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honeydippedfiction · 15 days ago

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She's Mine {JB9}

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Synopsis:

Warnings: Heavy Flirting & Tension, Joe Being Down Horrendous, Mild Language, Slight Possessiveness

Themes: Push & Pull Romance, Reader loves teasing Joe, They're in love your honour.

WC: 10.8k

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A/N: I apologise if this sucks, I had so many ideas so I just said screw it and combined them. Also yes there's some similar elements like Red Zone idk I just like Joe like this for some reason, sue me😅

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It had been nearly two years since Joe and Y/N started dating, and the relationship had changed both of them in ways they hadn’t anticipated. What started as a flirty encounter at a charity event had quickly evolved into something deeper, more complicated, and more real than either of them had expected.

Y/N stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the strap of her dress and smoothing out the fabric. She liked how she looked tonight—sleek, confident, and undeniably herself. But she also couldn’t deny the fluttering in her chest when she thought about Joe. He had a way of making her feel seen, even when she wasn’t sure if she fully understood herself.

Joe had never been with a Black woman before, and despite the constant hum of media attention around them, he never treated her any differently than any other person. But Y/N could sense that, for him, she was an entry into a new world, one that he hadn’t fully explored until they met. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable with her culture—far from it. It was just that sometimes, she could see the questions in his eyes. He was learning, too, and though he was often quiet about it, Y/N knew he was just as introspective as she was. Their love was still new, and they were still figuring out how to navigate their differences in ways that felt right for both of them.

"Are you ready, baby?" Joe's voice called out from the other side of the apartment, deep and warm, like it always was when he was close.

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile, and she turned toward the doorway. “Just about. You know how I am—always taking forever.”

Joe leaned against the doorframe, wearing a perfectly tailored suit that fit his broad shoulders just right. He looked good, too good, in that effortlessly cool, "I don’t have to try this hard" way. But his eyes softened when they met hers, a flicker of admiration dancing behind the usual quiet confidence.

“You always look perfect,” he said, his tone so casual, but his eyes held the weight of his words.

Y/N shrugged but felt the warmth spread across her cheeks. “Thanks. But I know you’re just saying that because I’m your girlfriend.”

He smirked, pushing off the door frame and walking toward her. His hand brushed hers as he took a step closer, and despite their routine, she still felt that electric spark every time. "Well, that’s true. But it’s also because it’s the truth." His eyes flickered down to the necklace she was wearing—a delicate gold piece he had bought her for their one-year anniversary. It was simple but thoughtful, just like him.

Y/N smiled, appreciating the way he always made her feel special, even in the smallest of moments. “How’s your wrist?” she asked, noticing the slight tension in his jaw as he reached for his tie.

Joe sighed, rubbing his temple. “Still sore. It’s been a long week of practice. But nothing I can’t handle.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed. She’d been with Joe long enough to know when he was trying to downplay something. “Joe... if you’re hurt, you need to take care of yourself. You’re not invincible.”

He smiled softly at her, but there was a flicker of stubbornness in his eyes. “I’m fine. I can handle it. It’s just a little tension from all the snaps, you know?” He reached for the tie again, and Y/N didn’t miss the way his fingers lingered on the fabric, betraying the tension in his body. She didn’t want to push him, but sometimes she wished he would let his guard down just a little more.

“I still worry about you,” she said softly. “But I’m not going to nag. I’ll just keep making you food that’s good for you.”

Joe chuckled, his usual smirk appearing. “You really think you can fix me with a plate of food?”

“It’s worth a shot,” she replied with a wink. “You’ll feel better with some of my chicken and greens. Trust me.”

Joe laughed again, the sound rich and genuine, and for a moment, Y/N felt her heart soften. She had learned more about him in the past two years than she ever thought possible. He was the first white man she’d ever seriously been with, and the first person she had allowed to get close enough to see both the beauty and the burden of her life. Being the first Black woman Joe had ever dated added a layer of complexity they both had to navigate, but it was one they were both determined to face together.

They had talked about the difference in their experiences in the world, the subtle ways race played into how people viewed them. Joe had never been naïve about the fact that dating Y/N was new for him in many ways. But there was never a moment where he treated her differently—except for the obvious, which was that he cherished her in a way that felt like he was learning to love her culture as much as he loved her.

"Do you ever think about how different we are?" Y/N asked suddenly, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I mean, in terms of where we come from, the things we’ve experienced?”

Joe stopped adjusting his tie, his eyes locking onto hers. There was no hesitancy in his expression, only thoughtfulness. “All the time,” he admitted. “I’ve learned so much from you in ways I didn’t even know I needed. About the way people see you, the way the world works for you. It’s... it’s opened my eyes.”

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening a little. They hadn’t had this kind of conversation in a while, not because they avoided it, but because they both carried it in their hearts in different ways.

“I’m grateful for that,” she said quietly. “But, sometimes, I wonder if it’s hard for you. Dating me. Knowing I’m the first Black woman you’ve ever been with. I know it’s not just about race, but it matters, Joe. It’s a lot to take in.”

Joe’s expression softened, and without saying anything, he reached for her hand, pulling her gently into his chest. “Y/N, it’s not hard for me. It’s just part of the learning curve, you know? And I’m lucky to be on this journey with you. You make me want to be better. For you, for us. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

Y/N melted into his embrace, feeling the sincerity in his words. “I just want you to know what you’re getting into,” she whispered. “It’s not just about me being your girlfriend—it’s about all the little things. The things I’ve had to grow up with, the things I’ve learned to navigate.”

“I know,” Joe murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But it’s also about us. And I want to learn with you, not just about you.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, holding each other, letting the weight of their two years together settle between them. Y/N had always known Joe was different, that there was something in him that was unlike anyone else. But the longer they were together, the more she saw how much he was growing, how he was changing for the better. And maybe that was why she was willing to keep pushing through the difficult conversations, through the challenges of navigating a relationship that was as beautiful as it was complicated.

After all, their differences didn’t tear them apart. They only made them stronger.

Finally, Joe pulled back slightly, his eyes glimmering with mischief. "So... do I get my greens and chicken tonight, or are you just gonna keep holding out on me?"

Y/N laughed, feeling the tension ease between them as she leaned up and kissed his cheek. "You’re lucky I’m not holding out. Let’s get you fed, QB1."

Joe grinned, his usual swagger returning. “Best decision you’ll make all night.”

The laughter from their conversation faded, but the heat between them didn’t. If anything, it only intensified. Joe’s fingers still lingered on Y/N’s wrist as he pulled away from their hug, and she caught the flicker of desire in his eyes. The tension between them was palpable, crackling in the air like static electricity.

Y/N wasn’t about to let him get away with playing it cool, though. She noticed the way his gaze dropped to her lips for just a second longer than necessary. It was almost like he was waiting for her to make the first move.

She leaned back slightly, teasing the edges of her voice. “You really think you’re getting away with that chicken tonight, huh?”

Joe’s eyes narrowed, his lips quirking up at the corners in a mischievous smile. "It’s not just the chicken I’m after," he muttered under his breath, the weight of his words hanging heavy between them.

Y/N tilted her head, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Oh? What else do you want?”

Joe took a half step forward, closing the gap between them, and there it was—the unmistakable pull between them. The way his presence seemed to take up all the space, filling her senses until there was nothing else. His eyes darkened, his voice low as he looked down at her, "You know exactly what I want."

The way he said it, so blunt and raw, made her heart race. But instead of backing down, Y/N matched his intensity, her chin tilting up defiantly. “Yeah? You think you can handle me tonight, Joe? You’re in for more than just a good meal if you’re not careful.”

Joe’s hand brushed the side of her face as he tilted his head, his thumb running over her jawline like he was savoring the moment. His touch was so soft, so tender, that it made the sudden heat that rushed through her feel like a burn. “You have no idea what I can handle, Y/N,” he muttered, the words almost a challenge.

Y/N’s lips parted as her breath hitched, caught somewhere between temptation and control. “Maybe you should show me, then,” she whispered back, a daring little tease in her voice. Her fingers grazed the front of his shirt, brushing the buttons like she was trying to make him lose his composure.

