#Luke hemmings series

[kindahoping4forever]

📸: Andy Deluca

Via Rock Sound's 25 Icons Series

[kaleidoscopeminds]

toasted vanilla ˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚

[carryonafi]

where did the party go.

ashton irwin x reader; ANGST

a/n: heyyy lovers!! 2 posts in a row (almost) whaaat!! i’ve been working recently because i just went through my entire google docs and sorted everything out 😭 this is something i’ve been working on for quite some time now and requires a little bit of backstory. there will be another part to this series, and possibly a third? let me know if you want to hear about some of the key moments in the 2013–2016 period! so without further ado, this is part one of “where did the party go.”! 🤍

content warnings: sexual innuendos, heavy drinking, smoking, mentions of declining mental health

words: 2.4k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

background: Your relationship with Ashton has been public ever since the beginning, starting in 2013 and continuing to flow and experience the life of 5 Seconds of Summer all the way until the band went on a break at the end of 2016. During those years, you took on the struggles that Ashton and the rest of the band faced which left them all having you as a permanent resident in their life. However, your relationship becomes rocky when Ashton refuses to communicate until the very moment he can’t take it anymore. His impulsive decision leads to you moving out, yet still being in his life because of the others and their friendship with you.

— POV: Ashton —

I could see nothing beyond her. Of course she would be here… of course. Heart stuck in my throat, I turned my attention away from her as soon as she started to look in my direction. We had ended. Months ago, yet I still couldn’t pull myself out of the mindset that she was still mine. I was still waking up next to her every morning, head on the fluffy pillow she claimed when we first moved in and hovering over the shadow of her figure in our bed. Yes, it was still our bed. It would always be. Everywhere I went she followed me whether it be the scent of the hair mist which stuck to the bathroom tile, the fluffy blankets she had chosen for the house, a few products left behind like she was coming back… she wouldn’t.

The music was bass heavy, rattling the table which in turn shook the floor and bounced off of the walls, reverberating in the guest’s ears. In the house I was suffocated, wanting and feeling like a beggar when I so much as looked her way.

“It’ll be like the iHeart Radio night all over again!” Michael made the comment, the rest of the group lightheartedly laughing despite the known tension. I left the circle almost immediately after that, not being able to bear hearing her sickeningly sweet giggle as she clung to any one of my friends besides me. I secretly wished the same, just over a year ago we were sharing smiles at each other and trying each other’s drinks, unable to separate as we made our way to the escort and back to the hotel in a blur.

The back porch brought an odd comfort to me, it was a change of pace from all of the lights inside. Calm, soft, warm yellow lanterns and fairy lights above proudly grown ferns. Although I did feel like an asshole for exiting at a time when people were talking to me, I just couldn’t handle the voices that weren’t her’s. I couldn’t handle her’s either. The vast green soothed me and the euphoria of a deep breath from a joint hit quickly, the blue smoke wandered together, then parted once hitting a certain point in the air. When it couldn’t carry the oxygen anymore. Familiar… Maybe. Maybe that’s why there were now tears obstructing my vision.

A sudden rush of consciousness and self pity struck my senses, cutting deep and forcing me to stand up off of the porch and make my way back inside the house within seconds. Hours felt like seconds and once enclosed, nothing was real. Not the people, not the music, not the house which was once our’s and now holding me alone, not the slow drift of which my rationality began to slip.

“Come on, Ash…”

She was real, though. Touching me, feeling for the stairs with her high heels, whispering words that I couldn’t understand— I went weak. I let her hold my weight, and her soft touch was replaced with a mattress. Clouds. Heaven. She was down with me, pitifully listening to me stutter apologies through tears and a lack of sobriety, begging her to let me hold her one last time before she found better. I mumbled with full confidence that I loved her. I loved nothing more than my weakness.

“I… I can’t.” She uttered those words which was the only blur I remembered hearing, it had to be the worst of it. Not her reassurance or her hushing my pathetic tears, I had to remember what she had pledged herself to. She wasn’t coming back.

Her dress was in my arms during the hours until I woke up, like she had vanished with all that was left being her clothing and a sweater missing from my closet. Everything came creeping in pieces, coming back with each step I took down the party soaked stairs. One led me to her hands, the next led me to her voice, breathing my name and encouragement to help me, then my knees led me to the hardwood of the living space. It was impossible to exist without thinking of her, from the moment I’d wake up it would be torture right away. I wasn’t lying next to her figure. I wasn’t waking up and rolling over to the side, her small, warm frame snuggling up to mine making soft hums and mews in her sleep. The smell of her hair, the freckles lightly dusting her cheeks and nose. All for me, just for me. Her morning voice, mumbling my name into my neck and chest as she desperately tried to get closer to my comfort. My arms enveloped her until she disappeared, then I remembered she wasn’t here again. She couldn’t.

When I walked around the house I imagined her happily skipping alongside me, dragging me over to the couch just to cuddle and burrow in the soft blankets for the rest of the day until one of us had to eventually finish a task.

No more fleeting kisses, no more shoulder rubs, no more long nails tracing my shoulder blades while my fingertips gave the same treatment to the dimples on her back and the dips in her hip bones. No more of her cheek pressed to my chest, arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace because she just didn’t want to let go. No more of the stubbornness which kept me smiling at how ridiculous she could be.

When I got home I would expect a long hug, she always stood on her tiptoes to hug me so her lips could meet my cheek.. or my own. Always warm, everything she possessed was warm. Her giggles, her lips, her voice, everything. Without her everything was just cold. I never rested comfortably because it was so, so damn cold.

I could feel her. Right there. The rise and fall of her chest, hips flush to mine as her soft, pink pout glossy with need stared up at me as a way to beg for attention. Her doe eyes, big and wanton silently telling me how much she needed my love, for my hands to trace her skin and plush valleys. For her small ones to grab mine tightly, tangle in my hair, whisper against my lips about how I needed a haircut before I shut down the sense of coordination for her thoughts with my hips meeting her thighs.

The days lulled by slowly without her there, I thought back to the night she left every single day. My words were not the right choice, she was willing to be there. She was willing to help me, but I didn’t think that something already broken could depend on something else the way I did to her. I had nightmares about the sounds of her heart wrenching, yet gentle sobs as I told her my thoughts. The promise ring still sat on my bedside table on her side just waiting for the day that I could really pull myself together and face her. My only weakness. My only reason, which could have been mine from the beginning if I was smarter. If I had worked harder.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Looking dapper, aren’t you?” Michael had noticed that I’ve been emptily staring into a mirror for what felt like forever. The abrupt sound of his voice pulled me from my thoughts as I blinked, looking at his reflection behind me.

“Oh, totally. Just can’t get enough of myself.” I replied in a sarcastic tone of voice, rolling my eyes as I smoothed a hand down the front of my suit. Award shows were fun, for the most part. A lot less stressful if we didn’t have a performance, we didn’t have to worry about becoming presentable once again. What can I say? We put our all into anything we play.

Michael grinned in a silent laugh at my reply, scrolling through his phone while Calum did the same and Luke was idle in front of the other mirror. He’d started wearing a lot of eye makeup, not that it was a bad thing. He was getting incredibly good at it, just to think a few years ago he barely felt comfortable putting on some chapstick in public. “Listened to Y/N’s new single yet? Pretty dope.” Michael hummed, nudging Calum’s shoulder to show him something on his phone which was presumably the cover or something… because he nodded in approval and made a comment that I didn’t hear. The sound of her name made me shiver, I took a deep breath and pulled myself away from the mirror to sit across from the others. Their conversation made no sense to me as I was still quite caught up in my own mind, my world of thoughts surrounding me about what this song could sound like. Would I ever listen to it? No, to save myself, probably not.

The one thing missing from this was her by my side again, squeezing my hand and holding on through the swamp of cameras and flashing lights. I could always remember her being the only thing I felt, in all of the chaos. I hadn’t even registered that we had made it out to the car and were sitting in the back already, I snapped back into reality again.

“You good, dude? You’ve been sorta spacey today.” Calum did the same as Michael did to him earlier and nudged my side, I defensively nodded and silently dismissed his worries. If I talked about it, I feared that it would all come out at once without being able to put a filter on my thoughts. Soon enough, we were back in that atmosphere again. Hopping out of the car and putting on an attitude towards the cameras but a different comfort for the fans who just wanted to see us up close, another car rolled in behind us after our driver had gone but I didn’t look. I started hearing her name again, hushed in comparison to all of the other desperate shouts and calls for attention. Fuck, wasn’t I lucky? I just had to keep moving, smiling, waving, making jokes and avoiding the mention of the girl haunting me.

This night was slow. So fucking slow, I just wanted to sit through this and get out of the venue as quick as possible. I wanted to go back to our bed, hold her knitted crop top up to my face and breathe in her scent which was long gone by now. However, we had to mingle. We just had to walk around and talk to people, I couldn’t leave by myself… it was worth a shot to try to enjoy the last few hours of the event. So far, I had been holding myself together pretty well and Luke stuck by my side to make sure I wasn’t left alone in my head. I knew he would do this for me, he wouldn’t hesitate to help me when I needed it. Even if I never vocalized it.

– POV: Reader –

There it was, the movie moment. The prolonged eye contact before an invisible pull drew the two closer to each other until they finally met in the middle, though that didn’t happen. You saw him from afar, shuffling alongside Luke and unable to hold eye contact. His hair was tame, but you knew it at its best. Thick, messy curls, damp from a shower, hanging over his lustful eyes at your favorite times, pushed back into one of your clips so they weren’t disrupting his focus. You knew the best of him, and you needed to see that again. It wasn’t you that ended things, but the chase after he realized his mistake hadn’t stopped until 6 months after you two ended. Bad idea, maybe? Your heels clicked along the tile, drowned out by the natural sounds of people laughing and congratulating, drinks flowing, claps on the back. You was drawn to him the minute Luke had pressed a hand to his shoulder and left his side.

“Hi.” One word that spoke a thousand all at once, Ashton turned with a look of… fear in his eyes. It didn’t go away when your eyes met, but his expression definitely softened.

“Hey, stranger.” He breathed, the soft ring of honey around his iris and between the forest green majority shrinking as his pupils dilated out of love. That was it, from the moment he spoke you knew that the pieces were already mended. There was healing. You bit your lip to hold in your smile, but you just couldn’t. It was contagious, Ashton shared a hesitant smile back with relief. ‘Are you upset with me? Have you forgiven me for making one of the biggest mistakes of my life?’ He wanted to ask, but better yet, your eyes told him more than enough. “I loved the song.” Ashton lied, he hadn’t listened to it.

“Oh, yeah?” You stared up at him, from the trouble he seemed to be having with eye contact earlier, he sure wasn't having any now.

“Yeah, you really deserve that nomination.” He mused, pupils darting up and down from the tip of your toes all the way up to your done-up, hairspray and product doused hair.

“I appreciate that.” You gave a warm smile, hands knitting together neatly in front of yourself. It wasn’t until you made eye contact again that you realized you were wearing his favorite color, his favorite cut– a nice baby blue tight around your hips and fanning out around your frame. Time was cut short, the award ceremony was starting in less than 10 minutes now.

Ashton cleared his throat, checking his watch. “We should… probably get to our seats.” He said softly, still lingering like he didn’t want to leave you behind.

You simply nodded in agreement, bidding him an awkward goodbye before stepping away and letting that invisible string loosen its hold.

The interaction left you slightly lost, even more lost than the moment you actually ended your relationship. It felt like walking away from an opportunity, the real embodiment of stepping away from a chapter in your life. Were you at peace? Maybe, but it was unfinished. You couldn’t sit through this award show, with performance after another the wait was getting more and more unbearable to handle

You needed to speak with Ashton, burn the bridge or rebuild it.

Where did the party go?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Part 2

[suchalonelysunflower]

Villain

Sinners and Saints - Chapter 2

Pairing: Mafia! Ashton Irwin x Fem! Hemmings! Reader

Summary: Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? After seemingly accept to help her, Ashton would not make it easy for the reader to find his good graces.

Warnings: Violence, swearing, blood, guns, threats, kidnapping, murder, mentions of abuse, injury. Some grammar mistakes (English is not my first language I’m sorry)

Word count: 5.9k

Author’s Note: I’m keeping it, and if you don’t like AU’s don’t read them 🤷🏼‍♀️ Thank you all for the support with the first chapter, it means a lot 🩷 And remember to reblog, comment and like the post if you enjoyed it ❤️ Hope you like it and happy reading 🌻✨🦋

Series Masterlist

“Careful, angel” You could hear the smile in his voice dripping with condescending sarcasm “We don’t want you to get hurt”

Still, you kicked and fought and bit and yelled “fire” hoping anyone could hear and come and help, but the music was too loud and you were at least ninety percent sure the walls were soundproof. You could not see anything besides the darkness of the velvet inside of the - you guessed - bag over your head. Your heels dug into the ground as the minions Ashton probably hired from the slums tried to drag you away.

“Get the fuck away from me!”

“Motherfuck-!” One of them yelled after you sunk your teeth deep into his hand. You smiled at the faintest taste of blood that lingered on your tongue. If you were going down, at least they’d know you fought back.

