I got your complaint; you’re suing me for being a bad mother and Connor for…assaulting you? Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”

“I’m not lying—”

“Really?”

“Why would I lie?” you yell back, acid sliding down your cheeks. “I would never make up such a thing. He assaulted me countless times as you never did a single thing.”

“I never saw anything.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “You walked in on it! You called me a slut! I was seventeen for fuck sakes. But no—you blamed me for sleeping with your husband instead.” You take a good look at her; dark undereyes, frail figure, needles imprints everywhere. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to think about Rosie—”

“Rosie, Rosie, Rosie—I could not care any less about her! She just bugs with all her crying. It’s exhausting.”

“She’s just a baby.” Grabbing her hands, you soften your gaze. “If you don’t want her, fine, let me raise her…I swear I can do it.”

Your mother perks up. “You would do that?” Yes. Of course I would, you respond instantly. You’ll never hear about us ever again. Her thin hand cradles your cheek warmly, and for a moment, you let yourself lean against it. Then she pulls away and strikes you harshly, causing you to stumble back. “Why would I ever please you like that?”

Bring your hand up to your stinging flesh, you sob. “I-I…what?”

“Here’s what you’re going to do; you're going to drop the charges against me and Connor.”

“No.” 

She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”

Rising up with shaky legs, you keep a firm face even though it begs to howl in pain. “I said no. You’re not going to hand her over willingly, okay…Then I’m taking you to court.”

“Like hell you aren’t.” Tugging your arm, she presses her face insanely close to yours. You wince at the smell of intoxication; you can’t even tell what kind. “I will fucking kill you, do you hear me?”

You let out a wet laugh, ripping your arm away from her tight grip. “I don’t care. I don’t care anymore, but I am saving my sister from you two—no matter what.” Her nostrils flare as she heaves. You let out a sad whimper. “When did you become so inhuman? You used to be kind, beautiful, ha—”

“Heartbreak does that to a person,” she simply states before walking out, leaving you to yourself as you finally come crashing down.

-

He didn’t expect for there to be a racket, but the house felt awfully quiet. He knows you weren't at work—he had checked. He thought maybe you could have been out with friends, so he sighs before resting on the couch. He sits there for an hour or so before heading upstairs to take a shower. 

As soon as he enters the bedroom, he finds you covered with thick blankets as you cry. Alarmed, he rushed to your side of the bed. Oh my God, you shriek at the anonymous person before squirting. “When did you get here?”

“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”

You hope brushing your tears away would stop him from asking questions. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

A pinched up expression maps out. Your chin forms a peach seed as you let out a weak sob and stand on the bed, making you the same height as him, throwing your arms around his neck. He’s stunned, but snaps out of it as he hugs you back, calloused fingers playing with your soft hair. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom visited me at work. She said some nasty things, but that doesn’t matter to me, what does is that she won’t let me adopt Rosie,” you muffle against his neck, salty tears wetting his collared shirt. “She’d rather raise her out of spite. She’s not made for this, she's malicious.”

“What else did she say?”

You pause, sniffling before pulling back with a reindeer nose. “That’s it.”

The Austrian lowered his gaze with subtle threat. “No, tell me everything she told you.”

“I swear that’s all.”

His brown eyes scan your face, but you remain still, only shaky breaths being released. He clenches his jaw. “Where does she live?” Your face drops. Why do you want to know? “Where does she live?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Stop being so stubborn and let yourself be helped—”

“I don’t need your help anymore, Toto!” You purse your lips, trembling hands brushing your hair back. Anger rushes over him as he inspects the purple bruise.

“Who did this to you?”

Sitting back down on the bed, your nose twitches. “I’m moving out.”

“Who fucking did this to you?” His voice is lethal. Thank you for trying to fix things, but I’m sure I can do it myself from now on. “What you don’t seem to understand is that you don’t have to. It was your mother, correct?” Forlorn, you agree with your silence. “What have they done to you?” he whispers, pain lacing his raw voice.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” you whisper, salty tears sliding down. “I’m going to kill your image—they’re going to hate you because of me.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” the brunette ricochets back. “All I care about is that you’re okay. That you find the happiness you deserve to have.”

Grimacing, you sniffle, shaking your head. “I’m starting to think that doesn’t exist. Or at least I’m so unlucky that I won’t get a piece,” you joke. “The closest thing I’ve felt to that is when I met you.” His heart melts as he stares back, adoringly. “You’ve helped me in so many ways, Toto. Thank you for that.”

“But—”

“I know.” Rising up on the fluffy bed, you tower over him a bit, pressing kisses on his temples, cheeks, nose, neck. “You’re the only man who's ever made me feel something real. I can’t explain it, but I hope it makes sense.” 

He gulps. “It does. You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve made me feel the exact same way from the moment you stepped into my life.” He closes the gap between you two as you stumble back against the mattress, but his large hands prevent you from getting away. “You’re not perfect—you’re flawed. You don’t have your life together—but you’re trying to. You’re not the tough girl you make yourself out to be—but that’s because you feel the need to build up walls to protect yourself from others.” Your stomach churns with every word he speaks. “And somehow…you have me wrapped around your finger.”

It happens so quickly, the way he presses his lips against yours. He can taste the saltiness but doesn’t dare to pull away. Like an animal, you move your mouth against his, whimpers flowing to his ears like symphonies. Toto knows why you never made the first move; you were scared to admit your feelings. But he was too.

Almost as if you read his mind, you run your fingers against his scalp as he breathes out, against your open mouth. “You won’t do the same, right Toto?” 

“What, sweetheart?”

Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”

“Unless you ask me to, then no.” He pecks your temple. “I can’t even imagine living without you anymore.”

That’s all it takes as you jump on him, silky legs wrapping around his torso like a piece of ribbon. He grunts loudly when you bite down on his bottom lip before letting go. “God, Toto, you’re—” As soon as he sucks on your throat, your sentence dies. Writhing against him, you try pushing him off as he chuckles, then he sets you down against the white sheets.

Immediately, you crawl back to the edge of the bed to where he still stands. Frisky hands tremble as you aim for his belt. Such a pretty girl, he thinks as you slip it off. You don’t have to do this. “I owe you, remember?” Then eager hands push his pants down, along with his boxers.

You knew he would be big, but that was an understatement. Toto was huge. Being 6’5 should have been a warning itself, but still. Drooling over his cock, you lick your lips, doe eyes fixating back to him. “I might not be able to take it all in my mouth,” you sheepishly state, red faced. The fifty-two year old has probably had a much better encounter; you were just making a fool out of yourself. Running his thumb against your cheekbone, the corners of his lips fly up. 

“I’ll walk you through it.”

Humming, you delicately wrap your hand around his length. Even just feeling it makes the heat in your belly grow. He clenches his jaw. Jerking him off, you wrap your lips around the pink tip. The Austrian releases a dirty groan, hips bucking as you smile around him. Pulling back, you stare up expecting the next step. Start off how you normally would. 

Pouty lips welcome him down your throat as you whine, the vibrations sending him into an orbit. When your palm slithers to what you can’t reach, he tsks. “You haven’t even tried.” Soft brows pinch together as if to say; Probably because I know I can’t either way. His nostrils flare. “Relax your jaw.”

Doing as you’re told, you gag as you squeeze your eyes shut and curl your toes. Your back arches, ass flying up as you struggle. A large hand reaches out to smack it. Yelping, you ease your mouth, thick member sliding down furthermore than you could have even imagined. There you go. 

Swallowing around him, you bob your head at a steady pace, reliving the steps, too scared to mess up. The Austrian throws his head back, sharp jaw in clear display as he pants. “Just like t-that, fuck. You’re doing so…shit.” While he’s enjoying himself, tears burst out as you clench your eyes, lashes becoming darker. The feeling is definitely getting him off, but he wanted to make things easier for you. 

Brushing your untamed hair back, he traces the bridge of your nose. Your orbs remain closed, and he finds himself missing them. “Breathe through your nose.” Ragged breaths fly out as your fingers dig against his thighs. He hisses. But gradually, it gets better. Glossy eyes stare up at him, lips stretch around his cock as you continue your filthy movements. 

As if to prove yourself to him, you deepthroat him even more as his head rolls back, floppy hair following along. Soft fingers brush against his legs as he shudders, face twisted with pleasure. Pulling away, you swirl your wet lips against his tip, feeding off of his precum before forcing yourself back down. 

Thick ropes of cum slide down your throat as you moan loudly. The brunette grunts, shaky breaths flying past his lips. With a teasing pop, you kneel up as you open wide. He moans at the sight of his release swimming inside your sinister mouth, then you swallow. Even though your throat is extremely sore, you still beam at him.

“Where have you been all my life?.” Climbing over you, he lays you flat, slipping your dress off. He’s stunned to find out you’re completely naked. Cherry red feathers on your cheeks. “Are you sure you didn’t know I was going to be back?”

Your lips curl. “No idea.”

He wraps his mouth against your bud as you whimper, hand massaging his head as he repeats his actions to the other. You could definitely fall asleep to this. When you open your eyes, you’re impressed to find out he’s completely stripped down, toned body exposed. The sight makes you grow excited, nervous.

“Are you on birth control?”

You curse softly. “I’m not. Crap.” Disappointed, you’re expecting him to climb off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he let out a raw chuckle. “I t-told you I don’t fuck men on the regular—”

“I don’t need the reminder,” he grunts. His brown eyes soften. “What’s your wish in life?”

Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”

“Cute.” Flustered, you focus on his contracting abs. Foaming at the mouth, you try to picture rubbing your core against them. “The other one,” he demands.

“Oh…” No. He can’t possibly mean… Your heart stops beating. “To be a mom.”

“There it is.” 

Briskly, he pushes into you as you wince in pain. I know, I know, he coos. But it’s better this way. It won’t feel so bad in a few minutes. Crying against his humid chest, your jaw hangs open. “It really hurts, Toto. Oh…it burns.” Hot tears reestablish themselves inside your orbs. “You’re too big.”

“Breath, sweetheart, breath.” His voice calms you down as your mewls lessen. “See?” You hum. “I’m going to move, alright?”

“O-okay,” you respond, dizzy. The feeling returns—less painful—but returns, nonetheless. Panic expands through your chest as you begin to think he might split you in half. His cock was just so thick and veiny. But it felt delicious between your velvety walls. “Fuck, baby,” you pant.

“I knew you could do it.” A warm peck lingers on your shoulder. “You feel so tight, schatz. So warm.” He sighs in relief as your tiny cunt compresses against his length, easing the pain from being as hard as a rock. Worse. Strong arms pick your legs up over his bare shoulders, making him travel deeper. 

“Toto, Toto, Toto—”

Eyes entertained against your slippery hole, he raises his brows. Yeah, baby? Getting a hold of his hand, you bring it over your stomach. His jaw clenches. “I can feel you.” Writhing in ecstasy, you toss your head to the side, small whines echoing between the vaporized walls. Pouding into you at a faster pace, he growls, bite marks being left behind on your legs. You hiss, clamping your eyes even harder, which makes you clench around his cock even more.

“Do that again,” he begs. “Do it—” You oblige, attention set on how he moans feverishly, hands adding pressure to your legs. For sure his imprints would be left behind. Taking advantage of the little power you have, you untangle yourself, greedily climbing onto his thick lap. 

“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.” 

He looked more than good—he looked eternal. The way his chest heaves, his soft pants, sweaty hair framing his handsome face, dark eyes praising you as if you were Athena herself. A confession finds into your brain as you halt. Beads of sweat cover his long nose as he appears concerned by the sudden break. Is everything okay? Rubbing your eyes as if you just had the worst nightmare, you blink hastily. 

Roxy couldn't have been right—she never was. Except, she is this time. It's as if a warm glow towers over him, your chest feels awfully vacant, but you’re not scared because you know your heart has found its home in the palm of his hand. You laugh in amusement as you touch his face all over. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “What’s so funny?”

“I love you, Toto Wolff.”

A lump forms inside his throat as he tilts his head. “You do?”

You shrug sheepishly. “I do.” Kissing his lips, you sigh with content. “I love you, I love you, I love you; I adore you.” He can hear the clock ticking as he stares back with his lips slightly parted. “You don’t have to feel the same, you dont have to say it back—I don’t care, but I can’t keep living a life of regret…”

“I love you, too.” Cartoon eyes blink back at him as he chuckles. “Do you believe me?”

“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”

Shifting on top of the Austrian, you make sure to slip him back inside as you moan in unison. Riding someone has never felt so addicting. Gasping at the raw feeling, you dig your nails onto his shoulders. When you look down at him, you are pleased to find him struggling to catch his breath. His fingers pinch your hips harshly as you bounce harder and faster, as if he would regret his words and leave you. “So big.” You drool, hair flourishing around you. “Stretching me out so good, Mr. Wolff.” He growls at you captivating words. “Making it so easy to ride you, huh? Cock brushing against the perfect sp—oh my God.”

Your face twists up with pleasure when the tip of his cock brushes against the mushy part that makes you almost black out. Movements slow down but it’s not long before he lifts you up and slamming you back down. “Toto!” you squeal, flimsy arms reaching out to balance yourself on his wide shoulders. Everytime he hauls you up and you look back at him, he represents like a giant. Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging wide open. “I-I’m close-e-e.”

“Me too,” he grunts. Like a devilicious man on a mission, he slaps your face carefully, forcing you to connect your glossy orbs with his loopy ones. “Gonna let me cum inside? Carry my baby, just like you’ve always wanted?”

“Yes,” you chant. “Yes—all of it—yes.” Cradling his cheek against your sweaty palm, you smile. “Cum inside of me, Wolff.”

With one final push, you both release loud moans, a strong wave of orgasms crashing violently against one another. Huffing, he makes a ponytail with your messy hair before letting go. “You think it worked?” You giggle.

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Leaning towards him, you kiss him gingerly. His mind grows blurry with how meaningful you make it seem. I’m yours—my heart is all yours—but please don’t break it, it seems to tell him as his enormous hands squish you closer to him, as if that were possible. 

“I know of a few ways we can make sure.”

-

Though you had mutually admitted your feelings to one another, there still didn’t appear to be a proper label to it all. Time was slipping, he would soon have no other choice but to leave and face all his responsibilities. 

But you can come back with me, he would desperately bring up as he fucked you against the wall. Tits would be bouncing at a hasty speed as you look back with your mouth in an O. I want you to. You won’t ever have to worry about anything, I promise. You can go back to Uni. You’ll get custody over Rosie, and Jack will be over the moon. We could have a family of our own, just you and I, Peaches. Huh? How does that sound, baby?

It sounded perfect; like a dream. You could taste it already. Early morning calls that you wouldn’t mind because he’d be laying down next to you. Quiet time as you jot down notes and he stresses over the next big decision for the team. And at the end, you would be glad you made the choice to choose him. Just like he chose you.

With shaky hands, you brush his messy hair back as he dotes on your bambi eyes. The way they glimmered extra bright that night; like starlight. The brunette’s face would soften up when you trace his nose, the curve of pink lips, his lines. Everything about him was breathtakingly dominant. 

You’d be a fool to deny. 

So, you accept. 

-

If Toto were to be told that he had died and ascended to heaven; he wouldn’t second guess the possibility. Because being with you felt exactly like that. Every passing second only adds to the amount of love he bottles up for you. It would overflow and he’d be okay; bring out the next. Oh, that one’s full, too? Okay, next. 

All of it made sense. You matched perfectly in sync with him like a cozy glove and he wouldn’t have it any other way. There’d be whispers from others, but he doesn’t care. He’d deal with just about anything for you. 

“You’re leaving so soon.” A click. “Have you thought about quitting?”

He can see you grow as stiff as a tree. Your back faces him, but he can still spot your reflection. Of course you looked absolutely lovely, but there was something different about…God. He doesn’t even know what to call it. 

“I’m not quitting.”

The Austrians' lips form a thin line; shoes clicking against the floor even more. A boom of lighting fills the room as you flinch. He smiles slowly. “Right—not yet, at least. Not until you move to Monaco.”

More heavy silence. “Sure.”

Now he’s worried. Strolling closer to you, he brushes his warm hand against your shoulder, kissing your exposed skin. “What is it?”

His heart stops when he notices you blinking back tears; bloodshot eyes tracing his tall figure. His first assumption is the most obvious; your mother and Connor. They had probably done something, said something, and now they’ve got you—

“I’m taking the car. See you later.”

He blinks. The cold demeanor was something unusual on your behalf, but leaving without a goodbye kiss was alarming. Toto tries to suppress his feelings with a bottle of scotch, but nothing seems to work. He has to see you. 

Gathering his wallet and house keys, he strides out the door before he spots his laptop wide open. As soon as he returned, he would have to answer endless emails, but for now, that wasn’t his priority. Inching closer, he reaches down to slap it shut when his pulse runs cold.

We should think about Jack.

He’s too young to understand anything of what’s going on, Suse.

Let’s just try one last time. I swear I’ll change. 

I love you. 

He knew instantly; you had read the messages. He had sent them, there's no doubt, but that was so long ago. The date was right there; all before he met you. Before opening up to you. But he doubts you spared enough time to spot the tiny detail. You saw his texts and that’s all; the rest was blocked.

Toto’s palms get sweaty, ears burning red, and heart racing faster than a fucking F1 car. How must you feel? You had made him promise that he wouldn’t hurt you and now this? The confusion was completely explainable, but he had to get to you fast.

It’s as if he owns the place, marching fiercely past the open doors that swing once they spot the Austrian. NDA’s were rather foolish when it comes to him now because he just held that much power. That much respect. But he can’t think of why something feels off.  You were hurt, and he felt awful, but no…there’s something else. As if there were an actual wolf lurking deep in the woods; ready to pounce. The hair in the back of his neck stands up, goosebumps forming, and eyes flickering all over the rich club, hoping to find you.

“Hey,” he pants when he spots the familiar redhead. Foxy lives up to her name because her laser glare has him scared for his life. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance before strutting away, a row of men following. The Austrian pushes past them all, pleading just like any other, but for a completely different reason. “Have you seen, Peaches?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Where is she?”

“Around.” 

The dancer beams at the group of businessmen who relax against their seat, hunting down without shame. They wore wedding bands, but who cared, right? Toto’s large hand grasps her wrist, tugging her away as she gasps, causing a commotion. He doesn’t care, he just has to find you.

Brown eyes glimmer threateningly but also soft because they’re both aware he needs her, for she only knows where to find you. “Listen, I know she told you what happened, but it was all some misunderstanding! The messages..they were sent to my ex-wife a long time ago. Before any of this, I swear…you have to believe me.”

Foxy narrows her thin brows, digging a sharp nail against his toned chest. “No, you listen—Peaches is one of the sweetest girls I have ever met; she's my other half, so when you hurt her…” A beat. “That’s it. She doesn’t forgive.”

His shoulders drop like an avalanche. “B-but it was a...you don’t mean that.”

The redhead struts away, long legs prancing like a vixen. “Believe me; don’t believe me—I don’t care. Just leave her alone.”

But he can’t do that anymore, he's in too deep. No matter how many times Foxy cursed him to leave, he just wouldn't. He would explain. Even if it were that last thing he did. All's fair after that. 

“Mr. Wolff?” A red drink is extended out towards him kindly, to which he shakes his head with a forced smile. If you can even call it that. He’s sure he looks awful, dressed in all black, but it perfectly represented him for who he is and how he was feeling. It’s almost as if he were ready to show up to a funeral. 

As time ticks at a snail's pace, he grows more nauseous. There’d be a moment where you see him and he doesn’t know how you would react. Fuck—he doesn’t know how he would, either. To some it may be embarrassing to weep in front of a group of worldly men, but if you looked at him a certain way where he knew it was over? He’d be the first, and without hesitation or shame. 

He’s come to recognize your set as fast as a racing strategy. The stage would light up a soft yellow; swallow the room like the early sun. The piano keys would start off slow, taunting, and almost sinister—Yayo. And of course, you’d prance around like a broken angel, wings brushing your hair like his long fingers would.

But this is strange.

He’s too busy analyzing the colorful club when the lights burn black, only the glass box raining a bright red. He doesn’t even recognize it’s you. 

The intro isn’t the notorious piano lullabies, but rather scratchy violins. Million Dollar Man slithers across the crowded room like a venomous snake, waiting to strike anyone who doesn’t lay their attention on them. 

And this time, you’re no angel, you’re no devil. You’re both. It’s confusing and alarming, but also beautiful and breathtaking. While your dress is cotton white, your makeup is dark and tempting, lips dark red. Your knee socks are tied with a simple ribbon, making men drool like some type of fuckery. You look miserably broken. If anyone were to guess, then they’d say that you’re high off drugs, but that’s not the case. You're high off heartbreak. 

And the simple necklace you wear, with his marriage ring attached to it, is a pelluid indication. Even if it was new level petty.

Toto is in such a trance that he doesn’t even feel when a group of hands push him to sit down, eager to have a clear view of their own. They all secretly envy the Austrian when they notice that he had landed himself the best seat in the house without even trying. 

So, was it fate to be sitting here, in front of you? Was it fate to have met, then hurt you without the means? The music is almost terrifying, along with your black wings and white halo. All of this is utterly puzzling; was he supposed to be into this, or fear it? Was he supposed to feel his heartbeat in the pit of his stomach, drumming against his ribcage, or was he supposed to be at ease? But most important; would you spare him this time to apologize, or would you kick him out of your life? The last notion scared him the most as he sat like a tired soldier, brown eyes blinking to where you start to seductively twirl.

I don’t know how you convince them and get them. Shiny legs drag behind your delicate figure as your eyes roam the room, sighing with every lustful stare. This is purely pathetic, it didn’t make you feel the way you intended for it to do, but shit. All you wanted to do was flee the state and never look back. But there were too many things tying you back; Foxy, Ro, Rosie…A stinging sensation begins to form behind your orbs and you fiercely blink them away, refusing for the thought of Toto to be what brings you down. 

But in a moment like this, what were you supposed to think about? Toto was many things; devilishly, cunningly handsome, tempting, brilliant, intoxicating; but he was also a fucking no-good, professional heartbreaker, a screwed up man who roamed earth without a sense of direction, who truly never deserved to fall in love again, especially with someone was tainted and loyal as you—

But the eyes don't lie. He’s become known by you; someone in your favorite book whom you look for in every page, despite it all. His orbs remind you of your favorite kind of dark chocolate, swirly and dreamy; enough to make you swoon, but they’re filled with more than just that. They’re desperate, as if ready to run endless miles if that's what it took for you to speak to him. They’re loopy, blazing nervously when you spot him, brows knitted with concern.

And he deserves it…you think.

Still, that doesn’t stop your stomach from churning, causing you to panic at the thought of spilling your lunch in front of everyone eyeing the glass box you're hidden behind; it could only ever do so much. Everyone can see your usually tantalizing persona fly out the window, a frail—shattered—girl taking your place. 

He’s tricked you. He made you let your guard down, let him in, and then ramshackled you whole; and he hadn’t been nice about it either. How could you have ever thought he would choose you over someone who actually held his kid for nine months? You had seen the messages that sunny morning; birds chirped, flowers bloomed. He had been busy doing God knows what, and when his bright laptop dinged, you couldn’t help but peek. As you once told him; you loved gossip.

Jack is asking if you remember where he last left his stuffed bear? You know, the one with the white spots? 

Susie. You had heard a lot about her—you’ve read, a lot, too— she was someone to admire. Helped create a path of perseverance for young girls; it was astonishing. The thought of Jack made you smile, then the bear, then her. Which is why you aimlessly scrolled once, playfully, and then you came to a rude halt. 

If someone were to grovel that way for you, you would helplessly fall for it. Fuck, he pratically begged for a second chance. Heat weaved through your body, anger rising, and then falling cruelly with a sense of undeniable ache. You had cried; sobbed. Then you got ready for work.

When he had asked what was wrong, you wanted to stab him with the nearby knife, and the thought scared you half to death. You could tell he was deeply wounded by the cold shoulder, but why the fuck should you care? 

Here—in Machiavellian Nights—trapped behind a transparent case, with disgusting men eyefucking you, you realize; there’s no place to run. An attraction is what you are; tourists are what they all represent. Toto’s massive figure swallowed his seat whole, long legs spread open naturally. And you hate it how handsome he looks, dark clouds painting his usually happy eyes. His chest dances up and down, wrestling to catch a breath. The hollers make him flinch in the slightest, grimacing.

The Austrian is apologizing, cryptically. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry. His lips aren't moving, but you can hear his pleads as the music continues. 

C’mon! Dance, someone demands from afar, rough hand smacking the glass. Gasping, you purse your lips, continuing. Ignorance is horrible; especially coming from you. The idea of going on without you feel like a nightmare—torture. He tries standing up, and he doesn’t really know what his game plan is exactly in order to get to you, but heads turn and harsh arms force him back down. 

It isn’t that hard, boy. To like you, or love you. It was as if you got yanked back into what is truly your reality. You can’t have good things in life. Your father hadn’t died—he had abandoned you. Your mother did too. And Toto…

Toto Wolff was just the same.

You’re glad no one can hear you choking back on tears, you wouldn't dare to fall. But emotions were running high, your throat felt raw, your eyes stung, knees felt wobbly, and it was too much. But aside from your hurt, an eerie feeling hugged your chest, forcing your rib cage to poke you as a warning. You allow yourself to look back up, rapidly scanning the unlit room. Everything was blurry—which didn’t help—but what was it?

You’re no longer focused; your legs sway, your gartner slides down, your nose is starting to get runny, and it was all a mess. Connecting your gaze back to his, you narrow them down like deathly blades. This is all your fault, they scream at him, enraged. If you hadn’t walked into my life, then I wouldn’t be this way. 

You’re screwed up and brilliant. 

“You fucking ruined me!” Running towards the glass, you violently slap and punch, over and over until you no longer feel any pain. Red bruises form rather quickly and everyone begins to murmur.

Look like a million dollar man.

“I hate you, Toto Wolff!” Muffled whimpers flow like a waterfall as everyone turns to face the fifty-two year old who sits with a hurt expression. 

“I can explain,” he pleads, instantly rising up to his scary height and rushing over to where you’re caged. His large hand pathetically grasps it, fingerprints painting the shiny protection between you and him. “Sweetheart…”

So why is my heart broke?

“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”

Chaos ensues; the volcano erupts. It’s suffocating, the way everyone tramples over one another, scattering like lab rats. The yells of terror make his blood run ice cold, swiftly turning around to face the open room. Foxy lets out a scream filled with agony as she crawls over to the stage. Acid slides down her face, makeup running. The other dancers run to hide where the bartender stands with his mouth wide open, orbs flickering with urgency. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he has to get you out of here.

“Open it!” Foxy cries, hands hitting the clear box so forcefully that her nails begin to chip, light gore beginning to slide down. “Open the fucking stage right now!” She lets out a string of pleas, but no one is listening—they can’t even try to with all the loud noise. The alarms go off and that’s what snaps him out of his spot of confusion and what makes her cry and fall back against her arms.

The glass isn’t shattered like in the movies, all over the floor, no. There’s just a singular hole, scratches circling around it—and spikes of blood coloring the crystal clear mirror. 

Even with eyes closed, face sticky with tears, and blood spurting out of your mouth and chest, pooling around your angelic body, you were still beautiful. The ring lays flat atop your unbeating heart, shining one last time against the cherry lights. You were gone as soon as the bullet hit, but Toto was the last person you had seen. And you wish you had time to tell him you never meant any of it. You could never hate him; you loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“I…no. No. No.” Fists punch urgently, cuts finding a place in his pale skin. “Open it!” More pounds. “Let her out! Why is no one letting her out?” Trepidation sleeks over him as he stops his actions, taking a second to look at you. Your dark wings had somehow turned darker, your white dress is now drowned in crimson red, your halo is no longer on your head, and your lively skin is now ghostly pale, almost gray. “Peaches…” His voice quivers so much, he almost doesn't realize it's coming from him. “Get up, sweetheart—come on, just stand.”

His chest tightens when you go unresponding. “T-think about Rosie! She loves you; she needs you. I need you,” he declares, voice cracking. “The text messages are a mishap! I only love you, Peaches, that’s all! I swear I do, I swear it’s you…”

He dreads to turn around and face what was now his life. The music cuts, but the frightful screams continue. Toto blinks back the stingy feeling as he flickers up to make eye contact with who’s responsible for ripping you away from him.

You share the same eyes, but hers are sullen now. Her hair looks as if it could have once been glossy, but is now as dry as the desert. Her lips are nastily chapped, but an uncanny curl slips through as she ticks anxiously when Ro and the rest of the guards hold her without an ounce of remorse, cuffing skinny, needled wrists.

Your mother looks down at the gun, at her daughter, then at Toto. An unhinged stare strikes her impentent face.