But as soon as she touched him, Joe seemed to snap, his hands suddenly on her waist, pulling her closer with an urgency that surprised her. His lips were just inches from hers, but he paused, his eyes searching hers for a moment. “You’re playing with fire, Y/N,” he growled, his voice thick with desire and warning.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She could feel the intensity building, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. “Maybe I like the burn,” she teased, leaning in as if to kiss him—but then pulling back at the last second, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Joe cursed under his breath, his hands tightening around her waist, pulling her flush against him so that she could feel the heat of his body. "You're killing me, you know that?"

Y/N’s smile deepened. "I haven’t even started yet."

The playful tension between them was electric, but there was an underlying intensity that both of them had come to expect. Y/N was used to his confidence, but tonight, there was something about Joe’s demeanor that made her feel like he was just on the edge of losing control—and the idea of that, of him giving in to her completely, stirred something in her she couldn’t ignore.

Joe’s grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her skin with just a hint of possessiveness. "You’re not gonna make me wait forever, are you?" His words were almost a warning now, a hint of frustration seeping through.

Y/N’s smile softened, but she wasn’t ready to give in. Not yet. “Maybe I will. You don’t get to control everything, Joe."

The sharpness in her voice made his chest tighten. He hated the push and pull, but he couldn’t deny that it excited him. There was something about her—about the way she made him feel out of control, something he hadn’t experienced before. Usually, he was the one in charge, the one everyone turned to for answers. But with Y/N? It was different. And damn if it didn’t drive him wild.

"You think I’m the one who needs to be in charge?" Joe said with a dark chuckle, leaning his forehead against hers for just a second. "You have no idea, do you? You have me twisted in ways you don’t even know."

Y/N’s lips brushed his ear as she leaned in, just a whisper. "That’s the problem, Joe. You think you’re in charge. But you’re just playing catch-up."

For a moment, Joe didn’t know whether to pull her closer or push her away. The pull between them was so strong, he could hardly breathe. "You think I’m playing?" he breathed, his hands skimming over her sides, holding her as if he couldn’t get enough. "I’m not the one playing games here. You’re the one making me lose control. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to me."

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and she let out a little laugh that only made Joe’s grip on her tighten. The sound of it, that soft but teasing laugh, was like a match to his already burning desire. She knew exactly what she was doing—and damn if it wasn’t driving him crazy.

"You really think you're the one in control here, huh?" Y/N teased, her fingers gently tracing the edge of his jaw. Her touch was light, almost deliberately so, and it only made Joe ache for more. She could feel his pulse racing under her fingertips, the tension between them thickening with every second.

Joe’s breath hitched. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his composure with her this close, her lips practically begging him to kiss her again, her body pressed up against his in a way that felt like fire and ice all at once. But he couldn’t back down. Not now.

“No, I don’t think I’m in control,” Joe murmured, his voice rough. His hands slid lower along her waist, pulling her even closer so there was no more space between them. “I know I’m not in control. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight for it.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow, clearly amused by his admission. “Fight for it?” she repeated, her lips curling into a seductive smile. "You’ve already lost, Joe. You’re way behind, and you’re still trying to catch up.”

Joe chuckled, a low sound that vibrated against her ear. His hands tightened on her hips as if to claim her, his lips grazing the edge of her earlobe. “You think you’ve won? You think I’m just going to let you walk away with the upper hand?” His words were laced with the kind of challenge that sent a thrill through both of them. "That’s cute."

Y/N’s smile faltered for just a second, a flicker of something dangerous sparking in her eyes. She wasn’t used to backing down, not from anyone, especially not from Joe. But there was something in his presence tonight, something possessive and all-consuming, that made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, he was right about this tug-of-war between them.

“You really think you can turn this around?” she asked, voice almost a dare. Her fingers found the collar of his shirt, pulling him down just a little closer, her breath warm against his skin. “Prove it.”

Joe felt his resolve slip. The playful tension was still there, but now there was something deeper, a shift from flirtation to something that could easily cross into something darker, more primal. “Don’t tempt me, Y/N,” he growled, his lips brushing over her neck. He wasn’t even sure if he meant it as a warning or a challenge anymore.

And then it happened. In one swift move, Joe leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was far from tender. This time, there was no hesitation, no games. He kissed her as though he had nothing left to lose, his hands gripping her with a mix of desperation and possessiveness that made Y/N gasp into the kiss.

For a moment, she let herself be swept away, her hands tangling in his hair, matching his intensity. But just as quickly as the kiss started, she pulled away, her lips lingering just out of reach, her eyes flashing with mischief.

“See?” Y/N whispered, breathless from the kiss. “You’re always a step behind, Joe.”

The teasing tone in her voice was the last straw. Joe’s jaw clenched as he grabbed her by the waist and spun her around, pinning her against the wall with surprising force. Her breath hitched as her back collided with the cool surface, but the fire in her eyes only spurred him on. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke in a low, almost dangerous tone.

“Don’t push me too far, Y/N,” he warned, his voice thick with desire. “You think I’m playing, but you have no idea what I’m capable of when I’m this close to losing it.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked up at him, the powerful intensity in his eyes sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said, her voice steady even though her pulse was racing. “Not at all.”

Joe’s lips curled into a grin, but there was something darker in it now, something possessive. “You should be,” he said, before capturing her lips again in a kiss that was rougher this time, more demanding, as though he was claiming her in every way possible. His hands moved over her body, a touch that was both gentle and forceful at the same time, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to cherish her or lose himself completely in her.

Y/N’s fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing him just as much as he needed her. The mix of their bodies, the pull between them, was intoxicating.

But then, as quickly as it had started, Joe pulled back again, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling as they both tried to regain control. His hands were still on her, gripping her firmly, but there was a softness to the way he held her now, a vulnerability he didn’t show often.

“You think I’m losing, huh?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not the one who’s gonna give in first, Y/N.”

Y/N’s chest rose and fell with each breath, her lips tingling from his kisses. “Maybe you won’t give in,” she said, her voice low and teasing, “but you sure as hell are going to work for it.”

Joe’s grip on her tightened, a low growl escaping his throat as the push and pull of their relationship continued to blur the line between control and surrender. “If I have to work for it,” he whispered, his voice dark, “then I’ll make sure you never forget who’s in charge.”

—

Joe had never been in a relationship like this before. Sure, he’d had flings. The casual dates, the one-night stands, even a few steady things here and there. But nothing like this. Nothing that could even compare to the way Y/N made him feel. It wasn’t just about the sex—the way she had him on edge, unable to think straight when she was near—it was the depth of everything she brought to his life. The way her presence grounded him, but also made him crave the chaos she brought.

But Y/N? She wasn’t like the other women he’d dated. She wasn’t trying to fit herself into some idea of what he wanted. She was unapologetically herself. And even though Joe had never dated a black woman before, he was more than okay with it. Y/N wasn’t just beautiful. She was real. She brought a different energy, a new perspective into his life, and she was everything he didn’t know he needed.

Still, that didn’t mean he didn’t feel in over his head sometimes.

Joe stood by the window in his office, looking out over the city. He hadn’t meant to be standing there in silence, but his mind was racing. He kept thinking about how far they’d come. About the late nights, the quiet moments, the arguments and apologies, and of course, the pleasure. God, Y/N had a way of getting under his skin. But she also had this way of making him feel like he was the only one who mattered to her.

As if on cue, there was a soft knock on the door. His heart fluttered, and for a second, he was caught off guard. He hadn’t even realized he was waiting for her.

“Come in,” he called, his voice smoother than he expected.

The door opened, and Y/N stepped in, her presence filling the room instantly. She was wearing an oversized sweater that hung off her shoulders just right, and those damn jeans that hugged her in all the right places. Joe's pulse quickened, his hands instinctively tightening around the edge of the window frame.

Y/N noticed, of course. She always noticed.

"What's got you so distracted?" she asked, her voice a mix of teasing and concern. Her brown eyes glinted with that signature mischief, but there was something deeper there too. The way she always seemed to look at him, like she was figuring him out with every passing moment.

Joe chuckled, but it was a little breathless. "Just thinking, that's all."

She raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "Thinking about me?" she asked, her tone teasing, yet a bit more serious than she probably meant.

Joe met her gaze, unable to hide the intensity in his ocean eyes. “Of course. Always thinking about you.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them, but the moment they did, he realized just how true they were. Y/N was always on his mind, even when she wasn’t with him. He’d never been someone who got caught up before. Never someone who let himself fall so hard for someone else, but with Y/N? It was impossible to hold back.