Ashton rolled his eyes with a sigh “You know,” He said “You used to be fun”

“Fun?!” You yelled turning your head toward where you thought he was, still dragging your feet as two pairs of arms dragged you “I would show you fun, you sick son of a-”

“Ah-ah better be careful with your next words, angel” Ashton tutted. You felt his breath next to your ear, goosebumps jumping up on your skin as he leaned down and whispered “We both know you like it”

At that point, you were hoping you had a bag over your head so that he would miss the way your cheeks flamed up at his proximity. But if you had to guess, he probably wore a devilish smirk right now, and oh, how you wanted the satisfaction to erase it completely.

“GODFUCK-” You smiled as you heard Ashton’s groan in pain after you kneeled him near his crotch.

“Oops”

Soon, your wrists were grabbed by one of his hands, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his heartbeat next to yours as he took off the covering of your face.

Hazel, angry eyes were staring right at yours, you didn’t dare look away. You couldn’t. His gaze scanned your face, lingering a second too long on your lips before his stare found yours again, looking back with something hidden in them, something that made your breath get caught up in your lungs the second you noticed the soft caressing of his thumb against the skin of your wrist. It was a challenge, it had to be. You knew Ashton’s tricks too well to fall for them so easily. But having him so close made you realize exactly why it seemed so thoughtless to give it all away.

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” He asked, words like velvet coming out of his mouth.

“I don’t know,” You answered, staring back at him with anger “Why do you have to be such an asshole?”

Ashton chuckled, “Ouch, and I thought we were getting along”

Suddenly, you felt someone yank you from his grasp and carry you over their shoulders to the exit. You kicked and screamed, but all was fruitless as you were thrown inside a car where they tied up your wrists and ankles, and covered your face with another blindfold.

“Believe me, angel. I had no intentions of tying you up this soon” Ashton’s voice came floating as you felt the seat next to you dip under his weight. You scoffed in annoyance.

“Bite me, Irwin”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, love” He said “And try and keep quiet, alright? Don’t make me gag you… Unless you want to”

The car started moving, and just like that, you were completely at his mercy.

*

During the whole car ride, you were completely silent and still. You didn’t even give him the satisfaction of breathing hard, and you knew you were driving him crazy. Well, if the consistent sound of tapping his fingers on his knee told you anything, that is. You had to repress a smile at that.

Ashton liked the chase and fight. You noticed it the second you saw that glint in his eyes. One does not get the name Lucifer by playing fair and liking it.

“Turn over here,” He told the driver ��Take the next exit and then straight home”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he didn’t want you to know where he lived or how to get there, it was all part of the protocol your father used with all of his associates as well. How many times have the driver picked you up from school and a random man was sitting at the back with a bag over his head and his hands bound with tape if anything?

But you’ve already sold your life to the devil. You promised everything he requested to save Luke from whatever hellhole he was caught up with. You trusted him despite yourself because no one else would’ve helped you due to the nature of your last name. Ashton knew this. He knew that you weren’t going to betray him, you couldn’t even if you wanted to while your brother was nowhere to be found. So what was all this circus? Was it just to humiliate you further?

“Someone’s awfully quiet over there” He taunted. You said nothing “Aww, cat’s got your tongue, angel?”

You kicked what you hoped was his seat and heard him laugh quietly. Your cheeks burn red as you bite your tongue from ever answering him. There will be nothing left to say until he starts helping you with the search.

Sometime later, the car came to a halt. You heard how Ashton’s men got out of the vehicle, feeling how it got lighter once they did. You were still sitting in place, not moving unless moved to become more of an inconvenience for anyone because they knew that if they tried to touch you, some of the bruises you left on them might become worse.

That’s until you felt a familiar grasp on your arm.

You tried to hit him once again, but Ashton was pulling you from a distance of a few steps ahead of you. He took you up some stairs and you heard a big door closing behind you. Suddenly, the light came through.

“Now, listen,” Ashton said as your eyes adjusted to the light and the new environment “I don’t want any funny business here, you got it?”

Your head was reeling too hard to even speak. Your eyes started to look around, familiarizing yourself with this new threat. The two of you were standing in a grand entrance lobby, the main staircase not too far behind in the room. There were guards on each door, some even waiting with firearms in their hands, ready to draw. The marble floors decorated the room with elegance, nothing you wouldn’t expect from someone in this line of business.

But what really impressed you was the size of this mansion. Of course, you had your fair share of them, coming from a big, important family, it was nothing new. But knowing that Ashton lived there alone… it sure felt lonely.

Yet, you barely had time to ponder on that as Ashton grabbed you by the arm again and dragged you up the stairs.

“You are never to leave this room, understood?”

“What?”

He opened up a door, practically throwing you inside and making you lose your footage.

“This door stays unlocked for me at all times” He sternly ordered “Don’t get in my way, don’t bother me, and don’t come looking for me. If you do, somebody better be dead or I’ll make sure they will be”

Ashton slammed the door after that, leaving you completely alone.

Immediately, you ran to the door, but when you opened it you found two guards standing with their broad backs facing you, both of them with guns.

You groaned and slammed the door shut. Falling to your knees as you desperately and angrily wiped away the tears that could not stop falling. You cursed Ashton’s name over and over again, hitting the ground until your knuckles were scraped and started to bleed a little bit. By then, almost all of your anger was contained and you were left feeling numb once again.

You stood up and cradled your hands with each other, looking around the green sage-painted room. The door of the bathroom was opened, so you went in to clean up the dirt and blood from your hands and fingertips. You noticed it had a bathtub; and towels; and the cabinet was filled with ibuprofen, bandages, and a first aid kit.

You looked back into the room and also noticed how the sheets were new, and the blankets over them were placed perfectly aligned with the pillows. You rummaged through the closet and found different outfits mostly consisting of sweatpants, hoodies, workout clothes, and a set of pajamas. The realization that Ashton got someone to get the room ready for you while you were driving to his house caught you by surprise.

Still, a cage was still a cage no matter how fancy it seemed.

The next thing you did was try to get to the windows, but as you suspected they were nailed shut and made with bulletproof glass.

“Smart,” You thought “You win this round, Irwin”

Suddenly, the antics of the day caught up with you as you let yourself fall into the sheets and the bed. You didn’t know how or when, but when you woke up, you were tucked underneath the blankets.

*

The next morning Ashton woke up with a major headache. His mouth was dry and his hair was sticking out in various directions. He got out of bed with a groan and with the everyday motivation coming from the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen.

But his thoughts are quickly scrambled by loud knocks at the door.

“Fuck… What?!” He shouted, rubbing his eyes, still trying to wake up.

“Sir?” One of his bodyguards talked through the other side of the door “I- uh. I’m afraid something’s happened… eh, with the guest. She- she’s not in her room, sir”

“WHAT?!

Immediately, Ashton was out of bed and putting on his sweatpants, grabbing the gun that slept next to him on his bedside table. He opened the door and put the front sight up against the guard’s neck and under his chin, making the man gulp when he saw the anger in his boss’ eyes.

“Say that again” He demanded.

“Th-the- the maid went to give her br-br-breakfast but the girl was not-”

Ashton rolled his eyes and murmured a “Fucking idiot,” before he went up to check up on the room across the hall.

Empty.

“Shit,” He cursed, punching the door frame and turning toward his crew “I want eyes on every fucking room in this house. The pool. The garden. The fucking sheds! Not a single rock left untouched! That’s Y/N Hemmings we’re talking about!”

“And if we find her?”

“When you find her you bring her to me. I’ll deal with her”

The men scurried quickly, leaving Ashton shirtless and alone in the hall. He cursed out loud and headed toward his office to check the cameras. Surely, if his idiot guards could not handle you, you still mustn't've gone too far-

Ashton backtracked a little bit, turning toward the door of the office and opening it completely. You almost laughed at his face when he saw you sitting there in front of his computer. But you quickly decided to ignore it and just go back to work. He has you trapped, but that does not mean you owe him any interactions.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked.

You noticed how his chest was rising and falling with anger he tried to keep at bay. The scars that adorned his skin seemed to come alive at that. His eyes were trained on you, waiting for an explanation.

“Starting the investigation” You shrugged.

“How did you-?”

“Please, I still remember your mum’s birthday. You’re the type of man who would use that as his password. I didn’t need to try that hard”

Ashton saw red at your comment. He slammed the gun to the desk and grabbed you by the arm, surely leaving bruises as he dragged you out.

You started to fight, punching him wherever you could. But he suddenly stopped and grabbed your other wrist with his hand, twisting it a little bit, just enough to make you complain and to stop your attempts to hurt him.

In his eyes, you could see the reason why people say he’s the angel of death. There was nothing but anger and hatred as he looked at you. It scared you for a moment, but it wasn’t going to make you run away.

“You said you would help me” You spat at him.

“I never said I would make it my priority”

“You motherfuck-” You cursed him out, trying to escape his grasp but it was useless. Yesterday he might’ve been playing a little bit, but now he was showing you his real strength.

Ashton shoved you back into your room, not even looking as he said “Change of plans, since you want to be a brat, you’ll be treated as one”

Then, he slammed the door and you heard the lock being put on.

You ran up to it, banging on it and fiddling with the knob to no avail. You cursed out his name and yelled at him, demanding to be let out.

“WE HAD A DEAL!” You’d shout until your voice gave out, but it all fell on deaf ears.

What have you gotten into?

*

Hours later, while you’re trying your best to pick the lock of the windows, the door opens.

“That’s not going to work, you know?” A kind voice said, “Believe me, I’ve tried”

You turned around to find the blond girl from the bar. She was smiling at you, leaning against the door frame. But the way she smiled… It seemed too familiar. Then, it hit you.

“Lauren,” You breathed her name, she laughed.

“About time you remember me!” Lauren said, walking into the room and sitting over the bed, patting the spot next to her “I almost thought you forgot about me”

“It’s not that,” You said, complying and sitting beside her “It’s just- wow, you were so little the last time we saw each other. And now…”

“I know, right? The glow-up did me good” She joked “And so it did to you. When you gave me your name yesterday, I must admit it took me a while. But when I noticed how my brother started to act…”

You rolled your eyes at her comment about Ashton “So being her prisoner is special treatment?”

“Having him agree to help you is special treatment. You know how he is”

But that was the thing, you didn’t. You’ve known of him, of his reputation, of his deeds. But Ashton Irwin was a complete stranger to you. Whoever that person at the end of the hall was, he was far away from the boy you used to know.

“Are you-?” You cleared your throat, not knowing how to ask the question.

“In the family business?” Lauren finished for you “No, I’m only working at the bar and as Ashton's assistant for a few months. Took a sabbatical from uni. Harry is also going there but he’s more applied to his studies” She laughed “Ashton never wanted us involved, even made us change our last name for a while so we don’t get connected to him or all of this.”

“I’m glad,” You smiled. “I would’ve done the same thing if I had younger siblings. My brother’s did try it with me, though. But, you know” You looked at her, and something flashed in her eyes “You look a lot like her”

“I know,” Lauren smiled at you, putting her hand over yours “And, I haven’t said it yet, but I truly am sorry about your brothers. It’s a shitty situation”

“Tell me about it,”

“But I know if anyone is going to find Luke, it’s Ashton” She assured you “And, don’t tell him this? But I did have a little girl crush on Luke way back when. So I really do hope you’ll find him”

You laughed at that, promising to keep quiet “Be honest with me, Lauren. Am I doing the right thing by trusting Ashton?”

She sighed “If I’m being honest, I would tell you that you already know never to trust anyone in this line of work. But as someone who knows Ash, and knows everything he’s been through and done… He’s a good guy, Y/N. Or at least better than the rest”

You nodded, understanding what she meant. Yet, your heart was still doubting. Still worried you made the wrong choice by coming to him.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Lauren said, getting up and handing you an old cellphone, “Ash told me to give you this”

“What for?”

“Communication, emergencies. You name it. It only has his number on it, but I snuck mine before he could notice” She gave you a wink “Talk to you later, okay?”

“Hey, Lauren?” You called for her before she left “Thank you. Thank you for everything”

The girl smiled and closed the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts and that old phone in your hands. So you decided to test it.

Me: Couldn’t you have found one phone from this generation?

Ashton: They can easily be tracked. You know that.

Ashton: So, sorry if you wanted games installed.

Me: Are you going to let me out so I can continue with the investigation?

Ashton: Are you going to be a good girl for me and do as I tell you to?

The redness of your cheeks went up to your ears. Groaning as you read that message.

Me: Fuck you, Irwin.

Ashton: Still with that attitude, angel? Too bad, I was going to ask you what you wanted for dinner. Guess the chef will skip that request, then.

Me: I will be caught dead before having dinner with you.

Ashton: Good. We can finally benefit each other, then.

You threw the phone against the wall, denting it a little bit with no damage done to the phone. This was going to be a long day.

*

It was 2 AM when the sound of the door banging against the wall woke you up.

“Get up,” Ashton’s voice rang through your head as you sat up “We’re leaving”

“What?”

He was standing in the middle of the room dressed in an all-black suit, his hair was pushed back, leaving just a wild stand of honey-colored curls to fall upon his forehead. To anyone else, it would seem he was headed to a party, but you knew that could not be the case. He scoffed, already annoyed.

“Are you deaf?” He asked, cocking his gun without even meeting your eyes “I said get up, we’re leaving. Now”

“I’m not going anywhere with you”

Finally, he looked up at you, refusing to accept the challenge that you presented to him.

“I don’t think you understand, angel-”

“Don’t call me-”

But before you could finish your sentence, he took two long strides to your bed and put the gun right up your forehead, fingertips on the trigger.