“I brought her into this world…I can also take her out.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[maskedbyghost]

omg imagine arranged marriage!ghost and I love it 😻 and I can’t stop thinking about reader who pretends to not like ghost or the whole marriage idea in the beginning like that whole dynamic would be amazzzing!!!!

thank you for making me think about this, sending you lots of love sweet anon! <333

simon is just quietly watching you from across the room, his gaze intense as you act indifferent, pretending the whole arrangement means nothing to you. maybe you roll your eyes when he insists on carrying your bags, or you shrug when he calls you "mrs. riley," even though you secretly feel a thrill each time he says it.

"i can carry my own bag, you know," you snap, yanking it from his grip. but he just stares back at you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as if he's daring you to try and keep pushing him away.

the first night, you insist on taking the couch, crossing your arms and making it clear. “it’s better for both of us,” you say stubbornly. he doesn’t argue, but his look says he’s already decided how this arrangement will end, even if you can’t see it yet. every little display of disinterest only fuels him more, makes him even more set on making this temporary arrangement feel like something permanent.

when you pull away slightly in public, refusing to let him hold your hand, he just raises an eyebrow. ���we’re married, love. act like it,” he mutters, grabbing your hand firmly, not giving you a chance to argue. you scoff, pulling away a little too quickly. “this isn’t real, simon. don’t take it too seriously.”

but he knows you’re testing him, and he’s more than willing to play along.

as days turn into weeks, he becomes almost relentless in his own quiet, possessive way. he lingers close whenever anyone else is around, slipping an arm around your waist, brushing a hand against your back, whispering a soft “mine” in your ear whenever he notices your resolve weakening, just to remind you. every time you scoff or roll your eyes, he fights back a smirk because he can see through your act.

“you don’t have to act so... territorial,” you say one day, crossing your arms as he pulls you a little closer than usual. he shrugs, unbothered, as if you hadn’t even spoken. “just keeping my wife close. got a problem with that?”

one night, when he catches you glancing at your ring a little too long, his patience snaps. he steps in close, cornering you with that piercing gaze of his. “why do you keep fighting it?” he murmurs, voice low, making your heart race. "we’re in this, whether you like it or not."

you open your mouth to argue, but before you can respond, he’s already leaning in, his lips brushing against yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. and as you melt into him, letting the walls you put up crumble, you realize he’s not giving you a choice—and maybe, just maybe, you’re done pretending you don’t want this too.

-----------------------------------

who wouldn't want him??? also sorry i was away for a few days, my life is literally falling apart rn.

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hi, could you write something about Aegon burned and having difficulty walking and his wife taking care of him and him being ashamed and at the same time needy and only wanting her? sorry, English is not my first language

Oh god anon you really know how to tug on the heart strings. And now unfortunately all of you will have to learn about my love for angsty shit, so buckle up lads.

My first thought is how Aegon's trust in anyone must be completely shattered? His own brother burnt him and tried to kill him. When he wakes up and the maesters are leaning over him he immediately panics and tries to get away. They say they're trying to help him and try to give him medication but he freaks out every time because how is he supposed to trust anyone ever again?

Of course the moment he wakes up someone runs to tell you, so you get to the room pretty quickly. You see Aegon weakly trying to push them maesters away, begging them not to hurt him.

You tell everyone to stand back and then you walk over to Aegon, taking his hand and pressing a soft kiss to the top of it. Aegon relaxes the moment he sees you. He trusts you, you're the one person he knows would never hurt him.

For the first few days the maesters have to explain to you how to treat aegon's wounds because he wouldn't let anyone else come near him. You do it without complaint of course, and you try to spend as much time as you can with him. You lay next to him in bed and read to him and let him hold your hand and he's just so so thankful.

I think that the shame and avoidance will come once he starts improving actually? Once he needs less milk of the poppy and he can remove his bandages and he has to start walking again. The first time he sees his face in the mirror he cries. He just stands there and silently cries because he thinks he looks like a monster. He has no idea how you managed to stay by his side when he looked like this.

He starts to feign sleep every time you come to check on him, not moving until he's certain you've left the room. He doesn't want you to see his face free of bandages, doesn't want to make you have to look at him and keep up a conversation and care for him.

He lets the maesters tend to him then, and maybe even asks the servants to try and keep you busy and prevent you from seeing him as much as possible. You notice this of course, but you also know that he's in a really fragile state and you don't want to push him out of his comfort zones.

Things really start to get bad when it's time for Aegon to walk and try going up stairs and try climbing into a proper bath. All of that is so so painful and he struggles so much. The servants and maesters try to help him, but he flinches and begs them not to touch him every time.

He's already in so much pain and he doesn't know who he can trust and the maester's touch is always so cold and harsh and it hurts even worse. The maesters don't know what to do because he very clearly needs help and also needs to practice walking again but he won't let anyone touch him.

Deep down, he desperately wants you. He wants to lean against your arm and feel your hand on his waste. He knows he could lean on you and you would help him and he'd even get a kiss when he did well.

But he can't ask you, can't even ask you to see him because he's so scared that once you see how scarred his face is, you will refuse to see him anymore.

While your marriage to Aegon was originally an arranged marriage, you two fell in love quite quickly and Aegon very quickly become dependant on you. So much so that Aegon is widely considered to be the king who loved their queen the most out of all the previous rulers.

So now, to not have your support and to not see you and to be in so much pain? He's struggling so so much.

Maybe one of the maesters eventually have to tell you? They can see that Aegon is not making progress and they fear he may hurt himself if he continues to try and walk on his own or dress on his own or even just bathe on his own.

Your heart breaks when the maester tells you, and you immediately go up to Aegon's chambers. You were originally going to wait until he called you, but after hearing that you know that you have to go to him now.

You find him standing next to his bed, trying to muster up the energy to walk to his cupboard and change clothes. When he sees you, he turns his face away from you, telling you to go away because he looks like a monster.

You just walk right over to him, gently lifting his head and pressing a soft kiss to his unblemished cheek. You tell him that you love him, and that you're his wife. He needs to let someone help him, and you promise him that you have absolutely zero intention of leaving or betraying him, he is your husband, you only want to help.

He kinda just... falls into you? Like he just stops trying to hold his weight and you have to catch him. You slowly lower him down onto the bed and go fetch his clean clothes from the cupboard. You undress and dress him, pressing soft kisses to unburnt skin and telling him how proud you are of him and how strong he is.

From that day onwards, you don't leave Aegon's side while he recovers. You help him as much as you can, going on slow walks around the castle together and keeping his burns clean.

No one else can touch him, in fact no one else can even get close to him. If you vouch for someone and tell Aegon that he needs to trust this person and let them touch him, then Aegon will let them as long as you stay close.

[yanderestarangel]

HEADKANONS MK1 - "HOW WOULD THEY REACT TO THE PREGNANT READER?"

A/N: an anon asked me for Bi Han's reaction to a pregnant Reader, but then I decided to play several MK men soon, I'll answer all requests too, thanks for the asks and support <3

TW: pregnancy, afab anatomy, paternity mentioned, used "father/mother" to refer to the reader, mention of smut, fluff.

✧ BI HAN ✧

It really depends on what kind of relationship you two have. You can have a "friendship with benefits" with Bi Han, where you look for each other just to have sex, then you end up accidentally getting pregnant and go look for him - obviously afraid, after all, he is Bi Han. So he asks you to meet him in the forest, the same meeting place where you made love in passionate encounters, with Bi Han fucking you hard, whispering how good you were for him, how good your beautiful pussy was on his dick, it was the only moment that the grand master was vulnerable. You saw him in the distance, with his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face as he waited for you to say something so important that made him miss an entire day of liu kuei training. After telling him, he would be surprised for a few minutes, and say: "-Are you sure it's my son?" -Bi Han said with a little too much seriousness in his voice, even aggression while you felt a little offended, but you would say yes, making Bi Han look at the sky, a smile could be seen slightly on his lips as he went at your direction by kneeling in front of your belly and nodding your head. "-I think we will be good parents, our child will have all the honor and power Lin Kuei." -The ice ninja stood up as he held your hand, he would be a good father, even if he was rude at times, he will take care of your pregnancy - and maybe he will want more children in the future with you - he would officially ask you to be his boyfriend/girlfriend or marriage, after all, he needs a partner by his side, especially you who are carrying his offspring.

✧ KUAI LIANG ✧

The two of you also had a friendship with benefits, always together in the lonely early mornings that Kuai would look for you for pleasure and affection, but unlike his brother, Kuai would treat you as if the two of you were already dating, giving you gifts or even forgetting and saying that You were his boyfriend/girlfriend. Over time he started to stay even more at your house, always having sex in every possible place - and often without a condom - so soon your period was late, you felt sick and took a pregnancy test, confirming your suspicions. That night Liang and you had sex again, while you sat next to him on the mattress on the floor with the pregnancy test under the pillow, obviously you were scared, as you saw Kuai look at you worried. "-Is there a problem sweetheart?" -He said, caressing your naked and sweaty waist, after sex, while you sighed and took out the small pregnancy test, with the positive sign, showing it to him without saying anything. Kuai would remain silent for a few minutes, looking at the test in hand while he finally smiled slightly, looking at you fondly. "-Was that it (Y/N)? Why were you afraid to tell me? I'm literally in love with you, it's not just sex for me, I really love you. And we're together for everything, especially this." -Kuai Liang said smiling, hugging you right away, while stroking your hair. "-You will look beautiful as a father/mother, with a huge belly, carrying our child, our family will start now, you and me."

✧ SYZOTH ✧

He's going to faint, no joke, but it's from happiness. Regardless of your relationship, he will be over the moon. Syzoth always wanted a family again, he lost one so he knows the pain and loneliness it is, being alone in the world and without hope, he found you and you started small meetings, sometimes sex, sometimes just watching a movie together or just talking - or sometimes all together, it depends on the mood of the two of you on the day - And this will last for many days, months or even years, he always wanted a title, but you never wanted to put labels on what you two had, what you left He was upset to be honest, but he continued with your conformist carnal encounters while trying to settle for sexual chemistry. But that didn't last long with a fight between the two of you for exactly that reason, you didn't want a relationship but he did, leading to the two of you not seeing each other for two weeks and in the meantime, you discovered you were pregnant, becoming desperate and looking for Syzoth immediately. He was shocked, paralyzed, he was breathing heavily and then passed out seconds later, but he woke up quickly. "-Am I going to be a father??? Am I really going to be a father again?" -Syzoth spoke with a happy smile, taking your shoulders, as he pulled you into a hug, jumping with joy, shedding a few tears in the process, he quickly knelt down, looking at your belly, and placing a kiss over the fabric of your blouse. "-I already love you my child, me and (Y/N) will love you very much." -He stood up, wiping away his tears while looking at you with affection. "-Do you agree to make things official between the two of us (Y/N)? And raise our child? I promise to do everything to protect you, as the father/mother of my son."

✧ REIKO ✧

The two of you were the classic: enemies to lovers, always fighting with each other to stand out more for General Shao Khan or even falling to the punch - without losing the friendship, just a friendly spar, where Reiko and you left bleeding - But there was always sexual tension between the two of you, it was obvious to anyone who saw you, and one day, it became real, with you and Reiko taking a shower after a mission together in the same bathroom and with him teasing you and you teasing back, when you saw it, you had been sitting on Reiko's dick for two hours while he moaned loudly echoing through the box, the sex was incredible and you liked this concept of hating each other and competing in front of everyone, but meeting every night - even though the competitions also applied in the bedroom, with the two of you challenging each other with who was going to cum faster... Reiko always lost - but soon the two of you became more intimate, more passionate, starting to do it without a condom, because Reiko loves make a good creampie in your pussy - after a few weeks, you realized that you were sick and more unwell for training, making him also worry, so you went to an exo terra healer, proving that you were expecting Reiko's child . You didn't know how to tell him, but you didn't have to, he followed you and heard everything, waiting for you outside with your arms crossed and a slight smile on your face. "-Well, I think we're going to be parents now, right? And this child is going to be very dear to me (Y/N), you can trust me." -Reiko spoke sincerely, while placing a hand on your shoulder, kissing you on the forehead. "-And we both know that this child will be like me, he will be born strong like me and-" -He spoke but you soon disagreed, leading the two of you to walk hand in hand while talking/arguing amicably with whoever your son was going to look like.

✧ SHANG TSUNG ✧

He was never a sentimental man, but you were the only person who got to see a softer side of Shang, he was still arrogant but less selfish when it came to you. The two of you met in his castle, where he studied various spells every night and liked to show off to you, at first it was just a friendship, but Shang fell in love with you which led you to have sex on his table, with first time showing you a soft side, as he thrust his hips into you, moaning loudly as he bit your neck. This became a routine, mainly sitting on Shang's lap with his entire dick in your pussy, while he studied some spells, letting you enjoy the pleasure. He's different from everyone else on the list, he knows you're pregnant before you can even open your mouth to tell him. You ran into his castle with tears in your eyes, ready to tell him, but he smiled at you with his back turned, it wasn't a forced or sarcastic smile, it was something soft, something real. "-Oh really? I already knew my cute little voodoo doll, have you already chosen a name? How about something big? After all, this child is mine." -He spoke with his chin raised and genuinely happy, as he called you closer, putting you on his lap and quickly kissing you, caressing your cheek. "-I will take care of you two, you as the father/mother of my child, and this child... I really want you by my side (Y/N)."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[joshym]

all i want

Pairing: ex husband!Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Even the deepest, most all-encompassing love is not always destined to endure.

Word Count: 25.3k + (this one definitely got away from me, lol)

Warnings: marriage ending in divorce, becoming parents, stress/anxiety, heavy emotions, drunkenness, arguing, angst, some good fluff

SMUT: 18+ ONLY: unprotected sex, oral (f!rec), a few risque photographs captured, a lot of kissing. maybe too much.

a/n: happy new year! 🤍 big thank you (& an even bigger apology over how long this took me) to this wonderful anon for their request. this was one of my favorites sitting in my inbox, & i wanted to be sure to give it the right amount of time to create it. love you, anon. 🤍

as always - i owe a huge, gigantic, massive thank you to my sister, @jakeyt. without her, this wouldn't be what it is. thank you, sis. for everything.

enjoy, my loves.

listen while you read.🤍

"All I want is nothing more

To hear you knocking at my door"

↟ᨒ.⊹݁⚘⊹⚘⊹⚘ ⊹.ᨒ↟

He was your best friend. 

The two of you were inseparable from the moment you met almost twenty years ago now. Two peas in a pod, as everyone would say. He’s been your favorite person in the whole world for the better part of your life. You can’t even recall a time that he wasn’t there – life before him just doesn’t exist to you anymore.

It wasn’t until your junior year of high school that things…changed. You began seeing him in a new light – he started to look different to you. Different in a good way, of course.

That was the year he started to grow into the man you’d find yourself falling deeply in love with, the man you knew you were destined to spend the rest of your conceivable days with. 

Three short years later, his was the face you’d see as you walked barefoot along the soft grass, littered in pink rose petals. Your hands held a small bouquet of the same roses that matched the petals at your feet, mixed with a few baby's breaths that you’d also braided in your hair. 

An intimate ceremony in early Spring was all you truly wanted. Just you, Jake, and a few people whom you both loved the most. Essentially an elopement – you just never felt the need to plan a ceremony of grandeur. It simply didn’t suit the two of you; it was never a show for you and Jake. It was simply you and Jake. He was your person. As long as you had him, a big celebration wasn’t necessary to you. Becoming his wife was the celebration.

You only had two stipulations for the decor; as many pink roses as your small, combined salaries could muster, and the Laramie mountains of Wyoming that you both grew up hiking together. The wildlife, peaceful and welcoming, served as beautiful additions to celebrate your matrimony. 

Your dress was made by your grandma's own two hands, woven entirely in delicate lace. The sleeves draped gracefully from your shoulders, and the small train that dragged behind you gathered pieces of the earth as you walked toward your love, though you didn’t mind the stains at all. Just the same, you never bothered to remove them. The earth and its gifts were just as much a part of the day as the wedding dress was.

As you made your solo walk down the earth's aisle, everything around you was a blur. Jake, the most handsome man your eyes had ever been given the pleasure to gaze upon, was the only thing clear to you in that moment. His hair, wind blown to beautiful perfection, and his skin, smooth and kissed by the sun. The white linen shirt he wore was left open around his chest, the mix of silver and gold charms decorating his skin, catching the rays from the eventide sun. 

You shared your first kiss as one at dusk, with the sun falling carefully below the mountains that proudly stood behind you. A sea of monarchs flew over the two of you, as if Mother Nature herself was celebrating your union, stamping her very own approval. 

There was nothing else in the world that mattered in that moment as you gazed into your new husband's eyes – his eyes that the golden rays themselves paled in comparison to. You both understood, from the instant your lips met, that your lives had truly just begun. 

The wedding was as near perfect as any could be. Picturesque, serene – the air felt fresh, anew. Your husband swayed you in his arms as you danced to nature's music, dancing until the sun closed her eyes and gave way for the moon to bathe you in her light. 

Mr. and Mrs. Kiszka — never was there a title you were more proud to wear. With the most delicate and dainty golden band around your ring finger, your bond was at last sealed.

Without the funds to take a proper honeymoon, you instead spent a quiet week in a secluded cabin in those very same mountains that joined you on your wedding day. You don’t remember leaving the little log home once during that week. Each day was spent just the two of you – no television, no intrusions from cell phones, no internet, just you and Jake. As it was always meant to be. You made love more times that week than you dare count, practically never bothered to put clothes on the whole time. You both knew they would be stripped off before you even had the chance to properly get dressed. 

It was the best week of your life, for reasons that are invaluable to you. Not only did you spend every second of that time loving your brand new husband, but the love from that week resulted in the creation of the very thing that represented the earth shattering adoration you shared for one another. 

The pregnancy came a little earlier than you had truly wanted. And it’s not that you weren’t over the moon excited for the addition, the two of you certainly weren’t as prepared as you wish you would’ve been. 

But, then again, is one ever truly prepared for such a thing?

It was scary. Terrifying, even. Jake doted over you in every way imaginable, taking care of your each and every need as they came about. Everything became about what was best for the baby, including scrounging to find a new place to live. The one bedroom studio just wasn’t going to cut it for your soon-to-be family of three. Though you’d always dreamed of a beautiful home with acres and acres of land on the outskirts of Casper, where you could gaze at the mountains from your own backyard, you just didn’t have the time or the money you needed to acquire such a thing. 

The old home you found in the city was beautiful, but your finances weren’t sufficient enough to sustain a mortgage just yet. Let alone all the things necessary for a newborn baby, your little girl, who was due to arrive in only a matter of months after you moved into your mostly unfurnished home. The stress eventually led to financial tension in your marriage. Jake had no choice but to take up a few jobs, along with his freelance photography, while you worked from home as much as you could. Your marriage was being tested early on, tested in ways neither of you were equipped to handle at the time. 

You still loved each other. God did you love each other. But even a love so profound and seemingly limitless wasn’t enough to endure each strain tossed your way. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t see eye to eye on, well, most everything.

But, of course, the number one priority was the baby. The only things you could agree on at that time were anything that had to do with her. The theme of her nursery, which you both decided should be mountains. The two of you spent weeks painting the same ranges that were a symbol of your love on her walls. Everything in her room depicted the very place she was conceived, and the place you vowed to love your husband for the rest of your life. 

Her name hadn’t been decided just yet, but when the moment was right, it came naturally. Though your new marriage was experiencing an upheaval, her name was something that didn’t require a second thought from either of you.

Laramie Rose Kiszka. 

Laramie, after the mountains that oversaw your union. Rose, representing the ones you held, the ones that led a path to the man you’d always loved. The only man you’d ever loved.

Every marriage has its hardships, though neither of you were expecting them to occur so soon. There are many things that happened during that time that you’ll always question. But one thing you undoubtedly knew then, and what you still know now –

The love in your heart for him, in spite of it all, has never wavered. 

↟ᨒ.⊹݁⚘⊹⚘⊹⚘ ⊹.ᨒ↟

She was born at the very beginning of the year, on the coldest January day you’d ever known. Flurries of snow spit from the sky as she entered the world, covering the entire town of Casper with its sparkling blanket of white. Your labor was anything but easy, lasting for nearly thirteen hours. The most painful thing your body ever experienced, yet the most beautiful thing came from it.

Jake was by your side every second of it. Holding your hand that was squeezing the life out of his, wiping the sweat from your forehead, placing a cool washcloth against your skin when you needed it. He was your strength in that moment, when you felt you’d all but lost yours as your body struggled to bring her into the world. 

And then, when she was ready, she came. The moment you heard her first cry, all the pain in your weak body subsided, replaced with a warmth that you can only describe as pure love. As the nurse handed her to you, when you looked into her eyes for the very first time, it was as though the last thirteen hours of painful labor no longer existed. You were healed the instant you saw her. 

“Welcome to the world, my sweet Laramie Rose,” you whispered to her as you held her against your bare chest for the first time. Her eyes held the entire world. She was everything beautiful and perfect that could ever be offered to you, in her tiny six pound body that you held safely for nine months. 

“My gorgeous girls,”  Jake said as he leaned over and kissed you on the lips, then your baby girl on her tiny forehead. “My family.” 

Tears fell from Jake’s eyes as he held her for the first time, the smile of a brand new, proud dad worn across his quivering lips. You’d never seen anything more pure in your life, and everything that had transpired over the last nine months just didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was Laramie, and the desire to protect her at all costs, with Jake by your side to ensure she’d have the best life both of you could give her. It was no longer about the two of you; it was about the three of you. 

Everything felt right in that moment. It was as if, at last, everything had all fallen into place exactly as it was always meant to. It felt as though Laramie was the very thing the two of you needed to get back to the root of it all, back to the way you felt the day you said ‘I do.’ She gave you a reason, a purpose. One that you weren’t prepared for, but one that you were so grateful for.

The first few months were hard, being thrown into the throes of parenthood before you were truly given the chance to enjoy being married. But, she was worth every second. Watching her grow and change, seeing her smile for the first time, admiring her innocent view of the world around her – you just couldn’t believe that you and Jake had a hand in creating something so perfect. 

It wasn’t easy, sure. But it was, and still is, the greatest joy of your life – to be her mother, and Jake to be her father. 

However, while your tiny girl was the sweetest, happiest baby, you and Jake were struggling to find your footing. The bills continued to pile, and Jake just couldn’t manage working more than one job any longer. It was a miracle when he landed a spot with an incredibly renowned photographer as an assistant, finally able to get his foot in the door with his craft. 

The money was good. It was great, actually. His first paycheck alone paid up all of the bills, including the late fees. The job made it possible for you to be a full-time, stay at home mom. Something you and Jake both agreed was the best thing for Lara. 

With the money Jake was making, you truly thought that the problems in your marriage would solve themselves. The stress of finances was the biggest problem between the two of you, and when that was no longer a hindrance, you felt your marriage would heal itself in no time. 

But, that wasn’t the case. 

Arguments, though petty and utterly pointless, soon became a daily occurrence. Multiple times a day, at that.

It was always the same things — he was gone all the time for work so you felt like you were parenting alone, and he felt his every effort to take care of his family was lost on you. 

None of it was true, but both of you were far too stubborn to admit to any wrong doings. The arguments resulted in awful things being said to one another. Your frustrations would cause your lips to utter things neither one of you meant – things you didn’t mean, at least – and that caused you to heavily resent one another. 

But, the biggest fight occurred when Jake proposed the idea of moving away. All for his job. He swore that it would be the best thing for your family, that he wouldn’t have to travel so often. A promising studio, located just east of Los Angeles, offered him a position for more than double the income he was bringing in. He essentially accepted the job before ever uttering a word about it with you. 

And that was your final straw. 

You felt betrayed in the worst ways, and the idea of leaving Casper, of leaving the place that held so much history for you and Jake, leaving the mountains…that wasn’t something you were willing to budge on. Up until that moment, you thought you were both in agreement that raising Lara here was what was truly best for her. 

At that point, you both knew what needed to be done.  

It wasn’t an easy choice to make, but it was the right one. The only one, in fact. Not what either of you wanted, but what you knew you needed. It was the hardest lesson of ‘want’ and ‘need’ that you’ve ever learned. 

Neither one of you wanted to raise your daughter in an environment like that, with parents who just weren’t equipped for what being married meant. Living together was simply too difficult for you and Jake. You were the same in so many ways, yet completely different when it truly mattered. It ultimately boiled down to consistent disagreements that were beyond repair.

So, when Lara turned a year old, you both decided that, for the sake of being the best parents you could be to your precious girl, splitting was the best thing you could do for her. And for yourselves. 

The divorce seemed to come as naturally as the wedding did. For the first time in over a year, there were no arguments, no words spoken out of anger. It was a seamless transition, but one that left a scar on your heart. 

It was Jake’s choice for you to keep the house, and it only made sense given the nature of his job and the chance he’d move away. And it was that very reason you were initially granted full custody of Lara. You were able to offer her a stable home that the judge felt needed prioritized. Jake pleaded with the judge, promised he wouldn’t leave if that’s what it took to see her more. But, the judge wouldn’t hear it. The pain in Jake’s eyes as he dutifully agreed to the arrangement still haunts you most everyday. 

But, none of it sat right with you. As far as Lara went, Jake had done nothing wrong. He was – is – the perfect dad. You didn’t want his time with her to be limited to a week or two in the Summer when your schedules would allow. That wasn’t good enough for you, for Jake, or for Lara. 

She needed her dad just as much as she needed you. 

It took some convincing, but the judge eventually agreed to split the custody evenly, so long as Jake didn’t move so far away. And you made it known that you would settle for no less than that. The problems with you and Jake were only between you and Jake. That custody agreement would’ve been a punishment for Lara just as much as it would’ve been for Jake, and that wasn’t okay with you in the least. You saw no purpose in taking away most of his parental rights, keeping your daughter from her dad, all because the two of you were incapable of living together. 

Because of your insistence on keeping Lara in Wyoming, Jake sacrificed a lot to ensure he’d see her as much as possible. He didn’t make the move that he could’ve easily made without being married to you to keep him from doing so. 

He chose to stay close by, a promise he made to your baby that he’d always make her a priority. Living separately, but within close proximity of one another, was the best and only option the two of you found some common ground on. 

Jake kept his job as an assistant photographer, but was made the lead photographer within months of your split. He leases a lovely studio apartment, only a few miles away from your house. You found work as an editor for The Lantern, a small publication that features free-lance writers from all over the country. The job, being something you’ve always had a passion for, made it possible for you to work from home. In spite of it all, after hitting endless bumps in the road, the path eventually smoothed out and led you both to lives of harmony with one another. 

And while you and Jake couldn’t live together, you soon discovered that you could work seamlessly as the perfect co-parenting team when apart. You couldn’t love her – or each other – properly while together, but god, how the two of you shower her with endless, thunderous love on your own. The love you had for one another has transformed into an even deeper love for her, the one that deserves it the most. 

Though it was painful in ways beyond your sweet Lara, the way you and Jake had chosen to raise her was truthfully much better than forcing yourselves to try and sustain a marriage. One that just wasn’t meant to work. A hard pill to swallow, but one that allowed for healing and, most importantly, the promise of the best life you could offer your daughter. 

↟ᨒ.⊹݁⚘⊹⚘⊹⚘ ⊹.ᨒ↟

The last two years have gone by so quickly – too quickly. You’ve watched as Lara has grown into the most lively, feisty almost four year old, with her messy auburn ringlets that seem to hold a life of their own. Her eyes, the exact shape of Jake’s and their hazel color mimicking yours, are so vibrant and full of the life ahead of her. 

She’s growing so fast, faster than you can keep up with. She’s changing everyday, her personality developing more and more in every little thing she does. She’s a lot like you in plenty of ways, but you’d argue she’s even more like her dad. And if you were honest, that’s one of the best things about her.

She’s endlessly curious, finding wonder in everything around her. Bright — perhaps even too sharp for her own good at times — she’s just shy of her third birthday, yet speaks as though she’s lived a lifetime. She can make a story out of anything, her imagination boundless. Her first words, after ‘daddy’ and ‘mommy’,’ were ‘once upon a time.’ She gives a name to every bird she sees, talks to the flowers in the backyard as if they’re her life-long friends. All of these things that remind you of Jake, of what it was like to grow up with him.

Though she’s still so little, you can see the admiration in her eyes when she looks at him. She loves him – probably more than any little girl could love her dad. She loves you, too. Her love is unconditionally pure and whole. And while she is completely attached to you, with her dad, it’s different. 

But you can’t fault her, and you could never be envious of her adoration for him. He is, in every sense, the easiest person to love. And, as you’ve known for the better part of your life, the easiest to fall in love with. 

It pains you to admit, but you’re not sure you’ll ever love anyone the way you loved – love – Jake. Though you’re no longer together, in your eyes, Jake was your first and last. No matter how hard he was to be married to.

In the two years since your split, you’ve not been on a single date since your signature inked the divorce documents. You’ve been asked more than a few times, and while you have said yes to most of them, you find yourself backing out at the last minute every time. 

It’s not that you haven’t wanted to move on from Jake, it’s that you can’t. 

