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damn-stark · 5 months ago

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Chapter 9 Pure as The Driven Snow

Chapter 9 of Moonlight

A/N- We’re back with new chapters! I hope you guys like it. I got real nervous writing this. I don't know why! Also is it a sign that your dragon likes your lover more than your husband?

Warning- some swearing, talks of pregnancy, Angst!, fluff, hunting SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- After 1x10 & before 2x01

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*A FEW MONTHS AGO*

“Dragon fruit for the dragon Princess?”

“Pearl necklace for the Siren of Driftmark?”

“Oranges? They are good for a growing babe.”

You touch your 6-month-old swollen belly and come to another stop in front of a stand to study the big round oranges stacked so neatly on the crates.

“How much?” You ask the vendor.

The man puts his hands on his hips and studies his fruit for a moment before facing you. “Discount for you Princess. 5 Silver dragons.”

You glance at Aemond, and he makes his hesitation known before handing you your pouch of money. He doesn’t find this trip necessary, he says that whatever you want can be brought to you right away, especially because you’re with child, but, being stuck in the same rooms all day is torture! You told him the baby and you would go mad while batting your eyelashes really sweetly and he hesitantly accepted without a fight.

“I’ll give you 10 golden dragons instead of silver,” you tell the vendor as you get out the golden coins that make the man’s eyes almost pop out of eyes. “Find good use for it.”

The man shares a nervous laugh and takes the money, but holds your hand before he steps away and bows his head. “Thank you, Princess. Thank you, may the gods bless you and yours.”

You offer him a kind smile, and then gently pull away to pick the oranges, but he suddenly blocks the oranges with his hands. “No, these are no good. I have perfect ones. Juicy and sweet.”

He crouches and pulls out a box from under the table and hands it to you. Albeit before you can even reach for it, Ser Criston takes the box for you.

“Have a nice day, sir,” you direct at the man before you continue down the street lively with people.

“<He ripped you off you know,>” Aemond grumbles in High Valyrian so the people around you wouldn’t understand him.

You scoff softly and hook your arm around his. “In Winterfell, Lady Arra, and Lord Stark treated their people like they were friends and they got respect.” You sigh and shrug gently. “Of course, I know not everyone has good intentions, but Lord Stark taught me how to read people. I try to use his advice when talking to people here, it is why I know this guy was no trickster.”

Aemond hums in comprehension but doesn’t actually agree or take in what you said. You may be down amongst the people, but he’s in the clouds where he’s untouchable. The only thing that matters is your mention of Lord Stark.

“You and Lord Stark are close friends?”

You don’t remove your hand from his arm even if you’re tempted to, you don’t let your eyes flicker even if you have the burning need to look away to hide the truth. You keep the faint smile that decorates your features and keep looking around. “Well considering I lived in Winterfell for five years, yes, we are good friends. Or were.”

“You don’t write?” He probes and keeps his focus on you to try and watch for anything that might give you away. “You often get letters from Winterfell.”

There’s no excuse for a lingering silence, you can’t breathe a certain way because he’s paying close attention, so you turn your head to meet his gaze and share your rehearsed lie. “Sometimes, but I talk to someone else. A lady friend that lives in the castle. One of late Lady Arra’s friends.”

Aemond holds your gaze and tries to pick up on something just a hair out of place, but you keep composed well and he goes unaware once again, letting you let out a small breath and smile with relief.

“I won’t go poor by giving these people something extra. Bless them and the gods bless you. Lady Stark would say that.” You return the subject to what you were previously talking about. “Besides I actually got a craving for oranges. Or the babe did.” You grin and touch your belly again, feeling a small movement now that makes you giddy.

“Feel,” you beckon Aemond and snatch his hand from his side to press it against your small belly. “He’s moving.”

Aemond comes to a stop in the middle of the street and caresses your belly very gently, letting you watch his blue eye soften, and those thin lips show a faint smile.

And since it took him no time to show his affection or his bliss you can’t help but grin in awe before you slide his hand to the other side. “See?” You interject softly. “He wants oranges.”

A wider smile tugs on Aemond’s face before he takes your hand again and continues to walk with you down the street.

“You do not know that it is a boy,” he likes to remind you.

You giggle. “I do. It’s an instinct. When I imagine the babe I see a boy. Always. We will have a boy. I’ll even bet you.”

Aemond scoffs and smirks. “You can place your bets with Aegon. He never turns down the chance to gamble. I believe you.”

“Good,” you grin. “Now I wonder how many kids we will have, six? I want a big family. But if I can’t have so many I will be content with two, but we need to have a baby girl.”

“So you can name her Daenys?” Aemond finishes for you, making you look at him with awe.

“You remember?” You probe.

A small smirk spreads on his lips and he nods. “I do. You’d only bore me with stories about her.”

You roll your eyes. “I wouldn’t bore you. You’d bring me the books!”

“Because it was your favorite,” he counters softly.

You laugh softly and nod. “It still is. Maybe our Daenys will be an amazing dreamer just like the great legend that saved our house.”

“Yes,” he agrees with an obvious glee in his voice. “Maybe.”

You let out a content sigh and rest your head on his shoulder while you take in the stands you pass.