“When I say you jump, you ask how high. If I tell you to move, you move. This isn’t daddy’s little playground where you can make the rules, princess. I’m in charge here. You work for me. You belong to me. Understood?”

You said nothing, staring directly at him with all the hatred you felt for him at that moment. His hazel eyes mirrored yours, feeling nothing but disgust under his gaze. Yet, you knew he was serious.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, angel. But for you I’ll make an exception” He said gravely “Understood?”

“Yes,” You said through gritted teeth.

Ashton put away his gun, snapping his fingers. Never taking his eyes off you as a maid brought a change of clothes into the room. It was a long-sleeved, black cotton shirt; a pair of black cargo pants; a multipurpose belt; and a can of pepper spray.

“What’s this?” You asked, picking up the tiny can.

“You’re going to blend in with my security team”

“Then shouldn’t I be carrying a gun as well?”

Ashton laughed, “Nice try, angel”

“Irwin, I’m serious! How am I supposed to protect myself with just this?!”

“Then I guess we’ll figure it out,” He said, sparing one last look at you. “I expect you to be downstairs in five minutes”

“What if-”

“Try me. Just once and you’ll see what I’m capable of”

He left the room, leaving you alone huffing and rolling your eyes at the image of him that once was there. But, having no other option, you did as you told.

Downstairs, a couple more guards were standing with Ashton at the door. You noticed a black Range Rover ready to go just outside. One of the guards came toward you, a bag in his hand. You stopped him.

“Is that really necessary?” Ashton raised his brow, and you rolled your eyes “It’s the middle of the night, Irwin. It’s not like I would see much anyway”

The guard looked back at his boss, shrugging. Ashton looked back at you, eyes hard as steel. He didn’t say a word, just turned around and started walking to the car. For a moment, you smiled to yourself for that small victory.

You sat in the back in the middle of two guards, Ashton went up the passenger seat. You frowned. It was not normal for someone that important in this line of work to be in such plain sight. But then again, the glass and the whole car were bulletproof, and the windows were tinted black. And, to top it all off, everyone knew not to fuck up with Lucifer himself if they weren’t ready to face the consequences firsthand. After all, only a fool would try to kill death.

“One of the alarms went off at the club,” Ashton said before you could ask him “Someone tried to break into the offices, killing one of mine.”

That answers the way he was dressed, although you guessed that no matter the occasion, he would dress the part. Still, it didn’t seem like a big deal to wake all of you up in the middle of the night. You’ve walked the hidden halls of the club before, you knew they were well-guarded and with the right security system installed. Ashton surely had the right people to take care of all that. Unless…

“Lauren?” You asked, letting the worry slip in your words.

Ashton barely moved his head, you assumed that hearing the name of his sister come from you must’ve surprised him a bit.

“She’s fine,” He said, dryly “I don’t- She doesn’t work there unless I’m with her”

You nodded. Smart choice from him. Yet, that doesn’t explain why you had to come at this time. But when asked about it, Ashton just gave you the silent treatment until you got there.

Once you were parked, Ashton went out of the car almost immediately, leaving you and his men to follow him.

“Call Clifford,” He ordered to the group of men standing at the door “I don’t care if you have to drag him out of his bed, remind him of the favors he owes me” He turned to another guard “You. I want the list of names of the people that came in yesterday and tonight. I want a background check on their families as well. As for you…”

“Sir, everything was accounted for. Nothing was stolen. Our team is looking for hidden mics and cameras as we speak”

“I don’t fucking care if they took anything or not” He spat “I want to know, how the fuck did they manage to get in the first place?!”

“Sir-”

“No, you listen here” Ashton threatened, just inches away from that man’s face “I’m going in there, and you better pray to your pitiful god that we don’t find anything. If I do, if I even hear about someone who did, you bet your little sorry ass that there will be hell to pay. Starting with you. Don’t make me the villain just because you don’t know how to do your job. Don’t play with me because you will find me, and that will be the last thing you do”

You stood there, shivering. If that was because of the chilly wind or Ashton’s words, you didn’t know, nor were you particularly excited to find out either. Seeing him angry was nothing new to you by now, but it was entirely different seeing his anger aimed at someone else.

Ashton dismissed his men, turning back on his heel and walking up to you. The two men that were by your side rapidly scurried away, leaving you on your own with the devil.

“Anything you want to tell me, angel?” He asked, eyes set on yours.

“What?” You scoffed “You think I had anything to do with this?”

“All I know is that you randomly appeared at my door less than 36 hours ago with some sob, pathetic story, asking for help. And now people have tried to break in”

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy, insincere laugh. Yet, Ashton remained as serious as ever.

“You’re kidding,” You stated “I’ve broken all ties with my family. You know this. Why else would I ask for your help?”

“Because all Hemmings lie, angel,” Ashton said, taking a step closer to you “That’s all they do. And don’t think for a second I believe every word that comes out of your mouth just because you come here with sad eyes, demanding help. I’ve taken a risk by even considering helping you-”

“Then why did you? Why did you say you were going to do it?”

You asked out of genuine curiosity. If helping you was “such a huge risk” for Ashton, then why did he even accept it in the first place? Still, he gave you nothing with his silence.

His eyes were dark, familiar to the boy you once knew, but at the same time so far away from the memory you once held. It was impossible to get a read on him, to know what he was thinking at any given time. He was just standing there, merely a whisper away from you, yet so distant. He was a man with no conscience, no soul, and no mercy.

“I didn’t lie to you,” You told him after a while “I just want to find my brother”

Ashton contemplated you for a moment “And if I refuse to offer any help?”

“Then I will find someone who will” You lied, knowing that no one but him would be able to help you. But hoping Ashton would believe it enough not to question it “You tell me to go and I’ll leave, right? So I’ll be out of your hair if you’re so scared that I might do something”

Your intention was never to walk away, but you knew exactly what buttons to push to get a reaction out of him. And, sure enough, you didn’t walk even one step before his hand grabbed you by the wrist and turned your body around, chest colliding with his, face to face.

He held your wrist at the level of his eye, watching intently over you, trying to decide whether or not to believe you.

“You’re getting on my last nerve, angel,” He said, quietly but with a hint of a threat lacing his words.

Your eyes shifted due to his proximity, going from that hazel color of his eyes to the pinkness of his lips. You caught yourself at the last second, focusing on the chain that hung from his neck over his chest. But the smirk he gave you let you know that he caught you staring.

“Like anything you see, angel?”

You rolled your eyes “You’re impossible, Irwin”

“Maybe,” He said, a smile present in his voice as he lowered his head and whispered in your ear “But as you said, I’m your only hope”

“I didn’t-”

“SIR!” A man yelled behind you. Both turned toward him “We found something-!”

Suddenly, all you could hear was the sound of a gunshot followed by the thud the guard’s body made when it hit the floor.

Ashton turned around quickly, pushing you behind him as he tried to grab his gun from his pocket. It all happened so quickly, that you didn’t even notice the second shot being fired until Ashton groaned and grabbed the side of his arm.

You acted quickly, grabbing Ashton’s gun from his pocket as you started to fire it in the direction where you assumed the shooter was. You pulled Ashton from the back of his collar, awkwardly maneuvering him to safety while you kept shooting until you hit the back of a building. You pushed Ashton against the wall, watching briefly as he sunk to the ground while you tried to focus.

Most of your body was hidden behind that brick wall, but your periphery gave you enough balance to locate the threat. You watched a shadow run from the roof of the club to the alleyway beside it. The guns from both your parts kept shooting bullets in your direction, neither of them hitting the target.

The shadow then jumped on the hood of a car onto the passenger seat. The sound of the tires burning against the floor hurt your ears, and the headlights lit up as they sped away. And, just like that, they were gone.

Your ears kept ringing while you tried to stabilize your breathing. The beating of your heart was going ten thousand miles per hour as the reality of what just happened sunk in. But, what the hell happened?

“What happened?” You whispered to no one in particular “We were just-”

The dryness of your throat forced you to keep quiet. The truth was, you never experienced cross-fire before. You knew how to shoot a gun because your brothers taught you against your mother’s wishes. You knew the basic steps you needed to follow in case there was a shooting. Yet, this was the first time you shot someone - or against someone - and the fact that you couldn’t tell if the shaking of your hands came from fear or adrenaline disturbed you a little.

“Angel,”

You blinked, seemingly being pulled back to earth with his voice.

Ashton was sitting next to you, panting as his hand covered the side of his upper arm. He looked up at you, but the hatred you once saw in his eyes was now replaced by some sort of mischievous gleam. He was grinning at you.

“Well done,” Was all he said before a hiss escaped his lips.

“Oh my god, Ash” You kneeled by his side “I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s fine,” He said, trying to move “I’m fine, the bullet didn’t even - fuck. It didn’t even hit, barely grazed me-”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the buttons of his jacket and opening them to slide it off.

“Take a guy out for a drink first” He joked as you started to open up his shirt “Although, I can’t say that I mind-”

“For fuck’s sake, Ash. I’m trying to see where the bullet hit you!”

From your position, you couldn’t just shrug off his sleeve. So you grabbed his shoulder and pulled him from the wall, accidentally letting go too early and leaving his head to bounce off the wall by the effect.

“I told you, I’m fi-fiaaagh- The fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Sorry,” You cringed, trying to locate his wound “I can’t see it properly…”

Ashton then swiftly pulled you from your hips into his lap, sitting you properly before he raised his arm and bent it with his hand behind his head.

“Better?” He asked, breathing in deeply from the pain.

You stared at him, perplexed by his actions. But then you shook your head and located the wound, trying your hardest to ignore that you were sitting in Ashton Iriwin’s lap.

His other hand danced over the side of your knee, never touching it, but barely grazing it with his fingertips. His eyes were set on every move you made, never leaving your face. When you noticed it, he smiled at the slight blush that covered your cheeks.

“So,” You said, calmly “Are you going to give me a proper gun now, Irwin?”

“I’ll consider it”

“What? I basically saved your life!”

“You have a poor technique” He shrugged “I can give you some proper points later”

“Proper points?”

Ashton then grabbed his gun from beside you, took out the bullets, and pointed it at you.

“You see this?” He said, “This is how you grabbed the gun, one misfire and you’d be out a finger, angel. You’re lucky my guns are well-calibrated. But we’ll go over that later”

“Sure,” You said, giving him a small laugh in disbelief “Well, you’re lucky that bullet barely left a cut. We- You should go disinfect it before it catches anything”

“I’ll survive then,” Ashton said, lowering his arm and letting it rest on your bent ankle. caressing the skin.

“For now, Irwin”

“Ash,” He said.

“Huh?”

“Earlier you called me “Ash” It’s the first time that I’ve heard it”

“Well, I thought you were dying, so…”

You gave him a small smile that he returned, his fingers still touching your skin as his eyes never left yours.

“We should-” You stammered “We should head back, see if anyone else is injured?”

“So that you could call Peter, “Pete” if he got himself a boo-boo?” You groaned as you rolled your eyes and got off his lap, starting to walk toward the club “I was joking!”

*

Soon, you and Ashton and a couple of guys from his security team were scuttering the roof from where the shadow started to shoot. There was nothing there that could lead them to anything or anyone. It was completely deserted.

“And you’re sure you’ve watched someone run-”

“Yes!” You repeated for the thousandth time, giving them a walkthrough “I saw them appear over here, and then run toward the alleyway. They jumped and got into a car, someone was already waiting there”

Ashton hummed, “We’re going to review the footage, and see if we can trace the license plate or the type of car they were using. That would narrow the list”

“A lot of enemies, Iriwn?”

Ashton shook his head “I don’t think I have anything to do with this, angel”

“What do you mean?”

He walked over to you where the shadow allegedly started shooting. He turned you around and pointed to the two guards that were marking where the two of you had stood before the shooting.

“Tell me when you see it,” He whispered to you.

You scoffed. There was nothing left to see. The man who was supposed to be Ashton is with his back exposed to the shooter while the one representing you was barely in sight. They could’ve easily-

And then it hit you.

They could’ve easily shot Ashton in the back of his neck. But they didn’t.

Ashton was not their target.

You were.

[gothluke]

luke as barbie and the magic of pegasus

[danswank]

[edge-oftheworld]

youtube comments that predicted the future:

all credit to vivicakes183 on youtube

[doveabovetheworld]

A concept:

You and Ashton met through work when you started a new job as 5 Seconds Of Summer’s official photographer/social media coordinator, but when you wake up next to him after a party, your whole life takes a turn.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Cannibals [Chapter 7: Lightning and Rust]

A/N: Only 3 chapters left!!! 🥳❤️💙🦇

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), babies and parenthood, blood and violence, character deaths, I really cannot summarize this chapter you just gotta experience it, I'll pray for you 🙏

Word count: 6.8k

💙 All my writing can be found HERE! ❤️

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰

🦇 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🦇

You’re curled up in bed with a velvet pouch of hot stones that have gone cold, bloody rags bunched between your thighs, trying desperately to sleep, and outside a storm is brewing over Blackwater Bay and bringing with it dark skies and strikes of lightning that stalk ever-closer. Through the open window, the air tasting like late-summer rain, you can hear Helaena and the maids corralling the children back into the Red Keep. They are laughing because nobody is dead yet, not even the ailing and absent King Viserys, not even doomed little Luke Strong.