He’s still very much a part of your life. The two of you are always in touch, all for Lara. Constant communication with the only man you’ve ever loved, being the mother of his beautiful daughter, it’s impossible to move on from him.

Jake, however, didn’t seem to have a problem moving on from you right away. In fact, he’s moved on several times. You’ve lost count of the dates he’s gone on since you, though none of them have ever stayed around long enough to meet Lara. 

While you’re not privy to the true reasons why, you’re willing to place a bet or two on the fact that they weren’t keen on dating a man whose daughter will always come before anyone else. It’s possible that he just couldn’t commit to giving them the attention they desired from him.

Still yet, the fact that he has gone on so many tells you that he’s more than over you. And while you know you shouldn’t care the way you do, it just can’t be helped. Your marriage was awful, but it doesn’t change that he’s still Jake. The man you’ve spent almost nearly all of your life with, in one way or another. 

So, that’s another way that you two are different – he can go on dates, enjoy being a young, single man with movie-star looks, and you are destined to be a single mom for the rest of your life because you can’t.

You often wonder if the true reason you’ve never gone out with anyone is because you’re hopeful that, someday, you and Jake could work things out. Try again, dig up the love you once held so deeply for one another.

But, it’s a foolish hope, you’ve come to know. Aside from a few wandering looks and his famously warm smiles, he’s never shown even the slightest interest in mending things with you beyond a co-parenting relationship. 

No matter what, useless hope or not, he is still the father of your daughter. Always will be. And there’s not a single person you’d want more than him to have that role. 

But you’ll never deny that you wish things would’ve turned out a little differently. 

↟ᨒ.⊹݁⚘⊹⚘⊹⚘ ⊹.ᨒ↟

Incessant knocking forces you out of your peaceful dream. Your eyes fly open, your body jolting to a seated position on your bed before your brain even registers what’s happening. The knocking then happens again, somehow louder than the pounding of your heart from the intrusion. That’s when you at last begin to come to. 

There’s no way he’s here already, you absently think, frantically searching for your phone that’s buried somewhere in the midst of your tangled bedsheets. Once you finally locate it, you note that it’s not even half past seven yet. He’s not supposed to be here for another three hours. 

Your phone alarm was set accordingly, but the much earlier Jake alarm clearly had other plans. 

This isn’t exactly an unusual occurrence. It’s not out of the norm for him to show up a little early from time to time to pick up Lara for their ‘daddy daughter date’ he plans a few times a month, separate from her nights she stays with him.

Three hours early, though, is certainly pushing it. And as the knocking at the door, loud and abrasive as ever continues, you’re left with no choice but to lift your tired body out of your warm bed, grab the nearest garment to cover your oversized t-shirt and thong clad body, and reluctantly trudge toward the source of what woke you up. 

The image of you is much less than appealing when you answer the door. Your hair, a tangled mess of two day old curls, and remnants of yesterday's eyeliner and mascara smeared on your eyes. The only thing within reach to cover your body was an old, torn robe that, coincidentally, belonged to your ex husband once upon a time. You certainly didn’t do that on purpose. This robe was designated yours long before you took your vows. It didn’t even cross his mind to take it when he moved out, knowing it hadn’t been truly his in years. 

“Sorry, I thought you’d already be up and around,” he chuckles, a little hesitantly, perhaps due to the annoyed expression painting face. He takes one look at the robe that you’re certain he recognizes, curling his lips in an awkward grin as his eyes flick up and down your tired body. “Guess I should’ve known better with you,” he winks, taking a step inside the foyer before closing the door behind him. 

You could feel your cheeks warm at the sound of his voice. It frustrates you to no end that your ex still has an effect on you. Why are you so embarrassed for him to see you this way? He was married to you, afterall. He’s seen you in far worse shape than this. 

Still – you’d like to be a bit more put together when he comes by. Maybe just to ensure that he feels the same way you do about him, give him something to be flustered about. Though, you know that’s nothing more than a mere pipe dream. 

Jake pads down the hall to her bedroom where she’s still tucked away in her brand new big girl bed, an early birthday gift from her dad. You were afraid his knocking might’ve woken her, but, following close behind Jake, you see her still lost in her quiet slumber. 

Every stuffed animal she owns is cuddled against her, her hair almost as disheveled as yours, until Jake's hand brushes a few curls away from her face. You’re standing at the doorway, watching him wake her, kissing her scrunched nose until her eyes open. 

It takes her only a moment to realize it’s her daddy here to wake her this morning, and when she feels the familiar locks of mousey hair falling over her, she leaps out of her mess of stuffies to hug his shoulders, squealing as he picks her up the rest of the way, hugging her close too his chest.  

The smile that befalls you just can’t be helped. Her reactions to seeing him will always send a flood of warmth to your heart. She’s practically shaking with pure, childlike excitement , giggling as he covers her face in kisses. 

“I’ll get her ready,” Jake says between kiss attacks, catching the smile still on your face as he looks at your tired form. “You can go back to bed if you want.” His smile is as bright as the sun peeking through the blinds of her windows. 

While going back to bed does sound nice, you’re already up. There’s no sense making yourself begin the day for a second time. With as much as you need to do today, sleeping a few extra hours would only prolong the inevitable. “Well, I’m already up. Might as well stay that way,” you say, though you know your tone came across a little snarkier than you intended. The sleepiness talking, of course. 

Bouncing Lara on his hip, Jake raises his eyebrows at your response, grinning from the corner of his mouth. The room stays silent for a moment, save for Lara’s relentless giggling from tickles from her dad. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant –,” you try alleviating the sudden awkward tension you’ve created, finding it hard to do so. You used to be able to say anything to Jake, and there was never an uncomfortable moment with him. My, how things have certainly changed.

“She’d love it if you got her ready,” you continue, being sure your tone reflects the sincerity behind your words. “I just mean I have a lot to do today, and it’s probably a good thing you came so early or I wouldn’t have had a reason to get out of bed until much later.” 

Jake smiles, lifting Lara in the air through a boisterous fit of tiny giggles. “That sound good to you, little one? You trust your daddy to put together a stylish outfit for our day of fun?”

As loud as her little lungs will allow, she screeches the word yes! through an excited, full baby-toothed grin. He gives her cheek one more smooch before setting her back down on her bed and walking towards her closet, shuffling through the neatly hung, color coded clothes. 

“Still taking her to the aquarium?” You ponder aloud, watching him pull out one of her favorite winter ensembles to wear. Her bright pink corduroy overalls, paired with the softest white turtleneck. Upon catching a glimpse of what he chose for her to wear, her approval is obvious in her excited shrill. 

“Yeah, I figured she’d enjoy the new shipwreck exhibit they just added,” he says as he helps her get dressed, chuckling at her insistence to do it herself. She does pretty well for the most part, only having trouble getting the snaps to close on the straps. 

Jake’s never been the best at taming her unruly curls, and after watching him struggle for a moment, you decide to step in and offer a hand. 

“Are you sure you’re not the one who’s most excited for the new addition?” You sneer, jokingly. The comment forces a laugh from him and a knowing tilt of his head as he hands you a pink hair tie. 

With one more spritz of water from her purple spray bottle, her ponytail is laying perfectly. Wetting your fingers a bit, you twist a few of her ringlets, making them a little more defined.

After getting her teeth brushed, her socks and boots on her feet, and her purple puffer on, she’s ready for her day. Jake has planned a quick McDonald's breakfast, the aquarium, and lunch at Johnny Jay’s before he has to get ready for a photoshoot with some clients today. Even on his work days, he still makes time for her. Something that you know she’ll always be grateful for. 

You lift her in your arms for a big hug, kissing her cheeks so much that she’s belly laughing. Telling her you love her more than the mountains, and after she says it back in her sweet voice, you bid them both a farewell. 

“I’ll have her back around one o’clock. That sound good to you?” He tells you while he walks through the front door, hand in hand with little Lara.

“Sounds good to me. You two have fun, okay?” 

“We sure will,” he says, turning back to look at you. “Wave bye to momma!”

Her smile is infectious as she waves her tiny, gloved hand to you, the grin on her face nearly mimicking her dads. 

Waving back, blowing kisses for her to catch, you watch him secure her in her car seat before he sits himself in the front seat of his black Buick. 

You're not sure if it's out of habit or a deep-rooted maternal instinct, but you always find yourself standing outside, watching as he backs out of the driveway and drives down the street. There's a certain comfort in seeing him safely on his way, enough to ease your mind until his text arrives, letting you know they’ve made it to their destination safely.

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You’ll never get used to how quiet the house is when Lara is gone. No matter how often she’s with her dad, it’s always a shock to you when her voice isn’t echoing off the walls. It should serve as some relief to you, to have the silence and the time to do the things you can’t normally do with her around.

But, it’s just not that way for you. Never has been. Lara has never been a nuisance for you, never been too much in any aspect. She’s almost always attached to your hip, following you around the house and watching your every move, helping you with little mundane tasks the best she can. 

Because of that, it’s so very strange when you don’t have your tiny shadow by your side. 

Nevertheless, as much as you miss her presence, it is easier to get things done when she’s spending the day with her dad. So, you’ll be sure to get everything you’ve needed to do out of the way before she’s due back home. 

Grocery shopping was first on the list, a trek that has proven to be difficult with a toddler that needs constant entertainment. Though not impossible with her, it’s a bit harder to get in and out of the store in a timely manner. 

But, today, you managed to cross each thing off your list in less than thirty minutes. And that is a feat of great magnitude. When Lara is with you, it takes double, sometimes triple that. And it doesn’t help that she begs for nearly everything she sees. The last time she took a trip to the store with you, she spotted a purple mini digital camera, decorated with a rainbow unicorn around the lens. She cried and cried when you weren’t able to get it for her. And it wasn’t because you didn’t want to, of course. Your budget for the day just didn’t have any room for it.

She cried the rest of the time you were at the store, such sad and heartbroken tears, and there was nothing you could do to offer her any solace. Her cries only worsened as you left the store, coming to the realization that she really wasn’t getting the very thing her little heart desired the most that day. You even shed a tear or two over it, feeling like you’d somehow failed her as her mom. You know that’s a dramatic take on the whole thing, but it’s how you feel every time you’re the reason her feelings get hurt.

It’s been a few weeks since then, and while she has more than likely forgotten all about it, you still feel awful for turning her down. It’s not often that you tell her no, but you had no choice that day. How do you explain the concept of a budget to a two-year old? She just doesn’t understand, and you can’t fault her for that.

So, when you saw it today, and saw that it was on sale for $19.99, you couldn’t resist getting it for her. Her very own camera, and though it’s too early to tell, this could perhaps be the catalyst in following in her daddy’s footsteps. You’re almost certain that’s the reason she was so drawn to it in the first place, because she sees one hanging around her daddy’s neck almost every time she’s with him. 

With the camera, along with her favorite treat of chocolate Teddy Grahams, there’s no doubt she’ll be thrilled when she sees her surprises awaiting her when Jake brings her home today. 

Some might say you spoil her a bit too much. You and Jake, both guilty of it. But, that’s not how you see it. She’s as grateful as any toddler could be. And, though she is so young, she cherishes everything the two of you do for her. She says thank you as many times as she can. She gives out hugs and kisses to show her appreciation. She’s not entitled, by any means. Her heart just wasn’t made that way. 

And it’s all of those reasons that made your heart ache when you had to tell her no a few weeks ago. 

Being able to buy it today, and getting to surprise her with it fills that tiny hole in your heart that forms when you can’t give her what she longs for. 

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Grocery shopping, even without a toddler, is a rather exhausting journey. To say the very least. All you think about right now is a coffee from your most treasured spot in town, something to keep your motivation and energy up for the rest of your list of things to get done today. 

The caffeine-induced relief is already hitting you as you walk into the Copper Cup Coffee, your tried and true brew of choice. The place you find yourself landing at often when you’re in need of a good pick me up. The bitterly sweet aroma of the coffee is one that will always give you a sense of comfort. 

After placing your order of your staple cappuccino with an extra shot with the lovely barista, you find a small table in the corner next to the window to sit at while you wait for your drink, enjoying the view of downtown Casper. 

But as you’re eying the bustling streets filled with locally owned boutiques and cafes, you’re suddenly becoming all too aware of a man at the opposite end who, as best as your peripheral vision can tell, seems to be looking right at you. And not just looking, staring. 

You’re so caught off guard by it that you nearly miss them calling your name to pick up your coffee from the counter. They have to call it a second time for it to fully register, and you quickly jump from your seat to retrieve it. 

It’s then that you’re able to properly look at the man who’s been eyeing you for the last few minutes. And when he begins to approach you as you’re making eye contact, toting his iced coffee in hand, your mind suddenly digs up a memory from the past. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be y/n, would you?” He asks with a sweet smile as you take your coffee from the counter, thanking the worker that placed it there. 

You didn’t recognize who he was initially, but upon hearing his voice, you know exactly who this man is.

Cole Robinson, a friend of yours and Jake’s from high school. One that you certainly spent a lot of time with, though Jake grew less fond of having him around when the two of you developed feelings for each other. Cole was the popular guy, the sporty type. The kind of guy that had a new love interest every other week. And, according to Jake, Cole had always been infatuated by you. 

You never noticed it, but Jake swore it was so. Because of that, and a slew of other reasons unbeknownst to you, their friendship didn’t sustain much longer than a year or so after graduation. Last you knew, Cole married a girl you also went to high school with. Some cheerleader named Olivia you knew in passing. 

It’s a bit of a shock to see him, to see how much he’s changed. He was never ugly to you, but you didn’t exactly find him attractive when you were teens. 

But now – well, he’s certainly not the same Cole you knew all those years ago. He’s much taller than the version of him that you remember, and a bit more broad in the shoulders. A lot more, actually. 

His hair was usually unkempt and plastered to his forehead from the football helmet he often wore. But the man standing before you today is sporting perfectly quaffed, dark brown locks, with the sides nicely faded. 

“C-Cole? Oh my gosh, I hardly recognized you,” you admit, attempting to conceal your flustered state as his smile, full of stark white, perfectly straight teeth, widens at your realization of who he is. “I mean you just – you look different.”

He sighs a chuckle through his grin, looking down at his feet as he runs a hand through his styled hair and scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I shot up a few inches. Learned how to use a hair dryer,” he giggles, his sky-blue eyes flitting to yours once more. “And you, well –,” he starts, gesturing his hand toward you as he awkwardly shuffles his feet, crossing one foot over the other before he places both hands in the pockets of his dark wash jeans. “You’re as pretty as ever. You must have an endless supply from the fountain of youth or something.” 

The heat rises to your cheeks at his words, feeling as though all of the blood in your body is sitting right on your face. Ever since having Lara, you’ve feared your looks have dwindled with motherhood. So, hearing someone say that to you (someone who looks like this, no less) is a bit flattering. 

You’ve found yourself at a loss for words, not knowing how to respond to a compliment such as that. But as you’re pondering what to say, you notice Cole staring at your left hand, and while you can’t be totally sure as to why, you have an inclination he could be searching for signs of marriage. 

And that has you remembering that he is – was, based on his own lack of a ring – married. But before you can begin to ask him how Olivia is doing, only to gauge whether or not he really is separated from her, he beats you to it with a question that floods your heart with an odd mix of emotions. “How's Jake doing these days? It must be cool being married to such a renowned photographer. I’ve seen his work, he’s really good!” 

Funny you should ask, you internally mull over, cupping the warm drink a little tighter in both of your hands. 

With an uncomfortable weight sitting on your chest, you prepare yourself to share the news that has been your least favorite to speak about in the time you’ve been split from Jake. “We um…well, we’re actually not married anymore.” No matter how many times you say it, the words still leave a stinging feeling against your tongue. His face softens after hearing what you’ve said, a different sort of smile befalling his lips. “But to answer your question, he’s doing really well. I actually just saw him, he’s with our daughter right now. They’re on a little date before his photoshoot here in a few hours.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that – that you’re not married anymore.” His tone reflects sincerity, yet his smile continues to widen. “You know I – I’ve been through a divorce, too. Liv and I, we just wanted different things. I didn’t want to indulge in whatever big city dreams she had at the time, she didn’t want to stay here. I think we just got hitched too young, you know?”

Boy, do I. 

“But it worked out in the end. She went away and found her dream job, I stayed in the place I love and found mine.” 

His story strikes a particular chord in your mind, one that brings you back to a time when you and Jake had countless disagreements over whether to stay in Wyoming or leave for the sake of his blossoming career. Of course, you didn’t want to leave. Especially with the promise of a new baby, you didn’t have the desire to raise her anywhere else. Aside from that, you just couldn’t leave the mountains. 

After the divorce, Jake had every opportunity to leave like he had always wanted. But, knowing that you would keep Lara here, he chose to travel in lieu of moving somewhere that would keep him from seeing her whenever he wanted. The guilt over that still plagues you, but you know, and he knows, deep down, that it was the best choice for Lara. And, it’s worked out rather well thus far. He’s never once complained, though you know his situation isn’t always easy on him. 

“I understand that completely,” you admit, feeling drawn to empathise with him and his love for the place you also chose to stay in. “But I’m curious – what was the dream job that kept you here?”

He huffs a laugh, gingerly sipping the last of his iced latte. “It’s kind of funny,” he says. “I really didn’t need to stay for the job I have. It’s a remote job, I could've worked it from anywhere. Kind of the irony of it. But I’m glad I stayed here. I prefer it to the big city life.” Taking one more long swig of his drink, he finishes it off and tosses it in the trash behind him. “I write for a living. Freelance, mostly. I publish editorials and such for a pretty small publication you’ve probably never even heard of. It’s a pretty decent gig, though. Flexible enough.”

A freelance writer, for a small publication…surely not. It’s a coincidence, no doubt. But there’s no way it’s more than that. Still, a curious mind tends to wonder. “Where are your works published? It’s funny, I’m actually an editor for a pretty niche publication.”

“It’s called The Lantern. And yeah,” he pauses, chuckling to himself. “I’d say mine is pretty niche, too. Not too popular, but I kinda like that about it.”

Well. That certainly abolishes that whole coincidence theory you convinced yourself of.

“You write for The Lantern?”

“You actually know it?” He asks, astonished. 

“I’d sure hope I do, given I’m one of the editors.”

The way his bright-blues widen at your reveal is almost comical, and it certainly makes you crack a smile in response. “No kidding? Man, when they say the world is small, they aren’t bullshitting,” he says, subtly shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Do you use a pseudonym?” You ask. “Because I’m sure I would’ve come across one of your pieces by now.” 

“I do, actually.” He runs a hand through his quaffed ‘do once more, managing to keep it as perfectly styled as it was when he first approached you. “And I’ll tell you, but you should know that once I do, you’ll be the only one who knows my little secret.” 

“Well, I’ll be sure to hold it sacred,” you say, cheeks flushing yet again. 

He then leans closer to you, motioning for you to meet him halfway. His fingers barely brush the skin of your cheek when he cups his hand over his mouth near your ear. “    “

You’re taken aback at his secret, shocked to discover who he is. You certainly know his work, but not for any good reasons. His grammar is always subpar at best. He hardly punctuates correctly, if at all sometimes. Lara writes better than him, and she can’t even form complete sentences yet. 

“That’s you?” You say with fake excitement, hoping to god that your expression doesn't mimic your true feelings about it. “I’ve read your work plenty of times. I-it’s great!”

Even you weren’t convinced by that. But, it seems he is. And that’s all that really matters at the moment. His growing smile would be an indication of that, and even though this man is one of the worst writers you’ve come across during your time working for The Lantern, you can’t help but be drawn to his charm. 

“Listen I–I know this is probably way too soon, but I feel like I need more than just a few minutes in a coffee shop to catch up with you.”   “If you’re free tomorrow night, we could continue this conversation over dinner. Only if you’re okay with that, of course.” 

There it is. 

You’d  figured it was coming, but you’d also hoped it wouldn’t get to that point. And it’s not because of him, your reservations over dating are hard to push through. Hard enough that you’ve not gone out with anyone once since Jake. 

If you agree to this, Cole will be your first date in years. More years than you care to count at the moment. Something about it feels wrong, but you’re wondering if it only feels wrong because you want it to. 

You’ve suddenly come to the realization that dating may never feel right, because you haven’t let it. But, you know you can’t live the rest of your life like this. If Jake can move on, go on as many dates as he wants without a second thought, well, you can do the same. 

“Dinner sounds wonderful,” you say, feeling your heart race in your chest as you agree to something you honestly never thought you’d agree to ever again. And, to your utter surprise, you’re actually excited for it. Something you weren’t prepared to ever feel again over the prospect of  dating. “It sounds really wonderful, actually.”

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Right at the top of the hour, you hear Jake’s Buick rumbling in the driveway. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Everything you needed to do today is done, and just as you’ve finished hanging up the last load of laundry, Jake’s made it back with Lara.

You open the front door before he even has a chance to get her unbuckled from her seat, hearing her gleefully yell for you when she catches sight of you walking toward the Buick. 

“Hi, sweet girl!” You say to her, to which she says hi right back, waving her tiny hand as Jake removes the last buckle. “Did you have fun today?”

“She sure did,” Jake giggles, handing you a giant plastic bag full of sea creature toys. “She used me for all I’m worth in the form of stuffed animals.” 

“I’d say so,” you chuckle as you note the sheer weight of this thing.  

He helps her down from the car and she instantly attaches herself to you, giving your legs as big a hug as she can. 

“I better get goin’,” he tells you as he shuts the back door, leaning down for one more hug and kiss from Lara. “Better give all of those guys names,” He says, pointing to the full bag of new stuffies he bought for her. “I’m counting on some good ones, okay?” 

She agrees to that as she tells him goodbye, hugging him tight around his neck. 

He offers you a farewell as he begins to walk to the driver's side door, but before he makes it all the way inside, you pick Lara up and follow him around the car. “Hey, Jake?” 

He hums as he turns to face you, holding the car door open. “What’s up?”

“Are you doing anything tomorrow night? I mean, are you working or anything? I may need you to sit with Lara for a few hours.”

He pauses in thought for a moment, shaking his head as a smile begins to form on his lips. “No, I don’t have anything going on. Why? Got a hot date?” He laughs, throwing you a sly wink.

You know he’s joking, but his question still sent lightening bolts through your body when he said it. And the fact that your answer to it is most certainly not what he’s expecting is working to sharpen your nerves all the more. “Actually, yeah. I have a date tomorrow, yes.” 

The look on Jake’s face is one you’re not so familiar with. You can’t read it, but what you do know is he was caught off guard at your confession. He’s silent for more than a few seconds, longer than you would like. But after taking a moment to register, his grin begins to form once more. “No problem, I’ll come sit with her. Just give me a time and I’ll be here.”

You thank him as you begin to walk toward the house, Lara held snugly against your hip. You hear the car door shut, assuming he’s inside of it and reading himself to leave. 

But when you don’t hear the engine start, and when you do hear the clicking of his boots against the pavement, you realize he’s walking in your direction. 

“So who was able to finally get you to agree to a date?” He says as you turn on your heel to face him, adjusting Lara in your arms as she’s beginning to doze off, her head laying gently against your shoulder. “Do I know ‘em?”

As a matter of fact – 

“Y-yeah, I guess you used to know him.” 

You shouldn’t be anxious to tell him who it was. You know that. But, the fact that he wasn’t Cole’s biggest fan back in the day has you hesitant to tell him. Especially given his apparent crush on you that had Jake on edge more than once during that time. 

Still yet, part of you feels he has the right to know. Why? You can’t be sure. But you’re also not too keen on keeping things from him. 

He’s looking at you softly, inquisitively. You can’t be sure, but if you had to guess, you’d say he’s holding his breath at the suspense over the name that’s about to leave your lips. 

“Do you remember Cole? From high school?”

That look he gave you when you confirmed his date theory is back. Only this time, it’s here to stay. There’s no smile following the dropping of his features, the confused curve of his dark brows. “Wait – Robinson? You’re going on a date with Cole Robinson?” He asks, pure shock laced in his question. 

When you timidly nod your head to corroborate his suspicion, he grins again. But this grin is more of a mocking one, something you certainly didn’t expect. 

“You’re going out with that airhead? Geez,” he huffs, giggling more to himself than anything. “I told you that numbnuts always had the hots for you. I thought he got married to Olivia – did that fall apart, too?”

The way he said it, did that fall apart, too? – it felt more like he was insinuating that that was what happened to the two of you as well. It felt more like he was asking, “were they destined to the same terrible fate as you and I?”

It hurt to hear him say that, for whatever reason that you can’t quite pinpoint at the moment. You know he didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it. That’s your problem, not his. 

Regardless, he is correct in his assumption. 

“They split a while ago. She wanted to live the big city life, and he just didn’t have the same desire to do so.” 

A cock of his eyebrow tells you he caught on to the same parallels you did when you had that conversation with Cole. He sighs as he rubs his lower chin, then adjusts his black Ray-Bans before tucking the same hand in the pocket of his linen khakis. “What’s mister Cole up to these days, anyway?” 

You ignore the slight sneer in the way he enunciates Cole’s name, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Well, funny enough, he’s a writer for The Lantern. He writes anonymously.” 

“Oh, a writer,” he says, his smirk softening some. “I guess that works out pretty well, then. What are the odds, huh?” 

His tone sounds more sincere than before. Sincere enough, at least. “Yeah, I thought so too,” you agree, matching his smile as best you can. For a moment, you wonder if you’re truly making the right choice in going on this date. His reaction certainly forces you to question it, but ultimately, the decision feels like the right one. Even if nothing comes from it, at least you can say you tried. 

Tried to put yourself out there, tried to give someone else a shot at winning your heart, tried moving on from Jake.

“Like I said, just let me know what time I need to be here. I’ll see you then, okay?”

With that, he nods his head and walks back toward his Buick, leaving you with a thousand different emotions circling your brain all at once. A mix of guilt and excitement being the most prominent, the ones that, on their own, are overwhelming enough. But when they work together, it’s a conundrum that leaves a far more intense feeling in the wake. 

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Jake will be here any second to stay with Lara, and you tried to be ready before then. But after spending the last hour trying on outfits, and still having no clue what to wear, your hope of being ready by that time is dwindling further and further. 

Precious as little Lara is, she’s been particularly in need of your attention this afternoon. Having to stop what you’re doing every few minutes to give that to her hasn’t helped in getting yourself ready by a certain time. 

And as if you’re not petrified enough over the date itself, the thought of seeing Jake before and after said date has your head in quite the tizzy. 

So, the combination of that mixed with the sweet toddler that needs you right now is enough to make you want to back out of this whole thing completely. That, along with the fact that you’re a bit put off by a recent text you received from Cole. 

The initial plan was that he’d come pick you up, but he has since asked for you to meet him at the restaurant. 

Your feminist view doesn’t mind driving yourself at all. You’ve never needed to rely on a man for things as silly as transportation. 

But, being this is your first date in god knows how long – well, it’d be nice to receive the full treatment. 

Alas, you won’t raise a fuss over it. Perhaps it’s a good thing to have a getaway car in case the evening turns to utter shit. A terrible way to view it, of course. But you’re cynical to your core. 

After breaking a sweat over trying on your fifth outfit of the evening, you decide to hell with it. The fifth and final ensemble will have to do. You don’t have the energy to keep doing this, and time continues to work against you. If you want to be able to leave as soon as Jake gets here, which will be in a matter of minutes, this look wins the trophy. 

Though, it is a tad revealing. A little more risque than any outfit you’ve put on your body since giving birth. It’s probably nothing to someone who hasn’t had a baby in the last few years, but for you, it’s a bit of a bold choice. 

Being a mom, it feels a little strange to be wearing the cropped knitted, dark emerald sweater and a black suede mini skirt. An outfit you’re pretty sure you’ve owned since high school. You’ve certainly earned a few more curves since then, but the pieces surprisingly fit pretty well, especially considering it’s been about seven years since you last wore them. 

You certainly don’t remember your boobs filling out the sweater nearly as much then, or your ass stretching the suede fabric the way it does now. But, as you’ve reminded yourself of at least a hundred times since yesterday, this is your first date in years. There’s no harm in looking a little sexier than normal. Just because you’re a mom doesn’t mean you can’t show off a little. This body of yours went through hell. It’s okay to put a little pride in it. 

You do, however, want to throw on a pair of black pantyhose underneath the skirt. Mostly for some extra warmth, as it’s more than a few degrees below freezing outside. Though you’re no stranger to the frigid Wyoming winters, it’s probably best to add a few more layers. 

So, after wiggling yourself into those, putting on some black heeled ankle boots, the outfit is about as good as it’ll get. And, looking at every angle possible in the bathroom mirror as you finish up your makeup, you’re actually really happy with the way you look. The first full face of makeup you’ve worn in quite a while, and freshly washed and styled hair in lieu of the frizzy mane you typically sport. 