Y/N walked toward him, taking slow, deliberate steps that sent a spark of desire straight through him. She stopped just a few inches from him, looking up at him through those dark, knowing eyes. She was so close now, he could feel the warmth of her body, the sweet scent of her perfume mixing with the air between them.

“You know,” she began, her voice low, “for someone who claims to have it all figured out, you sure don’t seem very confident tonight.”

Joe swallowed, unable to tear his gaze away from her lips. God, she was doing it again. Throwing him off balance, just enough to make him want more.

“I’m confident,” he muttered, his hand brushing against hers, the touch almost accidental but still enough to send a jolt of electricity through him. “Just... a little distracted by the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Y/N's lips twitched into a smile, but there was a glimmer of something softer in her eyes. Something that told Joe she could see right through him. She knew what she did to him.

“You’re not the only one who's distracted, Joe,” she whispered, stepping closer still until her chest was almost touching his. "It's cute how you pretend like you're not down horrendous for me."

He smirked, though it was shaky, unsure. “I’m not pretending. I just...” He hesitated, his voice lowering. “You’ve had me from the beginning, Y/N. You know that.”

Y/N reached up, her fingers grazing the side of his face as she let the silence stretch between them. Joe’s heart was beating too fast, his breath shallow as her touch seemed to burn him. It wasn’t a flirtation anymore; it was something heavier, something deeper.

She looked up at him with that same mixture of challenge and vulnerability. “Then why haven’t you kissed me tonight yet?”

Joe didn’t even think—he leaned down, his lips crashing into hers with a hunger that had been building between them for what felt like forever. He didn’t care about the world outside. In this moment, there was only her—the way she tasted, the way she responded to him, her body pressing into his like she was trying to absorb him.

But just as quickly as she had kissed him, she pulled away, her lips curling into that playful smile again. "You really think that was going to be that easy, huh?"

His chest was rising and falling with each breath, his mind in a fog as he tried to process what just happened. “God, Y/N. You’re killing me.”

Y/N’s hands slid up his chest, fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt as she deepened the kiss, her body leaning into his as though she couldn’t get close enough. Joe’s heart was pounding, his pulse a frantic rhythm in his ears. She made him feel like he was on the edge of something he couldn’t pull back from, and every part of him—his mind, his body, his soul—was screaming for more.

But just when Joe thought he had her, just when he thought he could finally take control of this burning attraction between them, Y/N pulled back, her lips leaving his in a slow, deliberate drag that had him groaning in frustration. Her breath was shallow, her eyes heavy with something both tender and dangerous.

"You’re getting too comfortable, Joe," she whispered, her voice teasing but with an edge. "You really think I’m just gonna let you have me this easily?"

Joe’s chest was rising and falling with every breath, his entire body tense. Damn, she was good at this. She knew exactly how to make him feel like he was on the edge of losing control without actually giving in. It made his head spin and his heart race.

"I don’t know, Y/N," he said, his voice low and rough. "But I sure as hell think you’re making it harder to hold back."

Her smile was wicked, and there was that playful glint in her eyes again—like she was daring him to chase her, to prove just how far he was willing to go. He couldn’t tell if she was pulling away on purpose, to test his patience or to test them, but he hated it. He hated not knowing if she was teasing him, or if she was actually trying to push him away.

"Maybe I like making you work for it," she replied, her tone sultry, her fingers trailing across the fabric of his shirt before resting on his collarbone. The subtle pressure sent a shockwave of heat through his body.

Joe shook his head, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her closer as his eyes darkened with intensity. "You’re playing with fire, Y/N," he growled. His voice was low, dangerous, and there was something almost possessive in the way he held her—something that he couldn’t deny, something that had been building for months.

"Am I?" she asked, cocking her head, that ever-present challenge dancing behind her eyes. "I think you like it."

Joe leaned down, his lips grazing her ear. "You have no idea how much," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. His fingers tightened on her waist, almost as if trying to hold her in place, as if he couldn’t let her slip away again.

Y/N chuckled softly, the sound of it like music to his ears, even though it was teasing and full of mischief. "You’re funny, Joe," she said, pulling away just enough to look up at him, her hand resting on his chest. "You act like you're the only one in control here. Like you’re the only one who can make moves."

Joe was breathless. "You know I’m not the only one," he said, his lips brushing hers again in a brief, heated kiss. He was so close to breaking. So close to giving in to this tension that had been building between them for what felt like forever.

"But you sure do like pretending," Y/N teased, a smile tugging at her lips. She gave him that look again—the one that made his heart race and his thoughts scatter. It was a look that said she knew just how much power she had over him. And damn, if that didn’t make him fall for her all over again.

Joe let out a frustrated sigh, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "God, you’re killing me, Y/N." His voice was rough with longing, his body leaning into hers, his breath coming faster with each passing second. He wanted to kiss her, to take this further, but there was something about the way she held back that kept him in check.

She reached up, her fingers brushing against his jaw, her touch soft, almost teasing. “Then don’t wait for me, Joe,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. “Take what you want.”

Y/N’s touch lingered on Joe’s skin, sending electric sparks across his chest. He’d never quite felt this way before. She was different—beautiful in a way that felt so familiar, so raw. But there was something else in the air between them now, something that made his chest tighten, his breath catch.

Joe’s heart slammed in his chest. He knew what was coming. Hell, he had been waiting for it, but now that it was here, he found himself caught between the urge to kiss her senseless and the need to figure out why he felt like he was failing her in some way.

His hands rested at his sides, the tension thick between them. “You think I’m scared?” he muttered, his voice rough with frustration. “You’ve been making me work for this—for you.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she reached up, her fingers grazing the side of his face again. “Scared? Nah. Just... you don’t seem like the type of guy to let anyone get under your skin. But with me? I think I’m doing just that.”

The words hit him like a punch. He wasn’t scared of her—hell, he wasn’t even sure what scared felt like anymore. But there was this weight to her, this intensity. The way she carried herself. And the deeper he got into this with her, the more he was realizing just how much he had underestimated her, and how much he needed her in a way he’d never felt before.

“I’m not scared,” he muttered, a half-laugh escaping his lips, but it sounded more like a sigh. “You’re just…” He paused, struggling to find the words. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever been with.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him with those dark eyes that seemed to see right through him. She wasn’t just teasing anymore. This wasn’t playful. This was real. She was real.

“Not like anyone? Is it because I’m... different?” Her voice was low, almost too casual, but Joe heard the subtle vulnerability beneath it. “Because I’m Black?”

Her words hit him in a way he didn’t expect. His mind whirled as he stared at her, realizing just how much he hadn’t considered. He’d never dated a woman like Y/N. Hell, he hadn’t even considered the idea that his feelings for her would bring him face-to-face with things he’d never had to think about before—things that were buried deep under the surface. The idea that he wasn’t just falling for her, but for everything she represented, terrified him.

His chest tightened at her question, because it was the kind of thing he had been avoiding even thinking about. He’d never dated a woman like Y/N before. Never been with someone who not only challenged his perceptions but also made him feel this level of unsettled in a way that he couldn’t even put into words.

“You know,” he started, his voice unsteady. “You’re the first Black woman I’ve ever dated. And I—I didn’t even realize how different that was until I started... really thinking about it.”

Y/N’s gaze softened, a quiet understanding passing between them. She wasn’t surprised. Joe knew she’d seen this coming. But her reaction still felt like a weight off his chest. She didn’t make him feel stupid for saying it, for realizing something he hadn’t thought about before.

“I get it,” she said gently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re not the first guy to have that realization. It’s okay to feel... whatever you’re feeling.”

But that wasn’t the thing that had been weighing on Joe’s mind. It was deeper than just dating someone from a different background. It was about how much she made him question himself, made him confront things he didn’t even know were there. How freaking terrified he was of messing this up.

“I don’t want to screw this up,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never thought I’d end up with someone like you, Y/N. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

Y/N’s expression softened, and she reached up to cup his face in her hands. “What do you mean, someone like me?”

Joe’s breath hitched, and he felt a tightness in his chest. “Someone who... challenges me. Who makes me see the world differently. Someone who’s not afraid to call me out. But also someone who makes me feel like I don’t know enough, like... like I’ve been missing out on a whole world I didn’t even know was there.”

Y/N gave him a faint, understanding smile. “You’re not the first white guy I’ve dated who feels like that. But, Joe... you don’t need to apologize for it. I don’t need you to have all the answers. I just need you to be you.”