Aemond lets himself into your chambers and stands over your bed, staring down at you with some combination of annoyance and concern. You have failed him. You were not where he wanted you to be. “Why weren’t you at the beach?” Playing with your niece and nephews, collecting your seashells.

“Because women are cursed.”

Aemond smiles, perhaps a bit relieved; he has his answer. “And you more than any of them, because you’re so wicked.”

“Maester Orwyle says I can’t have more milk of the poppy for two hours.”

“Then we must listen to him. It is a powerful remedy, and we cannot endanger you.” He takes off his boots and climbs into bed, lying behind you, one hand following the curve of your waist to settle on your lower belly. “I can relax the muscles. It might ease your suffering.”

Right now? “Oh no, no, you don’t want to do that,” you warn him. “It’s very messy.”

“You think I’m afraid of your blood?” Aemond says, amused. “Everything we’re built of is the same.” He lifts the hem of your silk nightgown and reaches underneath the nest of rags, sliding there in the coppery wetness as you inhale sharply, startled but not unwilling. When Aemond removes his hand, the carnage he is stained with is bright crimson but dotted with clots. Then he licks the blood from his fingers and paints his tongue red. You can’t keep the shock from your face. Aemond grins, wets his hand again, draws a heart on your left cheek just beneath your eye. You laugh and pretend to try to shove him away.

“You’re deranged, you’re a monster—”

“Let me help you,” Aemond whispers, nuzzling blood from his lips into your silver hair. “Let me take your pain away like you quiet mine.”

And you surrender to him like you always do—worn down, overpowered, intoxicated, bewitched, seduced, perhaps all at once—and as Aemond’s hand works and the gory metallic ether of blood fills both of your lungs, the cramps dissolve into nothingness and then build to desire, and you’re opening your thighs for him and the rags are whisked away, unnecessary, forgotten, and now there is blood on the bedsheets and your fingers are twisting into the pillows strewn around you, and it doesn’t feel shameful at all anymore, because what is blood if not made from the same minerals as coins and blades and ocean and ash, and what is lust if not a fire that burns the constraints of the world away?

You kiss him as you come, moaning into his bloodstained mouth, biting his lower lip, and if the careless pressure of your teeth makes him bleed then that’s just more iron and copper and steel to add to the molten sea you are marooned in, more magma, more rust. “Enough,” you gasp when the last of the waves have passed and you are emptied and too sensitive, and Aemond knows to listen. Then you reach for Aemond’s trousers, where you can see he is hard. You are abruptly and ruinously exhausted—you struggle to keep your eyes open—but it feels wrong to not take care of him in return.

It shouldn’t take long, he’s already flushed, he’s already dripping sweat—

“No need,” Aemond says, gently stopping your hands. And as you burrow into the pillows and your eyes dip closed, your skin and hair still splattered with red, he slips away silently so you can sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t want to leave you,” Jace says, knowing that he has to anyway. “Either of you.”

You are nursing the baby in a chair by the fireplace; you needed a change of scenery from the bed. The upholstery is pale blue velvet. The blanket the baby is swathed in is embroidered with pine trees and foxes, and far beyond your skill; Lady Caro made it. She is nearly as gifted with a needle as Helaena. On the walls of the bedchamber you share with your husband are mosaics you’ve pieced together over the past nine months here at the modest castle of Heart’s Home in a cold, remote corner of the Vale. The fractured faces look in on you like curious gazes through clear windows: Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, Jaehaera, Maelor, Mother, Criston. You aren’t any closer to them now, but you feel like you are. The world seems softer, warmer, smaller.

You smile as you ghost a fingerprint over the baby’s faint dark eyebrows. He’s half-asleep as he suckles, hushed and content and entirely helpless. He has Jace’s coloring, but something about the shape of his eyes reminds you of Aegon. “We’ll be here waiting when you get back.”

“I think he looks a lot like Luke,” Jace says, admiring the baby. He’s standing with one arm draped over the back of your chair and the flickering firelight from the hearth on his face, turning his skin from snow to sunstone. “And Joffrey. His face is rounder than mine.”

“Have you been to the Eyrie to see them since the war began?” Joffrey, Rhaena, Rhaenyra’s young white-haired sons Aegon and Viserys.

Jace shakes his head. “I never wanted to be away from you for longer than necessary. I didn’t want to risk being spotted and revealing where they’ve been hidden. And I didn’t know what to say.” About us, about our marriage, about our baby.

“You should visit them, Jace. I would visit Helaena and her children if I could.” You leave out the others intentionally; Helaena is your only sibling that Jace considers blameless. You miss Aegon and Daeron just as much, but in the solitude of your own heart—in the stillness, in the silence—you aren’t sure if you want to see Aemond again. You don’t know if he will be soft with you, or vengeful or cold, or if he has filled the void of your absence with a lover, something that you cannot think about without your stomach lurching and your skull aching, and so you put him out of your mind as much as you can and stay here with the baby instead.

Jace rests a hand on your shoulder reassuringly, then strokes your cheek. He says, meaning the baby: “We’ll have to get him his own egg.”

“I hope he won’t inherit my affliction,” you murmur somberly. “I hope he’ll have a dragon someday.” Without them, we are powerless. Without them, we aren’t real Targaryens.

“Maybe there’s something you need to do first.”

You look up at Jace, not understanding.

“I’ve spent a lot of time considering what inspires a dragon to bond to someone,” he says. And you think, feeling a fleeting stab of betrayal before you stitch the wound closed with invisible thread: Because you’ve been helping the Blacks search for riders. “It seems that each creature has their own preferences. Meleys favored women who were spirited and highly intelligent. Dreamfyre has chosen two riders, both gentle, shy, and fond of animals. Seasmoke bonded to two sons of Corlys Velaryon with similar temperaments, agreeable and charismatic, Quicksilver to a father and son who were both considered weak and died young. Caraxes seems to have an affinity for warriors.” It does not escape you that Jace neglects to mention Vhagar, as if through his silence he can make the beast and her rider vanish. “And Vermithor…” Jace offers you a small, sympathetic smile, remembering that you once wanted him. “The Bronze Fury bonds to riders who are imposing in body and ambitious in spirit. And I suspect he only likes men.”

“So it was always hopeless,” you say gloomily. You recall the miniature Vermithor that Aegon once carved for you out of oak wood. You hope that Aegon is still alive somewhere, scarred but lying in wait, always underestimated, always so much deeper than he seems, an ocean that Mother and Father mistook for a puddle, messy and marginal and inconvenient.

“I believe dragons often gravitate towards riders who are mirrors of themselves. Even Vermax, he is…” Jace considers this. “He’s proud, and he’s clever, but he’s not as formidable as he imagines himself to be.”

“Like you,” you say before you can stop to consider whether Jace will be offended by it, and he gives you an amused smirk. The baby has stopped nursing and fallen asleep; you fix the bodice of your gown and cradle him against you. There are maids to take him when you’re tired, and Jace loves holding him, and Lady Caro steals him away often, but right now you don’t want your freedom. You don’t want your mind to be untethered and to wander to all the places you’re not supposed to be.

Jace continues: “What I mean is, perhaps there is some quality you must cultivate within yourself before the beast you are meant to have judges you worthy.”

“Hardly any unclaimed dragons are left now.” Then you tease: “Do you suggest I become quiet and timid so Grey Ghost will like me?”

Jace laughs. “No, I fear that’s a lost cause, princess. You could never be timid.”

You are intrigued. “Then what am I?”

“I think you’re hungry,” Jace decides. “I think you always want more.”

“I never wanted that many things.” Aemond. My family to be safe. And I wanted Vermithor.

“Every line that is drawn, every place you’re told not to go or act you’re not supposed to do, you insist upon overreaching.”

Is that why Aemond and I were so drawn to each other? you think doubtfully. Because it was forbidden? Because it horrified people who climbed high enough to live alongside Targaryens but could never understand them?

“I think Meleys would have been a good match for you,” Jace says after a while. “If she hadn’t already been claimed by Grandmother.”

“And now the Red Queen is dead.��� Like Arrax, and Moondancer, and Seasmoke, and probably Sunfyre too. How many dragons will be left when this is over? How many Targaryens? You clutch the baby closer to you; he stirs in his sleep, tiny fingers grasping at nothing. “What sort of rider does Silverwing favor? What could this illiterate drunk Ulf the White possibly have in common with Good Queen Alysanne?”

Jace snickers. “That’s a good question. I’ve been ruminating on it. My theory is that since Silverwing was never ridden into battle, and has always been relatively docile and accustomed to living peacefully near humans, she was attracted to Ulf’s…how to describe it? His lack of military prowess. Or, alternatively, once Vermithor was claimed Silverwing was very, very lonely.”

You smile, and then it dies. It must be indescribably painful to be separated from one’s mate after a century together. Unsurvivable, even. “Can Silverwing fight, do you think?”

Jace heaves a sigh and shrugs. “I’m not sure if either of them can. Ulf will try, at least. Hopefully it won’t come to that, and Vermithor is enough to protect King’s Landing. Hugh Hammer is an inexperienced rider, but he’s brave and he’s committed. Each time I see him he’s better than he was before.”

Hugh Hammer is a bastard blacksmith, but he has more power in this war than I do. Ulf the White is an idiot and a drunk, but he’s a true Targaryen and I’m not. You rock your sleeping child in your arms, quieting the voices that flutter in your skull like bat wings. You kiss his wisps of dark curls and breathe in his warmth and newness and blood that is interwoven with yours.

“You could learn how to hate your own kind and claim the Cannibal,” Jace jokes.

You chuckle. “I don’t hate anyone.” Not here, not now.

Lady Caro arrives in the doorway carrying a tray of cinnamon tea. “I have come offering a trade,” she says, grinning, and shuffles excitedly across the room. She sets the tray down on the table by your chair and holds out her hands. Reluctantly, you surrender the baby. Lady Caro coos and beams at him as you and Jace sip cinnamon tea, sweet and loosing steam like morning mist into the air. “Surely by now you’ve made the logical decision to name him in my honor.”

“Carolei would be a very strange thing to call a boy,” Jace says.

“Caroson,” she jests.

You add: “Carogon. Carocaerys.”

“Awful!” Jace says, laughing.

“Have you been feeding the baby again?” Lady Caro scolds you. “We have wetnurses for that.”

“They get him all night. I want time with him too.”

“You’re barely even producing any milk. You’d make for a terrible goat.”

“Then I’ll nurse him for as long as I can.”

“You’ll end up with pitiful floppy breasts like mine.”

“Isn’t this what they’re for? Nourishing children, not being gawked at and tugged on by some man?”

Lady Caro turns to Jace, exasperated. “She has some disease. She can’t listen to anyone.”

He smiles. “She’s an untamable beast, I’m afraid. Burns up anyone who makes the attempt.”

Lord Corbray walks in, and nestled in his ancient arthritic hands is a sword in a sheath. There is a large heart-shaped ruby in the hilt. “Prince Jacaerys, I cannot begin to tell you what an honor it has been not only to host you and the princess here in our humble castle, but also to have a future king of the Seven Kingdoms born within our walls.”

Jace stands up straighter, as his mother would want him to. He’ll never look like the heir to the throne, like a Targaryen, but he can act like one. “We continue to be grateful for your hospitality.”

“To commemorate this happy occasion, I wish to gift you a cherished heirloom of my house. This is Lady Forlorn, made of Valyrian steel. She came to House Corbray over a century ago, and now I bequeath her to you. I hope she will aid you in your victory in this unjust war, and that all the realm will soon be at peace and under competent rulership.”

Jace looks at you uneasily; you pretend to be preoccupied drinking your tea. You ignore Lord Corbray’s slight against the Greens. You don’t have much choice, and you’ve had plenty of practice. Jace takes Lady Forlorn from Lord Corbray and unsheathes her, studying his reflection in the cold smoke-colored grey of the blade. His face is grave. Now he feels the weight on his shoulders of being not just a prince, an heir, a soldier, and a husband, but a father as well, something he himself never had in a way that was truthful and pure. You are alarmed to see tears gleaming in his dark eyes.

“Jace?” you say, touching his arm.

He regains his composure. “Thank you, Lord Corbray. I will treasure Lady Forlorn, and I will endeavor to always use her wisely.”

Lord Corbray smiles fondly at the slumbering baby in Lady Caro’s arms. Across the Riverlands, their sole surviving child, Jessamyn, is in hiding with her husband and children. At Lady Caro’s insistence, they fled from the Mallisters’ castle at Seagard in case Aemond and Vhagar descend upon it. He is still burning. A monster? you think. “I assume you’ve named your firstborn?”

You and Jace exchange a glance. You haven’t yet; you are afraid to discuss it with each other. There are so many possibilities—Targaryen or Velaryon or Strong—and none seem to be without some unspoken allegiance or condemnation. There are so few guiltless names left. But you think you know what Jace would choose if he dared to speak it aloud.

“We should name him after Luke,” you say. A boy, an innocent. A victim of a horrific accident that started this war.

Jace is surprised, but there is relief in his face too. “Lucerys?” he says, trying it out. Then he is solemn again. “It feels wrong to use the exact same name. Like I’m trying to replace him.”

“Lucerion,” Lady Caro suggests, still holding the baby. “It sounds like a prince’s name. It sounds like a king’s.”