Even little Lara approves, telling you that you look like a ‘Disney Princess’ in her sweet voice. You’re certainly no princess, but you’ll  accept the compliment, no less.  Afterall, they say kids her age are always honest. They don’t know how to lie just yet. So, maybe there’s a little truth to her statement. 

Or, she just loves her mom enough to equate her to such beauty. And that alone is enough to boost the remaining bits of confidence you need to make the final move of getting yourself out of the house. 

As you add one more coat of hairspray to ensure these curling iron waves stay put, you hear a knocking at the front door, followed by quick footsteps in that direction and ‘daddys here!’ at an ear-piercing decibel. 

And suddenly, the nerves are back in full force, sitting sharply in your chest and the pit of your tummy. There’s no question as to why. Jake will always make you at least a little nervous every time you see him, but tonight's events are only serving to heighten it even more. 

Yet again, you find yourself begging the question; why does he still have this effect on you?

You haven’t made it out of the bathroom yet to let him in, but Lara, with all of her tiny might, has somehow managed to unlock the door. (Something she’s not been able to do until tonight.)

“Oh! I didn’t expect you behind the door, little one!” Jake’s voice sounds just as shocked as you feel. So, finishing up on your lips and smoothing down a few unruly baby hairs, you shut off the light to leave the bathroom as he asks her a question. “Have we officially learned how to unlock the door?” 

Just as you’re rounding the corner, you hear a giggle from Lara as you watch Jake pick her up and toss her in the air a few times. He’s over and over calling her a “little Einstein” as your brain tumbles over itself. It’s chaos inside your mind as you contemplate your date, being around Jake while dressed like this, and the fact that your toddler apparently knows how to unlock and open a damned door, now. 

Comforting. And now another reason to keep your eyes on her at all times. 

“This ability of hers is new to me as well, you must know,” you say as you round the corner from the hallway and into the living room, putting a pair of golden hoops in your ears that you grabbed from the bedroom earlier.

But he doesn’t look at you right away, his attention still on Laramie. You take advantage of his distraction, able to take in his appearance. He steals your breath on sight. And for some reason, seeing how incredible he looks (as he always does), makes you feel even more nervous about your own revealing attire. 

He’s wearing his go-to. A button down, opened all the way to the top of his belly button and a pair of linen pants. No matter how many times you see him in a variation of the same outfit, you will forever be taken aback by his beauty, those movie star looks you’ve always loved. 

And the golden tan he’s sporting from his travels is no good for you and your overly present jitters. 

To avoid your heart tripping over itself at your ex husband, you turn to the counter to grab your normal, smaller shoulder bag. It’s a Mary Poppins bag of sorts as it somehow still fits an extra outfit for Lara and a travel set of emergency wipes. You take the outfit and wipes out to make space for your lipstick, a mini body spray, and a tube of mascara. It hurts a bit to take out the little pieces of your baby girl. You haven’t had to do so once since she’s been here and you don’t like doing it now. And doing so is causing your mind to swirl even more with the thought of bringing another man home and how you would explain that to her. Not that you’re already planning a future with Cole, but the future scenario is running rampant through your thoughts. She is, afterall, the center of your world. Every decision you make for you also affects her. 

Don’t cancel the date, y/n. You’re getting too far ahead of yourself. Just go for it. See what happens. You owe it to yourself. God knows Jake has done it plenty.

You sigh, the inner encouragement just enough to help you (semi-grimly) clasp your bag shut and grab your keys from the hook by the door. With a press of the automatic start, you look out the window beside the door to make sure your car has started. 

When the lights flash on, you open your bag once more to tuck the keys inside. At that, you decide it’s time to face what your night entails and that means saying goodbye to your babygirl. You really don’t want to — which is why you’re dragging your feet — but you have to. If you intend to put yourself out there like this, you have to get out of your house.

With a spin of your heel, you turn to see Jake, knelt on the ground, eye-level with your little girl. So, following his lead, you kneel down to your sweet Lara and hold your arms out for her. She immediately comes barreling towards you and you tuck your face into her strawberry-scented curls. Her hair is still slightly damp from bath time an hour or so ago. And, once you feel her arms loosen and fall from around her neck, you pull back to run your fingers through the thin strands.

The same exact texture as Jake’s when it's wet. Just one more of the endless list of things you love about her.

Your smile is genuine for her, but you also feel this need to put on a sort of facade for Jake. It’s strange, but it feels necessary given these slightly odd circumstances. 

You’re truly dreading tonight. A feeling you’re trying really hard to not leave the house with. Your whole world is in this house. And you’re about to leave her – leave them – to meet with a guy who couldn’t even be gentlemanly enough to pick you up. But you’re doing everything you can to go into this with an open mind, a willingness to give it a try despite the seemingly never ending signs that you maybe shouldn’t be doing this.

Lara steals your attention when her soft, chubby little hands grab your cheeks. And, very seriously, she looks into your eyes with hers that are the very same shape as her father’s. 

After a few moments of looking into your eyes with a sincerity that most toddlers don’t have, she tells you, “So beautiful, mommy.” Her eyes are still locked with yours as she smiles ear to ear, her button nose scrunched up. 

You blink back tears, your smile shaky and lips quivering as you reach forward to tuck some hair behind her tiny ear. “Well, thank you, baby girl.” But, you can’t help but wonder…you’ve never heard her say beautiful before. That’s a big word. Too big for her to use so confidently without having used it ever before. With you, at least.

You lean forward and give her a kiss. Your knees are starting to hurt, still in a squatting position, but Jake is still squatting, too. The moment is too sweet to give it up just yet. This is more important to you than being a little late to meet Cole. He can wait. This can’t.

Taking advantage of being at her height, you ask Lara with a raised brow and gentle smile. “And where did you learn the word beautiful, my love?”

“Daddy says it all the time,” she excitedly explains, her focus shifting to her hand coming to mess with a necklace you’d put on. Toying with it carefully between her fingers, as she often does when you wear it.

A little mountain range engraved on the front of the silver pendant. 

Jake had actually bought it for you, giving it to you the day you’d brought her into this world. The mountains were meant to resemble one specific range, the name of which, etched on the back of the pendant. 

Laramie

You’d asked him, then, if he’d bought it that way. The range, one you would recognize anywhere. But he’d clarified that he’d special ordered it. A picture of the mountains he’d taken himself on the day you said your vows, the very way their peeks touched the horizon printed on the sterling silver. He sent in the photo to be materialized on the sterling for you to wear around your neck.

After he’d said it, you’d felt silly for asking. The picture was one you’d loved so much that you’d printed it huge to hang above your couch. You’d gasped at the details of the image, the closer you eyed the small piece of silver.

“And I took it to a local jeweler to have her name put on the back,” he’d explained, as you handed him the necklace, asking him to help you put it on. As he clasped the dainty chain around your neck, he’d finished his explanation. “I want you to have a piece of her with you, everywhere you go.”

“And a piece of you,” you’d added, tearfully, patting the silver that laid perfectly against your chest. The moment, so serene, as your newborn baby slept in a bassinet at your bedside. 

Yes, you’d absolutely decided to wear it tonight. You need the extra comfort the necklace brings as you throw yourself out into the world in a way you have put off for far too long. A world that is altogether separate from the two you’re next to right now. Yet another reason for your hesitancy in taking this leap. 

This date…it feels as though it’s closing the door on your life with Jake for good. The divorce was finalized a few years ago, but something about going on this date tonight makes it feel more official somehow. It’s a forceful closure for you. Feels that way, at least. 

So, the necklace will be good company for you tonight. Something familiar to you as you dive headfirst into something you’re not so familiar (or comfortable) with. 

The subtle buzzing of your phone inside your bag, more than likely a text from Cole, lulls you from the melancholic, yet peaceful memory. A reminder that you do have somewhere you need to be, and you’re already late enough as it is. Not that he’s more important than what’s happening right now with little Lara. And with Jake, who’s been quietly observing this whole time. 

Leaving her (and him) feels harder than ever. But this has to be done. If for nothing else, for you. 

“Mommy will see you soon, baby girl. Be good for daddy, okay?” You say, just as Jake stands from his squatted position. Sealing your request with one more kiss to her nose, you decide to follow his lead. You know that if you don’t end this now, you never will. 

The ache in your knees has you lifting yourself a little slower than you’d like, groaning at the stiffness in your joints. A lovely gift that pregnancy left you. Having the body of a grandma while still in your twenties has been a humbling experience, to say the least.

Jake must sense your struggles as he quietly offers a hand to help. You don’t look up at him as you take him up on his offer, setting your hand in his, wrapping your fingers around it to ensure a good enough grip. 

Once steady enough, you pull yourself up with ease, feeling the pain in your knees instantly subside as you place your weight in his hand.

“Thanks,” you sigh as you stand, adjusting your bag over your shoulder, doing everything you can to avoid making eye contact with him. You’ve suddenly realized how close he is to you, only inches away as he’s standing stock-still in front of you. Out of instinct, you back away a step, afraid you’ll make him uncomfortable by being so close to you. 

But once you do, you make the mistake of looking at him, finding that his eyes are fixed on you. His eyes, following a slow path down your body, then back up to meet yours. His mouth is parted slightly, his thumb and index finger rubbing his chin as his teeth nibble at his bottom lip.

It’s silent. Dreadfully silent as you’re looking at one another. The air between you feels like a ton of bricks, thick and heavy. 

You don’t know what to say to break it, and he clearly doesn’t, either. The moment stays silent for even longer, and all you want is to know what he is thinking that’s keeping him this quiet. 

The way you could always tell what he was thinking was by looking into his eyes. His eyes have always said what he was thinking before his thoughts made it to his lips. But you find that you can’t read them anymore. Not like you used to, at least. 

But from what you can tell – he’s deep in thought. 

While neither of you can manage to speak a single word to each other, Lara provides a relieving end to the silence by telling Jake that she’s hungry. 

Clearing his throat and blinking his eyes a few times, he looks down to her as she’s now tugging at the hem of his shirt to get his attention. “I’ll make us dinner, little one. Just as soon as mommy leaves.” 

With that statement, he looks to you again, clearing his throat once more as he runs a hand through his hair. “You, um – you look nice.” Lara, still tugging away at his clothes, shouts ‘beautiful, daddy, beautiful!’ until her lungs run out of breath. He looks down at her, smiling, his cheeks flushing. “You better get going, y/n. Can’t leave the guy waiting too long.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, only looking at Lara. 

Nice. You look nice. 

Even Lara gave you a more sincere compliment. She even tried to correct him, to which he just smiled and basically told you to leave. 

With one more quick goodbye, you grab your coat from the rack and head out the door, feeling foolish as you do.

You feel foolish because, subconsciously, part of you hoped Jake would take one look at you and tell you not to go. Beg you not to go. 

But that didn’t happen. And it’s ridiculous of you to even think that it could. 

He’s over you. He’s been over you. That’s a fact you need to accept. Stop holding on to the past that he is certainly not holding on to. 

Despite the overwhelming sense of dread, you know that tonight needs to happen. 

It’s time to move on. For good. 

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Another reason you were put off by this date is the fact that Cole chose the place without worrying to gather your input. Granted, you could’ve just given him your unsolicited opinion, but the urge wasn’t strong enough to risk any awkward tension that could arise from such a thing.

So, you’ll settle for one of your least favorite eateries in town – a bar and restaurant combo called The Main Street Tavern.

Cole must be a bit trapped in his younger days, because this place was quite the popular joint when you were teenagers. You haven’t been here in years, and sitting in your car in front of the tired building is bringing back some memories you’re not too keen on being reminded of. 

He’s just sent you a text telling you where he’s seated, and with the confirmation that he’s here, you take a deep breath, reaching for your necklace for comfort as you pull yourself away from your car. Upon walking in, the smell of bitter booze and greasy food hits you like a train the instant you step through the door. The smell of the booze in particular reminds you of the days when you hadn’t learned your drinking limit. An uncomfortable wave of nausea suddenly overwhelms you at the thought, but breathing through it, you locate Cole sitting in a booth to the left of the bartop.

He’s waving your way, making sure you can see where he’s at. Oh, you can see him, alright. Though his image is a bit foggy from the billows of smoke coming from the party of four sitting at the table next to him, each one of them puffing a cigarette. 

How romantic.

“Hey!” He says as you approach him, fighting with yourself to make sure you’re wearing a smile. Fake or not. “Remember this old place? I just can’t resist the good ol’ nostalgia of it. Brings you right back, doesn’t it?” 

You’re starting to get the impression that Cole probably hit his peak in high school. And for some reason, given everything that you knew about him then, that doesn’t entirely surprise you. As you sit yourself on the plastic covered seat across from him, you’re becoming aware that you are not looking at the same Cole you saw at the coffee shop yesterday. 

Yeah, he’s handsome. Outwardly, at least. Chiseled jaw and all. But there’s something different about his eyes tonight. They seemed…kind yesterday. But right now, there’s something strange about them. 

Perhaps it’s the alcohol he’s already ingested, as evidenced by the three bent cans of beer sitting in front of him. 

How long has he been here?

“You look awesome,” he says, staring directly at your chest as he does so. “Like I said, you haven't changed a bit.” 

I definitely have. But you? Not so much, apparently. 

“Uh, thanks,” you respond, finding it hard to mask your unimpressed tone. Suddenly feeling like you need to bolt, you keep yourself where you are by rubbing your thumb over the engraved mountains on your necklace, using it to help you find the courage to open the sticky menu in front of you.

Don’t give up, you think. Just see this through so you can say you did it.

“Yeah, I haven’t been here in ages. I think I was a senior the last time I came here,” you say as you skim through the menu items, unable to find anything that remotely sounds appetizing. You didn’t even like this place as a kid. And as a woman in her twenties? Yeah, you’re still disgusted by even the thought of it.“Do you come here often?”

“It’s kind of my weekend joint. I just can’t get enough of this place.” 

Shocker.

“Know what you’re getting?” He asks you as he’s flagging down the nearest waitress. Before you can say hell no, he’s giving the young girl his order. Not looking at the menu, either. He knows what he wants from memory. 

She then looks to you, waiting with slightly annoyed eyes for your order. Not knowing what to get, you just say the first thing that comes to your mind. “Um, I’ll just have the chicken strip basket. With ranch, please. And a water to drink.” You smile at her and thank her as you hand her the menu, but she doesn’t even bother looking up from her notepad she’s jotting your order on. 

With a quiet nod of her head, she takes the menu from you and begins to walk away, only to be stopped by Cole before she makes it to the kitchen. “I’ll take another can of  Keystone. Actually, make that two more.” He looks at you with a wink, and you’re suddenly feeling that nauseous feeling creeping up once more.

Does he think that’s a turn on? Sure, you enjoy a glass of wine here and there. A margarita when you’re really treating yourself. 

But five beers on a date, the first date, is a little more than insane. 

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The food is taking forever to make it to your table. The last twenty or so minutes have been spent with him talking your ear off about whatever beer-induced bullshit he can come up with. And still, he can’t seem to keep his eyes off of your breasts. 

It’s been miserable, to say the least. Because of this shitty restaurant that you’ve never enjoyed, because of Cole being the one you’re here with, and because you can’t stop thinking about the man that’s sitting at home right now with your daughter. 

You and Jake were just kids when you started dating, but even as young as he was, he always made sure your dates were special. Even after you got engaged, and during the short duration of your marriage. Every outing was magical. 

The fact that Jake is the only person you’ve ever dated certainly set the bar high for any future dates. So, it’s not all Cole’s fault that you’re having a terrible time. You have the standard set by Jake to thank for some of what you’re feeling. 

But, Cole could’ve done better. He’s not even dressed nearly as nice as you are. That doesn’t really matter, but for a first date, it kind of feels like a bit more effort than usual should be exercised. More than just showing up in a hoodie and some jeans. 

Finally, the food arrives just as Cole was in the middle of telling you about his brother that was almost drafted for the NFL. As of you give a fuck one about sports. But, he wouldn’t know that, seeing as he hasn’t given you an inch tonight. 

The chicken tenders you ordered are placed in a red plastic basket, sitting on top of a piece of white, oil stained tissue paper. You’re not picky by any means, but this looks less than appetising. The sheer amount of grease alone would turn anyone off.

Well, anyone but Cole. He’s already digging into his triple burger that seems to be loaded with even more grease than your sad entre. And he’s loving it, apparently, based on the slew of noises he’s making as he takes bite after disgusting bite. Your appetite was waning the moment you walked inside this place, but it’s completely gone now. 

The thought of taking even one bite of this food has you feeling you could gag. Sipping your water is the only thing keeping you from doing so, and even that tastes weird. How a place could be so horrible that the water is bad is beyond you. But at this point, you’re no longer shocked by it. You’ve just accepted it.

Shoving in the last mouthful of his burger, he washes it down with his fifth can of beer, finishing it off with his last bite of food. “Never misses,” he says, wiping the remnants of beer and ketchup from his mouth with the back of his hand.

You haven’t even touched your food, but he’s too drunk to even notice. And while he hasn’t noticed that, he’s certainly not shying away from giving you a look that says more than you really want it to. Grinning ear to ear, he tosses you another wink, to which you respond with a stone cold expression. No more faking it tonight. He doesn’t deserve even that. 

The waitress comes back to gather his empty plate, asking you if you’re done with yours. You say yes, letting her take the basket and ridding yourself of the foul food once and for all. “This all on one check?” She asks, and without giving it any thought, Cole proceeds to tell her that it will be on separate checks. 

Again, the feminist in you normally wouldn’t care to pick up your own tab. But after this shitfest of a date, the fact that you had to drive yourself, and pay for your meal (that you didn’t eat) does not sit comfortably with you.

The disgust should be quite evident on your face, though the alcohol he’s ingested is probably prohibiting him from being able to pick up on that cue. 

He begins blabbing about some more bullshit when the waitress brings you your checks. You’ve got your credit card ready to hand to her as soon as she does, ready to pay and get the hell out of here and away from Cole.

As you’re waiting for her to bring back your card and receipt, Cole begins yet another spiel about where in town his place is, and how Olivia left behind a lot of her clothes and other things there when she left him. You’re so preoccupied with wanting to leave that you don’t fully register what he’s saying. But as you’re listening a little more intently, you hear him say the very thing that sets you off. “So you’ll have something to change into if you didn’t bring any extra clothes. That way you can be comfortable,” he says, slurring his words, smiling in a way that makes you want to slap it off his face. 

And with that, your every effort to remain cordial has flown straight out of the window. 

“Excuse me?” You  say, the volume of your voice wiping that stupid grin off his lips. Good. “I don’t know how you thought your night was going to end, but I can promise you that mine will not end anywhere near your place.” His eyes, saggy from the effects of the alcohol, widen, his mouth falling open. And for the first time tonight, his open mouth isn’t spewing some utter bullshit that you don’t want to hear. 

Right on cue, the waitress drops your card and receipt off with you. Throwing them mindlessly in your bag, you shoot up from your seat, draping your coat around your shoulders in one quick movement. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m ever going to willingly see you again after tonight. Jake was right about you.”  

“W-what?” He exclaims, clumsily standing up and tripping over his own feet as he walks out from the booth. “Well damn, I guess I thought we would fu –.”

“You thought wrong!” You shout, interrupting him before he can even say the word. You then shove him out of your way as he starts moving closer to you, and as you're beginning to leave, a man with a manager's tag on his shirt approaches you, asking if you’re okay.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, calmly as you can. “But someone needs to call an Uber for him,” you continue, pointing towards Cole, who is staring at you with a confused, inebriated look. “Do not let him leave like this. He’s in no condition to drive and I do not feel comfortable taking him home.”

The manager appears rather frustrated, and he begins to tell you that this is a weekly occurrence with Cole. “We have to arrange a ride for him almost every time he comes in,” he says. “I think this will be the last time we let this happen. I’ve let him get away with this behavior for too long.” 

Without giving Cole another glance, you walk yourself out to your car, bidding a final farewell to this place, to this night, for good.

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The road ahead appears blurred in the wake of your tears. Traffic lights are heavy and intense, glowing intrusively bright. You just want to get home, yet the roads seem to stretch longer and longer the further you drive.

But, perhaps that’s a good thing. It’s best you let your emotions run their course before you get home to see Jake, the last person you want to see you like this. For all he knows, tonight was made of all your wildest dreams. And if that’s what he believes, you’re not going to do anything that would make him suspect otherwise. It’s fine to let yourself cry on the way home, getting it out of your system completely as you pull into the driveway of your home, sitting inside the vehicle for a few minutes longer to give the tears a chance to dry up.

Parking right next to Jake’s Buick certainly isn’t helping matters, but it’s somehow serving as a comfort all at once.

The first thing you notice as you walk inside is how clean the place is. Spotless. Utterly. From top to bottom. It smells like freshly cut roses and a homemade meal, probably something Jake whipped up in the kitchen while you were out. 

But the second thing you notice, is the two of them are nowhere to be found. Though, you wouldn’t be surprised if Lara is tucked away in bed, given it’s nearly midnight. Hours beyond her bedtime. You’d hope she’s asleep, at least. Jake has been known to let her stay up late a time or two, letting her watch whatever Disney film her little heart desires and eat endless snacks. 

That doesn’t appear to be the case tonight, as the house is silent, save for the creaking sounds it makes as it settles into the worn foundation overnight. 

Kicking your boots off by the front door, your pantyhose clad feet quietly pad across the carpet toward the hallway that leads to her room. The door is closed, so you place your ear to the old wood, hearing the tiniest, faintest snores emitting from the other side. 

That certainly confirms that she’s sound asleep in her bed, but that doesn’t answer your other question; where is Jake? Surely he’s not asleep in your room. And he’s not in the bathroom, as that door is wide open and sans Jake. The freshly cleaned kitchen was empty when you walked by it, so that truly leaves only one more possibility. 

Gentle as you can, you turn the solid gold door knob clockwise, wincing when the door creaks as you slowly push it open. Her ceiling is covered in nighttime stars from her beloved galaxy projector, casting her room in a quiet glow.

And, as you somehow already knew, Jake is resting on a make-shift bed of Disney princess blankets and star shaped pillows, positioned almost the very same as your daughter. On his side, knees tucked practically to his chest, just like her. It’s always been a wonder to you how he’s able to sleep that way, folding his body in ways that would leave yours aching for days. 

As Lara has grown, she's begun to sleep the very same. A trait you’re so happy that she picked up from him. 

There’s an opened book sitting on the floor next to him – he was probably in the middle of reading it when she fell asleep, and decided to rest his own eyes as well. You begin to feel your heart both flutter and ache at the vision, adoring it yet altogether wishing it was always like this. Though you know better than to dream of such foolish things, it doesn’t stop you from yearning for it. 

It’s beautiful. It’s how it should be. But, it just isn’t. 

You’re certain he didn’t plan on sleeping here tonight, but you can’t find it in you to wake him. He looks so peaceful, so tranquil. There’s no sense in waking him up to leave. So, as carefully as you opened it, you close the door as you step back out to the hallway, letting the two of them stay just as they are. 

And while they are able to sleep and rest their minds, you know that won’t be an easy feat for you tonight. Probably down right impossible, in truth. 

Because you couldn’t eat at the restaurant, and now that you’re home and not in the presence of Cole, your empty stomach is begging you to put something in it. With sleep feeling ever so distant and nearly impossible to reach, your mind begins to focus on the meal Jake made that’s left the most tantalizing aroma in the house. 

As you step into the kitchen, the smell is all the more inviting. And as you’re nearing the refrigerator, the scent begins to take on something more familiar to you. Something he’s made before, something he made often during your marriage. 

A casserole dish, covered loosely in aluminum foil, sits on the middle shelf. You realize the bottom of it is still warm as you carefully pull it out. Not hot, just warm. As though it’s not been in there for too long. Before you remove its cover, you’re already certain you know just what it is. And if you’re correct, it’ll only cause your heart to ache even further. 

The fresh tomatoes, the parmesan, pepperjack, and mozzarella cheese melted together, the smell of buttery garlic – it’s a dish you requested often in your marriage, especially when you were pregnant with Lara. 

A cheese ravioli bake, but not just any cheese ravioli bake – Jake’s cheese ravioli bake. He concocted this very special recipe just to your liking, using the perfect blend of grated cheeses and tomatoes that had never seen the inside of a can. (Because, yes – they do taste better.) 

The raviolis were always made from scratch, Jake’s signature touch that you loved so much. The special shapes of the noodles always made the meal taste at least ten times better than any other dish with raviolis, silly as it may sound. You’ve never been much of a meat-eater, so he never bothered with adding anything more than fresh herbs and cheese. 

And, it’s baked in the same casserole dish he used to make it in. The white corningware with the little blue flowers on the sides, one that came from your grandma ages ago. It was always Jake’s favorite to cook with, so there’s no surprise he used it tonight. 

As though your ex husband knew the inner workings of your brain tonight, it’s like he knew you’d need something comforting and familiar once you got home. Whether or not he truly did it for you, it just doesn’t matter at this moment. It’s here, and it’s enough to take your mind off of the shit evening you’ve had. 

And while there is comfort in it, it does serve as a symbol for part of the reason tonight was so awful – you want this again. This food, Jake sleeping in the house again, his aura hovering around the place he once called home. The home that he shared with you. 

Peeling back the foil leaves no surprise. The fact that you knew this meal from the aroma alone tells you more than you truly want to confront. 

You’re far too hungry to bother with heating it back up. Jabbing your fork right in the center of the dish, grabbing the biggest glob of cheese you can fit on the silver prongs, you reach it up to your open mouth. It tastes the very same it always had, forcing your mind to linger on the days of your pregnancy when you craved this more than anything. 

It feels strange to taste again, knowing that the last time these very distinct flavors sat on your tongue, you were still married to the man that made it. 

It’s comfortably familiar, yet melancholic all at once. There’s a tinge of sadness mixed in with the ingredients, one that almost overpowers the rest.

You’ve become so lost in the food that you don’t hear the creaking door from down the hall, or the soft footsteps against the carpet, coming closer and closer to where you’re standing. 

“How’d it go?” He whispers. 

And where the sudden sound of his voice should have made you jump, all it does is make your shoulders relax. After the night you’ve had, you need this. Need familiarity in the form of the man you’ve always loved.

And that distinct, sleepy rasp in his hushed tone that you’ve heard more times than you can recall… It makes the quietest grin reach your lips. 

It’s the way his voice would sound once he’d just woken up, or when he was too tired to speak in a normal tone. It was (and, apparently, still is) something that drove you mad with longing when you were together. After everything, hearing it still makes your tummy flutter, as much as you wish it didn’t. 

“I’m sorry, I tried not to wake you up,” you whisper, worried that you’ll wake Lara if you speak any louder. Setting the fork in the sink, you turn his direction to see a vision you weren’t prepared to witness. 

His shoulder is leaned up against the wall, and his drowsy, dark eyes are the first things that catch your attention. Your lingering eyes then notice his frizzy, untamed waves, sitting a few inches lower than they did when he was your husband. You’ve always loved his long hair, and him letting it grow even longer is even better.

He’s clad in only a worn white t-shirt with holes embellishing the stretched v-neck, and a pair of heather grey sweatpants, a specific look you grew quite fond of during your time together. He must have had the outfit packed in his bag he had with him, as this is not what he was wearing when you left earlier.

The waiting look about his features reminds you that he's just asked you a question, and it’s also reminding you that you’re taking an incredibly awkward amount of time to answer. The blood rushes to your cheeks once you realize that he’s caught on to your wandering eyes, scanning every detail of the man before you that you once thought you’d spend the rest of your life with. 

The words you want to say are on the tip of your tongue, sitting, weighted, at the forefront of your brain. The desire to spill every horrible detail about the night, to tell him that you now know why he hated Cole so much in  school is a burning one. You want to tell him every single thing. But what you want to say and what you should say are altogether quite different. 

The true answer to his question is more than your lips are physically willing to say. So, a simple lie will have to do. 

“It went pretty well,” you say, hopefully convincingly as you cover the food up once more with the metal wrapping. “I’d say a second date may be in the cards.” The words second date feel like fire against your tongue. The sound of them brings back that nauseated feeling you had sat with most of the night. 

But your eyes are fixed on the task at hand of ensuring the dish is properly covered, knowing that eye contact with him will surely expose your dishonesty. The words themselves are hard enough to vocalize as is, feeling like you have to force yourself to give them the breath to be heard. 

Eye contact or not, if anyone is going to know you well enough to recognize when you’re speaking untruths, huge untruths, it’s Jake. 

As you’re placing the dish back in the fridge, you make the mistake of glancing at him, his mouth upturned in a knowing smirk. 

There’s no more doubt that he can see past your facade, and the realist in you knows there’s no point in elaborating this lie any further. But you’re also not ready to let him in on how awful it truly was. You know how crazy it is to feel this way, but you’re embarrassed that it did go so poorly. 

You were hopeful. 

Hopeful that someone would be willing to love you again, hopeful of a future that doesn’t see you being alone. But most of all, you were ready to finally move past Jake. 