Joe closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, his chest rising and falling as he took a shaky breath. “You’re so much more than I expected. And I’m... so far in my head about everything, I don’t even know what I’m doing. But I need you to know how much I care. How much I... want you.”

Her fingers trailed down his neck, and she tilted her head, studying him carefully. “I know, Joe. I feel it too. But you’re going to have to stop overthinking it. I’m not some prize you have to win. You don’t need to prove yourself to me. Just be with me.”

Joe’s pulse hammered in his ears. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her into him and never let go, but this... this was different. He had to be real with her. This wasn’t just a game, or some fling. He knew that now.

“Y/N...” He shook his head, frustrated with himself. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know how to make you understand how much this means to me. You’re my first everything like this.”

She looked at him, the corners of her lips lifting in a knowing smile. “I know, Joe. And I’m not looking for perfection. I’m looking for real. And right now, I’m here. I’m with you. And that’s enough for me.”

He leaned his forehead against hers, taking in her words, trying to calm the whirlwind inside his chest. This was real. Y/N wasn’t asking for him to have all the answers. She wasn’t asking for perfection. She was asking for him to show up.

And for the first time in a long while, Joe felt like he could do that. He could be himself with her. All of him. Even the parts that terrified him.

“I’m down horrendous for you,” Joe admitted, his voice rough and full of raw honesty. “I’ve never been like this with anyone before. You’ve got me tangled up in you. In us.”

Y/N smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Good. You’re exactly where I need you to be.”

And in that moment, Joe knew it wasn’t just the feeling of being “down horrendous” that mattered. It was the fact that he was letting himself fall—for her, for this connection. And for the first time, he wasn’t scared of the drop.

–

Joe leaned against the kitchen counter, looking like he was trying his hardest to act casual, but Y/N could see right through him. He was completely down horrendous. She had that effect on him, and they both knew it.

"You know," she said, sliding the last slice of pizza onto her plate, her eyes glinting with playful mischief. "You keep looking at me like that, Joe. People might start thinking you’re in love with me or something."

Joe scoffed, but there was no mistaking the slight pink flush creeping up his neck. He was definitely flustered, despite how hard he tried to hide it. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," he muttered, trying to shift his attention to the game on TV, but his eyes kept darting back to her. Of course she caught it.

Y/N leaned in just a little closer, letting the tension between them simmer. "You sure about that? Because you’re looking at me like you’re about to do something… wild."

"Stop," he warned, his voice rougher than he intended, the kind of warning that was more an invitation than anything else. His gaze was locked onto her lips now, and she smirked.

"Make me," she challenged, arching an eyebrow.

Joe's breath hitched. This was it—every damn time she got this close, he could feel that pull. The push and pull between them had been relentless ever since they started dating nearly two years ago. But it wasn’t just the attraction; it was the way she was different—the first Black woman he’d ever dated, and the one who made him question every idea he had about what he was looking for in a partner.

Y/N wasn’t like anyone he had dated before. She didn’t play by his usual rules, didn’t fawn over his fame or football career. She challenged him. She forced him to confront parts of himself that he didn’t even know existed—things about race, identity, culture, and connection that he hadn’t thought about before he met her.

She was unapologetically confident, bold, and there was something about the way she held herself that made Joe feel like he was constantly on edge, wanting more but not entirely sure how to navigate it.

"I’m serious," he said, his voice softer now, almost like he was trying to regain control. "You’re killing me with that look."

Y/N’s eyes softened, but only for a second. Then, as if she couldn't help herself, she leaned in just a fraction closer. "I’m not doing anything. You're just letting me get to you." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it felt like an accusation.

Joe exhaled, frustrated and fully aware of the shift in the air. He could already feel the possessiveness creeping up—he hated the thought of anyone else getting her attention the way he did. He wasn’t used to being the one who felt jealous, but with Y/N, it was different. He needed to be the one to keep her attention locked on him.

"Don’t do that," he growled, stepping closer, almost trapping her against the counter. His hands landed on either side of her, caging her in, but his eyes were far from angry. They were heated, dark. "Don’t make me lose control."

Y/N leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, her smile teasing but knowing. "You’re already losing it, Joe. I can tell."

Joe wasn’t sure why he was fighting it anymore. His usual smooth, confident self had fallen away, replaced by something more primal. Y/N had this way of getting under his skin, making him feel exposed in a way no one ever had before.

But she didn’t give him a chance to recover. She stepped out from the kitchen counter, making a show of casually walking past him. She brushed her fingers against his arm, sending a jolt straight to his chest. "You really think I’m gonna be the one to lose control here?" she said, her voice a little breathless, knowing damn well how she was affecting him.

Joe's patience was wearing thin. "You’re playing with fire, Y/N," he said, low and intense, stepping up behind her. She wasn’t going to get away with that. Not this time.

She tilted her head, her eyes daring him to do something about it. "Then burn me, Joe. You’re the one who can’t handle it."

Joe’s hands shot out, grabbing her wrist with a little more force than he meant to, but Y/N didn’t flinch. She liked it. Hell, she wanted it. "I don’t want to hear you talking like that unless you mean it," he said, his breath hot against her ear, his fingers tightening around her wrist just enough to make her shiver.

She tilted her head back, her lips brushing against his ear. "You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t say," she teased, but there was a flicker of something else in her voice—a challenge he couldn’t ignore.

Joe’s grip loosened just slightly, but not enough for her to pull away. He was always teetering between wanting to let go completely and keeping things just a little out of reach. But tonight? He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending he wasn’t all in.

"You think you’re in charge, huh?" He leaned in closer, the heat between them practically crackling. "You forget who you’re dealing with. I’m the one who calls the shots here."

Y/N smiled, lips curling sensually. "Then make me listen."

It was impossible to ignore the magnetism between them anymore. They had been together for almost two years, and while they had their ups and downs, the tension between them was always undeniable. Their relationship had made Joe confront parts of himself he never thought he would. Y/N was the first woman to make him feel so seen, to challenge him in ways that pushed him outside his comfort zone. She wasn’t just any woman—she was the first Black woman he had ever dated, and somehow, everything was different with her. She made him think differently, not just about the world, but about himself.

Her presence was a constant reminder of that shift, and he couldn’t help but feel both unsettled and more alive than he ever had before.

Joe’s hand drifted up, brushing her hair back from her neck as he pulled her closer. "You’re gonna regret that," he warned, his voice low and serious.

But Y/N didn’t look scared. She only leaned in closer, their faces a breath away. "We’ll see, won’t we?"

—-

The atmosphere in the room was electric, the kind of night that felt bigger than both of them. The NFL Honors was an event of its own, the crowd bustling with the game’s finest—players, coaches, and legends. The stage was set for glitz, glamour, and recognition, and the spotlight was firmly on Joe. But for him, it wasn’t the award that was making his heart race.

It was Y/N.

She was standing just off to the side of the room, her presence commanding attention even though she wasn’t the one being celebrated tonight. The deep, midnight blue of her gown hugged her body in all the right ways, the delicate straps that criss crossed her back highlighting the graceful curve of her neck. Her hair was styled in soft waves, a perfect contrast to the sharp, sleek edges of her dress. Her lips were painted in a deep shade of red, her eyes glimmering with mischief, her confidence so palpable that it could be felt in the air around her.

Joe couldn’t stop looking at her.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen her dressed up before. But tonight, she was radiating something new—something electric. His hand itched to reach out to her, to pull her into him, to remind everyone around them that she was his.

"You’re making it hard to concentrate, you know that?" Joe murmured under his breath, his eyes glued to her as she turned to look at him, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, the hint of a challenge in her gaze. "Is that a problem?" she teased, leaning a little closer, her voice like honey but laced with something daring.

Joe’s chest tightened. The way she always had that effect on him, the way she made everything else fade away when she was near—it was like no one else mattered. Especially tonight, when everything felt like it was culminating in this perfect moment.

"No," he responded simply, his voice low, his eyes darkening with desire. "But you might be distracting the hell out of me."

Before Y/N could say anything else, Ja'Marr Chase and Tee Higgins slid into view, each of them sporting devilish grins. Joe couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. His two closest teammates had always loved to tease him, especially when it came to Y/N.

Ja'Marr nudged Joe with his elbow, an exaggerated whistle escaping his lips as he eyed Y/N. “Damn, Joe. You lucky as hell. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve got the best thing in the room right there.”