Jace attaches Lady Forlorn to his belt and then takes the baby, obviously against Lady Caro’s will. “Lucerion,” Jace murmurs, smiling down at his son who is stirring awake and beginning to whimper. “Is that your name? Is that what we’ll call you?”

“Perhaps Luca for short,” you say from your chair, feeling drained and like you need to lie down. You’ll have to change your rags again soon, or you’ll bleed through them.

“Luca, the littlest dragon,” Jace proclaims, touching his fingertip to the baby’s puggish nose. Then he turns to you. “Did you have a nickname as a child? I always did and still do, of course. And Luke…” Jace trails off, thinking of his dead brother, murdered by yours.

You see your red bat traveling around the board; you feel the warmth of blood on your cheek. “They called me Red.”

“Red?” Jace is baffled. “Like the color?”

“There was a game we played when we were young, and my piece…” You close your eyes, not wanting to remember, not wanting to feel the weight of their absence. “It doesn’t matter. It was so long ago.” And you fear that Jace will hear the evasiveness in your voice and ask you more questions; but he is absorbed with the baby, and he has already forgotten.

Two days later Jace and Vermax fly south to King’s Landing, and you and Luca are left in the care of the Corbrays and the maids and the ghosts that haunt the drafty stone corridors of Heart’s Home, soldiers killed in the Riverlands and the Reach, women and children burned and starved, bones devoured by dragons, generations of names forgotten.

Sometimes you giggle with Lady Caro as you drink cinnamon tea in the Great Hall. Sometimes you stand in the castle rookery listening to the ravens caw and stare out into the cold mist of the mountains, wondering what is happening in the world outside. And sometimes you have Luca nestled in your arms and walk with him around your bedchamber, introducing him to the faces of the people you left in your old life, when you were called Red and you believed you could be someone like Visenya. But you never mention Aemond, and not just because there are no mosaics of him on the wall.

You wouldn’t know what to say. You wouldn’t know where to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~

You learn Jace is back when he climbs into bed just as you are drifting off one night, silver moonlight spilling in through the glass of the window, his body folding into you, his arm skating over your waist to find your hand and weave his fingers through yours. Two months have passed since he left, moons that grow full and then vanish, milk that dries up and blood that ceases flowing and rebuilds inside you for the next child, if there will be one, when there will be one. Luca is sleeping in his own room with his maids and wetnurses. Jace’s curls tickle your throat as he nuzzles into you as if he wants to disappear.

He says: “The littlest dragon is much bigger than I remember.”

“How was Helaena?”

“Troubled, as is to be expected, but in good health. Jaehaera and Maelor are well too. King’s Landing is cold some days now. I think they’ll have snow soon. The taxes, the riots, the stockpiling of food as the Reach and the Riverlands burn…it’s a disaster. Mother is desperate. She misses Luke, I think. And Baela, and Daemon. She’s lost so much weight I barely recognized her. But she was very, very happy to hear about Luca. Hopefully she can meet him soon. Although we’ll have to be careful traveling with him while he’s so small, we’ll have to ensure he’s warm enough.”

Winter is coming, you think, remembering Cregan Stark’s army under the protection of Daemon and Caraxes. “Did you see Rhaena and the boys at the Eyrie?”

“I did,” Jace admits, as if it was a fraught experience.

“And what happened?”

“Rhaena called me a traitor.”

“For marrying and fathering a son with me?”

“No, that she understands,” Jace says. “But it is treason to love you.”

You turn around to look at him in the shadows, in the moonlight. “You told her?”

“She could tell. I cannot hide it. I am a glass jar and you and Luca are the butterflies inside.” And Jace kisses you softly, his fingers hooked beneath your chin, his flesh coming alive again after so long away: managing and conciliating, lifting Rhaenyra’s spirits, pawing through the heaps of bastards in King’s Landing for dragonriders, flying on Vermax through storms and snow.

When you kiss Jace back, when your hands go to his chest and his jaw and his face, when you open his tunic so you can feel the heat of his skin underneath, you are aware that parts of you are waking up again as well. There is a dull but definite ache of lust beginning to bloom like a blood drop soaking into white cotton.

“Are you…” Jace begins. “Do you think you’re healed enough, I mean…have you stopped bleeding?”

You hesitate. “I have.” You think of your first time with him and how painful it was, the sensation of burning, of tearing, and you can only assume it will be worse now. “But I’m rather terrified too.”

“No, no, don’t be afraid,” Jace whispers, he pleads, running his fingers through your long unbound hair. “We don’t have to do that. I won’t hurt you. I’ll wait for as long as you want.” His dark eyes travel down the white nightgown that clings to your body, your breasts, your belly, and then lower. “Can I…can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, bewildered. Then as Jace begins to push the hem of your nightgown up over your hips to your waist, you grin and kiss him again in the dim celestial light, cool night air rushing up over your bare legs, blood surging through your arteries to where he bends low to taste you once—a long, slow, tentative drag of the tongue—and then moans quietly and pushes your thighs further apart so he can bury himself there and lick, suck, swallow down your clear mineral wetness as it pools for him.

Something isn’t quite right—not enough pressure, not the ideal angle—but it’s exquisite to be reacquainted with this side of yourself, to know you can feel this way again, insatiable and desired. When you reach to touch Jace, there is a moment when you are startled to find dark curly hair in place of silk-smooth silver, and there is a ghost in the room like a voyeur watching, and you think dazedly: If Aemond knew about this, would he kill me?

“There,” you gasp, jolting as your husband stumbles upon the perfect place and rhythm. “Jace, right there…”

He listens, he is groaning with desperation for you, and you roll into a climax that is brief and sharp and a little painful, but good. Instead of being extinguished, you are a kindled flame. You turn over, straddle Jace, and unfasten his trousers. You begin kissing your way down his belly, nipping at him, your palm kneading his hardness, and you know he wants you but for some reason when you go to take him in your mouth, he pushes you away.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jace says, alarmed.

“I know. I want to.”

“No, seriously. Stop.”

You look at him, wounded, rejected. “Jace, I’m not doing this out of obligation. I enjoy it.”

He is staring at the wall. “I just…for you to…I’m sorry, it just feels wrong.”

“I can do things you believe are only for whores and still be your wife.”

“Shh,” he says, and his voice is gentle but his face is pained. You think of something Criston once told you when you were collecting bones from the Godswood of the Red Keep: Red, it hurts your mother when you’re like this. Are you cursed to disappoint people, to repulse them, to be eternally misunderstood? “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

Jace gets out of bed and fetches a small wooden box he must have brought into the room with him when you were still half-asleep. He opens the box, debates whether to reach in, decides against it and passes you the whole box instead. “I asked the castle maester to procure some while I was away…”

You squeal with delight when you see what’s inside: three black and white bats the same breed as Sapphire was, large fanlike ears and wiggling noses and small black eyes that peer curiously up at you. When you offer them your open palms, they immediately scramble into them.

“I hope they’re good ones.” Jace chuckles nervously. “I don’t really know what makes a bat suitable or not.”

“They’re perfect,” you say, smiling. “I’ll build them a roost. I’ll introduce them to Luca.”