There’s nothing you want more than to be able to, truthfully, tell him that the night was beautiful. That Cole was a perfect gentleman and treated you to the most lovely evening you’ve ever had. 

The problem with that? It’s the furthest thing from the truth. The furthest possible thing. But even a lie as embellished as this is better than what the truth entails. 

“What?” You say, leaning against the fridge, as he continues to look at you. His eyes scan your features, as though you’re completely transparent and he can see right through to your mind. But you decide to continue your useless story, no matter how well he can read you. “It went well, Jake.” The sternness in your voice makes him lift a brow, sighing as he crosses his arms over his chest, still grinning. “Cole was…he was a really good date.”

Yikes. 

“He’s grown up a lot. He’s nothing like he was in high school, or whatever it was that made you hate him so much.” 

Lie. Lie after lie after. 

“You were wrong about him, Jake. And you’re still wrong about him. How would you know he hasn’t changed? You haven’t seen him in years.”

Now you’re getting ahead of yourself. And while you are ahead, you should probably stop. Based on the look he’s giving you, he isn’t buying a lick of it.  

“Never said he hadn’t, y/n. Why are you so set on making sure I know he’s changed? I’m not the one going on a second date with him. I don’t care if he’s changed,” he insists with a shrug of his shoulders, shooting you a condescending look that, mixed with his sarcastic tone, is really beginning to piss you off.

Whether you’re truly mad at him or mad at the fact that you’ve basically been caught in your ridiculous fib, you can’t tell. 

Either way, Jake is the source of your anger at the current moment. And after the events of tonight, you’re not in any place to put up with this attitude he’s shoving your way. 

“Why are you acting like this, Jake?” You snap, voice still hushed, but growing a touch louder. You push away from the fridge, going to point a finger at him. “You were the one that called him an airhead earlier, and I’m just making sure you know that the man who treated your ex wife to a beautiful dinner is not an airhead anymore. People grow, Jake. People can change. Some people, anyway.” 

His body visibly tenses at your words, and you’re plagued with a lot of guilt over them. Especially when considering the fact that he is undoubtedly correct in his assumptions about the man you went out with tonight. 

Though, you’ve just stepped into shit you didn’t mean to. This isn’t where you wanted the night to go: you, blaming Jake for the man who’d treated you so poorly tonight. You spent all night comparing him to the man Jake was — is. But you’ve begun a rant that you can’t quit now. 

And, he knows, as well as you, that you meant to allude to the fact that he is the one who hasn’t changed. 

But, you also know that that isn’t true. Not at all.

“What is that supposed to mean, y/n?” He asks, moving through the doorway of the kitchen, coming to stand right in front of you. He smells of patchouli mixed with earthy cedar, a familiar scent reminiscent of a cologne you bought for him ages ago. 

The both of you have managed to keep your voices at a low rumble this whole time to avoid waking Lara, but now that he’s standing so close to you, he no longer needs to speak above a whisper for you to be able to hear him. “Are you insinuating that I haven’t changed? Since when, y/n? Since high school? Since we were marri –.” 

“I don’t know, Jake.” Your walls are breaking, crumbling. You’re fighting the tears that are welling in your eyes, trying to swallow them down before he notices.

“You don’t know what, y/n?” He replies, using two fingers to bring your chin up to look at him. Like he used to do all of the time. You can’t remember the last time he did so. Yet, no matter how he lifts your face, you don’t meet his eyes. Can’t. Your cowardly ways have set in. “I need you to be honest with me, y/n.”

“I just – I –.” 

“I need you to be honest with me, Luna.”

Fuck. Not that nickname. Just like the chin raising, you can’t remember the last time he called you that. Marriage. A happier time in your marriage, at that, surely. 

However, you’ll never forget how or when he came up with it. The first time he used it. 

Your love for nature, something always held so closely and intimately between the two of you. When you were young kids, exploring the mountains from day to night, for days on end. Your summers, spent between mountains, where you’d spoken many things to each other. Shared many secrets. Created several sacred and sweet memories. 

One of these treasured memories was of an evening in the summer before your Junior year of high school. Only sixteen years old, practically babies. That was the summer that things felt different between you and Jake. It was one of those nights you can clearly recollect, vividly see in your memories. 

Stargazing with him, in a field of pink roses. This night, in particular, one of the reasons you’d wanted the influx of them littering the aisle at your wedding. 

This evening is also one forever held in your heart for what he’d told you. Wise beyond his years, full of so many words — always. Something you’ll always love about him. 

Laying in the field of roses in a hidden valley between mountain peaks, he’d spoken timeless words to you.

“You are like the moon, y/n. Y’know?”

You’d giggled, completely oblivious to where this was going. Your skin, still sunkissed and a little red from a full day of exploring in the mountains with your best and closest friend. The evening was winding down and you’d been near sleep when he’d whispered it into the night, his voice joining the crickets nightly songs.

“How am I like the moon?” You’d replied, turning a bit to look at him from the side of your eye. Though, he wasn’t looking at you. No, he was still gazing at the sky, watching as the sun made her final appearance for the day. Just beyond the highest peak of the mountains, the moon was rising, slow and steady. 

But you’d only watched him as he’d studied the sky. His face had brought you a serene sense of comfort from a very young age for you. His smile, always a source of your peace. 

“The moon… it’s so many things. It is so beautiful and it changes to show different phases on a never ending cycle,” he’d said, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he thought of his next words. “This cycle that we don’t really know the beginnings of, but we still trust it. Because we know, no matter what, that the moon will always be beautiful, no matter what phase it’s in. It will always change as it should. It’s trustworthy and fills the night sky with a light the sun could never.” 

You’d only stared at him in awe. His mind, the most incredible place. 

He’d continued, “It’s amazing how you can stare at the moon without its light blinding you. You can’t do that with the sun, it’s too painful to look at and admire. But not the moon. You can look at it for hours with no pain. Only beauty.”

He always had a way of making you think. Deeply think. His words always came together so beautifully to express what was on his mind, putting you in his mind right along with him. 

“Wow, Jake,” you’d sighed, rolling to lay on your back to resemble him and stare at the sky. The moon had been full that night. A full moon, your favorite to adventure beneath with him. “I don’t know how your brain does that,” you’d breathed on a slight laugh, blinking your eyes slowly as your lids still felt heavy.

“Does what?” He’d chuckled along with the slightest snort. From your peripheral, you’d noticed him glance at you. But you kept your eyes trained on the black sky above, thinking about how it wasn’t painful to look at the moon. You stared at it, admiring it, just as he had said.

“Thinks of these things — it’s so deep,” you’d giggled, looking over at him to catch his eyes. But, he was back to watching the stars twinkle and the moon in its illustrious position over the mountains. Still, you focused on him with a glimmer in your eye. “You’re supposed to be thinking of Mrs. Thompson teaching us about the basics of moon phases last year — like I do when I look at the moon. Like all high schoolers who studied that should. But you’re thinking of that?”

“Well, I like to look deeper into things. You of all people should know this. And… when I find the deeper meaning of things, I always bring it back to you. I think it’s because we’re so close. I don’t know,” he’d replied, finally connecting eyes with you. Your tummy had done a weird flip thing it had just started doing when you were near Jake. It had been weird and new. You obviously hadn’t known it then, but it was the very beginning signs of a crush. “And I’ve been studying the phases for a while now, long before we took Mrs. Thompson’s class,” he paused, raising a brow at you with a smile. And, as the tummy thing was happening again, a blush made its way to your cheeks. “You know that, too, y/n.”

“Yes,” you’d answered with a few slow, measured blinks. No longer tired as he’d caught your attention, but you didn’t know what else to blame your slow thinking on. It must’ve been related to your sleepiness from before. You hadn’t known what else it could’ve been. “Just tired from the day, I guess…,” the words had trailed quietly from your mouth, his eyes, glowing from the moon's light, still holding yours. 

And the way they were holding yours, making you feel nervous and jittery in brand new ways when it came to Jake. He’d been searching them, seeming to look for something you weren’t sure he’d be able to find. 

You knew Jake’s expressions, new his eyes — through and through… but this had been new. This look. These eyes. There was something different in them, something in his soul that could only be fully reflected through them. 

“H-how am I like the moon, though?” The words were an almost-whisper in the warm final winds of late summer, feeling them becoming cooler in preparation for the transition to fall. “You never said that part.”

It had taken a few moments, but he’d finally blinked a few times and seemed to come back to. His gaze had gone back to the sky. Yours had, once again, followed, desperate to see the moon the way he did. 

“You’re always showing me new sides of you… your own phases. You’ve changed a lot over the last few years — I notice every little thing. I don’t know why,” he’d explained. “But no matter what… I know that I trust you. And I know that you will always be you, even in different phases.” 

The blush had rushed up to your cheeks, once more, and you hadn’t dared look at him. “Thanks, Jake. I trust you always, too.”

“And…,” he’d cleared his throat, a nervous trait of his that you knew all  too well. “I really think you’re so damn pretty, y/n… like the moon. But—,” he’d cleared his throat again. And, you would’ve looked to see if he was okay. But you were frozen — in shock. Hearing Jake call you pretty made your tummy flip yet again, and your heart flutter along with it.

Thankfully, you hadn’t needed to check on him, because he’d continued after a few solid and near-silent seconds of waiting. “The term moon doesn’t fit you. When people think of the moon, they think of the thing in the sky. But when I think of it, I think about all of the things that make the moon what it is. Just like I think of you. And that’s more than a simple thing in the sky. You are more than just a simple girl.”

Silence followed him. You hadn’t known what the heck to say. And you were afraid that anything you would try to say wouldn’t come out right.

“There’s a poem. Um, it’s called—called La Luna. It-it talks about the qualities of the moon and how they show in day-to-day life… and I loved it because it showed me… you are like my moon. I have you everyday and you’re trustworthy and you’re beautiful. Like the moon,” he’d said, matter of fact, with a sense of finality in his explanation. 

But, he wasn’t finished. There was a shaky breath held in the space between the two of you and the trees. And when you turned to watch him this time, he’d already been watching you. 

Propped on one arm, watching you, still. You followed his lead in leaning on your own elbow, a little grin on your face. It was just funny — you always seemed to follow him. And he, you. 

In almost every way, you two did the same. 

Even in certain silly actions. Little movements of your body that seemed correct because he was doing them. And if one of you did something, the other was doing it as well. 

His eyes searched yours, so inquisitive. And there had been a gentle scrunch of his untamed brows. He’d looked as if he was wondering and searching your soul—for answers you still don’t know. Don’t have.

The next thing that left his lips, though, you had known the answer to without the shadow of a doubt. And as soon as he asked it, you realized you’d been waiting for those words the entire time. 

“Can I – can I kiss you, y/n?” 

The answer, “yes” had slid past your lips without you even knowing it was happening. You hadn’t ever felt this way towards Jake, yet— way back then. But… giving him a kiss — in that particular moment — had just felt oddly right. Like it was supposed to happen. 

A puzzle piece, clicking into place. 

It’d barely registered that it had happened because it had happened so fast. 

He’d leaned over and you’d match him and went towards him just a touch. To meet him halfway.  

And then, he’d touched his lips so briefly to yours before pulling away. Then, he’d helped you up as your tummy had still flipped and flopped. The blush that had been on your cheeks, reaching all the way up to the tips of your ears.  

Your first kiss. You’d just had your first kiss. And with Jake. Your first and only best friend.

And that was why it was right. You were supposed to have your first kiss with him. 

Your walk home had involved shared breaths and a few mindless notes about the day’s adventures. Your worn tennis shoes, making the treasured crunching sound against gravel roads. The sound, now one of your favorites, after how many times you’d heard it growing up, hiking all around, with Jake. 

Then, right before you’d bid him goodnight as he dropped you off at your house that night, so long ago, he’d had one more thing to say. 

“You are my Luna, y/n,” he’d told you, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes as he’d tucked his hands into the pockets of his Aztec printed shorts. “My moon and my best friend.”

“You’re mine, too, Jake,” you’d said, plain and easy. 

After that night, things with you and Jake were never the same. And you were glad they weren’t. You didn’t know it then, but that night was the start of falling in love with him. The start of knowing, undoubtedly, that you would spend the rest of your life with him. 

He was your first and only kiss. Your first and only of everything else that happened in the years that followed.

He was your best friend then and your best friend always. And just as he’d explained how the moon was to him and how you were for him — that would always be him, for you. Still to this day, your mind always wanders to that night when you see the moon. To Jake’s face as he asked you to kiss him for the first time. 

And, because of all of this, that pet name has always been your breaking point. 

Fuck.

Here it comes. 

“Tonight was fucking terrible, Jake. He was such a prick and all he wanted was to fuck me and there was no way in hell I was going to let him do that.” 

Those tears you tried to hold back are flooding your cheeks, turning into sobs that you’re desperately trying to keep quiet so they don’t wake Lara. 

You fully expected Jake to hit you with an ‘I told you so,’ or laugh in your face over how pathetic you’re being.

But no. He doesn’t do either of those things. And you know Jake much better than to think he’d do that to you. That’s not the kind of person he is – he’s never been that kind of person. His heart is far too big to ever treat you that way, and you of all people should know that. It’s what made you fall in love with him in the first place.

So, no. He doesn’t do what your foolish mind had convinced you would happen. But what he does do is something you’ve dearly missed since the day he packed his things and moved out. Something you haven't felt in so long that you can’t really remember the last time it happened. 

Without another word, he reaches his arms out, pulling you into him. And you let him. You feel your tense and tired body instantly melt into him, your head resting against his chest, into the spot you used to naturally nuzzle yourself into. 

And just like that, every burden of the night has been lifted from your shoulders. You feel weightless in his arms again, being held in the safety of his embrace that, for most of your life, had been your place of refuge and solace. 

He’s not hugging you, he’s holding you. Keeping you stable, warm. It feels as wonderful as it always had, like nothing has truly changed. 

“I’m sorry, Luna,” he whispers into your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head. “You deserve better than him. You deserve a lot better.”

Hearing him say those words, that you deserve better…

You don’t know if you believe that. If you truly do deserve better, then you’d still be with the only man you’ve ever loved, the only man who has ever loved you. 

The one holding you in his arms at this very moment. 

There are a thousand things you want to say, that you want to scream. But in your heart of hearts, there’s only one thing you really want right now. Something that doesn’t require any words, any apologies or excuses for things that are tucked away in the past. Things that feel so distant that they don’t seem to matter anymore. Not right now, at least.

Everything that has happened tonight has made you wonder if the divorce really was the right option. There’s no doubt you needed a separation, but the reasons as to why the divorce came to be are suddenly fuzzy to you. And, as you so often have as of late, you wish it would’ve never happened in the first place. 

All these things that you have felt so heavily recently, encompassing you fully as you’re held in his arms for the first time in so long.

Though you can feel the quick beating of his heart against your ear, you can’t be entirely sure what he’s thinking. You want to see his face, see his eyes. Find out whatever it is that’s going through his mind that caused him to embrace you this way. 

Gently leaning away from him, he keeps his arms wrapped around you as you look up at him, into his eyes that once brought you so much peace. His eyes, that have always been his best way of communicating when his lips struggle to articulate what was on his heart. 

And right now, what you see reflected in his golden brown irises, are the words that you feel sitting on the tip of your own tongue. He lifts his hand, using his thumb to wipe away a stray tear. You lean your face into his hand and lightly kiss the pad of the very same thumb, tasting the salty tear it dried from your face. 

The intention in his face as he’s looking at you, holding your gaze with words unspoken, words from the last few years that neither one of you dared to utter. And still, as your eyes are holding his, words simply aren’t necessary to you. 

Cradling your face in his hand, thumb caressing your cheek as his eyes flit from yours to your lips, he mutters something unintelligible, a whispering you can’t quite make out as his face leans closer and closer. And as you begin to ask him what he said, he’s leaning down and his lips slowly collide with yours. His soft, supple lips; they feel so very much how you remember, the only difference being the subtle beginnings of a mustache on his upper lip. 

And the taste…the taste of Jake. A taste you’d never be able to replicate. It’s the one you’ve found yourself craving since the last time you relished in it.

The kiss lingers, lips making gentle movements, keeping their connection. You feel the weight of the last few years dissipate with the feeling of him. The feeling of his lips, a longing at last being met once again.

His arms hold you tighter, bringing you closer to him. His hand, steady and gentle, reaches up to the nape of your neck, fingers weaving through your hair. 

Tears flood your closed eyes once more, trickling down your skin, wetting his as they fall. Once he feels them, he slowly pulls away, your lips reluctant to let him part. With his other hand, just as he did before, he dries the new tears. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done tha –.”

“Jake,” you whisper, stopping him before he can needlessly apologize. “What did you say earlier? Before you –.”

“I said that you are beautiful,” he sighs. “So beautiful.” 

He searches your face, taking in every tiny detail of your features. His smile matches the one you’re wearing, and you swear you see the glint of a tear forming in his eye. “So, is that why Lara said the same thing earlier?” You ask, remembering her saying it nearly the same way he just did. 

“She may have heard me say it a time or two,” he giggles, his hand that dried your tears reaching up to dab at his own wet eyes. “I always tell her how beautiful she is, and that it’s because she looks just like her mommy.”

It’s funny, because to you, she gets her beauty from Jake. You see him when you see her. But to know that he sees you when he looks at her…

“Can I kiss you, Jake?” 

As though you needn’t truly ask, his lips quickly meet yours once more. Only this time, the kiss is deeper,  full of so much more than it was before. The fingers still weaved in your hair carefully tug at your locks, dull nails scratching at your scalp. Your flesh tingles when his tongue pushes past your lips, his breathing becoming heavier as he becomes hungrier for you.  

You push yourself into him as much as you can, lifting on your toes and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His strong, sturdy shoulders that feel even stronger than the last time you felt them. 

And with this new position, he takes advantage of your strong hold on him, using one hand to lift you up, your legs now straddling his waist. His hand cups your ass, holding you still with pure ease as you kiss him harder than you ever have. 

Each of you, moaning and sighing, lips roughly colliding. 

Still holding you, he begins to walk backwards out of the kitchen, then carrying you down the hallway towards your bedroom. His lips never leaving yours until he makes it to your room, laying you down gently on the end of the mattress, your legs dangling from the edge.  

You prop yourself up on your elbows while Jake hovers over you, his feet still planted on the floor. There’s a gleam in his eye that you’ve seen before, so long ago. His skin, smooth and glowing from the gentle moonlight creeping in through your windows. A vision you know all too well. 

“That name,” you say, hushed. “You haven’t called me that in years. It – it was nice hearing you say it again. Really.” 

His smile as he looks down at you, one you’ve seen hundreds of times before, takes you right back to the beginning. Back to so many cherished moments with him that seemed to become lost altogether when the fights had started.

He breathes a chuckle through his nose, looking out the window towards the moon's glow, following its trail back to you. Leaning down closer, he nudges your cheek with his nose, his hair tickling your skin as  it falls over you. “You are my moon,” he whispers underneath your ear. “Always my moon. No matter what phase.” Tiny goosebumps begin pricking at your skin when his lips meet the skin under your ear. 

Suddenly, he stops, lifting away from you and moving towards the door. You’re left confused, worried that you’ve let this go too far. “Jake?” You ask, to which he only responds with a smile as he quickly and quietly walks out of the room. 

What the – ?

Sitting up, you start to stand up, feeling the need to go after him to figure out what is going on. 

But before you even make it off the bed, he’s walking back in, carrying his tote bag on his shoulder. 

“Lay back down,” he whispers, “Just like you were before.” Digging into his bag, he pulls out his Nikon before setting the leather satchel on the floor. “I am a photographer, so that means I naturally have an eye for beauty.” He turns his camera on as he walks toward you, adjusting a few of the settings. “You are a thing of pure beauty, and the moon is painting you perfectly with its light just where you are. I need to capture this.”

I should’ve known. 

Your heart begins to pound in your chest, the thrumming filling your ears. How this man, after all this time, after everything, can still fluster you in this way is entirely beyond you. 

Just as he requested, you lay yourself down once more, positioned just like you were before he left the room. Only now, you’re being a little more intentional about the way your body looks, lifting your sweater to show your midriff more than before and poking your ass out just a bit. He peaks his eye through the lens, bending just a little to get the perfect angle. “Ah, right there. Don’t move, Luna.” 

The camera clicks once. Then again. He moves to the left a little, closer to the window, capturing a few from this angle as well. 

This was a common thing for Jake to do way back when, as he began discovering his love for photography. You were his model, his muse, as he called you. There were several instances that you found yourself modeling for him, posing in front of dozens of new cameras to test their quality.

And, there were those few times that the photos were only for him. Only for his eyes to bear witness to. A few of those times were during your honeymoon, one of the nights being the one that Laramie was conceived. 

While the photos he’s taking now are a little less risque in nature, the act is flustering you all the same. Just as it always did.

After having taken a few more, he looks through them, smiling while he does so. “Art, my Luna,” he says, shutting off his camera and placing it back in his bag. “You are art.” 

You feel your heart racing again as he walks toward you again, placing himself in the same position he was in before he fetched his camera. You want to ask if you can see the photos, but once he begins kissing you again, wet lips connecting to the skin of your neck, the words just can’t make it out of your mouth. 

His kisses move slowly down the column of your neck as your head carefully falls back, his lips gradually coming closer to your collarbone where he gently sucks the tight skin. Your breath, stolen from you the instant he does so. He motions for you to lay yourself down all the way, taking the weight from your elbows. He positions himself just right between your legs as you wrap them around his thighs. His lips then follow a path to your neck once more, breathy kisses making their way back to your lips. 

His hands, ever so deliberate and purposeful, grab hold of your waist, lifting your back just a little from the bed. His fingers knead at the skin, squeezing gently before they fall to your hips. Just the same, he lifts them slowly, lifting your skirt up to your hip bones before reaching behind to hold your ass with both hands. The slight elevation of your hips places your core right against his dick, feeling it pulse beneath his grey sweats. Your body instinctively grinds into him at the contact, your walls beginning to flutter when you feel him following your lead. 

“Jake…,” you mutter into his lips with what little breath you’re able to speak with. He doesn’t bother asking you what you need, what you want. He already knows. He’s always known. You’re certain there’s no man on this earth that could ever take care of you as well as him. 

He knew your body – studied it. He knew every single way to ensure your pleasure, everywhere to touch and taste. How to do it. 

And you, knowing the ways his body felt the best. He’d always tell you that you knew him better than he knew himself. And while that may have been true, you thought the very same of him. You’d spent so much time with each other, so much time learning each other. 

He moves his hands from your ass to the hem of your sweater, moving his body down so that he’s eye level with your tummy. As he slowly lifts your top, gliding it up towards your breasts, he kisses each bit of skin as it becomes exposed. Kissing every inch of your tummy, until he reaches your bra. He stops there, removing your sweater completely from your body. 

And once he’s done that, he places his attention back to your breasts, taking one in each hand. The white lace of your bra does nothing to cover your perked nipples, him rubbing his thumbs over them as he kisses where your cleavage meets in the middle. “I’ve missed these,” he mutters, breathy, pulling the cups of your bra down below each breast. 

Your nipples perk even more once the cool air of your room hits them. But, it doesn’t last for too long. Jake’s mouth, wet and warm, wraps around the bud of your left breast, his tongue drawing slow circles. The right one becomes enclosed in the palm of his hand, squeezing the flesh with his fingers. 

“God I’ve missed these,” he iterates, lifting his face from your breast, the tip of his tongue offering tiny licks where his mouth once was. He then brings his lips to the right breast, giving it the same attention as he sucks the bud into his warm mouth. 

“Oh Jake – feels so good…,” you muster, shakily, lifting your arms to lay above your head. With his mouth still caressing your breast, his hands hold you just above your ribs on both sides, lifting you into him even more. His lips leave your nipple with one last, gentle suck, before he plants deep kisses down your sternum. 

 “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you,” he mumbles into your skin, lips kissing further and further down your tummy. Once he reaches the waistband of your skirt, he pulls you a little closer to the edge of the bed by your hips, sinking down to the floor on his knees. 

His tongue glides over the skin of your inner thigh, still covered by your pantyhose. He does the same to the other one, alternating between both as he slowly comes closer to your burning heat. Your walls, fluttering, clenching. Your desire leaking from you with every move he makes on your body. 

One thing you remember about Jake – he would always take his time with you. He would always take the time to please you, to cover each inch of you in kisses and sweet touches. Even if there wasn’t enough time for sex, he would still take whatever time there was for you. 

And tonight, being no exception to his rule of pleasing you, has you all the more enticed by him. 

And ready for him. 

Just before his lips find your core, he takes your skirt, still bunched up at your hip, and pushes it up even further so that it’s now bunched at your waist. And after that, fingers from both of his hands slip inside the band of your pantyhose on either side, slowly pulling them and your thong down your hips. He moves back just a little, enough to be able to remove them from you, tossing both of the under garments on the floor beside him. 

When he moves back, his lips find your inner thighs once more. With each kiss, your breaths become more and more labored, and as he kisses the skin directly next to your aching pussy, it becomes caught in your chest. He kisses once more there, and the breathy moan that leaves your lips is followed by a whispering of his name. 

“I think I’ve missed this most of all.” You can feel the breath from his words against your wetness, making your body shiver and tremble.

And you absolutely believe him. It was his favorite thing, something he would do randomly, any chance he had, and every chance he had. He would worship your pussy, taste you for hours at a time. He would beg to have your pussy on his mouth. Not like he needed to, though. You loved it as much as he did. 

The spontaneity of it, the way his mouth would find you when you were doing something as mundane as cooking, or watching a movie. You almost never took a bath or a shower without him joining you. 

He says he missed it, but you’d bet you have missed it even more. 

The second his skilled tongue glides through your folds, your body nearly jolts at the feeling. He hums at his first taste in years, digging into your hips with his fingernails. He takes his time, letting his tongue explore you again. Sucking your clit gently, just how you always liked. Babying it with his tongue, keeping the movements soft and careful. “You’ve always tasted so sweet,” he whispers before his tongue makes one long, slow stride from your entrance to your clit. 

Each motion, so calculated, so thoughtful. He’s remembered every little thing that would get you there every single time. And the way his hair is tickling at your inner thighs, your lower tummy…

The sensation of it all nearly brings tears to your eyes. It’s the kind of pleasure that you could cry from. And it’s a pleasure you’ve gone so long without. 

His tongue flicks against your throbbing clit, then again, and again. Each one pushes you closer and closer to the edge, and the closer you get, the faster his tongue gets. 

And because of that, it only takes one more flick of his tongue to cause your pussy to throb, your walls clenching and spasming. Your tummy fluttering, your limbs feeling numb yet on fire all at once. Your release trickles and pools beneath you, all while Jake plants careful kisses to your pussy, kissing you through it until your breathing is back to normal. 

This feeling…you had completely forgotten it. Forgotten how surreal it felt for Jake to bring your body to its peak, how truly out of body it always was. 

If there’s ever a day that someone else enters your life and has you like this, they will be held to the highest standard that Jake has set for you. You know that no one will ever make you feel this way.

“Oh…my…god…,” you utter through deep breaths, the vision slowly coming back to your eyes. And as it does, you see Jake’s striking face leaning over you, his lips wet and glittering as the moonlight falls upon him, enhancing his beautiful features all the more. “Jake, I – I’ve missed you so fucking much,” you tell him, your voice becoming wet and choked with tears. 

How did you ever let this man walk out of your life? How did things get so bad that signing divorce papers seemed like the best thing to do? You’ve spent practically every day of your life loving Jake Kiszka. From the moment you met as children, to taking his last name as your own, to having his daughter. 

And even as your name inked the papers that would solidify your separation, you still loved him. 

Every emotion begins to surface, and try as you might to hold them down, you just can’t. Your cries turn into near sobs, hands coming up to cover your eyes as you’re flooded with how badly you’ve missed him. How much you want things to be the way they were.

“Hey, hey,” he shushes you, concern present in his quiet voice. “What is it, Luna? Tell me what’s wrong.”  

His fingers brush some hair out of your face, tucking the strands behind your ear. When you move your hands from your eyes, he kisses away the tears falling from them, holding your face in the palm of his hand. Looking into his eyes only serves to make it all hurt worse. 

“I just miss you, Jake,” you manage to say after letting yourself calm down enough to speak. “And after that awful date tonight, it just reminded me of a lot of things and I –.” 

“I miss you, y/n,” he sighs, holding your eyes with his in his very own Jake way. “I miss you more than you will ever comprehend.” As he kisses your lips, you feel your body begin to relax again, feeling comfort from him that you’ve always felt. “I haven’t stopped loving you. I will never stop loving you.”

“Jake,” you whisper as he kisses you again, and he hums in response, letting you know to continue. “I love you so much,” you admit against his lips.  

He hums again, a gentle groan as he lifts himself up on the bed, keeping his lips locked with yours. You sit up, scooching yourself back and making room for him. As you do, you reach for your skirt that’s still sitting against your waist and pull it down, Jake helping you take it off the rest of the way. 