Tee, unable to keep a straight face, chimed in. “Bro, you’re seriously making us look bad. We’re all dressed up, but she’s got you beat. I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to compete with that.”

Joe's grin was the kind that wasn’t fully amused, but still carried that cocky edge. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, but his gaze never left Y/N. She was still looking at him, her lips curling into a soft smile, but there was something dangerous in the way she glanced back at him—like she knew exactly what was going on, and she was loving every second of it.

"You both wish," Joe muttered, but his eyes were already scanning Y/N once more, his desire impossible to hide. He didn’t care who noticed—he was so down bad for her, and he liked it that way.

Ja'Marr snickered and glanced at Tee. "Man, this dude’s gone soft. The moment he found her, he stopped paying attention to all the rest of us." He winked at Joe. "Don't worry, we get it. She's something else."

Joe’s jaw clenched, but there was a glint of pride in his eyes. "Don't get it twisted, I’m just making sure no one forgets who she’s with." He said it like it was nothing, but his voice was low, protective, possessive in a way that only Y/N could inspire.

Y/N noticed, of course. She caught the way Joe’s tone shifted when he spoke about her, how his voice had dropped with that familiar possessiveness, and she couldn’t help the thrill it sent through her. Her smile deepened, but her eyes held a challenge.

“Is that what you’re doing, baby?” she murmured, her voice low but laced with heat, every syllable heavy with the unspoken pull between them. “Trying to mark your territory?”

Joe looked back at her, his expression softening, but his eyes still filled with that intensity, that hunger. "Damn right. No one else gets to look at you the way I do."

There it was again, the low, undeniable tension between them. Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. She loved how possessive he could be, how the world melted away the moment they were alone together. It made her feel seen, wanted, like she was the only thing that mattered to him. And in a room full of people, that was what really kept her coming back for more.

Ja'Marr and Tee, sensing the shift, couldn’t help but chuckle at Joe’s evident struggle to keep his cool. “Alright, man, we’ll leave you to it,” Ja'Marr said, flashing a grin. “Just don’t break any necks, alright? We still have a night to get through.”

Joe shot them a quick glare, but he didn’t care. Not with Y/N still standing there, her eyes locked on his, her smile sly and seductive. As soon as the guys moved away, he took a step toward her, his gaze never leaving hers.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, playing it cool, but there was a wicked glint in her eye. "You like that, huh? Getting teased in front of your whole team like that?"

Joe didn’t answer at first. He didn’t need to. His body was already moving toward her, his hand coming to rest on her waist, his fingers brushing the small of her back as he pulled her closer. The slight possessiveness in his touch sent a fire shooting through her, and before she knew it, she was leaning into him, the tension between them so thick it was almost unbearable.

“I like that you’re mine,” Joe whispered against her ear, his voice low but full of that dangerous edge she craved. "And everyone else is gonna know it tonight."

Y/N’s lips curled into a smile, her breath catching in her throat. "Is that so?" she murmured. "Well, lucky for you, I don’t mind showing them."

His grip on her tightened just a little, his eyes darkening. “You sure about that? You wanna test me tonight, Y/N?”

The challenge was clear in his voice, the flirtation palpable. But beneath it all, she could feel the undercurrent of something deeper. Something real.

Y/N’s heart pounded, and with a sly smile, she stood on her toes to kiss his cheek—just a soft brush of her lips against his skin. But her voice, when it came, was smooth and full of promise.

“I’ll show you just how much I’m yours, Joe,” she whispered, her words barely audible above the music and chatter.

Joe’s breath hitched, his hands coming to rest on her hips, possessive and claiming, and he could hardly think straight anymore. “Damn right you will,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “Just wait ‘til we’re alone, baby.”

And as they stood there, surrounded by the flash of cameras and the cheers of the night, Joe and Y/N both knew that tonight, the real celebration wouldn’t be about awards or recognition. It would be about them—what they had, what they’d fought for, and how, despite everything, they had each other.

And Joe? He was so down bad for her, and that was exactly how he liked it.

JB9 Taglist: @lilfreakjez, @dasia21

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amitiel-truth · 2 months ago

Text

River Maiden Pt. 8

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,

🔞Groping, Exhibition, Sexual Innuendos🔞

Odysseus and Telemachus stood on the shore, watching as the fleets of ships approached the shores of Ithaca. They could see the worried and angry expressions on the faces of the families of the murdered suitors.

Odysseus clenched his jaw. Telemachus, sensing his father's tension, placed a hand on his arm, trying to calm him.

"Father, we expected this to happen," Telemachus murmured, his voice low enough that only Odysseus could hear.

Odysseus took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I know, son," he replied, his voice tight. "But that doesn't make it any easier to face."

Odysseus and Telemachus waited on the shore as the boats began to dock, the families of the murdered suitors disembarking and making their way towards them. It was a tense and volatile atmosphere, with the families all looking angry and confrontational.

Odysseus and Telemachus knew they needed to tread carefully to avoid a full-blown conflict. With 108 families to deal with, they would have to be diplomatic and tactful in their approach.

Odysseus and Telemachus made their way to the palace, where they found Laertes, Odysseus's father, waiting for them. Laertes was a tall and imposing figure, with a stern expression on his face.

"I knew this day would come," Laertes said gruffly, his voice filled with grim resignation. "I only hope that it will not end in bloodshed."

Odysseus placed a hand on his father's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We'll do our best, Father." he said, his voice steady and confident.

Telemachus stood beside them, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He knew that his words and actions could either defuse the situation or escalate it to violence.

"Telemachus, go see your Lover and Mother." Laertes orders, dismissing him.

Telemachus hesitated for a moment, but then bowed his head in compliance. He knew better than to argue with his grandfather in serious situations like this.

"Yes, Grandfather," he said, his voice quiet and respectful.

With a final lingering glance at his Father, Telemachus turned and left the room, making his way to the Queen's Quarters, where he knows (Y/N) and Penelope are.

As he entered the room, Telemachus caught sight of (Y/N) and Penelope, who had obviously been discussing the situation. They looked up as he entered, and their expressions of worry softened at the sight of him.

"Telemachus," Penelope said softly, rising from her seat to greet him. "Are you alright?"

Telemachus managed a small, reassuring smile in response. "I'm fine, Mother," he replied, trying to sound calm and unruffled. "But Father and Grandfather are currently in a serious discussion with the families of the dead suitors."

(Y/N) and Penelope exchanged a tense glance, before (Y/N) stepped forward, taking Telemachus's hand. "How are they reacting?" she asked, her voice betraying her own fear and worry.

Telemachus sighed, looking down at his feet for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "They're angry, understandably," he said. "But Father and Grandfather are doing their best to pacify them. They're trying to avoid any bloodshed, but I don't know how successful they'll be."

(Y/N) sighs, shaking her head "blood feuds are long and bitter, they feel humiliated and disrespected for killing their sons, even if they were the ones in the wrong" she mutters, mindlessly playing with his hand

Telemachus nodded in agreement, his brow furrowing in concern. "Yes, I know," he said, his voice quiet. "But what choice did we have? The suitors were a danger to our family and our way of life."

He pulled her into a tight embrace, taking comfort in her presence and her touch. "But we'll have to be careful, love," he murmured, his voice low. "These families are desperate and angry. We'll have to tread lightly."

"I understand, I still have this." (Y/N) showed him the dagger Ioannis, one of her guards in his absence, lent her.

Telemachus's grip on her tightened as he saw the dagger, his expression turning hard and determined.

"Good," he said gruffly, his voice filled with protective affection. "You need to stay safe. These families are unpredictable and dangerous. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"We understand, My Love." (Y/N) nodded, pecking his lips.

"I'll stay here with your Mother, and could you please send in Ioannis and Panagiotis ones more, I don't feel safe on our own." (Y/N) requested the guards Telemachus assigned for her, a small smile on her lips.

Telemachus nodded, his expression softening as he looked at her.

"Of course, love," he said softly, reaching out to cup her cheek with his hand. "I'll go get them right away."

He kissed her forehead gently before leaving the room, going to fetch the guards.

Ioannis and Panagiotis are quickly stationed outside the Queen's Quarters, their expressions serious and alert.

"Guard them with your lives," Telemachus instructed them firmly. "I don't trust these families not to try something."