Yet you cannot stop yourself from thinking: Aemond wouldn’t have cared if I was still bleeding.

~~~~~~~~~~

You are snuggled up with Luca in your chair by the fire, cool midday light—the color of steel, smoke, rainclouds, ash—streaming in through the windows. The baby’s eyes have turned dark like Jace’s, and his curls grow longer. He is only half-awake and blinking drowsily, his diminutive hands clasping your fingers. He doesn’t cry often, but he doesn’t smile either. Lady Caro believes he already has the temperament of a good king, a calmness, a graveness. She says: How improper would it be for him to be full of complaints or cheerfulness, the way the world is right now? No, he ought to be serious. He ought to be grateful he’s not starving or being roasted alive.

“I have some new friends,” you whisper to the baby like a secret or a myth. “They’re asleep right now. They sleep all day, kind of like you do. But then at night they come alive and they’re free, and they fly around like hawks or dragons.”

You speak for Luca, a soft bird-trill of a voice: “What are their names?”

“Good question,” you say, smiling. “Iris, Shark, and Flood. And you’ll meet them soon.” Your eyes go to the mosaics on the walls. Jace hasn’t asked you to take them down, but he doesn’t acknowledge them either, except for the mosaic you made of him that hangs by the headboard of the bed. He beams at that one and calls it fine work. “You’ll meet the people I grew up with too. Aegon will make you wood carvings. Helaena will sew you blankets. Daeron will take you on adventures. Jaehaera and Maelor will play games with you. And Mother and Criston will love you because you won’t be like me. You’ll be sweet-tempered and honorable, and when you’re old enough you’ll have a dragon to help protect us with.”

There is a knock on the doorframe; one of Luca’s wetnurses has arrived to feed him. You regret that you can’t anymore. Lady Caro was right; you’d be a terrible goat or cow or yak.

“Princess,” the wetnurse says, curtsying before she takes the baby from you. You watch her leave with him for his own bedchamber—Lady Caro has already filled it with toys and children’s books—and as soon as they are out of sight, the darkness of your losses creeps back in like spiders scurrying down the corridors of your veins and arteries, like rust growing over steel. Then you hear the rumbling of voices downstairs in the Great Hall.

You stand and swish in your gown—one of the Vale’s anemic colors, a faint dusky rose—through the hallway and down the spiral staircase of the tower. In the belly of the castle, the commotion is louder, and you sweep into the Great Hall to find men gathered around the table closest to the roaring hearth, Lord Corbray and his knights and the maester, and Lady Caro too looking on anxiously. Jace is holding a piece of parchment in his hands, presumably just delivered by a raven. He shakes his head as he reads it. Outside, snow is falling.

Lady Caro is saying: “Well you’ll have to tell her. Oh, the poor dear, as if everything else isn’t bad enough. And only the gods know where Aemond is, he hasn’t been spotted in the Riverlands for days…” Then she spies you and shoos Lord Corbray and his men from the room. They bow to you as they depart, swift little bobs of the head. They have to; you are now both the wife and mother of future kings.

“Jace?” you say when the Great Hall is empty except for the two of you and Lady Caro.

Jace’s face is stricken. Lady Forlorn hangs from his belt. The letter is still clutched in his left hand; the right grips the hilt of his Valyrian steel sword. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?” you ask, immediately horrified. Aegon dead of his burns, Daeron killed in battle, Mother executed for treason, Aemond…? “What happened?”

“You have to believe that I had no idea about any of this, I never would have given Hugh the order if I’d been there, or let Mother do it—”

“Jace, please tell me.”

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond??

Instead, Jace says absurdly: “It’s Helaena.”

You stare at him. “Helaena isn’t a warrior.”

“No,” he agrees. “But she got to Dreamfyre somehow and tried to escape the city.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

That’s impossible. She wouldn’t leave Mother and the children. “No, she couldn’t have, she—”

“She took flight,” Jace insists. “And my mother sent Hugh Hammer after her on Vermithor.”

Vermithor was supposed to be mine, you think numbly. “And Helaena, she…she was…?”

Jace is trying to keep his voice steady; his dark eyes gleam, begging you not to hate him. “Dreamfyre attacked when Vermithor flew close to her. She wasn’t an especially aggressive dragon, but she was large and formidable, and she fought to defend her own life and that of her rider. Vermithor ripped out her throat, though Hugh was burned to death in the saddle. Then Vermithor flew eastward, and no one knows where he is now. Dreamfyre crashed to the earth, and Helaena with her. Their bodies were found on the beach outside the Red Keep.”

She can’t be dead. She never hurt anyone. She just wanted to be with her creatures and her family. She embroidered my blankets with red bats, she put ladybugs into my open palms. “Why would Helaena try to run, why would she do that?”

“I don’t know.”

You think nonsensically, as you have no way of knowing this: Because she was trying to stop something terrible from happening. “I told you to give her more freedom. And that freedom allowed her to sneak away to the Dragonpit.”

Jace reaches for you. “This isn’t your fault—”

“All of it ismy fault!” you shout at him, and Lady Caro shrinks away and covers her mouth with her hands. “If I’d had Vermithor, the Greens would have been unstoppable! And Rhaenyra never would have tried to claim the throne, and Aemond wouldn’t have been sent to Storm’s End, and Luke and Jaehaerys and Baela wouldn’t have died, and Aegon wouldn’t have been burned, and Aemond wouldn’t be destroying the Riverlands, and Helaena would still be alive, but instead I’ve always been useless!”

“You aren’t useless,” Jace pleads.

“Not normal enough to be a good wife or daughter, not extraordinary enough to have a dragon!”

Again, Jace tries to touch you, to soothe you. “Please don’t—”

You fling his hands away. “What was our marriage for if not to stop this from happening?! To end the dying, to protect the people we have left?” You whirl away from him and flee from the Great Hall, the castle, yourself. Behind you, Lady Caro is comforting Jace with soft tenderness you’ve never been capable of.

“Let her go, my prince,” she is counselling. “Give her a moment to grieve…”

You throw open the first door you pass and trudge out into the snow, no fox fur coat, bare feet. The cold stings and then your skin goes numb and it doesn’t bother you anymore. The icy mountain wind tears at your hair, flowing in long waves like the women of the Vale wear it, delicate and feminine, pretty and powerless. Tears cascade down your face; currents of red magma scorch your throat. When you close your eyes, you see the yellow butterfly that was once Helaena’s game piece.

She never hurt anyone. She never did anything wrong.

Now you are under the shadows of the soaring pine trees, their green needles so thick you cannot see the grey of the sky.

She never met Luca.

You gaze up into the branches, covered with tufts of white snow and icicles like fangs, and you have the overwhelming, ravenous feeling that you need to go home. You don’t belong in the Vale. The Vale almost killed you when you were a child, Aemond’s hands shoving you into a rushing stream freckled with ice.

And then all at once—like you’ve been hit, like you’ve been stabbed with a blade—you are flying high above the castle and the wind is raking over your cheeks, but it is not your face but Aemond’s, half-blind and half-scarred, torrential red waves of a sea of blood in his skull.

He’s here, he’s here—

And if he’s able to see through your eyes that you are outside in the forest…

The castle!!!

You bolt through the trees back towards Heart’s Home, your bare feet leaving tracks in the fresh powdery snow that is nearly up to your knees, and you stumble out of the shadows just as Vhagar soars overhead and unleashes her flames on the castle, wood burning, stones collapsing, people inside shrieking as they incinerate. You’re screaming for Aemond to stop, but he does not hear you and he does not see you either, he is high above in a place you’ve never been and never will be, he is flying, and he is hearing only devastation and he is breathing in its dark, intoxicating smoke, and as Vhagar swoops by the stable and it bursts into an inferno—horses galloping loose and engulfed in fire, dead but not knowing it yet—you run into the crumbling castle.

“Jace?!” you shout, but the air is full of smoke and the sounds of wood cracking and stones caving in are deafening. You feel blindly for the spiral staircase that leads up to the tower where your and Luca’s bedchambers are located. From the part of the castle that was once the Great Hall, you can hear Lord Corbray and Lady Caro screaming as their skin blisters and sloughs away and their flesh is cooked and their bones are charred black, and when the flames reach their lungs the screams go quiet. You cannot think about them. You don’t have any time; you must think of Luca and Jace. “Jace!” you bellow through the smoke.

And then there is a weak reply: “Here.”

You follow it into the stairwell. Parts of the wall have been blasted away; you can see the pine forest outside, the cold barren sky, the Mountains of the Moon. Jace is halfway up the steps, slumped against the fractured wall and pinned there by stones that have rained down on his legs. His bones must be broken; his face is bloodless and his curls matted to his forehead by sweat. His right hand fumbles futilely for the hilt of Lady Forlorn. Now, dimly, you can hear Luca crying.

Jace rasps as he stares vacantly up at you: “I tried to get to him. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Jace, I can do it.”

“I love you.”

“I’ll be right back.”

You climb over him and chase Luca’s wails up the staircase. Vhagar is back, and the ruins of the castle tremble when she roars, and you feel the heat of her flames radiating up through the floor. You lose your footing and clamber up the last few steps on your hands and knees, then manage to stand again and careen into Luca’s room. Half the roof has collapsed; a wetnurse is sprawled on the floor and half-buried in fallen stones, blood hemorrhaging out of her mouth and ears. You grab the baby out of his cradle and quickly bundle him in his blanket patterned with blue dragonflies. His tiny hands grasp at your face and your hair as you rush back down the spiral staircase to help Jace. Smoke needles your eyes; you and Luca are both coughing as you try to clear your lungs.

You reach Jace and kneel beside him, holding Luca in your left arm and using your right to try to roll the stones off Jace’s legs, but he’s not helping you.

“Jace, please, we have to go now,” you say, but when you look at his face he’s not there. His dark eyes are glassy, his chest doesn’t rise and fall with the tide of air.

He’s gone, you think. Like Father, Luke, Jaehaerys, Baela, Rhaenys, Helaena. And you are struck by an excruciating pang of fondness for Jace more forceful than anything you ever felt for him when he was alive, and you cannot leave him here. He was your husband, he was Luca’s father. And he loved you. He must have. He said it over and over again.

“Jace?” you sob. But outside Vhagar is still flying—the gales churned up by her wings gust into the jagged holes in the castle walls—and she could be coming back, she could be returning to burn you, and Jace is dead but the baby is still alive.

You clutch Luca to you as he cries and you race down the steps, following the smoke-filled, twisted passageway. The heat is suffocating, the sounds of a dying castle engulfing, Heart’s Home turned into a graveyard, into a shattered skeleton, charred and cursed like Harrenhal. You crash through the door at the base of the stairwell and into the ground level of the castle, and you are almost out—

Something ignites, something explodes, and stones from the castle wall you are feeling your way along rip out of their centuries-old mortar and collide with you. Your ribs crack, you are thrown to the floor, but even as you scream and claw your way out of the rubble you don’t let go of the baby. You force yourself upright and stagger with Luca towards a gaping chasm where there was once a wall. There is a tremor like an earthquake. Outside, Vhagar must be landing.

Now you are in the snow again, bare feet and a gown covered with soot and wreckage. The baby isn’t crying anymore. When you glance down at the blanket he is swaddled in, the white space between the blue dots of dragonflies is turning red with blood.

Blood?

You can’t look. You can’t allow yourself to feel it; it will consume you until there is nothing left. The last vestiges of the castle are crumpling. Across the field, Vhagar is devouring Vermax’s small, broken corpse, crushing his bones in her massive, monstrous jaws.

Blood??

Aemond’s footsteps are behind you, crunching in the snow. His cloak cracks in the frigid wind like the sails of a ship. His words are full of dark, euphoric, lethal triumph, a high like nothing he’s ever known, not even when he claimed Vhagar, not even what he imagined he would feel on your wedding day when you’d be bound to each other with fire and blood in the tradition of Old Valyria. “I said I would find you, and I did.”

You hear your own voice as if from a very far distance, lightning strikes miles away but moving closer. “You killed him.”

Aemond is puzzled. You are supposed to be happy. You are saved, you are home. “Killed who?”

“He’s dead, and there will never be another. Not like this one. Jace was his father, but Jace is gone. You killed him too.”

And you turn to face him, and Aemond sees what you are holding in your arms, and only then does he understand.

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spring means new beginnings for both you and Joel, and a trip to a nearby lake has you feeling things for Joel you haven't felt in years. But, the sudden appearance of a stranger in the night has your bliss interrupted and Joel full of worry.

Warnings: Langauge. The Quadratic Equation (Run!) Joel Miller's Dad Bod (Yum) A little bit of a Gladiator tease since I just saw the second movie hehe.

Word Count: 4.1k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

I wrote a little Christmas imagine for Joel. It's not connected to this series but if you're interested, you can check it out right here.

February 2024

Joel can't sleep. He tosses and turns and listens to the way Ellie's snores leak through the thin walls of their new home. Anger seeps out of his body and permeates the peaceful atmosphere of his room..

Anger at himself, at the men who hurt you, at the universe in general. He clenches the hem of his blankets and tries to get a few hours of rest. Tomorrow he's due for an early morning shift at the wall with that guy Luke who never stops talking.

When he finally nods off it's well past two in the morning. His dreams are filled with you and Sarah. Of his failure to protect both of you. At some point he must've called out in his sleep because soon Ellie was shaking him awake, asking if he was okay.

He brushes her off and sends her back to bed. Sitting on the step of his front porch, he watches the sun slowly peak over the snow-covered roofs of Jackson. His eyes roam the front of your home, still dark except for your front porch light. Joel looks at the warped floorboards of your porch, his mind works out how he could fix those for you. Rip the old ones up, place new ones, sand em' down, and then paint a nice finish on them.

He's so lost in his own world of floorboards and wood stains that he misses your front door opening. You shuffle over to him, a bathrobe on over you pajamas and then a winter coat over that.

"Morning, neighbor." You say

Joel looks at your outstretched hands. A steaming mug of coffee is being held out to him.

"Morning." He says, scooting over for you to sit beside him

"Aren't you cold?" You ask as he sips at the coffee, looking at his sweat pants and a simple deep blue long-sleeve shirt.

"M' fine," Joel says

"I'd be freezing my ass off." You shrug, wrapping your fingers around your own mug

Joel sits beside you, sipping his coffee as two rabbits run by and under your front porch.

"Could make a good stew out of those." He notes

"Joel!" You gasp in disgust

"They're pretty fat, bet their pelts would be warm." He shrugs honestly

"Joel, I feed those rabbits." You groan, "You can't kill them for stew or for their fur."

"You're feeding rabbits? What are you, Snow White?" Joel asks

"Excuse me for wanting to have a pet or two." You scoff

Joel shakes his head in disbelief. You never fail to surprise him.

Silence settles around you and him, you shiver a bit and he makes a mental note to find you a warmer coat. Surely someone here had one he could trade for.

"You're really upsetting, y'know that." You say suddenly

"Excuse me?" He asks, confused

Where could this be coming from? He watches as you take a long sip of your coffee and tap your feet against the ground.

"You dumped me, said I was too young for you, and then shipped my stuff back in the damn mail." You huff, "On top of that, the world ended like a month later."

Joel sighs, so you're choosing to confront this now. He should be glad that you're finally mentioning it. Perhaps last night's conversation has made you more comfortable with him.

"I know. I'm sorry about that, I was being a real asshole." Joel says sincerely

"Then why'd you lie?" You ask

"Lie?" Joel asks, confused as to what you're talking about

"When you first got here, you lied to Ellie. Said you didn't know me." You remind him, "Why didn't you just tell her? Why haven't you told her?"