Once it’s off, he lays himself between your spread legs, his clothed cock sitting flush against your core, pulsing beneath the fabric. You can’t stand it any longer, so you reach your hand down and begin pulling at the waistband of his sweats, sliding them down his hips as best you can from your position. He helps you with one hand, pulling them down the rest of the way and kicking them off with his feet. 

You then go for his shirt, yanking it from his shoulders so hard that it rips the neck line halfway down the shirt. After that, he lifts up, taking the tattered remains of his t-shirt in each and ripping it in half completely,  finally ridding himself of his shirt that’s now in pieces.

“Wait.” You stop him before he comes back to you as you catch sight of him, needing a moment to just look at him. The way the moonlight contours his body, how it’s casting a silver glow against his bare skin…he looks otherworldly. This vision is one you know will be permanently stamped in your memories for the rest of time.

You’ve always loved his body. His pecks, his tummy, his legs. His arms that have certainly gained more muscle tone since you were married. He’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. For more reasons than just the physical. 

But as he’s on his knees before you, his tummy littered with droplets of sweat, his cock hard and throbbing, the unadulterated desire to feel him inside of you again is the only thing you can think about. 

“C’mere,” you whisper, beckoning him with your finger. As he leans back down, your legs wrap around his waist again, positioning yourself just right as he lines himself up with you, nudging you with the tip of his cock. “I love you, Jake,” you say again, holding his face, kissing his lip. “And I need you.” 

“My beautiful Luna,” he mutters as he steadily glides himself inside, slowly filling you. He lets out a deep sigh, his brows furrowed in the middle as he bites his lower lip. He pushes in all the way, his tip now nudging against your cervix. 

As if it were possible, you’ve somehow forgotten how big he is. The thickness, the girth. No matter how often he was inside of you, you never got over the way he would stretch you, each and every time. 

The tear-inducing pleasure begins to overwhelm you once more as he begins a slow thrust, filling you all the way each time. He remembers just how you liked it – giving you the chance to feel him, every thick inch of him. You had just always loved the way he felt inside of you, the way he fit you so incredibly. 

Everything about the way he’d fuck you, how he’d treat your body as though it were ethereal and powerful. That he was privileged to be able to connect with you this way. Worshipping is the only way to describe it. He cared for you, put your needs above his. 

He had always done that. Even when things began to crumble in your marriage. Even when he was angry, he never let your body go without being pleased. Never. 

And when he saw what your body was capable of after you gave birth, he made certain that your body was cherished and loved the way it deserved. 

After all this time, after years of being apart and living separate lives, he’s fucking you like you are still his wife. Slow in pace, deep and hard thrusts so you can feel him. His thighs slapping against the backs of yours. This was always his favorite way to fuck you, said he loved the way your breasts bounced everytime he thrust into you. 

He loved watching you, and you loved watching him. His face, his body colliding with yours. 

All of it, every bit of it is the same. Even better, if it were ever possible. 

He lifts your leg, letting it rest over his shoulder. This angle, the one that allows him to hit the perfect spot inside of you, the spot that makes your tummy burn and your walls flutter. He knows the right angles, the ones that your body responds to the most. 

And when your body responds this way, he fucking loves it. 

“There it is,” he mutters, his breathing heavy and deep. “I feel you, Luna. Squeeze me, baby.” 

His pace picks up, his cock hitting that spot over and over again. Faster, heavier, deeper. His name spills from your lips, your confessions of love coming out in staggered whispers. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says, repeating it with every thrust. And he keeps saying it, says it until your walls clench hard around his cock, spasming deliciously as he fucks you through your second climax of the night. 

And with it, his cock begins twitching and pulsing, his movements less calculated and more desperate. The sounds coming from his parted lips, the way his tummy is flexing, you know he’s reaching his own end. 

Desperate as he is, he’s still careful. With one more hard thrust into you, he pulls himself out, pumping himself and spilling his warmth all over your tummy, reaching to the undersides of your breasts.

His face is contorted in the most beautiful vision. A mix of relief and adoration on his features as he looks up on you, your heaving body covered in sweat and him.

Though you know it’s absurd and irresponsible as hell, a small part of you is sad he didn’t finish inside. The two of you, turbulent as you were together, still made the most perfect baby.

The thought of giving Lara a sibling is one you’ve had for a long time now. But you don’t want that with anyone else. Only Jake.  

The timing would be terrible. You know that. But you can’t help but mourn the thought. There’s no doubt in your mind that, if you were still married, you would’ve tried for another baby. 

“Just like old times, yeah?” He utters as gently cleanses your skin with a damp towel he retrieved from the bathroom. He offers sweet and soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. Telling you again how much he loves you, and you say it in return after each time. 

As he finishes, he walks to the dresser, the one that once to held his own clothes. To no surprise, he remembers that you’ve always kept your underwear in the top middle drawer. He pulls out a pair that’s been a tried and true favorite of yours to wear at night. A simple pair of black boyshorts that he’s seen you in dozens of times. 

He then reaches for the drawer directly underneath that one, pulling out one of your oversized t-shirts. 

Before he walks them over to you, he puts his sweatpants back on, letting them hang low from his waist, just above his pubic bone. A sight for sore eyes, no doubt.

He hands your clothes to you as he gets back in bed, watching with a sleepy smile as you put them on. 

Once you’re dressed, he pulls out the covers, letting you lay down first. You position yourself on your side, and, just as you wanted, he lays behind you, wrapping his arms around your body and nuzzling his nose in the back of your neck. The way you fell asleep every night for years. In the safety of his embrace, in the comfort of his touch. 

↟ᨒ.⊹݁⚘⊹⚘⊹⚘ ⊹.ᨒ↟

Jake has long since fallen asleep, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. Something you’d forgotten about, that you’re being reminded of in this moment, is that even in his sleep, he will kiss the back of your neck every so often. Quiet kisses, more or less just placing his lips on you while he dreams. 

Laying in his arms, the way you did all those years ago, everything feels perfect once again. It feels right. The pieces, though tattered and ripped apart over the years, have suddenly fallen back in place. You’ve  missed this. Missed everything about it. His breathing, his peaceful snores.

This moment, right now as you’re curled up with the man who carries the title of your ex husband, it feels as though things could work. Maybe you could try again, learn the ways you’ve both grown, give this life with him a second chance.

Or. 

Maybe this is it. This moment serves as a lapse in time, a beautiful walk down the path that holds so many memories. The best memories. But they’re only memories. 

Those days, though dear to your heart, just don’t exist anymore. Your life, his life…what if your paths for the future are just too different? What if this moment, however perfect and wonderful it may be, will eventually turn into the reasons you couldn’t be together anymore?

Tonight made you feel as though everything with you and Jake ended for no reason, that your lives were perfect and seamless.  

That’s not the reality of it, though. There were reasons that ultimately led to your divorce. A lot of reasons. Of course you forgot them on the night of your first date since the split, the date that will go down in history as being the worst of your lifetime. 

But now, you’re thinking clearly enough to remember those reasons.  

Your lives were far from perfect. The furthest from perfect as any two lives shared together could be. 

But you loved each other more than anything and anyone. A love so deep, so profound and seemingly indestructible. There was a time when you would’ve never thought in your darkest dreams that there would come a day that Jake wasn’t a part of. Your love for each other simply surpassed every expectation, every phase. Just like the moon. Changing, but still beautiful. 

But even a love such as that wasn’t enough then. So, what if it isn’t enough now? 

You don’t know what the future holds. Beyond tonight, you can’t be sure what will come of any of this. And you don’t want to get your hopes up, fall for him even harder than before, all for it to crumble yet again. 

And this time, you fear the pain would be much worse than before. 

So, no. You don’t know what the future will bring. You don’t even know what tomorrow will bring. 

And even if this moment is fleeting, it can still be added to the memories you have with him. To the perfect memories you’ve captured with Jake Kiszka.

Your moon. 

The only man you’ve ever loved.

The only man you’ll ever want. 

And the man you can’t have.

↟ᨒ.⊹݁⚘⊹⚘⊹⚘ ⊹.ᨒ↟

a/n: i'm sorry. lol. there could be a part two to this. there might be a part two to this. should there be a part two to this? sound off, loves!

as always, let me know what you think! i truly love hearing from you all. makes my heart so happy. 🥹 my inbox is always open!

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed! i apologize dearly if i missed you)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @klarxtr r @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge @dancingcarbon @fleetingjake @scoreofinfantryvines @jamiemydeer @sacredthethreadgvf @fuckyoutommie

[assortedvillainvault]

Disney villains reacting to you nonchalantly calling them your husband/wife please?

Sure thing Anon! You didn’t specify who, so I’m going to go for Hades, Jafar, and for funsies...Mim.

Disney Villains vs The Accidental Matrimonial Pet Name Slip Up

Hades

MHM!

Yeah baby flex his title, say his name! He can’t stop his flame from swooshing up and only barely resists the urge to pump his fist.

VERY likely to holler it across the street at random incidental strangers. Hey, you! Yeah schmuck you heard, he’s your HUSBAND, get it right!

Honestly he’s smiling like SUCH a goober, he can’t keep his hands off you now. Shoulders, waist, lower back – pretty much everything to say you’re an item without actually hollering it across the street like he just did to some poor bozo.

He’s also gonna swing you round into a big ol’ kissy and amp up the PDA.

Have you considered maybe matching outfits babe? Not- y’know, that he’s into ‘coordinated looks’ and all that garbage, but, know, maybe same pins? Same colours? Anything really, to mark you out as an item on his arm.

Much as he loves claiming you and making that abundantly clear, he’s also very much into being claimed in turn, y’know? Nice to know you’re proud of being with him, gets him all happy and excited. Loudly and proudly claim that he’s your husband in a public space (esp in front of his family) and he’s going to be an absolute sap for anything you wanna do.

Aphrodite has never seen such a lovestruck fool in all her life and honestly? She thinks half of Olympus could take notes on what love looks like after marriage from you two. Not that she’s ever going to say that when Hera is within earshot...

Jafar

He's startled... then sinks into a smug smile at how adorable you are.

Yes, he IS your husband, isn’t he? Why, he wouldn’t mind you saying it again, slower, maybe….

He’s one to get touchy, like Hades, but much more possessively. He’ll play with your hair, tug you close when you least expect it, and is a BIG fan of pulling you into his lap as a break from work.

Granted, he’s also very fond of subtly using his status as your husband to manipulate you into doing things for him. It IS your duty to him, after all…why is he holding his staff up like that-

Make sure to collaborate with Iago to push him down the stairs every once in a while to temper his ego. Put mousetraps on his side of the bed. Fill his shoes with sand and bat your eyes at him when he complains. Give and take.

He expects you to use your status as his partner for your own gain. Of course? Why wouldn’t you? Go on, tell the guards who you’re married to, see how quickly they get out of your way.

He’s also going to kiss you with tongue about it, but that’s a given.

Madam Mim

I have genuinely no idea if you’ve actually managed to get a ring on this menaces finger or just called her wifey for the vibes and a joke.

Regardless, she’ll blink owlishly...then a slow cheshire grin full of unpleasant promise and gleaming green eyes will split her face and honestly? You’re beyond help.

The Game has begun.

Will IMMEDIATELY use her wifey title to nag you then knock something over.

She’ll burst in to whatever room you’re in to trip you up, ‘straighten’ your clothes and force feed you a meal that could wrench whole kingdoms into developing indoor plumbing four centuries early.

The sound of mad old woman giggles is going to follow you everywhere you go.

If you chicken out and try to tell people she’s not your wife she will LOSE IT

Crying, wailing, screaming - throwing herself dramatically over public furniture to ‘cry’ about how you’ve betrayed her and how she ‘does so much for you’ and oh! The INGRATITUDE, taking advantage of a poor old woman-

Ants! Wardrobe full of ants for 10’000 years.

Thanks so much for the ask!!

[asilentsongbird]

For you, I think I would learn how to love

For my lovely anon who asked for husband Neuvillette, I bring you a whole fic. This man has me in a chokehold and I need everyone to know how much I love him.

Pairing: Neuvillette x fem! Reader Word Count: ~7k

Summary: Tired of waiting for you to find a husband, your parents find one for you. One who happens to be the Chief Justice of Fontaine. A new city, a new life, a new husband. So much new, and you could only hope, deep in your heart, that you would find happiness and love in Fontaine.

The first time you meet him, it's rather formal.

It's not as though you have much of an option. Though you certainly couldn't say you expected when you woke up to be told that your parents had found a husband for you, and that you'd be married in a week.

They had been pushing marriage lately, saying you were the right age, but the thought had been far from your mind. You thought you still had time, and the next thing you knew, you were being brought to Fontaine.

It's certainly different from Liyue. The hills and mountains are different from the Stone Forrest. The air feels different, there's water heavy in it.

You wait, in an ornate room that feels much too fancy. You've been left alone for a brief moment, the most your parents have allowed since you were told the news.

Part of you wonders if you could escape if you jumped out the window. A quick glance told you that it was much too high to entertain that idea. You'd end up breaking a leg before you got out of this marriage.

The door opens. A man appears, with long white hair with blue streaks in it. Simply from his appearance, you can tell that this is someone important. Your spine straightens as sharp eyes land on you, zeroing in on you.

You felt small, for a moment. As though he was judging you for simply existing in a space you'd rather not be in. Though your parents didn't care if you had plans or wished to find a husband on your own.

The man doesn't say anything. He closes the door behind him with a click, and makes his way over to you. Despite the desire to shrink back, you stand your ground, until he finally stands before you.

Up close you can see more details. He towers over you in height, but you suppose most people would feel short compared to him. His eyes capture your attention the most, the pupils such a strange shape, but gorgeous nevertheless.

"I apologize for leaving you waiting," he starts, almost looking as lost as you on how to start.

You wave your hands frantically in front of you. "It's fine! I didn't expect anyone to come in. I was told I would be meeting-"

Saying future husband felt much too strange. The man in front of you notices your pause, and arches a single silver brow. You frantically try to remember the name of the man who is meant to be your fiance.

"Ah, sorry, I was meant to meet a Mister Neuvillette?" your voice stumbles awkwardly over the new word, still struggling with the accent.

On the trip to Fontaine, your parents had tried to give you lessons on the language, as though you would become fluent in the few hours it took to travel.

The man blinks. And then he blinks again, as though he's trying to figure out what you just said.

Apparently the lessons hadn't worked.

"Sorry, my accent needs work," you apologize. "I hear he's the Chief Justice?"

The man nods, slowly. "That is correct."

You hum, non-committal, waiting to see if your company decides to keep the conversation going. When he doesn't, you find yourself unable to think of words.

Well, this felt awkward. And from the way the man still seemed at a loss for words, he also felt the same.

The tension could almost cut a knife.

He clears his throat after a moment, the sound almost makes you jump.

"Yes, well..." he pauses, gesturing towards the couch. "I am sure monsieur Neuvillette will be here soon."

You take a seat near him. Not close enough to be inappropriate, but close enough that it would be clear that you were talking.  Maybe "monsieur Neuvillette" will see the two of you and decide that this marriage wasn't something he wanted a part of.

"Congratulations on your engagement," your new friend tells you after a moment. You give him a tight lipped smile.

"Thanks."

Once again, silence descends over you two. You fidget with your skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles from travel. Hopefully, it wasn't something your new husband would be upset about.

At least the silence didn't feel as oppressive this time. You let yourself relax, taking a deep, steadying breath.

"Can I ask you something?"

The man beside you nods. You still haven't gotten his name yet, you realize. You'd have to ask later, after some other questions. Who knows when your parents and future husband will be coming.

"Um...how is Neuvillette?" you tentatively ask, to which you only receive a rather blank, if not curious look.

You suppose you'll have to be more direct. Though it almost pains you.

But at least, if he's not kind, you would like a warning. Some way to prepare yourself for what the rest of your life is going to be like. Some women, they don't even get that. They were woken up on the day of their wedding, and the rest of their lives was at the whims of their husbands.

You steel yourself, and fully turn your attention to your friend.

"Is he kind?"

Something in him softens at that. He looks at you with an emotion that you can't recognize in that moment. Pity, maybe?

He opens his mouth, but before you can get your answer, the door opens.

Your parents lean in for a moment, see you sitting on the couch, talking to a stranger, but strangely have nothing bad to say about that. In fact, they look delighted.

"Are you two getting along well?" your mother asks you, somewhat reminding you of a cat just having caught a bird.

The satisfaction on her face made you uneasy, like there was a secret you were missing.

"Fine, thank you," your friend replied for you when you couldn't manage words. "Your daughter is very polite."

Your parents beam at that. The uneasy feeling in your stomach gets worse.

"Thank you, monsieur Neuvillette."

Somehow, it hadn't dawned on you. Your stomach feels like it falls into the floor, but Neuvillette doesn't seem to have any other reaction, looking at your parents. They don't even wither under his stare.

You never wanted to shrink into the floor more. You had just asked your future husband about himself. And more than that, you asked him if he was kind.

Your parents talk with Neuvillette, allowing you a moment to feel invisible and wallow in your self-pity and embarrassment.

At least, until you feel a small tug on the sleeve of your blouse.

It's one of the melusines, you had found them to be very cute upon first seeing them. Your parents hadn't explained much about them, so you found yourself blinking down at the small melusine.

"He is," she says to you, nodding.

You tilt your head to the side. Briefly, you feel eyes on you, but when you look at your parents, they're still talking to Neuvillette, and taking his attention.

"He's what?"

She hands you a long ribbon. It's a deep, ocean blue, the same color that Neuvillette is wearing.

"He is kind," she explains, patiently, as though you were a child. "I heard you ask."

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, especially as she climbed up next to you, weaving the ribbon through your hair, and both your parents and Neuvillette turned to stare.

"Y/N, that is very rude to ask," your mother scolds, because that is the lot of women in life, only to worry about when men think of you and what might make you undesirable. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Nonsense, it is a very reasonable question to ask. Why wouldn't someone want to know who they're marrying?" Neuvillette cuts in, before your mother can scold you any more.

Your parents fall silent, nodding their heads in agreement as though they hadn't been about to lecture you like a child. You would have laughed if it wasn't for the Melusine finishing with your hair.

"There," she says, with her self imposed job done. "Will you be having a wedding?"

You weren't sure your heart could take any more surprises today. Your cheeks hadn't even lost their blush from the first moment, at this point you didn't think they'd ever go back to their normal color.

"We'll have to see," you murmur, because you weren't completely sure yourself.

She nods, taking in your word and opinion as though it was law. Neuvillette didn't contradict you either, but did finally turn back to your parents.

You don't get too much of a chance to participate in most of the conversation. The Melusine, Sedene, as you learned the name of, asks you more questions that keep you occupied.

It's a welcome distraction. It's better than awkwardly listening to a conversation about your future where at least two of the three people here wouldn't even care for your input.

The jury was still out on Neuvillette.

Eventually though, it grew late, late enough that Sedene was sleeping with her head on your lap. It seemed that finally the other three were tired of negotiating over your life.

Before you knew it, you looked up from your lap just in time to see Neuvillette leave without even a goodbye, the door clicking behind him. Your parents look much too pleased with themselves, which you somehow didn't think was possible.

"I told you, the match would be a good one," your mother tells your father, pride seeping into her voice.

You're not so sure. You can't be sure. At least not yet.

"Yes," your father agrees, with the same fond voice he always had when he didn't want to argue with your mother, and it's easier just to agree.

It seems, just like the foundation of Liyue, that your future is set in stone.

You hope Fontaine will be kind to you.

-x-x-x-x-

You do not have a wedding.

It's actually fine with you. More than fine, really. Apparently as Chief Justice of Fontaine, Neuvillette is well liked and popular. The amount of people you'd have to invite to the wedding would be too many for you.

So you simply don't. You sign a document and in the eyes of the law, and of Neuvillette, that is enough.

Though a part of you aches that you will never have the traditional Liyuen wedding you dreamed of as a child. But you suppose that dreams of childhood should stay there.

You move into Neuvillette's home. Fontaine comes as a culture shock, almost.

The amount of times you get absolutely lost in this fish-bowl of a city manages to astound even you.

It's not your fault, really. Liyue Harbor is easy to navigate, warm and welcoming. In Fontaine, the streets all somehow manage to look the same, though the shops sell things you never even thought of. At some point, you're pretty sure you even see a woman standing outside of a building with a mechanical bird.

You end up seeing other Melusines more than your new husband. You don't really blame him for this, his job is important and needed, so each day he bids you a single "good morning" along with a look you couldn't decipher, as he heads to the Opera House.

That's a whole other thing about Fontaine that you still haven't investigated.

It's not as though you're upset that you don't see Neuvillette often. But he is one of the few people that you know here, and it doesn't take long for you to be lonely in the new city, without any of your friends.

Though you find the Meluine's to be kind. They help you when you get lost, and press small gifts into your palms as they take your hands to lead you around.

They tell you to tell Neuvillette to take some time off work. To spend some time with you. You nod and agree that you'll tell him the next time you see him.

But when the man quickly leaves in the morning and doesn't return until late, you never really get a chance to.

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he'd been avoiding you.

It's like that for almost a month. He says good morning, disappears, and you wander the city to familiarize yourself with it. He never comes home until the sun has almost set, and night is almost there, while you wander until the rain finally starts for the day.

You asked the Melusine's about it once, commenting that there wasn't so much rain in Liyue. They tell you of the hydro dragon and the tears it cries. You hope that someday you will get to meet this dragon and see what makes them so sad.

At least, it stays like that until it doesn't, as most things tend to do.

You were lost, which wasn't too much of a surprise, but unlike the times before, there were no Melusine's to bring you back home or to a place you knew. The rain had started earlier today, earlier than anyone seemed to expect, and before you knew it, you were huddled in an alley, your clothing absolutely soaked and shivers running down your spine from the wet and the cold.

You missed Liyue. You missed your friends, your parents, you missed the smells and sounds of the harbor. Tears burned in your eyes and mixed with the rain on your cheeks.

Standing there simply isn't going to fix things though, so you eventually left your small, but dry, protection, and decided to finally figure out this city.

Your confidence fades the longer you walk around.

It takes almost two hours of wandering around in the rain until you finally recognize something. Not the path home, but to the first place you ever meet Neuvillette, despite not knowing at the time.

You push open the door. It's late, though that doesn't seem to mean the place is devoid of life. Wrapping shaking arms around yourself, you spot a sliver of light coming from Neuvillette's office.

It felt much too late to be working, but perhaps it was Sedene, fixing up things. Tentatively, you knock on the door, and the faint scratching of a pen against paper suddenly stopped.

Suddenly, this felt like a mistake. You took a single step back, but before you could change your mind and leave, the door swung open and Neuvillette stood there, a look of mild concern on his face.

Neither of you spoke. Neuvillette looks you up and down, brows furrowing, and you realize all at once that you must look like a sight, absolutely soaked and dripping water on the floor. If you weren't so cold, your cheeks would be flushed.

"Why are you here?" he asks, glancing around as though that would provide him with the answer.

Your shoulders slump. You can't really explain why. Maybe it's the disappointment  at the sight of you, or the lack of a warm welcome. Not 'what happened to you' or 'why are you soaking wet' but instead a question that felt almost like he questioning your presence in general.

"I-um," you stutter through chattering teeth, "I got lost and didn't know where to go."

That felt like an understatement of what happened, but you weren't sure how else to answer the question.

Neuvillette didn't seem to know either.

When he didn't say anything more, you shifted from foot to foot, wincing at the cold and the squish of wetness. You'd be lucky if you didn't get sick, after this.

"You got lost?" he finally asks, as though the concept was foreign to him.

You don't know what to say, so you shrug, peering around him. It seemed Sedene had already left for today, and there went your hope for an escort home.

"The streets all look the same to me," you manage, shivering again. "Uh-you can just tell me which way to go, and I'll get out of your hair. I didn't mean to be a bother."

"And why didn't you ask anyone for help? Anyone could have told you where I live."

The question almost comes out cold, for how logical it is. You huff, a small noise of frustration. All you wanted at the moment was to get out of these wet clothes and to be warm again. But it seems that isn't going to happen any time soon.

"Never mind," you murmur, suddenly so tired. Of course he wouldn't understand why you wouldn't want to ask for help. Your Fontainian was still in it's learning stage, and while you could ask a couple of questions with a thick accent, you had no idea how to ask someone to lead you home.

Plus, wouldn't it reflect badly on him, to have a wife who didn't even know how to return home? But you supposed, if it didn't matter to him, then it shouldn't matter to you.

"I'll see you at home, then," you murmur, turning on your heel to leave.

It was the last thing you wanted to do at the moment. The rain seemed to be coming down even harder, you could hear the thunderous roar of rain against the roof as you went to the main door.

A little more rain wouldn't hurt, and you were pretty sure you knew the way home from here.

You step out into the rain, but surprisingly, you don't get any wetter than before. The rain hits something above you, and you glance up to see an umbrella.

Neuvillette stands slightly behind you, umbrella extended over you. You still hadn't stopped shivering, teeth clattering together. Neuvillette almost looks pained as he looks down at you.

"You'll catch your death out here," he says, as though that explains everything.

And then, in true Fontaine fashion, he extends his arm out to you to link your own through, a true and proper escort.

You take it, if only for the stability. And maybe the warmth. And also the umbrella is hardly big enough for two, if you don't stand close, then Neuvillette would get wet as well.

That's the only reason.

He makes quick work of the walk home, and you were almost dismayed by how close you had been the entire time. By the time you walk up the steps, still shivering from  the cold, the rain had finally stopped, the sky clearing to reveal the stars.

"I shall make you something to eat while you dry off," he says, as though it is the law of the land.

You wonder if that is how he sounds in court, when he's trying the cases. You almost want to argue just for the sake of it.

But being dry and having a warm meal sounds much too good to ignore, so you only nod, and go to change your clothes. You debate on taking a bath, the call of the warm water ends up being much too tempting for you.

You emerge feeling like a new person. The water washes away the feelings of the day, and the coldness in your bones. You emerge feeling like a new person, if not a bit more tired and ready for bed than before.

Neuvillette is true to his words. Your hair drips with water as you peek into the kitchen, only to find him sitting at the table, waiting, with two bowls of soup in front of him.

"Come," he says when you don't move forward. You do as asked, sitting beside him and inhaling the rich aroma of the soup.

You had found here that the food varied greatly from what you were used to in Liyue. It certainly wasn't bad, but it was an adjustment. Even the soup was a bit creamier than you were used to, but you ate it eagerly, allowing it to chase away whatever lingering chills the bath hadn't rid you of.

"I'd like to apologize," Neuvillette starts, his own food barely touched, like it's an afterthought for him.

You tilt your head, exhaustion falling over you from the soup and warmth. "For what?"

He looks embarrassed. It's a rather cute look on the normally stoic man. Neuvillette struggles for words, almost seeming to give the words spoken to you the same value that he gives to the court.

"I was not aware that you were struggling to adjust here, I should have foreseen such an event occurring."

He almost looks upset, suddenly. You understand, at least you think you understand. It must be hard having a wife who couldn't even navigate the city of your home.

"It's okay, I'll do better in the future," you reassure, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder as you stand.

It's the first bit of contact you've had since you were married and he placed a kiss upon your cheek at your parents badgering. He looks a bit annoyed though, so you retract your hand to not make him more uncomfortable.

"That's not what I meant. I meant that I should have been here to help you adjust."

"Oh," you say, honestly confused. "it's alright. You're very important here, I don't want to be a bother when you're so busy."

Your words seem to have the opposite of your intended desire. If anything, he looks more upset, leaving you with a rather sour taste in your mouth.

You seemed to be more of an inconvenience than you had even considered.

You hoped this wouldn't turn into an argument. You were tired from wandering and walking for hours, from being caught out in the rain. You rested your head on your hand, trying to think of something to say.

Before your tired mind could think of anything, Neuvillette sighed, a long suffering thing that sounded much older than he must be.

"You should go to bed."

You don't need to be told twice. You take your dish to the sink, leaving it there to be washed by you in the morning. Neuvillette rises, though it seems more to see you off than to actually leave.

"Good night, y/n," he says quietly, still as upset as before.

"Good night, monsieur Neuvillette."

You fall asleep as soon as you're tucked underneath the covers of your bed. You wonder if it's the bed that you're meant to share with your husband, but he never joins you.

And that's fine with you.

-x-x-x-x-

He's still there, in the morning.

It's a sight that makes you freeze coming out of your bedroom, just able enough to peek down the hall and see him in the same place as last night, at the kitchen table. He holds the paper in his hands, the same one that you've seen just about everyone in Fontaine obsessed with.

Did you wake up early? A quick glance at the time told you no, that in fact you had woken up later than normal. Neuvillette was meant to be long gone by now, off to court.

As though sensing your stare, the paper falls, and startling purple eyes lock onto you.

"Ah, you're awake."

You nod, because what else are you going to do? Neuvillette folds the paper back into its  original shape.

"Let me know when you are ready to leave."