"Yes, Your Highness!" The guards nodded their understanding, their hands on their weapons. They took up positions outside the doors to Queen's Quarters their eyes watchful and their bodies tensed.

Telemachus made his way back to where the meeting was taking place, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation that was sure to follow.

"Excuse me, sir," Someone calls out as he passed, her voice sweet and soft, with a touch of sadness.

Telemachus turned to look at her, taking in her regal appearance and the grief etched on her face.

Despite her grief, she moves with effortless grace, her flowing chiton catching the light as she walks. Her dark hair is intricately styled, woven with subtle adornments, and her gaze is both commanding and serene.

Telemachus turned to look at her, taking in her regal appearance and the grief etched on her face.

She approached him, her eyes downcast, her body language radiating sadness and vulnerability.

"I'm sorry to trouble you," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "But I recognized you and couldn't help but speak."

She lifted her head, and Telemachus was struck by the depth of sorrow in her gaze. "I am the sister..of one of the suitors you killed."

Telemachus felt a pang of guilt and sorrow at her words, but he held his composure, his expression stoic.

"I am sorry for your loss," he said, his voice sincere but guarded. "But the suitors brought their fate upon themselves. They invaded my home and caused harm and chaos."

She nodded, her shoulders slumped in acceptance. "I know, and I don't blame you for what you did," she said softly. "But I can't help but feel the weight of my brother's death on my shoulders."

She took a step closer to him, her hand reaching out to touch his arm, her fingers ghosting over the fabric of his tunic.

"I was wondering if I could trouble you with a request," she asked, her voice low and melodious, a contrast to her weary demeanor.

Telemachus shifted slightly at her touch, his guard instinctively going up. He could tell that she had something to ask of him, something he might not like.

"What is your request?" he inquired, his voice neutral.

The strange girl looked up at him through long eyelashes, her gaze earnest. "I realize this is a strange request, but I was hoping that you could find some way to compensate me for my brother's death."

She took a step closer, her hand still on his arm, her touch light yet insistent. "Perhaps a favor, a gift, something to ease the pain and the emptiness I feel in his absence."

Telemachus's brows furrowed at her request, his suspicion growing. It wasn't uncommon for families of defeated enemies to seek reparations, but something about her demeanor felt off to him.

"I sympathize with your loss," he said slowly, his voice cautious. "But what, exactly, do you have in mind?"

She took took a deep breath, her hand sliding down his arm to take his hand in hers. "I was hoping you would marry me," she said softly, looking up at him pleadingly. "It would be a way to right the wrong of my brother's death and bring honor and respect to his memory."

Telemachus's eyes widened in shock and disbelief at her request. The very thought of marrying her to appease her family's sense of honor was not only ridiculous but also insulting in some way he can't explain.

"I..." he began, his voice hoarse. "That's...I can't...I'm already betrothed."

Her expression faltered, but she quickly composed herself. "But surely, you could break off your betrothal for me," she persisted, her grip on his hand tightening. "I could make you a good wife, a loyal queen. My family is wealthy and has great influence in several kingdoms. It would be a wise political move for you."

Telemachus shook his head, his irritation growing at her insistence. "No, I cannot and will not break my betrothal," he said firmly, pulling his hand away from hers. "And I'm not interested in a political marriage. I love someone else."

Her eyes narrowed, her desperation becoming more apparent. "You would rather forsake a powerful alliance for a love match?" she asked, her tone almost mocking. "That's foolish and naive."

Telemachus's eyes hardened at her words. "It may be foolish to you, but I won't sacrifice love for power," he retorted, his voice edged with anger. "And I won't be coerced into a marriage I don't want, even if it brings 'honor' to your brother."

Her face flushed with anger and humiliation. "You are an ungrateful fool," she spat, her words filled with venom. "My brother died in your palace, his blood stains your hands and you refuse even to consider my offer? You don't care about honor, or duty, or family. You're just a selfish, lovestru-"

"There you are, My beloved~" Suddenly, familiar arms snaked up from his waist to his chest, hugging him from behind, and a kiss was placed on his neck.

"I was looking for you, how mean of you to drop off the guards and not give me a proper goodbye kiss?" (Y/N) asked over his shoulder, pouting at him.

Telemachus's irritation and frustration melted away at the familiar touch and the sound of (Y/N)'s voice. He relaxed into her embrace, his hand coming up to rest on top of hers.

"Sorry love," he said, his tone softening considerably, as he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "Got into a...discussion with someone."

(Y/N) turns her gaze to the person in front of Telemachus, tilting her head "Who's this?."

The Princess bristled at (Y/N) words, her earlier pleading and sweetness replaced by a cold, hard expression. She shot a glare at Telemachus, before looking up at (Y/N) with a forced smirk.

"I am Princess Cassandra," she said, her voice strained. "And you must be Telemachus's... betrothed."

"Yes, that is I. My, A Princess, you don't look like one." (Y/N) quickly bites back, not bothering to introduce herself, playing with Telemachus's tunic.

Cassandra's eyes narrowed at (Y/N) words, her annoyance growing. She bristled at the insult, her composure faltering for a brief moment.

"And I suppose you're the epitome of a Princess," she retorted, her voice sharp and cutting. "With your disheveled hair and your hand all over his clothes in public."

"Oh, excuse my disheveled appearance, I swear I fix myself up every morning, but the Prince can't help keep his hands off me~." (Y/N) answers with a smirk.

Telemachus's face flushed a bit at Egeria's words, and he tried to suppress a smirk of his own, though he failed miserably.

Cassandra scowled at Egeria's words, her jealousy growing with every passing moment. "I doubt it," she retorted. "I can't imagine someone as...unsightly as you being such an object of desire."

🔞🔞🔞

"Believe it or not, I am~." (Y/N) answered, keeping eye contact as she licked Telemachus's neck.

Telemachus tried to hide a shiver at (Y/N) gesture, but failed miserably, his face turning an even darker shade of red.

Cassandra watched the exchange with growing fury, feeling the sharp sting of jealousy coursing through her veins. She clenched her fist, her knuckles turning white.

"How...vulgar," she gritted out through clenched teeth.

"As vulgar as trying to steal my bethrode using a dead relative?" (Y/N) asked, running her hands all over Telemachus's chest and abdomen, touching every sensitive part she knows excites him, her eyes narrow with a deadly smirk.

Telemachus's breathing hitched as (Y/N) touched him in those spots she knows drive him crazy, and he had to fight back the urge to react to her, to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless right this second.

Cassandra's eyes widened in shock. She hadn't realized that (Y/N) had been listening the whole time, and the princess was now feeling both embarrassed and humiliated.

"That...that's not..." Cassandra struggled to find the words, her cheeks turning red in a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Telemachus, however, was more amused than annoyed, enjoying the show that (Y/N) was putting on, knowing that it's all for his sake. He couldn't help but find her little display cute, and a small part of him wanted to see how far she would go.

"Not what? 'Oh! I'm a distressed Princess who passed my bethrodal age, since you killed my brother, why don't you marry me in retribution? Oh, what's that? You're already bethrode? Well, I'm a helpless Princess, what else do I have to say? Break it off for me, please?' Is that what your trying to say?" (Y/N) taunted, before sliding her hand down between Telemachus' legs, palming his bulge.

"You don't even look like you know how to touch a man, serves you right, since you can't have a man all by yourself." (Y/N) taunted, her eyes slitted with a wide grin.

Telemachus inhaled sharply at (Y/N)'s unexpected action, his body reacting instantly to her touch. He bit his lip, trying to keep a straight face and not react outwardly, but the sensation was hard to ignore.

Cassandra's face went red with embarrassment and anger, her shame and humiliation mounting with every word that came out of (Y/N) mouth.

"You...you know nothing of what I can do," she snapped back, trying to salvage her dignity. "I could make Telemachus happy, and content. I would be a loving and devoted wife."

"Then your eyes may not be working, look at him." (Y/N) points, smirking at him as she continues her wandering hands.

"He's completely happy with me." (Y/N) points out, before biting his shoulder.

Telemachus's breath hitched again at (Y/N)'s bite, and he couldn't help the soft moan that escaped his lips, his body trembling slightly under her touch.

Cassandra's eyes widened in surprise and annoyance at the sound, and anger flared up in her eyes.

"He's...he's just...he's clearly just in a vulnerable state," she sputtered out, trying to find a way to explain away Telemachus's reaction. "Any...any man would react that way to a woman touching him like that."