The same guilt and fear he felt when he first saw you months ago in the stables, wells up in his chest.

"I...I don't know." He says softly

Liar.

He knew what it was. Fear had kept him trapped for so many years. For so long, he'd let it strangle him. Even before losing Sarah, he'd felt that fear. That's why he let you go in the first place, Joel was scared of it all but most of all he was afraid, terrified even of falling in love with you.

And yet, here he sat twenty years later, sipping coffee next to you. He knew what he wanted, at least the thought he did.

Joel wanted to press a rewind button, to go back in time and do it all over again. To keep you and Sarah by his side, if he could just go back to August 2003 he swore he'd be able to make it all right again.

But, rewind buttons didn't exist and Sarah was gone, she wasn't coming back, but he still could right things with you, even if you didn't want him anymore. Besides, he knew he didn't deserve you in the first place.

Your soft voice fills his ears again, "You want to know what I think?"

"What?" Joel responds

"I think you're full of shit."

May 2024

You like the spring. Spring means you can stop wearing three different shirts out so you don't freeze. Spring means fresh vegetables in the community garden. Spring means sleeping with the window open at night.

Spring means... allergies? The loud sneeze of one of your patrol partners has you jumping in your saddle.

Apparently, in his old age, Joel Miller now has seasonal allergies.

"You're scaring off every single deer in a two-mile radius." You huff

"Sorry," Joel mumbles, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve

"Y'should just head back, Joel. No good to us if you're sneezing every three minutes." Tommy says

"No, I'm fine. Besides aren't we teaching her how to hunt?" Joel asks, looking at you

"You can't teach me if you scare everything off." You point out

Tommy lets out a hum of laughter, "She's right."

"Let's keep moving," Joel grumbles

The past two months have been dull. After your conversation that night and then the next morning. Joel swore to himself that he'd make it up to you. Hell, he'd worship the ground you walked on if it meant you'd forgive him.

He didn't even want a second chance with you. He'd sworn it was all platonic when Tommy asked him one day.

Now, he was spending time with both you and his brother, trying to teach you to hunt. Key word trying. He'd probably never tell you but you weren't very good at hunting. This was the third trip he'd made with you and Tommy and Joel swore you were getting worse.

"It's hot today," Tommy notes as the horses plod along

"Summer's less than a month away." You point out

"What I wouldn't give to walk into an air-conditioned home. " Tommy grumbles

"Tell me about it." You sigh

Joel stays quiet as he listens to you and his brother recount the things you both missed. You'd been holding him at arm's length, after that morning on his porch. He'd screwed up, he knew that.

Why the hell did he say he didn't know? He did know! Why couldn't he just admit it to you?

He'd tried to show you through actions, how much he cared for you. Hunted down a better coat for you, fixed your kitchen cabinets, and ate whatever food you dropped off at the house for him and Ellie.

Evidently, you didn't want action, you wanted him to man up and admit it out loud. And, Joel wanted to. He wanted to tell you his fears, why he did what he did back in 2003 and then again in the stables back in December. Yet, every time he'd tried to he'd clammed up and backed down.

"Let's take a break. There's a nice lake up there, Needa sit in the shade, n' cool off." Tommy says suddenly

Joel glanced over to look at his younger brother, who had sweat pouring off him, wetting the back of his shirt. The younger Miller hops off his horse and ties it off before slumping down in the shade of a big oak tree.

"Feels like I'm back in Texas or somethin'" Tommy grumbles

"Oh please, back in Texas it was hot enough to cook an egg on the driveway. This is hardly like that." You laugh

"Speak for yourself, I think I'm sunburned." He says

"You poor little thing." You mockingly coo as you sit beside his brother under the tree

Joel jumps off his own horse, listening to the way the two of you blend together so effortlessly.

"Shut up." Tommy scoffs, shoving your shoulder, "Wasn't askin' you."

Joel feels jealousy swirl in his chest. He wants to be the one laughing with you, not Tommy.

"I'm going for a swim. We can hunt once I'm not sweating buckets." Tommy suddenly decides

Joel finds his way under the tree as Tommy straightens up to pull at his clothes.

"Ugh, put it away!" You mock, covering your eyes as Tommy strips down to his boxers, "The horror!"

"I'll have you know, back in the day girls used to line up to get a view of this." Tommy throws over his shoulder as he walks towards the lake

"Does that mean I get to tell Maria she married the town bike of Austin?"

Tommy doesn't respond but instead walks off and wades quickly into the water.

"You don't want to swim?" Joel asks, taking note of how your skin glistens with sweat.

You shake your head, "I'm fine. You're welcome to, though."

You and Joel sit in silent as he thinks of what to say next. Without Ellie, there's a gap in conversation, the kid was always ready to blab about something.

"You think you could come by my place tonight? Ellie's learning Algebra." He asks, "I try to help but I haven't done anything like it in forty-something years."

"I can try. Can't say I'll be much help though." You say

"You're the one with the fancy college education." Joel shrugs

"I'd like to remind you I never got my degree. Not to mention, It's been twenty years, I'm 44, not 24." You shake your head

"Right..."

Joel forgets that sometimes. You're older now. He knows you're different now, that school is no longer the top priority in your mind. Still, he likes to reminisce about the past when you were still a college kid, drowning in books and shitty professors.

A stale breeze blows through the air, and Joel feels like his clothes are suffocating him. How you're in jeans and a long sleeve is mind-boggling.

"I'm gonna go cool off. Feel like I'm about to pass out." Joel says, pulling his boots off

"M'kay." You nod, "Don't let Tommy drown you in there."

"What?"

"Once I came out here with him and Maria, and as a joke he tackled her, and nearly killed her since he caught her off guard." You shrug

"He tried to drown his wife?" Joel asked

"Well this was when he was still trying to win her over to even date him, but yeah."

"Bet she loved that," Joel smirks

"Yup, wouldn't talk to him for three days."

You feel hot, and no, it's not from the sun. Joel Miller is about 10 feet away, stripping down to his underwear to go for a swim. If there was a god, why was he torturing you like this?

Your eyes roam Joel's back which had been exposed to your greedy eyes. It was the first time you'd seen his body since 2003, of course, you were curious.

Muscle strains under the skin and your eyes greedily drink in the splatter of chest hair that litters his skin. Said trail of hair leads down down down to the band of his boxers. Much to your delight, Joel's stomach had seemingly softened even more with age.

God, you loved dad bods.

"Take a picture!" Tommy called from the shallow water at the edge of the lake

You flash your middle finger at the more annoying Miller. God, you hoped a fish would bite his ass while he was in there.

You flop back into the grass and stare up at the oak tree and the way the sun peaks through its branches. You weren't going to check Joel out anymore, nope, you were done with that.

"You sure you don't wanna come? Tommy and I'll cover our eyes, won't peak, I swear." Joel asks from your right

"M'fine. Go swim, Joel" You say softly dismissing him

Once he's gone, you rummage through your bag and pull out a bag of trail mix. You chew slowly, thinking of Joel's words as you do.

"Take some deep breaths as you chew. Think about what you're eatin'."

He'd slowly been coaching you through fixing your eating problems. For the most part, it worked well. It also helped that you ate dinner with him and Ellie most nights.

It'd been Ellie's decision, she kept inviting you over or just showing up at your front porch. So, now the three of you just ate together, apparently you're now Ellie's savior as well since Joel's cooking hasn't improved much over the years.

Guess some things don't change.

Tommy watches as Joel slowly approaches him in the water.

"No tackling. My back won't survive it." Joel sternly says

"I'm not 9 anymore, Joel. Why would I tackle you?" Tommy scoffs

"Heard what you did to Maria. Not takin' any chances here." Joel sternly says, giving Tommy the 'I'm older than you, you better listen' look that Tommy had seen at least a million times since he was a kid.

"That was a one-time thing!" Tommy jumps to defend himself

He couldn't believe you even remembered that let alone told Joel.

"She's burning up over there." Joel starts, "Refusing to get in here as well. I told her we wouldn't look but she's just laying up there sweatin' her ass off."

"She never swims." Tommy explains, "Been here probably twenty-thirty times with her and Maria over the years, not once has she decided to get in with us. Think the closest she got was to dip her feet in."

"Did you tackle her too?" Joel asks, his voice full of accusation.

"No." Tommy scoffs, how could Joel think such a thing.

"Just don't want her passing out from heat stroke." Joel frets, "Maybe I could wet some cloth, get her to put it over her neck."

A bit of water laps up into Tommy's face and he rubs at his eyes. Joel had a right to know, right?

"She's got scars, Joel." He cuts his brothers rambling off, "Haven't seen em' myself but Maria says she's covered in them, head to toe."

Joel's quiet beside Tommy now, the sound of sloshing water is the only noise between the two brothers.

"Oh..." Joel's voice softly comes from Tommy's left

The loud shout of their names has both brothers turning back to the shore. You're waving your arms about, holding the small radio Tommy had tucked into his boot before going for a swim.

"It's the baby!"

Joel has never seen his brother so frantic. Even when Sarah had died, Tommy had been composed, swallowing his feelings and trying to keep Joel together as they drifted around the country.

Now, his little brother is jumping off his horse and sprinting to the clinic, to his wife. It's endearing the way he cares for her, even if she hated Joel, he could tell she loved Tommy.

Joel grasps the reigns of Tommy's horse and follows you back to the stables.

"You think she'll be okay?" You ask breathily

Joel looks at you, he can tell you're nervous for Maria.

"I'm sure she'll be alright. Seems strong, not to mention the clinic doctor is skilled, she's in good hands." Joel says

You nod and lead Pepper into her stall.

"Sorry about the hunting. I don't know where the sneezing is coming from." Joel says, feeling guilty he ruined the day

"It's fine. I've never caught anything bigger than a rabbit." You wave him off

That night Joel watches as you hover over Ellie who's been sweating over a problem that apparently used the Quadratic Equation. What that was, Joel wasn't quite sure.

"This is fucking impossible..." Ellie grumbles

"Don't drop any negatives." You advise, sipping at your mug of coffee.

Joel normally hoarded the stuff but you were so damn easy to say yes to. So of course when you asked him if he could brew you a cup of his precious drink, he'd caved. Hell, you could ask him to steal half the food in Jackson and he'd do it if it meant you'd smile and bat your eyelashes at him.

"Motherfucking piece of shit..." Ellie whispers

You kick her chair, "Langauge. What's that baby going to think when you curse at it?"

"I'm pretty sure it's going to spend most of it's time shitting and sleeping so I think I'm in the clear." Ellie points out

"So just like you then?" Joel asks

Ellie lets out a scoff at his bad joke.

"Just do your math." You roll your eyes, standing up to cross the room where Joel stands over the sink, doing the dishes from dinner.

"How long does labor take?" You ask him.

Joel's brain is a bit fuzzy as he tries to remember how long it took Sarah to be born.

"I think it's different with everyone. Maria could have that kid tonight, or we might be waiting until tomorrow." Joel says

Sarah had taken what 11, 12 hours? All he remembers is that her mother had broken nearly every bone in his hand when she was pushing. At the end of it all though, his daughter had come out perfect.

"Jesus..." You sigh, "That's...insane."

"It'll all be okay," Joel assures you, he can tell you're worried. Not that he can blame you, from what he can tell Maria seems to be your only friend here in Jackson.

"I know." You sigh

Joel looks at the way your nerves and anxiety have settled into your pretty features. They line your face and make you look tired.

"Hey, Ellie,"

The teen looks up from her math, welcoming the distraction.

"Wanna watch a movie with us?" He asks

Joel has to cover his laugh with a cough when you screech out in shock. Only you'd react to a simple statement like this...

"You've never seen Gladiator?!"

"No...Born after the world ended, remember?" Ellie scoffs

"But still! Joel's had this DVD just sitting here in this house and you've never watched it?" You ask

"No..."Ellie trails off as she kicks her feet up on the coffee table from her spot in the recliner

"You've done a terrible job, watching over her." You judge him

"Right, cuz getting her from Boston to Wyoming in one piece without dyin' is so terrible," Joel says

"It is if she hasn't seen Gladiator." You say, popping the disc into the player while Joel shakes his head.

Joel watches from his spot beside you on the couch as you absorb the movie, answering Ellie's questions when she asks. He smiles to himself as you happily explain what's happening on the screen. You always loved movie nights.

"Oh gross! He's totally into his sister!" Ellie points at the screen to Commodus and Lucilla.

"Sick fuck." You declare and nudge Joel who nods in agreement

There is only one couch cushion between you and him but it might as well be the size of the Grand Canyon. Joel's fingers itch to reach out and pull you into his side. He wants to watch this movie the way you used to watch movies with him.

He wants your head resting on his chest as the movie plays so he can play with your hair while you take in the flashing screen. Joel wants to smell the soft scent of your body wash as you lay so close to him that you're both practically mushing into one being.

As the credits begin to roll, You let out a yawn while Ellie rates the movie a 10/10.

"Too bad there won't ever be another." She sighs, "We could totally have a movie on Lucilla's kid."

"Right?" You agree looking at him, "Joel could totally play a part in it too."

"Excuse me?" Joel asks, baffled at the idea. He was no movie star.

"Yeah, you got that Roman nose. You could play some hot general or something." You shrug gesturing to his face.

Joel shakes his head in disagreement yet all he can focus on is that you indirectly just called him hot.

"You're loosin' it. I'm not fit enough to play a gladiator." He says, thinking of Russell Crowe's perfectly toned physique. Joel's body had gone soft with age, muscle hidden under soft flesh, he was no early 2000s heartthrob.

"That's why she said general." Ellie points out

"A hot one." You add for the second time

"Yeah yeah, Hot General Joel. I'll start my workout tomorrow." He sighs looking at You and Ellie you are both smiling at him. Warmth spreads across his chest, When was the last time he felt like this?

"Alright, time for bed. Ellie go brush your teeth." Joel says nodding to the steps

For once in her life, she goes off without objecting. Joel doesn't miss the way she mouths "Kiss her!" to him from behind your back. His face heats up in embarrassment, that damn kid was going to be the death of him one day.

"I should get going. I wanna go down to the clinic early tomorrow to check on Maria." You say, standing up and stretching, "Have a good night, General."

Joel nods, rising to his own feet. He thanks you for helping Ellie with whatever that math was. You give him a warm smile and then go to grab your shoes.

Joel might be half deaf but anyone could've heard the commotion outside. You jump when the loud slam of fists sounds when someone begins knocking on the door like the world is ending.

"Joel!" A loud voice calls

Joel whips the door open to reveal Brett. A young guy who was supposed to be ontop of the wall tonight until 3am.

"What? What happened?" Joel asks worry fills his system, what could be happening? Was there a breach in the wall? Infected? What was the best place he could hide you and Ellie?

"Got a situation. Tommy said a few days ago that you'd be in charge of shit like this if he and Maria were unavailable." Brett says

"What about the council? They're above me." Joel says he doesn't want any part of whatever is happening.

"There's people Joel. Night patrol picked them up and brought em' in." Brett explains, "Could you just come take a look? Tommy said you got a good head for stuff like this."

"A good head for what?" Joel asks, doubtingly

"A good head for people," Brett says

Joel follows Brett towards the gates of Jackson. You trail behind him, Ellie a few paces behind you. He had demanded you stay back but of course your stubborn self followed him and Ellie right after you.

"How many?" Joel asks as Brett leads

"Two. One man, one woman." Brett says

"And they're clean?" Joel asks, thinking of how horrible it might get if they were infected.

"The dog let them right through, even licked the woman a few times." Brett responds

Joel nods and his eyes land on a group of Jackson's people, surrounding the newcomers. Some of them have guns out at least.

"Who was on patrol? I thought we weren't letting people in at night?" Joel asks