Well, you couldn't say you expected that to happen. You nod after a second, before disappearing to get yourself ready.

While you don't look your best, at least you aren't soaked and shaking. Really, the amount of time that you've spent with Neuvillette could be counted on one hand, and you did not like the thought of one of those times being when you were in such a sorry state.

A little bit later, you were back by Neuvillette, looking at him with nothing short of confusion as he prepares to leave.

Oh, the disappointment aches for a moment. Like a child being promised a treat only to have it taken away.

"Well? Come along then."

His voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You take a few, tentative steps forward, until he offers you his hand.

You take it, after a moment, brows furrowed with confusion.

"Don't you have court to attend to?" you ask, as he leads you outside.

"I have sent notice that I will be taking today off. I have recently become aware that my wife needs a tour of Fontaine, and I consider that a much more pressing item on my agenda."

Your cheeks color. You can't tell if it's at being called Neuvillette's wife, or from how he doesn't let go of your hand even when you walk outside.

Before you can ask him if he's sure, if he can really take time off, Neuvillette gestures down the street, and begins what has to be one of the most in depth tours of Fontaine to exist.

This time, getting lost in the sights and sounds is fun. Neuvillette explains every building you pass, the history behind it, and what is happening there now. He lets you pull him in random directions when something catches your eye, and answers every question that you can even think of.

It's fun. Neuvillette is well liked by the people, and suddenly that seems to mean you're well liked as well. The food vendors give you free samples, pressing them into your palm and insisting that you take it despite your protests.

Even the Melusine's stop, chatting with you more than Neuvilllette, much to his surprise. He even comments that you know their names, and seems very ashamed when you point out that you've spent more  time with them instead of him.

You feel like you can actually navigate the city, by the time the sun is setting. Your bones ache from the exhaustion that the excitement has left you with. When Neuvillette notices, he starts herding you home, despite your protests.

The last thing you want is for the day to end. Going back to how it was before seems unbearable now that you know how it could be. If Neuvillette knows of your plight, he says nothing of it.

He simply wishes you a good night, and lets you head to bed.

If it's a dream, you hope that you will remember every detail of it.

-x-x-x-x-

Things don't change after that, much to your relief.

Neuvillette stays in the morning, talking with you sometimes. Most of the time he reads, while you make coffee for yourself, and subsequently him. He likes it with two sugars, no milk.

The information feels nice to have. Especially when, on the very, very rare occasions you wake up before him, you can have a hot cup of coffee waiting for him.

The little things before you grow before anything else. Conversations in the morning. Coffee. Neuvillette bringing you home treats that you love, especially the conch madeleines.

There are other things, as well. When you mention missing a certain dish from Liyue, Neuvillette goes out of his way to procure it for you. You're not sure how he manages to do it, but if it means you can get slow cooked bamboo shoot soup whenever you like, then you're happy not to know.

He comes home earlier, as well. As soon as the case is done for the day, it feels like he's on his way to find you. You're happy to do just that, telling him of everything you managed to do during the day, or whatever else is going on in your head that you want to share.

Neuvillette always listens. And he remembers. You mention once, in an off handed comment, about how beautiful you thought the rainbow roses of Fontaine were.

The next day, you woke up to a bouquet of them at your bedside.

You do your best to return the favor, going to collect him at the Opera house when his day is finished.

When you were younger, you read stories of people falling in love instantly, with a single look and it was easy from there.

You think now, as a married woman, that the stories are wrong. Love comes in the small gestures, in the moments spent together.

-x-x-x-x-

It's pouring rain outside. A heavy downpour that has been going on for the last hour.

It's also the time Neuvillette normally comes home, but it doesn't seem that way today. The change in routine throws you off more than you'd like to admit.

You wait another half hour before you grab your cloak, a heavy thing that Neuvillette insisted on buying you so you wouldn't get soaked in the rain any longer, and head out to the Opera House.

You're not too fond of the aquabuses here. They're faster than walking, but something about them feels so awkwardly slow. But with a bit of tension in your shoulders, you bite down the complaints and make small talk with the Melusine piloting the aquabus as you arrive.

Neuvillette only took you over here once, to show you the Fountain of Lucine. You suppose, on another level, it was also to make sure that you knew where the Opera House was in case you needed him and didn't want to get lost.

You're thankful for his planning.

Everyone else has already left, except for a very dedicated couple by the fountain, praying for blessings upon their child. You wonder if someday that will be you, but dismiss the thought with a blush.

It takes you much too long to find Neuvillette. For a man who cuts such an imposing figure, you wander around in the rain looking for him for much longer than needed. Eventually though, you find him at the back of the Opera House, standing in the rain as though he doesn't notice it.

"Neuvillette?" you call, quiet, as to not startle him. It seems you do so anyways, from how he jumps. "Are you alright?"

He nods, but doesn't speak. You reach out to take a gloved hand, everything about him feels cold.

You lead him back home, and he follows you as though he has no mind for anything else. It takes too long to get home but also not enough time. You hold his hand the entire way.

"Was court today rough?" you finally ask, when you're in the security of your shared home. Neuvillette lets out a hum, not agreeing but not disagreeing either.

You usher him to the bathroom to clean himself up, and go to make something warm, when the irony of the situation hits you all at once, because it must have only been a few months ago that Neuvillette did the same thing for you.

It felt nice to have the roles  switched.

 Neuvillette doesn't seem hungry, so you usher him into your own bed, since truthfully you've been suspicious that he's been sleeping on the couch or at his desk in his office to prevent you from feeling uncomfortable.

You sit down, and urge him to lay his head in your lap. You brush your fingers through his slightly damp hair, and you hum a Liyuen lullaby your mother used to sing to you.

Neuvillette never talks about court. You asked him once and only once about it, curious since everyone in Fontaine seemed to think that the cases were some kind of show. But Neuvillette had simply said that it was very usual, and not worth discussing.

At the time, you took him at his word. Now though, you wonder if it's something more.

"I believe an innocent man was sentenced today," Neuvillette says, after a moment. His voice is so soft, you almost can't hear it under the pouring rain outside.

"Is that so?" you ask, a silent prompt. Does he want to continue? Or leave it there?

He sighs after only a second, pressing further against your hand in his hair. Like a cat seeing attention.

"I'm sure it will be resolved soon, I simply need to investigate things more."

You nod, remaining silent. Neuvillette doesn't explain more, but eventually, as his breathing evens out, the rain comes to a stop outside.

You can't bring yourself to move. It would no doubt wake up Neuvillette, and that seemed like the last thing anyone needed. So you settled amongst the pillows, and close your eyes.

If you wake up tomorrow, still close to another and sleepy limbs tangled together, you said nothing of it. Neither does Neuvillette.

After that though, your bed becomes just the bed, and you're not opposed to that at all.

-x-x-x-x-

The Fountain of Lucine ends up being one of your favorite places in Fontaine. Not for any particular reason, you tell yourself, it's simply pretty to look at.

And that's not a lie. It is pretty to look at, and it's fun to visit and listen to expecting parents wish for good things for their children. It was nice to see the sights and sounds without the hustle and bustle of the city.

The first time you end up going out though, you can't say you had the most pleasant experience.

You had gotten the idea in your head, perhaps you were too bored lately, that you should visit Neuvillette at work and bring him lunch. So you packed a small bag, and made the journey.

Only to be stopped at the entrance of the Opera House by one of the gardes.

"Court is in session, no one is allowed in, miss, without a ticket."

Your head tilts to the side, truly puzzled. A ticket? People bought tickets to court, as though it was a show?

"I'm not going to see the court, I came to drop something off for Neuvillette," you explain to the man, holding up the small box.

The man eyes it with a bit of suspicion, and part of you almost wants to ask if he really thinks you've poisoned it. Another part of you is sure that if you ask, you will absolutely get accused of that.

"That's nice, miss, but you still can't go in. I'm sure you know monsieur Neuvillette has many admirers, and we can't stop court simply because you wish to give him a gift."

Wow. You weren't even sure how to unpack that. You crossed your arms over your chest, not budging.

"I am his wife, here to bring him lunch. Do you want to explain to Neuvillette tomorrow about how you banned his wife from visiting him.?"

The man, you still haven't even gotten his name yet, isn't looking at you any more. He's looking behind you, a look of mild panic on his face.

Oh, this was going to be just like one of those soap operas back in Liyue, wasn't it? You knew without looking who was going to be there.

"Monsieur Neuvillette!" he said, giving the salute of Fontaine. "I was just telling this young woman that we do not allow visitors during court."

"That is true," Neuvillette says, you can almost hear a bit of smile in his voice. "However, I think I can make an exception for my wife. Thank you though, I will handle it from here."

The man scurries away before you can say anything. If he had a tail, it would have been between his legs.

"I think you scared him," you said, turning to your husband.

You ignore your racing heart at hearing Neuvillette call you his wife for the first time. You couldn't stop the smile from spreading on your face though.

"I think if anyone scared him between the two of us, my dear, it was you," he muses, and yes, it is amusement you can hear in his voice.

You two stand there, smiling at each other for a moment before you remember just why you made the journey out here.

"Oh, I brought you lunch." You place the small package in his hand. "I'm sure you're busy here and I wanted to make sure you were eating. I didn't know I needed a ticket to get inside. How did you know I was here?"

"Ah, Aeife told me you had arrive, and I suspected that you would encounter a problem."

He gestures to the side, and sure enough, the small Melusine is there. She gives you a wave before going back to skipping and offering help to those who need it

"She's sweet."

"She is," Neuvillette agrees. "I think most of them like you more than me."

"Who wouldn't like me?"

The smile Neuvillette gives you almost makes you blush, but you barely manage to get a hold of yourself.

"Yes, they'd be fools not to like you."

And now you were blushing. You gently swatted Neuvillette's arm, and only received a chuckle for your antics.

"Thank you," Neuvillette says, genuinely. "I must return now, but I appreciate the thought."

A tiny sliver of disappointment ran through you, but you pushed it down, nodding your head. "Of course, of course. Don't let me keep you. Off you go now."

You made a little shooing motion, the smile on your face letting him know you were simply teasing. But he didn't leave.

"Any time you wish to come and see me, there will always be a ticket waiting for you at the booth." He gestures to the sales booth, which very much looked closed, but you didn't say that. "I'll be sure to tell you the next time Lyney and Lynette do their show."

You visibly perked up, which gained you a small chuckle. You hadn't been shy about saying you wanted to see the show, though apparently it was impossible to find tickets to it.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to take you up on that."

You stood up on your tip toes, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek. He seems surprised at the touch, but after a moment manages to compose himself, saying a quick goodbye before returning to work.

Aefie tugged at your skirt, a gentle motion almost as soft as a breeze. You knelt down to her level, allowing her to whisper in your ear.

"Thank you for making Neuvillette so happy."

-x-x-x-x-

You fell a lot, as a child, as all children do.

Scraped knees and bruised elbows. What is childhood without a few injuries? Without those precious moments that make them realize oh, sometimes life has pain.

The first time you heard of the concept of "falling in love" you had thought it was like that. Falling on the ground and bruising your knees.

Now though, you think it is something else. Like the feeling of falling into a warm bed at the end of a long day.

Neuvillette is already in bed tonight, laying on his side facing where you normally lay. You tip toe over to the bed, just in case he's already fallen asleep.

He hasn't though, and your eyes meet his vivid purple ones as you lay down, facing him as well.

"I thought you were asleep," you murmur. Tentatively, you reached for him, only to have him meet you halfway. Your fingers laced together with his.

"I was waiting for you."

Such a simple declaration is enough to make you blush. A year of marriage and he still managed to make you blush.

"I'm here now."

Something changes in his eyes, and he looks at you, so, so, fond. "You are here."

You both lay there, either unwilling or unable to fall asleep, feeling so close but somehow still so far away. It's one of the nights when the rain isn't falling. When you first came to Fontaine, it felt as though the rain never stopped, but now it's only occasionally.

"You never answered my question, you know."

Neuvillette frowns for a moment, thinking. You take pity on him before he can worry if he made you upset.

"I asked if you were kind," you murmur, gentle.

It felt like ages ago, talking to a stranger without knowing who they were. Neuvillette looks at you, waiting, knowing you weren't finished.

You had been so worried about everything. And though Sedene had told you, you didn't know if you could believe it or not.

"And what have you found?" Neuvillette asks. His voice is small, as though he's actually afraid of how you might answer.

You don't hesitate.

"You are," you whisper. You inch closer, knees brushing against his own. "You are so, so kind."

He kisses you. Lips sliding against your own, slotting there as though they were meant to be there. And desperately, with almost a full year of longing in you, you kiss back.

You're breathless by the time that he pulls back. He looks the same, and for the first time you see a small blush on his cheeks.

"I love you," he whispers, a reverent noise just for you.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again.

"I love you too."

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Could I ask for some yandere alucard post season 3 with a s/o that isn't human or only part human? Like being half fae, nymph or siren. I just think the dynamics of that relationship would be quite different then say if the object of his obsession was human given his lack of faith in humanity in season 3s aftermath

A/N: I LOVE this question! It was so interesting to think about all the different ways the MC could be half-human and have that connection with Alucard. I did end up going with a mermaid/siren sort of creature as the original asker did send in an additional ask clarifying how they could picture this abused mermaid girl feeling kinship with Alucard because of his current distrust of humans, and I liked that element. I also chose a siren / mer create as they have abilities to manipulate/hypnotize their prey, an ability Alucard probably has as well with him being half-vampire. I ended up writing a very long outline in bullet points but felt that it didn't quite flow for HC, so I instead broke it up into smaller scenes below. I hope that’s ok. Sorry, it took so long. I was sick with some weird virus for weeks (lowkey feel like it’s mono or something), and could only handle work and family crap, like I barely had any motivation to live. And then when I started writing this, it sort of took on a life of its own lol. (What can I say? I love me some Alucard.) 

Anon also suggested I check out this manga- it’s called Becoming the Villain's Family and it’s about a siren who goes back in time and makes a marriage pact with a devil to prevent their untimely fates. I’m not a huge manga reader, but my sister is, so I’m going to recommend it to her and maybe we can read it together. 

Yandere! Alucard (Post-S3) w/ A Half-Siren S/O 

The fair creature did not see quite how it happened, for it had all transpired too fast. A deep guttural growl echoed from past the tree line, well beyond the corners of her vision as the very ground beneath the wagon’s feet began to shake violently. As swiftly and silently as a flash of lightning, the wagon she resided in was sliced in half, the metal cage that kept her prisoner acting as her only guard against an elongated talon from some sort of monster. The cage was tossed sideways, skittering along the dirt ground as the poor mer creature inside flipped over violently, her dehydrated human form and lack of clothing sending her soft, nearly translucent skin into the square welds hard enough to form bruises. 

“Retrieve the asset!” 

“Don’t let her escape!” 

“Are you crazy?! Fuck the asset!” 

Around her, a flurry of mixed male voices shouted out contradictory directions. With only the setting sun for light, it was difficult to make out who had yelled what. 

Then came more growls in addition to all the shouting. Then the shouting turned into screaming. And a handful of those screams turned into cut-off cries followed by loud squelching. A flurry of slices and swings from blades and swords interrupted what must have been the creature's onslaught, but it would certainly not last long. There would be more torn flesh, and more final yells- a final symphony of bloodshed to follow. 

Kneeling into an upright position, the fair mer creature pushed and pulled frantically against the metal door of her cage. The hinges had warped in the fall, bending just so, that if enough force was applied…

With a metallic screech, the young water maiden could kick her cage door from its battered hinges. Fortunately enough for her, none of her captors seemed to notice her imminent freedom, the lot of them busy battling hideous creatures beyond any comprehensible amalgam or imagination. 

Unfortunately for her, her sudden movement did not go unnoticed by one such creature. 

A smaller, fiendish-looking thing, with the body of a lizard, but the head of a vulture, and the tail of a scorpion mawed loudly at her, its stinger striking warningly at the ground. 

Not needing to be told twice, the young maiden leaped up and made a mad dash for the treeline on the other side of the clearing, opposite the line of creatures. 

As she made it past the treeline she watched as one of her imprisoners struck successfully at the rear of the small fiendish creature with the sharp end of a spear. It cut roughly into the monster’s backside, turning the horrid thing’s attention away from her back onto her captors. 

Pausing for a mere second, she took one last look at the few men still alive, fighting for their lives against the horrible creatures. Even if they were to win the fight, she swore it would be the last time she saw them. Beasts or no beasts, she was never losing her freedom again. 

✧ ✧ ✧

The bottoms of her feet stung with every step, and her calves burned worse every time she jumped over branches, landing on uneven ground. Her thighs were practically numb from the midseason cold, and her time forced to rest on the cold metal bars of her prison certainly did not help. But she refused to stop running. Even if she was unfamiliar with the practice of traveling upright on two extremities, she perished the thought that her inexperience might slow her down. She could not fail. She could not yet rest. Whoever won the fight between her captors and the creatures was certain to follow after her once the battle was done. She could not waste precious time. So despite pain and exhaustion, she pushed onward. 

After what felt like an eternity, although, if she were to judge by the moon, it must have only been a few hours, she found her legs could no longer support her weight, as her knees buckled beneath her, slipping on the soft embankment ground. 

‘Embankment?’ The maiden, feeling a final surge of hope, strained her neck to get a better look. It did appear that she had made it to a river bank, although it was a rather small one at that. Still, the sight felt like a miracle. It had been too long since her body was submerged, snug, within her element’s embrace. And given the choice between breathing her last breaths on the cold dry forest ground, or under a river’s soft current, she’d choose the river, any day. 

Using her arms to pull herself into the cold water, she breathed one final breath of chilled night air before slinking into the river water. Closing her eyes, the young maiden had but one thought: 

‘If this is to be my final resting place, then so be it.’ 

✧ ✧ ✧

The next morning started the same way all mornings do: the sun rose in the sky, the birds and bugs began their daily chirps, and a very forlorn-looking Adrian Tepes, known currently as Alucard, son of Dracula exited his castle in search for food, his usual basket in hand. Unusual however were the two corpses that greeted him as he passed the castle steps. 

Alucard paid the bodies no mind, he didn’t once glance in either of their directions. He kept his eyes forward, locked onto the foliage and wildlife hidden within the forest line choosing to pretend the bodies were no longer there. Yes, he knew they were there. Of course, he knew. He was the one to string them up after all. But if he were to acknowledge the corpses' presence, then he would also be required to acknowledge the circumstances that led them to be staked there, and that was something not even the great slayer of Dracula could do. So instead Alucard did what he could: he adjusted the basket in his arms and began mentally preparing the meal he would make. 

Coming to the river bank, Alucard felt something was off. He sensed another presence nearby. Kneeling down to the water, he kept his ears open for any movement within the trees but did not hear any. 

‘Odd.’ The dhampir waited for a spell before resuming his usual activities. He methodically removed his boots, before rolling up the ends of his pants, as he prepared to wade into the river. He had found a comfortable position, balanced on the river rocks below his feet when he noticed another oddity. 

“Where have all the fish gone?” 

The river, once teeming with fish, ones even brave enough to stick around as he waded into the water, were nowhere to be seen. Besides the rushing of water over the river bank, Alucard could not hear them swimming around within the water below. 

Turning his head, he found a single glint of scales reflecting the morning’s rays a few meters from where he had been standing. But just one fish? Or perhaps, a damn of some kind was preventing them from moving freely. Alucard made a move to investigate closer. But then, just as he turned to do so, what appeared to be an incredibly large fish leaped out of the river, and flopped onto the bank. It writhed around, flopping this way and that before rolling over to face him. It was at that moment Alucard realized why all the other fish had disappeared. There was no damn, no net. It was because of this… this creature. 

✧ ✧ ✧

The young mermaid awoke with a start, the deep echo of footsteps underwater had vibrated her awake. From where she lay, her vision was obscured, but she could make it out that the being was human in nature, standing on two legs, with only two arms to boot. It did not possess any claws or animal characteristics like any of the night creatures from the night before, nor did it appear to resemble any of the men who had taken her. 

The maiden stayed as still as stone, hoping this new strange human would grow bored of waiting for a meal to catch, turn around, and go home. But luck, as it had proven time and time again as of late, was not on her side. 

The man made a move towards her position, and she found she could not help the fear that bubbled up from inside her chest. The river was too small for her to swim through. More so, moving within the water would only create splashes to further catch this stranger’s attention. If she wanted to get away, she’d need to shift back to her human form and make yet another run for it on foot. 

Using the strength her long waterlogged rest had given her, she propelled her body out of the water, onto the river bank. As soon as her full body was on land, she writhed and wriggled, doing all she could to shake the excess water from her body. 

Her earlier set of legs had once again merged into a fishtail, strong and thick, with grooved fins to match. Her abdomen and chest were plated with scales all up the sides. And as she shook herself dry, several of those scales slid off her body into the dirt. Her ears, previously flesh and pointed more like an elf’s, had pulled back, with loose tentacle-like fins spouting out around their outer shell. In the daylight, she knew there was no mistaking what she was. But if she was to change her form quickly, it was a risk she needed to take. 

Despite the morning's warm sun, her body did not dry as fast as she had hoped. The maiden used her arms, and her now-clawed fingers to pull herself up further, finally gaining purchase on one bark of a tree, as she did her best to twist around and face this stranger head-on. 

Letting out a hiss, she bore her fangs at the strange blonde man standing before her. Only the man did not seem intimidated, nor shocked to see a creature such as herself. If anything, he appeared, at ease. Was this perhaps a trap? She hissed again but found herself on the side of surprise when the seemingly human man bared his own set of fangs and hissed back. 

✧ ✧ ✧

‘A mermaid?’ Alucard watched, amused, as the young creature did her best to appear menacing to him. If only she knew, how instead of fear, Alucard felt a rush of reassurance at the sight of her inhuman features. 

‘Humans,’ he thought bitterly. It was two humans who had hurt him most of all. Not even his own father’s war on humanity had harmed him the way those two did. His father left him for dead paled in comparison to the shame and torment he carried with him from that one night.  

Had a human shown their face on his property, he’d… Well, Alucard was not certain what he would do should they refuse his order to leave. But whatever he decided, it would not be a fate any would enjoy, that’s for certain. 

Thankfully, with the very distinct mer-features of this individual, that point was moot. He did not need to threaten disembowelment or an eternity of torture as a spawn, Alucard felt no such need to. 

He took a step closer, taking in her unique features. Her eyes were large and dark, almost pure pools of black. He could feel the pull luring him in closer the longer he looked into them. Her skin was almost opaque, despite its color. At certain angles, rays of the morning sun seemed to shine through her body, as opposed to around it. And her tail, no doubt the most impressive of her peculiarities, glinted impressively, making her an almost otherworldly mirage against the browns and greens of the surrounding greenery. 

Of course, no sooner than Alucard could admire such an ethereal sight, her tail began to lose some of its luminescence, growing duller by the second. The previously shiny scales that overlapped each other began to flake off, one by one. Down the middle of her tail, from where her belly button would have been on her abdomen had she been a human, what scaled skin remained began to crack, viscously, like a deep fissure that would not heal. The fissure continued to grow in depth and width as Alucard came within feet of her. 

She hissed for a second time at his forward movement, but Alucurd was undeterred. Smiling a sort of melancholy smile, he paused before opening up his maw, revealing his impressive fangs with a hiss of his own.

At his revelation, the creature’s demeanor changed abruptly. Gone was the fear and hatred in her eyes, instead replaced by a much more benevolent wonder. 

She opened her mouth, the tentacles around her ears shriveling into themselves, her ears changing to a more elven point as they came to rest flatter against her head. Alucard watched as her fangs dissipated too, the sharp canine points rounding themselves down into very simple humanoid-looking teeth. The back of her throat opened and closed, but very little sound came out. If she was trying to communicate, it seemed a verbal conversation was currently off the table. 

“I am Alucard Tepes, son of Dracula and Lisa Tepes.” Alucard spoke, taking the lead for her. “And I am not human.” 

The mermaid closed her eyes as she leaned back against the tree bark, wincing once or twice as a very slime-covered, human-looking bottom half cracked free from the dried shell of her former tail. She used her hands to pull the husks away from her body, leaving every bit of her person on display. 

Alucard cleared his throat before deciding to remove his shirt and give it to her. He tossed the white shirt to the maiden who caught it in one hand. Bringing it in to smell, she sniffed it before looking back at him curiously. 

“If you wish to spend the walk back to my castle naked, I won’t stop you. But as I’m sure you’ve learned, people up here spend most of their life clothed.” 

She turned her head in the opposite direction as if to say, ‘So?’ before ultimately relenting, pulling the white top over her head. 

Making a move to stand, her legs wobbled, giving out underneath her. But before she could fall, by the grace of his vampiric speed, Alucard managed to catch her, one of his arms looping under hers around her shoulder. Upon noticing the sudden conflict, the mermaiden hissed again but made no move to shove him off. Making another choked-off sound, from the back of her throat, she tried speaking again. 

“Ghhank hou.” Frowning, she cleared her throat before trying again. “Thgank cou,” her voice was quiet, and yet deep and guttural at the same time as if she was holding back. 

“So you can speak,” Alucard commented as he helped her walk a distance, finding her balance. 

The young maiden nodded, before shaking her head. “Youg may naught want mee too.” She blinked her large, dark eyes at him, pointing to them, them down to her throat as she did so. “Sssighh-rhen.” 

Alucard paused his walking, staring his golden orbs back at her. In the light, the mermaid watched as they glittered and shined, an almost metallic color, reminiscent of pirates’ gold, lulling her into a sense of security. She gave off a warning growl, having caught on to the fact that she was not the only one with influential abilities. Alucard blinked twice, breaking off the trance. 

“As I said before,” he reiterated, leading the way back to his castle, “I am not human.” 

The mermaiden watched him, as an almost smirk graced her inhumanely beautiful face. “Gooodd,” she hissed out. 

✧ ✧ ✧

“That is how the castle came to be in my possession.” 

Alucard led the young mermaiden down the many hallways and corridors of the castle, telling her the story of how he, along with Belmont and Sypha, were tasked with defeating Dracula. He stopped to point out various rooms along the way, the ones he was the most familiar with, anyway. There was still much of the castle that felt foreign to him. It was as if he walked the rows of a graveyard, rarely stopping to notice yet another name on a tombstone. How many hands had helped build this place? How much of their blood was shed to gather all the infinite knowledge and wealth that was kept here? Alucard did not know. Nor was he certain he wanted to know. 

Walking past the various debris and carnage still left from their battle with Dracula, Alucard ushered her into his father’s former study, now his study. In the middle of the room sat one large rather ornate chair, placed before a cracked fireplace. In the chair was a crumbled blanket and pillow. On the small table next to it, a cold long-forgotten cup of tea. The items together suggested this chair was used in recent days for sleeping, not for sitting and reading or studying of any sort. 

The mermaiden narrowed her eyes at that. Surely, even with this battle, Alucard claimed had taken place within his home, there were bedrooms and living quarters left unbothered. Why would someone in possession of such a grand and luxurious home sleep sitting up in a chair? Or perhaps, was it a question of biology, not psychology? Did a being like Alucard require sleep at all? 

As the mermaiden contemplated, Alucard kneeled down to start a fire, but not before vaguely gesturing at the crack that ran up the front brick of the fireplace. “As you can see, the fight was not limited to one area or room.��� 

“Bprokeghn,” the mermaid nodded before gesturing herself to the chair and blanket set-up. “Behd?” 

Alucard cleared his throat, as he stoked the beginning flames of the fire. “My room was… damaged, yes.” 

Seemingly content with that answer, the mermaiden turned her attention to other parts of the room. 

Off to the right there were various bookshelves and texts. And on the left? A modest oak desk sat under a large painting of a beautiful woman. Her hair was golden, almost appearing to glow under the warm hue of the fire’s dancing light. Her eyes were large and hopeful, and her size petite but strong. In her hand, she held a white flower, although its beauty paled in comparison to hers, it was a lovely touch against the dark maroon dress she was wearing. 

“Prehty,” she said, stopping to admire the woman in the painting. 

Upon hearing her words, Alucard looked up, a soft smile having formed on his face. “Yes,” he said. “She was beautiful.” 

Glancing back at the man, the mer creature noticed his hair was blonde and rather lovely as well. Not as gorgeous as her own siren’s locks of course, but that was understandable. She pointed to the hair of the woman in the painting before pointing to her own, and then finally, to his. “Prehty too.” 

✧ ✧ ✧

From where he stood in the kitchen, Alucard watched amusedly as the young woman tried taking a bite of her grossly undercooked fish using a knife and fork, stifling a laugh every time she would manage to grip one utensil only to drop the other. Her less-than-human approach to everyday things made Alucard feel at ease. She was not a lying, conniving human he had to watch out for, she was not biding her time waiting to stab him in the back. Quite the contrary: she was blunt and rather oblivious to human social conventions. 