"Oh, is that so? Then watch." (Y/N) suddenly stops her hands, hovering in front of him.

Telemachus whimpered audibly as (Y/N) took away her touch, his body craving the sensation of her hands on him again. He had a feeling that (Y/N) was up to something, but he couldn't help his body's natural reaction to her.

"(Y/N)...please," he said, his voice strained with desire. "Don't stop. I need...I need you to touch me."

(Y/N) smirked at the princess, before continuing her intimate touches to the Prince, particularly to in between his legs.

Telemachus let out a relieved sigh as (Y/N)'s hands returned to him, her touch sending ripples of pleasure through his entire body. He leaned into her touch, his eyelids fluttering as she caressed his sensitive areas.

Cassandra's face was now a deep shade of red, her ears burning with the combined humiliation and anger. She bristled at (Y/N)'s actions, her fists clenched at her sides.

"I...how...how dare you," she spluttered, her voice shaking with fury. "You...you...harlot!"

"Think all you want, but this one's mine." (Y/N) declares with a smirk, as she fastens her stroking through his clothes.

"You should be even thanking me, for allowing you to see such a sight that I have the pleasure of seeing everyday." (Y/N) taunted, as Telemachus reached his high, staining his loincloth, falling onto (Y/N) arms, his head on her shoulder with his head tilted towards her as she kisses him passionately.

Cassandra stood there, watching in shocked disbelief as Telemachus came undone in (Y/N)'s arms, a mix of emotions rushing through her mind. Her face was flushed with embarrassment, anger, and a touch of envy, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the intimate scene before her.

Finally, she shook her head, snapping out of her daze, and spun around, her gown whipping around her. She dashed off, her cheeks burning with humiliation.

As the Princess ran away, (Y/N) drops to her knees with Telemachus, assisting him with his weak knees.

"Are you alright, My Love? Was I too rough?" (Y/N) asked in worry, running a hand on his hair.

Telemachus sagged against (Y/N), his body trembling slightly as he tried to regain his composure. He buried his face against her neck, taking several deep breaths to steady himself, the scent of her calming him down instantly.

"No, no, love," he reassured her, his voice hoarse. "You were...perfect. I just...I got a little overwhelmed there, that's all."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have touch you like that without your permission." (Y/N) pulls him into her arms, her cheek on his shoulder.

Telemachus shook his head, pulling her to his lap. "You didn't do anything I didn't like," he reassured her, his arms encircling her waist. "In fact, I loved every second of it. I just...it was just a bit intense, that's all. And in front of someone like Cassandra, too..."

"It's just...she was trying to take you from me, so I got..." (Y/N) looks away from him, blushing, she didn't want to admit she was jealous.

Telemachus chuckled, his arms wrapping tightened around her. "I know, my love," he said, his voice gentle and soothing. "And believe me, I would never let anyone take me away from you. I'm yours, and only yours. And I always will be."

(Y/N) sighs, leaning into his arms. "I love you, Telemachus, we may always have sex most of the time, heck, we had sex the second day we met, but regardless, I love you, not just for our intimate pleasures, but for everything, and I'll be damned to let anyone take you away from me." (Y/N) professes while stroking his cheek.

Telemachus's heart swelled at her words, her declaration of love and devotion filling him with a warm, fuzzy sensation. He smiled, turning his head to place a kiss on her palm.

"I love you too, (Y/N)," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "Even with our...frequent intimate encounters, I also love you for who you are. You're my partner, my confidante, my best friend, and most importantly, my soulmate. And I would never, ever let anyone take me away from you, either."

"It's such a shame that I...soiled myself." Telemachus blushes, closing his legs as best he could with her on his lap.

(Y/N) smiled, before licking his cheek. "I can clean it up if you want~." She offers with a mischievous grin, making Telemachus blush.

"You can't be saying and doing such things! Especially in the Hall!" Telemachus scolded her as she laughs, her forehead on his shoulder.

She laughed as Telemachus couldn't help but notice that (Y/N)'s hair was a mess, despite the fact that they hadn't engaged in their "routine" yet. He tilted his head, a curious expression on his face.

"Love, your hair looks...disheveled," he noted, running his fingers through her locks. "It's not the usual after-bed head."

"I was running around trying to look for you, I was serious about the goodbye kiss." (Y/N) admits, blushing a bit.

Telemachus chuckled, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"You look adorable when you're blushing, love," he teased, his fingers continuing to comb through her hair.

"But it's good to know that my kisses are that important to you. I'll make sure to give you plenty of them, even when I'm busy."

"You better." (Y/N) pouted up at him, as he fixed up her hair for her.

Telemachus chuckled again, his eyes sparkling with affection as he finished fixing up her hair.

"Don't pout, love," he said, pinching her cheek playfully. "You know I can't resist you when you look at me like that."

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her once more, his touch gentle but possessive.

Suddenly, they heard more screaming where Odysseus and Laertes are.

Telemachus groaned, reluctantly breaking away from (Y/N)'s embrace.

"I wonder what's going on now..." he muttered, standing up and offering his hand to (Y/N).

"I suppose we better go see what's happening. Stay close, and don't wander off again, love."

Telemachus and (Y/N) quickly make their way towards the source of the commotion, hand in hand. As they approach, they see that the commotion is centered around Odysseus and Laertes.

Odysseus is locked in a heated argument with a group of men, while Laertes stands nearby, looking torn between anger and exhaustion.

"You killed our brothers, our nephews, our heirs!" one man shouted. "We demand reparations, a sum of gold for each life taken!"

"That's ludicrous!" Laertes retorted. "Your kin were thieves and traitors, attempting to usurp our throne! Odysseus and Telemachus had every right to defend himself and his family's honor!"

The men just scoffed, their lips curling into sneers.

"Honor? You speak of honor after slaughtering our kin?!" one of them spat, his face reddening with fury. "You think money will make up for their loss? We want revenge, justice for our fallen family!"

Odysseus shook his head, his jaw clenched in irritation.

"I'm not giving you a single drachma," he said, his tone firm and unyielding. "Your kin were given a choice, and they chose violence. They knew the consequences of their actions, and they paid the price."

The men bristled at Odysseus's words, their anger growing with each passing moment. Their demands grew more outrageous, demanding not only gold but also land, titles, and even the freedom to wed any woman of their choosing.

Telemachus scowled, shaking his head at the audacity of the men's demands. He stepped forward.

"This is absurd," he said, his voice sharp and cold. "You have no right to make such demands, nor do you deserve any reparation for the lives of your kin. They were enemies, and they were dealt with accordingly. Your outrage is misplaced."

The men took a step closer, their anger now directed towards Telemachus.

"You dare to speak to us like that, you upstart brat?" one of them snarled. "You think you're so high and mighty now that you have your father's throne? Well, let me tell you-"

But Telemachus cut him off, his gaze steely. "I am the next king of Ithaca," he said firmly. "And I will not be intimidated by your empty threats. You have no claim to anything, least of all my compassion or forgiveness."

Odysseus's thoughts turned dark as he listened to the men's demands. He knew all too well that blood feuds were bitter and long-lasting, and that granting the men's demands would only escalate the violence further.

"Enough!" he finally snapped, his voice booming. "You have no right to come into MY home and make demands of ME! You want vengeance for the deaths of your kin? Fine! But I will not give you gold, land, nor shall you marry any of my people. Your kin made their choices, and they paid the price."

(Y/N) frowns, glaring at the Suitors families, her hand twitching, itching, planning, as a storm seemed to brew outside the palace.

Odysseus's voice continued to rise, his anger and frustration palpable. "You speak of honor and justice, but you know nothing of either. Your kin were villains and cowards, unworthy of my mercy or compassion."

The storm outside seemed to reflect Odysseus's mood, the sky darkening and the wind picking up. A few of the men blanched at the sight, clearly unnerved by the weather.

Suddenly, the air around them stilled, the Families stood in place as if stopped in time, with only Odysseus, Telemachus, and Egeria being able to move.

And with a silent gust of wind, Athena appeared, she turned her attention to Odysseus, her gaze softening slightly.

"Odysseus," she began "You have endured much, and I know your patience wears thin. But violence and bloodshed will not bring you or your people lasting peace."

"And for that, I'll give you my help, once more." Athena raises her hand to the Families, a glow flowed from her hand to their heads

"I wiped their memories of their lost families, once this is over, they go back to their ships in a trance like nothing happened." Athena explains, turning to Odysseus.