Brett lists off a few names. Fuzzy faces come into Joel's mind. Every single person on patrol tonight had to be under 25. Young and dumb. Too trusting for this world.

Joel takes a gun from a man he recognizes as Louis and motions for you and Ellie to hang back behind him and Brett.

The people in front of him look helpless. The woman is alarmingly skinny, perhaps it's the old dress she's wearing but she looks horribly malnourished. Joel honestly can't tell if she's even alive. Unconscious and slumped in the dirt, she looks like a corpse. The man looked a bit better, although it could just be his clothes hiding how skinny he was. He stands up when Joel looks at him, desperation in his eyes.

"Names," Joel says, his voice gruffer than it'd been in months.

"Please, we need food and water. It's been days." The man begs

"Names." Joel says again, "Where are you coming from?"

"Please..." The man begs again, "We don't mean any harm. We're both clean, that dog proved it before we entered!"

Joel hears Brett whispering behind him and before he can stop you, you brush past him, partially blocking the view of this stranger.

"I know his name."

Your voice is shaky, a tone Joel's never heard before takes over your vocal chords. Joel looks at the man whose eyes are on you now. A glint of recognition flashes across his face and even in the dark, illuminated by Jackson's streetlights, Joel can see his skin pale. You speak again, your voice barely a whisper in the dark as you stare at this man.

"Adam."

Next Part

I wrote a little Christmas imagine for Joel. It's not connected to this series but if you're interested, you can check it out right here.

And so I return with another chapter. I meant to write this sooner, I just got lazy and have been spending more time sleeping since the Fall Semester sucked my soul out of my body.

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly  @orcasoul  @snowlycanroc  @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

@elli3williams @yawnzzzzzzzz. @am-3-thyst

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | meddle about (smut blurb)

a/n: MDNI y'all know the drill! no tags for this one. set after now you got me. can be read alone (only thing you need to know is that luke is in a band and calls reader 'five star') or as part of the poisoned mercury series!

song: meddle about by chase atlantic

luke finally let you listen to the song the boys wrote for him. the song was incredible, which was expected, but you relentlessly teased him after connor told you the story about how the song came to be.

“you didn’t know if we were anything?” you asked with an eyebrow raised. luke was brushing his teeth in your bathroom, toothpaste dribbling out the corner of his lips. your face was pressed against his bicep, as you watched his reaction in the mirror. “come on, castellan. i was obvious!” 

luke shook his head, spitting out the toothpaste into the sink as he tangled his fingers with the hand you had wrapped around his torso, “you were not, thank you very much.” 

“aren’t you supposed to know when a girl is flirting with you, mr. rockstar?” 

“you damn near bullied me for months, five star. humbled me every chance you got. you call that flirting?” 

“was i supposed to swoon and tell you how hot you were?” 

“ideally, yes,” he rinsed his mouth with water before turning his body to face you. he held your hips over the t-shirt you wore. it was his shirt and luke was dangerously close to leaving his entire closet with you just so he could see you wear his clothes forever. “would’ve sped up the process of us getting together.” 

“i like the slow burn,” you mumbled, pressing your lips against his own. luke’s grip on your waist tightened as he pressed your back against the counter. his lips were always so soft and he tasted like the spearmint toothpaste you owned. he ran his tongue across your bottom lip, and the innocent kiss became heated. 

luke pulled away for a second, “you gave me like emotional blue balls, five star. i was down bad.” 

“was?” 

“shut up,” he rolled his eyes, smiling. he pressed kisses against your neck, hand traveling under the hem of his shirt. his touch made you shiver. “y’know i’m still down bad for you.” 

you craned your neck, giving him more access to your skin. he nipped at your collarbone, sighing when you made those pretty noises that had him weak in the knees. you lifted yourself up on the counter, opening your legs to let luke slot himself between them. he continued to leave kisses on your skin, slowly pulling down the neckline of your shirt to explore more. 

you tugged on his curls, making him look up at you, “how bad?” 

luke licked his lips, “want me to show you?”

you nodded, running your hands down his chest. your fingers traced the black ink on the side of his torso, making him shiver against your body. his hardening cock was pressing against your inner thigh. luke pushed his groin against yours, trying to convey just how badly you had him wrapped around your finger. just a few words and a few kisses and he was putty in your hands.

"you feel me?" he sighed, closing his eyes as he buried his head in your hair. his senses were filled with you and he felt like he was drunk. you were so intoxicating. your skin smelled like him now since he was always pressed against you in some way. he needed to be near you all the time or he was going to go crazy.

your time in camp half blood was quickly coming to an end, much to luke's dismay, and he was going to make the most out of the few weeks he had left with you. he thinks his first few weeks without you will have him locking himself in hotel rooms fucking his fist to the sound of your voice on facetime and it kills him that he won't get the real thing until god knows when, but he doesn't want to think about that right now.

not while you were still here in front of him with your legs open wide just for him.

"is that enough to show you?" luke asked, sucking on your pulse point. he felt his heart hammering in his chest when you let out a breathy whine. all his blood rushed down to his cock, and soon it was becoming painfully difficult for him to keep his composure.

"no," you replied, pulling him in for a kiss. your lips moved roughly against each others, tongues tangled in a passionate display of affection as his hands massaged the side of your thighs. you were panting against his mouth, already breathless, "need to be convinced some more."

"careful, five star," he tsked, hand traveling to your clothed pussy. he rubbed your clit through the fabric, silently cursing when he felt your slick dampen the pads of his fingers, "i don't think you understand what you're wishing for."

"need you, luke," you mumbled, palming him through his boxers. he groaned at your hand gripping the base of his hard cock. "need all of you."

"you have a filthy mouth, you know that?" his eyes were blown wide with desire. he placed a thumb on your bottom lip, pulling it down a tiny bit. you sucked on his thumb, staring up at him in a way that had his head spinning. you looked so sinful. it was almost sacrilegious how the girl he worshipped was begging for him like this.

"you like it, though."

"don't think the word 'like' covers it," luke admitted, moving his hand to the back of your head to tug on your hair slightly. you extended your neck, letting luke leave a trail of sloppy kisses along your jaw. his tongue pressed against the marks he left on your skin, soothing the burn. "'m addicted to your filthy mouth, five star. makes me wanna fill it up."

"i'm not gonna stop you," you pulled down his boxers, wrapping your hand around his cock. you stroked him slowly, reveling in the raspy groans that left his throat. luke pressed his forehead against yours, watching your hand stroke him through hooded eyes.

"i'm supposed to be showing you how down bad i am for you, not the other way around."

you put a light pressure against the bulging vein on his cock and luke had to bite your shoulder blade to keep himself from being too loud. everyone was home, and while they knew of your relationship, he wasn't gonna be an asshole and subject them to knowing the details of it.

"let me hear you, pretty boy," you cooed, kissing along his scar as you pumped his cock faster. "let me hear how good i make you feel."

"fucking hell, five star," luke chuckled, darkly, bucking his hips. your hand felt too good. "don't wanna cum in your hand."

"in my hand, in my mouth, on my tits," you licked a long stripe down his neck, sucking on his adam's apple. "in me, everywhere luke. want you everywhere."

he was convinced you were going to be the death of him. luke placed a hand over yours, stopping you from your movements. as you opened your mouth to protest, luke lifted you off the counter and planted you in front of him. "get on your knees for me, yeah?"

a wicked grin appeared on your face and luke knew that he wasn't going to last very long. mischief in your eyes always meant that he was going to have another memory to have that'll keep him busy during the months you'd be apart.

you sunk down on your knees, batting your eyelashes at him as you kissed the head of his cock. luke bit his bottom lip so hard he was afraid he'd draw blood. his hands pulled your hair up in a makeshift ponytail as you slowly bobbed your head up and down his cock.

"shit, baby," luke moaned, a dopey look on his face. this is what heaven feels like, he's convinced of it. you were his own personal slice of heaven on earth. "so pretty like this."

you gagged as his cock hit the back of your throat and luke wanted to apologize but this felt too good for him to feel sorry. tears were pooling in your eyes as you sucked him in deeper. your thumb flicked his tip, collecting the beads of precum there, "tell me how you like it, luke. wanna be good for you."

"you're perfect, sweetheart," he replied, wiping the stray tear that escaped your eye. you smiled at him innocently, feeling a sense of pride blooming in your chest. "always so perfect for me, hm? my perfect little five star."

you hummed, going back down to wrap your lips around him. luke let go of your hair and placed his hands on your cheeks, bucking his hips forward. he was fucking your mouth harshly and you loved every second of it. he was panting above you, incoherent words escaping his lips. when you pulled away and licked around him, a string of saliva connected your lips to his cock. it was a glorious sight.

luke was stuck there admiring you make a mess on his cock and if you weren't so fucking turned on by how hot he looked when he was fucked out, you would've teased him about how speechless he was. you stroked his cock, tongue poking out the side of your lips before you spoke, "you like seeing your girlfriend on her knees for you?"

"fuck," luke hissed. it was the first time you referred to yourself as his girlfriend and it was pathetic how that one sentence had him nearing his peak, but he felt possessive. you were his girlfriend now.

"you gonna answer me, luke?" you mumbled, placing kisses along the underside of his cock. "because i like being on my knees for my boyfriend."

"fuck, five star. yes," he panted, screwing his eyes shut. his body felt like it was on fire. "yes, i do, baby."

satisfied with his answer, you took him into your mouth again, moaning as he thrusted deeper. he was losing his rhythm, a sign that he was getting close. luke's eyes stayed glued on your face, committing the sight of your pink lips wrapped around his cock to memory.

with a few more thrusts, he tapped on your hollowed cheeks to signal that he was cumming. he had to steady himself when you refused to pull away, nodding when he asked if he could cum in your mouth. luke came with hot, milky spurts down your throat, loudly groaning your name as he came.

when you swallowed his load, you got up from your knees and pressed your lips against his once more. luke loved tasting his cum on your tongue. he kissed you, not once pulling away, as he led you to your bed. he pushed you on soft bed, getting on his knees to pull your panties down.

you leaned on your elbows as you watched him disappear under the fabric of the shirt you wore. luke pushed up the shirt to where your thighs began, leaving red marks on your skin as he approached your pussy. "my turn."

[kindahoping4forever]

Via Rock Sound's 25 Icons Series

[kaleidoscopeminds]

[kateisinwonderland]

Remember my story, Black Ink

8 years have passed since I published it and now it may become a complete novel and a published one...What do you think about that?

I'm gonna leave the link to my inbox here so you can give me your opinion!

https://kateisinwonderland.tumblr.com/ask

Or go to my wattpad and leave a comment on the chapter I just posted about this (or send me a DM!):

Click here to read it

Black Ink | Tattoo artist Luke Hemmings fanfic

He worked in the tattoo parlour across the street and she worked in the florist around the corner. 

He was the dark guy and she was the colourful girl. 

They didn’t have anything in common but when Luke buys flowers in Noelle’s shop for the first time they realize that sometimes opposites attract.

Read and vote and comment if you like! 

Love you x

[cupidbedsy]

≈ christmas night ; champagne coast

➪ summary: jack and cassie finish spending their third christmas together, however this time it's a little different

➪ warnings: none i don't think!

➪ word count: 0.7k

➪ file type: 12 days of au's: christmas edition (baby bear) blurb

➪ cupid's notes: i honestly think this will be one of my favorites i will write for the 12 days of au's series. ah this has been in my mind all day. i'm also really excited for tomorrow (luke and sab) and all the crossover ones. ANYWAY, enjoy :)

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

Jack stepped outside on the balcony, the top buttons of his dress shirt undone. His eyes immediately landed on her form, shivering slightly from the cold that encompassed New Jersey this time of year. He hadn’t had a good time to actually just look at her tonight, always having been talking to someone or doing something, so staring at her now, ‘god she looked gorgeous.’

He walked up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her temple, “Hey.”

Cassie looked up at him, smiling softly as she did so, leaning into his touch for warmth. Her gaze moved back to the city, watching the lights sparkle from building to building. It was mostly quiet, save for the cars honking below them and the wind breezing past their ears.

“Thanks for coming with me.” He murmured, moving to rest his chin on her shoulder. 

She nodded, intertwining her fingers with his, resting them by her stomach, still chasing his body heat as they swayed. She raised their hands, kissing the back of Jack’s softly before dropping them again, “‘Course, what’re fake girlfriends for.”

She could hear him laugh, the vibrations flowing through her. She shivered again and he tightened his grip on her, “Why didn’t you bring a jacket before you came out?”

“I dunno, just didn’t think about it.”

He buried his head in her neck, peppering soft kisses every so often. They stood in a comfortable silence, one that they were all too familiar with. They had spent the night with some of the team and their respective significant others, celebrating the holidays together. It was a nice night and Jack had all but begged her to come along, despite the fact that they both knew she would’ve given in easily. 

It would be their third Christmas together, having met two years earlier. They hadn’t been doing their dance for long, but it felt easy, safe, and comfortable nonetheless. 

One of Jack’s hands dropped to her thigh, running his fingers up until he reached the hem of her dress, twirling it around his fingers as he continued to kiss along the column of her neck. It was only a few seconds later when his hand slipped fully under her dress, trailing it up to rest on her bare stomach, moving his thumb back and forth across her skin. 

She sighed in content, moving her hand up to tangle in his hair, moving to kiss his head gently. He hummed in appreciation, moving his thumb in soft, soothing circles against her stomach. 

When he stood back up, his hand rested on her shoulder giving her a side hug, “Wanna head back to mine?”

“Yeah, tired.” She nuzzled her head into his shoulder, keeping her voice at a murmur.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

It wasn’t that long before the two of them settled into Jack’s bed, Christmas pajamas adorning their bodies as they snuggled up under the covers. His laptop set atop his legs, Cassie watched as he navigated to Disney+.

“What do you want to watch?”

They shared a look before matching grins made their way onto both faces, speaking in unison, “Home Alone.”

They were going back and forth quoting line after line the whole movie. It got so competitive that the two ended up having to race the other to say it first, a smug smirk on their face if they won, bragging extensively after the fact. 

Halfway through, Cassie started to drift off, eyes closing before she opened them back up, blinking excessively to keep herself away. He noticed immediately, giving her a smile, “You don’t have to stay awake, pretty girl. Go to bed.”

She shook her head, mumbling, “Wanna stay awake with you.”

“Go to sleep,” he urged, leaving a kiss on her head as he pulled her in closer to his side.

“You’ll win if I sleep.”

Jack chuckled, “I think I was winning either way, baby.”

“Shut up.” 

She finally relented, closing her eyes and digging her head further into his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent. His face softened at her actions, giving her a few more kisses to her temple, “Merry Christmas, Cass.”

“Merry Christmas, Jacky. ‘Nother one in the trenches.”

꒰ CHAMPAGNE COAST TAGLIST ꒱

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CHAMPAGNE COAST MASTERLIST ; AU'S ; 12 DAYS OF AU'S

TAGLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

[gothluke]

lashton as squishmallows (pt. 1?) 🧸🫧🍯