She had very little reservations when it came to nudity, Alucard had come to discover. If it wasn’t for his polite, insistence, she would have continued to roam the castle naked. Dwelling deep underwater made her rather immune to things like catching a chill. Alucard was similar, he did not feel the cold the way humans did, although he was not entirely immune to it. He would surely suffer frostbite should he choose to venture outside in the dead of winter without any clothes on his back. However, unlike a human, and more like a vampire, it would take more than freezing exposure to do him in. 

It was almost comforting in a way, to share the castle with someone who’s biology was surprisingly close to his. She was more unhuman than human most days, her residual scales and sharp claw-like nails coming back once her body had returned to full-health. Her teeth had also increased in length, although Alucard suspected she could control their sharpness at will to some degree, her opting to keep her incisors short and squared, more human-like, whenever the two would talk walks around outside the castle. 

The mermaiden also had an interesting diet. She preferred her food cold, if not raw. Even things like fish and other meats, she refused to eat properly cooked. Alucard briefly recalled the first time he had tried to offer her dinner. He steamed her fish the same way he steamed his, and presented it to her, expecting gratitude. It was humourous now, but back then he recalled being rather dissatisfied with her indignant reaction. She hissed, and berated him for serving her something ‘burnt’, or ‘burrrnt’ as she had called it. 

Alucard discovered it was less of a preference and more of a requirement when he found her eagerly licking the blood from a freshly killed and skinned hare he had fetched for dinner. It seemed that she, like him, and like the many other supernatural creatures, had a penchant for blood that was born out of a necessity, and not mere cruelty. With her diet of raw and bloody food, her skin appeared healthier- still as shiny and translucent, but less gray. Her human form’s skin was less cakey and dry, and when she did change back into her tailed form, which was rather often given how much she enjoyed lounging in one of the castle’s large communal baths, her scales shed much less than they had when they first met. Upon her initial arrival at the castle, Alucard found she’d leave scales behind her wherever she walked, the same way a lover might lay out a trail of rose petals. Of course in this case, there was no intimate surprise waiting for him behind closed doors (not that he’d want one given his past circumstances, anyway), but a very brash and temperamental half-siren, usually impatiently awaiting yet another “useless” lesson in human conventions. 

“Naught fun-ie,” she hissed, under her breath, well aware of Alucard’s amusement. “No need for toools underwater.” She dropped both her knife and fork unceremoniously onto her plate before crossing her arms, looking like a wilful toddler. 

“There’s no one to impress here,” Alucard assured her. “Besides, even without a fork and knife I’m sure you eat like a magistrate compared to Belmont. The rodents outside have more manners.” 

“Belmonnt,” the fair maiden repeated, picking up her fish with her bare hands. “Frrend.” 

“Yes. Although, I haven’t seen him or Sypha for quite some time.” Alucard answered, just a hint of loneliness creeping into his voice. 

“Hadd frend wonss.” Biting into her fish, she tore a chunk of flesh off with her teeth, a satisfied groan leaving her body as some of the excess moisture dribbled down her chin. “Huumann too.” She swallowed her bite of fish down, not bothering to chew much at all. “Dyed.” She licked her lips in satisfaction. “Beectraaid.” 

“Wherever humans are concerned, such possibilities are never in short supply.” Alucard agreed, handing her a cloth napkin to wipe her chin. “It is their nature.” 

Choking down the rest of her fish, the mermaiden swallowed harshly again before asking, “Owtsighed?” Of course, the two giant stakes housing decayed corpses had not escaped her notice on their way inside. 

Alucard retrieved her empty plate, moving to place it in the sink. Closing his eyes, he desperately tried not to remember the feel of the silver cords burning his skin, the way he suffocating under Taka and Sumi’s gaze, how if it were not for his sword and the magical component of it, it’d be his body flayed and strung up outside instead of theirs. Despite not having had anything to chew or eat, Alucard swallowed hard as well. 

“Yes,” he finally said.  

✧ ✧ ✧

“Where are wee going?” The mermaiden asked, her vocabulary and annunciation having improved much over the last couple of weeks. 

Dressed in a relatively sheer nightgown and robe, the young woman begrudgingly followed Alucard, already dressed for the day, as he led her over to the remains of the Belmont hold. Upon reaching the cleverly designed pulley system, Alucard lifted the safety bar of the lift and gestured for her to get in. 

The young mer woman bared her teeth but did not hiss, a vast improvement of manners and trust on her part. 

“You may recall in the past, I’ve mentioned a man named Belmont, Trevor Belmont.” Alucard set the bar back down, clicking it into place, before pulling one of the levers to begin their descent. 

She nodded. “Friend. Miss him.” 

Alucard furrowed his brow. “I do not believe I’ve once said I missed his company.” 

The young woman shrugged her shoulders, a form of nonverbal human communication she had recently picked up on. “Still,” she wagged a finger, disapprovingly. “Can tell. No want to be alone.” 

Having reached the bottom of the lift, Alucard secured the platform before exiting, seemingly eager to remove himself from their current conversation. “I speak his name frequently because he has gifted me a rather large piece of his family’s inheritance for safekeeping. Without my permission, I might add.” 

Flicking a large switch on the wall, the mermaiden watched in awe as hundreds of blue flames suddenly sparked alight, illuminating an expansive cavern of towered rows and rows of books and other meticulously organized collections. 

“This,” Alucard extended his arm out, showcasing the vastness of the space before them, “Is the Belmont Hold. It possesses all the knowledge the Belmonts learned on creatures of the night, the collection starting generations ago. Everything any Belmont learned has been recorded onto paper, and stored somewhere within these tomes.” 

Temporarily blindsided by excitement, the mermaiden found herself quickly making her way down several sets of stairs, her balance thankfully having improved tenfold, as she ignored the darker implications of Alucard’s words. 

“So much boooks!” She cried out, settling on entering a random upper row of tomes, pulling one out of the shelf. “So much papper!” 

Alucard nodded, coming to join her. “I take it your people do not have much use for such records underwater?” 

The young mer woman nodded, running her clawed fingers delicately over the inked pages. “Runes. Maghik. No paper.” 

Carefully, Alucard took the book from her hands and placed it back onto the shelf where it belonged. Before the mermaiden could bare her teeth or hiss at him in irritation he had already begun climbing down a nearby ladder, calling for her to follow. “Come. The books are impressive, but they are not what I wish to show you.” 

Reaching the lowest level before her, Alucard smiled softly as his eyes were met with the familiar scene of a magic mirror, and open chest. How strange to think he and his friends stood on this very ground when Sypha successfully managed to summon the castle. How strange to think right there, under his feet, was where Adrian Tepes died and Alucard of Wallachia truly began. 

There was a time when Alucard believed he and he alone would be the one to ever stand upon this, practically hallowed ground. Belmont was not yet sure if he wished to resume the responsibilities of his namesake. And Sypha, well, Sypha had chosen to follow Belmont in whatever trouble he managed to get himself into. Who knows if they would be back, if they ever intended on coming back? At the end of their journey, there was Alucard, left alone to shoulder the burden of both their families’ legacies. 

Trevor had told him not to make the castle his grave, but to use it and the hold to… help people. Such a task seemed near impossible when you were one dhampir, isolated far away from the rest of the world. But then, Alucard reflected, along came Taka and Sumi, and perhaps, he had once thought, he would no longer have to be alone. 

They were so eager to learn, but they were also so eager to leave. They did not come intending to stay, Alucard knew this, and yet, he could not help the way he drew their lessons out, making sure to be as detailed as possible. If they must go, he supposed, he could make it so they did not leave for a while. It was foolish to think his desires would go unnoticed by the two humans. More foolish perhaps, to expect them to understand. Alucard had been wrong. 

They sensed he was less than forthcoming, Alucard could not deny that was true. But he never lied, not once to them. But in their humanity, in their hurt and in their pain and guilt and anger they felt they were deceived. Perhaps deception was so readily on their mind because they had arrived with a plan to play him for a fool all along. 

Either way, it was fatal on their part. Alucard may have wanted them to stay, but he did not need them. They alleviated his loneliness, but they were not necessary companions, not like Trevor or Sypha. They were far too different, far too divested from the line of existence Alucard walked to ever truly understand him. Being human, they ignorantly believed themselves to possess so many options of their own, but as fate had proven: they too were wrong. 

But this young woman, this siren, this mermaid, she was different. She did not come seeking him, rather their meeting was entirely accidental. And this time, the playing field was even: she needed him just as much, if not more, than Alucard wanted her. It was different this time. Here, within the Belmont hold and his castle, she was the outsider. And no matter how long she stayed with him, no matter how hard she tried, she would remain less human than Alucard. Next to her, he was not a monster or a beast, no. 

At her side, he appeared solely as Wallachia’s savior, Alucard, and he was neither human nor monster. 

Coming back to the present moment, Alucard watched silently as the mermaiden approached the glass display case of vampire skulls. He watched as her eyes widened, and her fists clenched, before she spun around, her fangs bared. “Exsplain, now!” 

“The Belmonts hunted creatures of the night for centuries. They came to Wallachia hunting Dracula and his army of vampires.” 

“You said Belmont friend!” 

“He is- was. As I have said to you before, he aided me in my journey to defeat my Father Dracula, to prevent him from securing the extinction of the human race.” 

The mermaiden tilted her head to the side. “Buut why? You vampire.” 

“Not entirely,” Alucard countered. 

The mermaiden’s eyes squinted. “What?”

“The woman in portraits you’ve so admired within the castle, she was my mother, Lisa Tepes, and she was human.” 

Enraged, the mermaiden’s face contorted into an expression of anger, her nostrils flaring with every huff of air she took. “Liar!” She accused him, making her way around the side of the cabinet, trying to move past the dhampir without encountering him directly. “You said humans betrayed! You said not like them! You lie!” 

“I did not lie. I never told you I was wholly vampire, nor did I once say I was not part human.” Alucard mirrored her movement, cutting her off before she could reach the stairs. “I aided humanity only to be betrayed by humans. I do not belong in their world, nor do they belong in mine.” 

“Nor in minesss!” She snarled. “You human. Not friend. Not anymoresss.” Shoving past Alucard she began up the stairs before she felt a hand on her wrist yank her back. Whipping around, she found herself face to face with Alucard, his expression angry, his fangs elongated and on clear display. 

“And where will you go? Your human charade may not disturb me but it is bound to alert others. There is no city, no town where you could travel that they would believe you to be one of their own.” His voice was deep, dark, and full of disdain. 

“Then I go home,” she retorted. “With othersss like mee.” 

“Do you think they will accept you now you’ve lived with a human, lain with a human?” 

“Half,” she spit into his face before sneering: “Half huumannn.” 

Alucard did not even flinch, entirely unphased by her vulgar action. “Human nonetheless,” he said, the ice in his veins offset only by the golden fire in his eyes. “Not even they would welcome you back now. There is nowhere you can go, no one who would welcome you. I,” he spoke, baring his fangs, “am all you have left. I am the only one who understands.” 

The mermaiden opened her mouth to speak, but could not find the words. She closed her mouth before opening it again, still hesitant on how to respond. If it was not as serious of a moment, Alucard would have laughed: she truly looked like a fish out of water. 

Careful as not to spook her, he slowly raised one hand, using it to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen from her eyes. How strange a sight to see a siren crying, awful yet beautiful at the same time. Like him, Alucard thought. 

“You are the only one who could possibly understand me. You need not ever leave.” Alucard used his other hand to take one of her own, and guide it, resting it atop his chest. “I do not wish to be alone anymore.” 

The maiden choked back more tears, shocked she was shedding them in the first place in Alucard’s presence. 

Prior to those horrible humans taking her, tears were not something the mermaiden had ever experienced. Living underwater, she was surrounded by saltwater. Even on the occasions she was consumed by great emotion, her eyes behaved no different, felt no different than they did being in their usual full-contact with water as they were everyday. But after she was taken, she found the ability to cry, something she despised. It burned the skin of her cheeks with hot shame, her throat felt too tight for air: the process of crying was foreign, and undeniably painful. She prayed it would not become a normal occurrence for her. She swore the moment she was free of her captors, she would never shed a tear again. And then she met Alucard. And he was…

Sweet. He was kind. He was not an ignorant, vengeful human. Surely, he would not give her reason to cry. They were of the same kind, she and him. He would harbor no hate for her in his heart. 

How foolish of the girl to think hatred was the only feeling capable of creating pain, of making remorse. Afterall, ‘love’ was just as powerful. ‘Love’ was just as dangerous. 

Deep down, the young siren knew the dhampir’s words were true: there was nowhere else she could go, there was no one else who would understand her, and care for her the way he did. 

In fairness, he was not fully human, he was half vampire, and his father was the great Lord Dracula to boot. He was not simple in the way other humans were. He was not stupid in the way people were. He was educated and well-aware of the fragility of egos, the slow passing of time… He did not look at the world through a mortal lens. The mermaiden knew she could do worse, in choosing someone to trust, in picking someone to rely on. 

Then again, he was half-human. She was wise to fear him, to doubt him. He may have meant what he said, when he told her she need not leave, but that did not mean she needn’t want to. But she was so far from home, so far from more of her own kind. Who else left in this region ravaged by night creatures and monsters would open their home to her the way he had? Perhaps it was wiser to stay. 

Did she even possess a choice in the matter?

Even withIn the arms of that former stranger, she felt more forsaken than she had when those evil traders first captured her. She felt so alone… Gods… 

She, too, wished not to be alone anymore. 

“Ssstay.” 

“What?” Alucard’s head snapped up at the sound of her words. “Truly?” He could not help the hope that seeped into his voice. “You wish to stay with me?” 

Before him, the mermaiden nodded, yet another human expression she had come to love over the past few weeks. “Yessss,” she hissed out, her voice still nasally from her earlier tears. “I ssstay.” 

A/N: Holy shit! Almost 8,000 words here. And to think I did it all while fighting the worst virus of my life! (See, THAT just goes to show you how strong my love for Alucard is. 

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[moralesispunk]

In terms of price x wife x simon, what if they have a threesome and both cum inside so the expecting couple can fool themselves into believing it might be price's biological baby ❤️❤️

Ohhhh anon you are onto something here!!

John x reader x Simon all links here

Alternative ending (kinda) to this John Price x wife x Simon (warnings of threesomes, f!reader, marriage to price, breeding kink from everybody, unprotected sex)

Also!! I will be posting a part 2 for the first thought soon!

"Hips up, baby," John's voice came from beside you and Simon pulled back, rolling to the side as John slid a pillow under your hips.

"I don't know if there's science behind this," you giggled, dizzy and sated.

"Not taking any chances," Simon whispered, his rough hand running down your stomach.

John knelt between your thighs and Simon lifted your back off the pillows gently so he could lean against the headboard, your body now propped up with your back against his chest.

"Need to make sure we don't lose any of this," John mutters, pressing two fingers deep inside you. "Maybe give you some more, hm? In case it doesn't take?"

Your eyes flicked down to where his other hand stroked his cock, thumb rubbing a dribble of precum. You knew it wasn't possible, John giving you a baby, the doctors had said so after months of tests, but it didn't stop the fire from igniting deep in your belly.

"Please," you whispered.

John stayed up on his knees and Simon's rough hands came to grip your thighs, holding you open as your husband slid inside. It was that familiar fullness of his cock buried deep, not hitting as deep as Simon's but stretching you wider.

You groaned, your head rocking until you were face to face with Simon and he dragged a hand down your cheek.

"You're being so good for us, hm?" He asked softly, just as John pulled out and slammed back in, his grunts filling the air. "You just got to be good and lie there all pretty, let us fill you till something takes." He dipped his chin and brushed his lips against yours. "Hm?"

Simon's thumb came to rub against you clit when his mouth slotted over yours, his other hand reaching up to twist your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. John's hands had moved to the back of your knees, folding them up so he could fuck into you deeper.

You were trapped between the two men, their weight warming you from in front and behind, and soon you were so close to coming again that you couldn't kiss Simon back any more, your jaw slackening and your eyes rolling as he kissed your neck and John stared down at you.

"Come on, darling. Come for me and then I'll fill you again." John groaned, his eyes heavy lidded. "You can do it."

"Just one more," Simon whispered into your ear, a kiss pressed to your temple.

It was too much and not enough at once, the muscles of your stomach tensing and releasing and your legs squirming in John's hold.

"That's it baby," John cooed as your body tensed again and you squeezed him, gasping his name as you came. "That's my girl, there you go."

John soon followed, his body folding over yours and his mouth pressing against yours in a hungry kiss as he filled you. "I love you," he whispered as he shuddered again, his forehead falling against your sternum and you raked your hands through his hair.

"Mmm I love you," you whispered back. You turned to look over your shoulder at Simon who was smiling down at the scene in front of him, dragging your fingers across his jaw and tilting your head up to kiss him.

"Is it bad I hope this time doesn't work so we can do that again?" He mumbles against your lips and you hear John laugh, his cock slipping out of you as he pulls you to lie next to Simon.

Simon turns on his side, his fingers dragging up your hips and tickling over your ribs as your back stays pressed against John's chest, his lips pressing kisses across your shoulder and neck. You turn to look at him, his eyes finding yours and Simon's.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

____

AHHHHH what ending do you prefer?

[bimboothefool]

Hi!! Can I request a yandere Emil and Ada x gn reader? Maybe how they met the reader, how will treat them if they ever abduct them, up to you!

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐇𝐂’𝐬

Oh Yes you may and I had to rewatch their introduction trailer just to get a good feel of their personalities. Hopefully you’ll enjoy these headcanons Anon! ^7^ 🩷 Happy Halloween to you all, hopefully this halloween was great and you got a bunch of treats or atleast had fun!!🎃🎉

Warning this story isn't suitable for an audience of 17 & younger.

This story contains the following subject matters: Drugging, Gaslighting, Possessive & Manipulative Behavior, Kidnapping, Brainwashing and Forced Marriage (???) If you click read more you've consented to reading this story.

- There’s two possibilities they’ll meet you, You’re either Ada’s coworker/psychology nurse or are a patient like Emil.

- If you’re Ada’s coworker, she’ll often observe how you behave, what your quirks are and overall take in as much info about you as possible.

- Ada falls in love with seeing how devoted you are to making sure the patients are comfortable and safe. Every time to obediently follow her orders or trial behind her, her heart skips a beat.

- She also takes into account how your relationship is with Emil, sometimes leaving him in your care as she quickly “attends” to other patients.

- Emil would at first be weary of you, but soon warms up to you. He’ll cling to you often wanting to lay his head on your shoulder or lap.

- Emil grips onto your hand, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. He craves your attention and affection.

- Emil falls in love with how gentle and kind you are to him. He’s been so deprived of it, finally getting it is like finding cold, crisp oasis in a cruel, hot desert.

- Ada seeing how well you take care of Emil, involves you in their escape plan. Basically feeding you half truths and getting you coaxed into this plan.

- If you don’t agree and stand your ground, she drugs you and takes you with her. Emil clings to your unconscious form immediately, hugging you close. Wanting your warmth as Ada drives.

- Now onto if you’re a patient like Emil, he’s pretty antisocial during his time at the asylum. Barely talking to anyone else, you showed him a sliver of kindness, he’s practically attached at the hip with you.

- Often seeking you out and asking where you are. Wherever you go, he follows right after you.

- Ada seeing this change in behavior does a bit of bargains with the higher ups and is soon assigned as your psychologist.

- She’s very intrigued on how you operate as well. Learning every intimate detail about you.

- Ada proposes the idea of taking you out of this place, proposing you’re better off with her than in here.

- She’ll again just kidnaps and drugs you if you say no.

- Now onto how they both treat you after you’re abducted for both scenarios.

- If you resisted, when you wake up, you’re tied up. Ada knows how clever you are and isn’t taking any chances. She knows that using a different method on you into making you love both her and Emil is her top priority along with helping Emil.

- “Don’t worry my love, soon you’ll see things our way. For now rest up.” Ada looks down at your restrained form.

- When the hypnosis results start to stagnate, she knows they’ve yielded incredible results. ‘ Maybe, just maybe they’ll work on you. ‘

- So now you’re apart of her tests, your backbone is forcibly ripped from you. Your autonomy is taken from you piece by piece.

- Emil helps out by constantly being beside you, seeking you out frequently and offering you comfort and security. Feeding you the idea that he nor Ada would never hurt you. They want you to be as free and happy as they are.

- After many tests, you finally crack and often needing to be close to Ada or Emil. If both they’re both around, the merrier your time is spent with them. You crave their attention at first. But slowly you needed their love.

- Ada and Emil’s love becomes your addiction, their kisses make your knees buckle, their embrace keeps you grounded and it all felt so right.

- The once loud voice screaming for you to run and hide, starts to get quieter and quieter. You don’t want to run from your beloveds. They’re your lovers, why would you run from them.

- Ada and Emil have shown you what true love is. They would never hurt you. Ada and Emil love you and you love them.

- If you went along and complied, Ada uses this to her advantage. Using Emil as a way to tempt you to not defy her. Emil isn’t innocent, he plays along and amplifies how he needs you too. Having without you, means he’s incomplete.

- With time it does its twisted job, you fall in love with Emil and soon Ada. You look forward to their kisses, the nights where you cuddle eachother.

- You all practically are each other’s entire world, you know even death won’t make neither of you part.

- This is true love, the pinnacle of pure, unconditional and unadulterated love.

- In both scenarios, when you all receive an invite. When both Ada and Emil, propose to you. Your heart is beating with sick joy. First a getaway from this life you’ve outgrown and now being engaged to the two people you clutch onto dearly.

- “Paradise… Here we come.” You smile with broken delight. You now have rings on both of your ring finger. This is the start of a new chapter, with your new wife and husband.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝

𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐨𝐧 | 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐬

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hiii there!

I wanted to request an oscar tully x targaryen reader maybe rhaenyras daughter please.. tbh i dont even know what it should be about i just wanted it to ba a oscar and targ reader .. thanks ☺️☺️

The river and the flame

Oscar Tully x princess!reader

warning : hurt/comfort, kissing, holding hands, no use of Y/n

Summary : A sacrifice, the only daughter of the Queen of the Black had to be married and the best match was the new young Lord of the House of Tully who promised to give his strength to the Queen. An engagement and marriage consummated, the fire finds itself in waters where both young nobles must hold each other to make it together and not burn and drown each other.

info : thank you dear anon for this request it was a lot of fun to write it have fun reading and have a nice day everyone

masterlist

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With fire and strength she could have been born, but when the gods were merciful and gave her first husband something in a night of listlessness through wine and potions, the Queen of the Black conceived her fourth child from a marriage that could never have been consummated.

The queen's first and own princess was born, the little child with the image of her parents bright hair thicker than her mother's silken hair and violet eyes like gems that captured everyone. Behind her were the symbols of the dragon and so she was the only one of her siblings to keep her mother's family name, a decision that complicated things and put her three brothers in an even worse light.

But sacrifices had to be made for the princess, sacrifices in the form of "assassinations", new marriages and the retreat to Dragonstone where the faction of the blacks gathered and rebuilt over the course of weeks and months.

The legacy of the Black Dragon Queen was laid on her true daughter and two small toddlers, even though Jacaerys Velaryon was her eldest son and a young man willing to prove himself to inherit his mother's legacy, he knew he had strength in his blood, a blood that his two brothers had but not his half-siblings.

So the Targaryen family, the black party faced with serious problems Daemond in Harenhall had been trying to gather support for some time, Aegon and Viserys sent away with Rhaena but what now?

An alliance had to be forged because even if honor still prevailed houses no longer chose Viserys' side, it was about the future of families, of royalty and children, it was a decision that could mean death or life, ,,Without news from Daemon we cannot rely on the support of the Riverlands…if you allow the proposal of marriage to be made" the Master began again, who returned without his raven's message.

But she didn't even have to look up from the map to hear her mother's reply, ,,Out of the question" before Rhaenyra tried to find answers in the documents and maps, she had no one to marry but her daughter, but what mother wanted to lose her child in an area she could never get to herself.

It could mean her death but when violet eyes met there was something like hope in the princess's eyes, ,,If my queen allows me to marry the new Lord Tully I would be protected by the Prince Regent and the lords of the surrounding houses who have sworn allegiance to Oscar Tully" she gave her explanation and clasped the small metal statue of the fish they had all heard the aftermath of the death and resurrection of the head of the house and it was the only solution.

It ended in a few arguments, tears and loving gestures but now just a few days later here she was under the banner of the fish with her husband Osacr Tully, despite the fact that they were both young so appreciative of each other he had welcomed her without vourtiele was sincere and loving…and perhaps her heart had beaten faster than she thought when he had placed a kiss on her palm.

He held her hand as he showed her Riverrun, introduced her to the household, the hall and the vassals who had also proclaimed themselves for his wife, he treated her as in the songs and stories of yesteryear about noble knights, ,,My reign would not be possible without you, you are the first flame in the river and my heart rejoices more and more every day in your company my beloved," he said to her as he helped her onto one of the boats and they sailed across the river together.

She smiled back at him and gratefully held his hand, holding this little,,,nushell" quite insecurely in contrast to her grandfather's boats, but with every little jerk he held her tightly to him, his dark eyes like the river assuring her of her safety.

,,You are safe I promise" he murmured to her as he held her and she dipped her hand in the river, the wetness and coolness was pleasant instead of the everlasting heat and warmth, ,,I will follow you my lord husband" she replied after the words her mother and grandmother had taught her.

Before she felt his hand gently on her cheek it was just the two of them and the still river as they came closer and kissed again, ,,Oscar please my love" she whispered and she leaned her forehead against his for a moment as the two barely grown nobles lay in each other's arms enjoying the river ride while a joyful scream could be heard above them from time to time between the clouds and she followed Oscar's interested gaze closely.

The water, the fish, the river was her new home, which she quickly took to her heart. Her clothes, although now more of a bluish red and bronze, she kept the symbols of the dragon with her hair, brooches and Seasmoke herself.

Until she met her great-uncle again who had watched this marriage with a disdainful look and even if he didn't admit it, it offended him that his great-niece had managed the union in what he couldn't do in weeks, ,,Impressive isn't it what a princess can do with such looks and devotion, isn't it Lady Tully?" he had asked her at dinner as he sat next to her and looked into tired, almost haggard eyes that resembled her own in color.

She knew Oscar must have heard, she knew her great-uncle and her husband hated each other, didn't like the prospect of sharing power, ,,Her sacrifice to her family and the Queen towards my Targaryen wife is truly impressive she is not only in my house she is the Guardian of the Riverlands Prince Regent" Oscar said with pride in his voice as he raised his goblet and took her hand saying a good luck to Rhaenyra and his wife and she welcomed the restraint of her great uncle who would have otherwise only made things worse.

But all could not always go well only one moon later at the weirwood tree in the garden of the ruined castle Harenhall the houses of the Riverlands found themselves together with Oscar as their new lord and Daemon, a confrontation the princess attended with Seasmoke watching over the whole thing with an interested eye.

A confrontation that ended in blood as Daemond cut off Ser Willem's head ordered by Oscar whose eyes reflected fear for a moment as he looked into hers she clasped his hand the highborn couple watched this execution for all to see she felt the brief squeeze of her hand as Oscar truly saw this bloodshed for the first time.

,,You did the right thing Oscar they will follow you now and so will my great uncle…I won't let any words come back to haunt you I will stand for it" she told him as soon as everyone else had left the ruined garden and the young lord sat down by the tree still somewhat affected by the murder she felt herself almost reflexively wiping the blood away with a handkerchief before helping Oscar wipe his away.

She returned his silent thanks with a gentle kiss and the two sat there in silence until an idea came to her and she called her dragon who was struggling for space in the garden, ,,You have shown me the beauty of the water of your river let me show you the beauty of the sky" she said and climbed onto Seasmoke's back who seemed happy to be flying again.

She saw how it confused him for a moment, the boy rose and placed his hand carefully on the bright waremn scales and Seasmoke nudged him, mocking Ocsar who had been feeding the dragon fish with the help of his wife.

,,Can we fly through clouds? " Oscar asked as she saw courage and joy return to his gaze and he placed himself behind her, his grip on her stomach tightened and she heard his cry as Seasmoke took off with a scream and seemed to disappear into the smoke of his fire in the air.

She put one hand on Oscar's while with the other she gently guided Seasmoke, knowing that Oscar didn't understand her she would one day teach him, ,,I'll fly through anything you want look at this peace and quiet" she said louder over the sound of the loud flapping of wings and Seasmoke's hissing she heard Oscar slowly relax and hug her, laughing happily as he too saw this special something she could see every day.

Up here there didn't seem to be any problems it was quiet not too hot or too cold and peaceful, ,,It's incredibly beautiful" he mumbled continuing to hold on to her fetus as she headed for the clouds and he hesitantly held out a hand and gasped as his fingers got wet and showed her like a little child enjoying a wooden swing but she did the same and they joined hands and flew through the clouds for hours.

She heard his thanks and praise every now and then, a kiss on her cheek and both their hearts beat together in peace as they found beauty in each other's homes, together in love that would go beyond war.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~