Odysseus looked at her in shock, before bowing to the Goddess.

"Thank you, Athena," he said, his voice steady once more. "You have my gratitude once again for your aid."

Telemachus follows suit, bowing to Athena, and pulling a reluctant (Y/N) to bow as well.

"Thank you, Athena." Telemachus says, gratefully.

"Yes, Thank you..." (Y/N) mutters reluctantly with a frown, looking onto the ground, Athena notices it, but doesn't speak out about it, given their difficult relationship.

With a snap, the Families grew silent, and with a trance, they began walking back to their ships, one by one, they began sailing off, like they were never here.

Odysseus watched the ships vanish into the horizon and murmured, "With their memories cleansed and their hearts unburdened, the gods have granted me peace at last."

Telemachus approached his father with a smile and said, "Father, after all these years of struggle, it's time we fill this hall with laughter and song again—tonight, we celebrate your return."

Festivities and celebrations erupted throughout The Kingdom as news of Odysseus's return spread. The people of Ithaca were overjoyed to have their king returned to them after his long absence, and they threw a lavish feast in his honor. Nobles, servants, and commoners alike gathered in the palace courtyard, feasting and drinking, dancing and singing.

Odysseus was the center of attention, surrounded by well-wishers and admirers. Telemachus and (Y/N) at a roundtable near him, watching as Odysseus basked in the adulation of his people with Penelope in one arm.

Odysseus recounts the time when he was on the run from Poseidon, the god of the sea, who had cursed him for blinding his son, the monstrous Cyclops. Odysseus describes his harrowing journeys through treacherous seas, battling monstrous creatures and facing deadly storms.

The people listen intently, enthralled by Odysseus's tale of survival and resilience. Telemachus, too, is captivated by his father's story he never truly knew until now.

"And as I neared Ithaca, Poseidon himself emerged from the depths, vowing to drown the entire island unless I threw myself into the sea. Thinking of you and your mother, I didn’t hesitate—I leapt, believing it would be my end. In that instant, I nearly glimpsed your grandmother, my fallen comrades, and the afterlife itself. But then, the windbag intervened, saving me from the abyss. To honor my lost comrades, I delivered 600 strikes with Poseidon's own tridents, a fitting tribute to their sacrifice." Odysseus recounts, lifting his hands as if lifting the trident once more.

Telemachus listened in awe to his father's tale, his eyes wide with amazement. He had heard stories of his father's adventures, but it was another thing to hear it directly from his father's lips.

(Y/N) on the other hand, nearly toppled her goblet, shaking. Telemachus noticed it.

Telemachus reached out a hand to steady her goblet, his gaze concerned.

"Love, are you alright?" he asked quietly, noticing her shaking hand.

"I-I'm fine, I guess I just have too much to drink." (Y/N) smiles sheepishly, before standing up.

"I'm feeling a bit woozy, It's best I retire to your room for the night." (Y/N) says, still stiff.

Telemachus frowned, unconvinced by (Y/N)'s excuses.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" he asked, looking at her closely. "You're not your usual self, love. Is there something bothering you?"

(Y/N) takes a deep breath, before hugging him over the shoulder

"Nothing, My Love, don't mind me. enjoy the festivities, you didn't get a chance to bond with your Father, I'll just be in your room." (Y/N) pecked his cheek, before turning to enter the palace, to the Prince's room.

Telemachus watched (Y/N) walk away, unease settling over him. He knew something was bothering her, but he didn't want to push her. He turned his attention back to his father's tales, but his mind kept drifting to (Y/N) and the strange mood she was in.

As (Y/N) enters Telemachus's room, she takes a deep breath, hugging herself, before removing her hair pieces onto Telemachus's desk, and walking to the balcony, a tight frown on her lips.

"Show yourself, I know you're watching me, Athena." (Y/N) calls out, leaning out the balcony.

With the sound of the wind, Athena revealed herself. She appeared next to (Y/N), her expression unreadable.

"Why are you here?." (Y/N) asked, barely looking at her.

"Why else? To check on you," Athena replied, her tone neutral. "You seem distressed, more so than usual when I'm around."

"Gee, I wonder why..." (Y/N) looks at her at the side of her eye.

"Cousin."

"Still bitter at me?" Athena remarked. "It's been years, (Y/N). You can't hold a grudge forever."

"How can I not? When you punished my Mother for being defiled by Poseidon in your temple, which she didn't asked for it...she begged for your help...she was your Priestess...but you cursed her." (Y/N) mutters with a tight frown.

Athena's expression hardened at (Y/N) words, her tone turning cold.

"Your mother was a priestess, a devoted servant to me. Yet, she let herself be defiled in my holy temple. She brought shame upon herself and her station, and I could not just let that go unpunished."

"Then why are you here? To tell me what you did was right?" (Y/N) asked, her temper being tested.

Athena's eyes narrowed at (Y/N) tone, but she remained composed.

"No, I am not here to defend my actions, young one. What's done is done." Athena leans over the balcony.

"Your Father knows you're here."

Egeria's eyes widened, stiffening before looking at the ground where the celebration is taking place, seeing happy faces, seeing Telemachus being able to get to know his father, after so long of waiting, she bit her lip.

"What does he want?"

"He wants to see you, to have a word with you." Athena replies, her expression giving nothing away.

"I highly doubt that." (Y/N) quickly answers with a bite.

"For the past 20 years, he didn't bother to see me, when I was Hera's Student, he didn't even spare me much of a glance, he wants something else." (Y/N) points out, looking at Athena seriously.

Athena nodded, a solemn expression on her face. "You're right, Poseidon is a complicated god."

"But you are just as stubborn as your father," the goddess continued. "And you seem to have developed quite the attachment to Odysseus's son."

"Does Telemachus know of your heritage? That you are Poseidon's daughter?" Athena inquired, her eyes watching.

"That's something he doesn't need to know." (Y/N) answers, glaring at Athena

"And why not?" Athena countered, her tone challenging. "He deserves to know the truth about who you are and where you come from."

"Where I come from? From a God who made sure his Father couldn't come home for 10 years after the war? Or from your Priestess who you, His Mentor, turned into a Gorgon." (Y/N) asked, turning her head towards Athena.

"A child of a God and a Cursed human, face it, Cousin, He'll see me as a monster, and he'll...." (Y/N) trials off, looking at Telemachus's smiling face celebrating with Odysseus like he's the only one keeping her sane.

"He'll leave me, force me out of Ithaca..."

Athena's expression softened, her eyes filled with some sort of pity.

"You're letting your insecurities and fears consume you," Athena said gently. "Telemachus loves you, that much is clear. Do you really think he would leave you simply because you are Poseidon's daughter?"

"Not just Poseidon, My Mother, Medusa." (Y/N) points out, looking out at the sea, where Gibraltar is.

"I don't know what I'll do without him...I'll simply die..."

Athena sighed, looking at (Y/N) with sympathy.

"You need to have more faith in yourself, Cousin," Athena said. "You are stronger than you think. And Telemachus is a good man, he will accept you for who you are, despite your heritage."

"Just out with it with your news." (Y/N) walks into Telemachus's bed, laying down on it, not wanting to hear any encouragement from her perceived tormentor.

Athena rolled her eyes at (Y/N)'s childish behavior, but didn't call her out on it. "Very well," she said, clearing her throat.

"Poseidon has learned of Telemachus and your...dalliances. And he's not exactly pleased with this turn of events."

"Be cautious. Poseidon has not forgotten his hatred for Odysseus. And he will use any means to get back at him, even if it means harming those around him."

Athena continued on. "And you, (Y/N), you carry the blood of Poseidon in your veins. Poseidon may seek to use you as a pawn in his twisted games. You must watch your steps carefully."

"...Just leave..." (Y/N) mutters, her back towards her, hugging herself tightly.

Athena sighed, realizing her words had little effect.

"Very well. But remember, (Y/N), the fates are unpredictable." With that, the goddess of wisdom disappeared, leaving (Y/N) alone with her thoughts.

(Y/N) lays and the bed, before curling in on herself, crying, sobbing heavily, as the festivities goes on just outside the palace.

(A/N: I'm bored, ask me anything you want to know about River Maiden! (Y/N))

#epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #telemachus x reader #telemachus #medusa retelling #poseidon #epic poseidon #smut

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