“Spare some food? Money?” A child with his face covered in dirt asks. “Something small?”

“<He just wants to steal from you, they always have money.>” Aemond points out.

Even if he did, you don’t care, you stop and turn to pick out an orange off the box.

The kids' eyes grow curious, and they follow your hand as you move it towards him. You pretend you’re going to give him a single orange, but you then hand it to Aemond and instead grab the box from Ser Criston’s hold.

“Take it,” you tell the kid. “It’s for you.”

You put the box down in front of him and offer him a smile before you move on. This time Aemond doesn’t remark on your actions—you wouldn't care either way, so he just lets it pass and takes your hand in his again so you wouldn’t wander off just as you approach the outer castle gates.

However, before you can cross the courtyard, a woman with a bright red dress walks out of her house and announces something that steals your immediate attention. “Wish to know your future, my Princess?”

“Princess,” Ser Criston immediately interjects. “She’s only trying to take your money. It’s a scam. Leave it.”

You flick your wrist down and take the money pouch from Aemond’s side.

“Your worry is misplaced, Ser,” the pretty lady with beautiful and remarkable colored eyes cuts in. “But I understand. Patience is a fickle thing is it not, Ser Criston Cole? If only you had known it, you would be happy now.” Her eyes dart to you and then go back to him quickly as if trying to point something out.

You don’t read into it, or demand an explanation, you let her continue as she looks between all three of you. “I am a humble servant of the Lord of Light,” she rebuttals, “I only mean to give the Princess insight for her eyes are covered and her soul is basked by darkness.”

You smile at her eagerly and let Aemond go to step towards her. “What is your name?” You ask first.

The woman's bright eyes meet yours and her lips tug upward just slightly. “I am Kinvara, Priestess of the Lord of Light.”

Your name passes Aemond’s lips, but you disregard his warning and the priestess tries to ease Aemond’s worry in your mother tongue. “<I am no one to fear, fear resides in the whispers that are heard in the shadows, and from the lips of pretenders,” she pauses and narrows her eyes on him. “You see clearly with her at your side, venture too far and you're left blind. Don’t let the shadows consume you, My Prince, or darkness is all you’ll know.>”

You glance at him and grin brightly before facing her again. “Now can you tell me what I seek?” You press impatiently.

Kinvara turns and walks inside, speechlessly motioning you to follow, but before you can you face Aemond first. “Wait for me out here,” you tell him.

Aemond shoots you a pointed glare and grabs your arm. “Let’s go. This is all fake. She will take your money.”

You pat his cheek and give him one last piece of reassurance. “She can try but she’ll never steal my riches,” you quip. “I’ll be fine, it’s just for fun.”

You shoot him a small smile and then lean in to kiss his cheek before you follow after the Red Priestess, finding a single fire lit on a golden bowl in the middle of the elegant parlor room.

“How much will it cost?” You ask her as you slowly wander to the stand holding the bowl.

“Nothing but your attention,” she shares in a soothing voice. “And a drop of your blood.”

You stop before the bowl and don’t question offering her your hand even if you should, and Kinvara doesn't make it any harder. She’s quick and doesn’t hesitate picking out a single thin needle before gently cupping your hand and poking the sharp end on the pad of your thumb.

When a scarlet drop of blood crawls out of the small wound she pulls your hand over the flames and turns it to face the flames. After the single drop of blood falls in the flames she lets your hand go and throws the needle in the flames to let the fire eat away at it.

“You have fire-made flesh, a gift from the Lord of Light,” she begins to say bluntly.

You would’ve liked to be eased into it, but you’re no expert so you clasp your hands over your belly and watch her eyes read the dancing flames with curiosity.

“You have salt-littered blood and a dragon-made soul that burns fiercely and passionately; she flies high within the clouds in search of something…” she lets the words slip out as if she was chanting a spell, and then meets your gaze across the flames.

You should be intimidated, but you’re just eager to know more.

“…three hearts,” Kinvara adds. “One made of ice, two of fire. Three soul made dragons…”

Three, huh?

“…and loyalty.”

It’s hard to piece anything together but you still can’t help but feel joy, and an overwhelming curiosity that pushes you to pick at one thing that caught your attention. “Three soul-made dragons? Does it mean I’ll have three kids?”

Kinvara smiles sweetly. “Smart girl, but you’ll have seven. The three I see will grow, they’ll know happiness and long lives.” She hums and blinks whilst her smile fades to a smirk. “But sins will burden them and cast over them like shadows.”

Right away your smile fades and for the first time since you saw her, fear begins to crawl across your mind. “What…does that mean?” You ask quietly.

The red priestess lifts her chin and sighs. “You’ll know.”

How insightful.

“One more thing,” she interjects and moves away from her spot to reach you and grab your hands “Fire kills the girl and awakens the dragon. Follow the flames for they are sweet to you since the moment your right was taken.”

You let out a deep breath and nod stiffly. You don’t understand completely, or at all actually, but you nod in comprehension before you just feed one more piece of curiosity. “Could I read the flames as well?”

Kinvara moves back across the flames and points her chin to the fire, encouraging you to try and read what the flames could tell you.

“You might not see your own future, remember that. If you see anything it will only be glimpses,” she lets you know while you step forward and focus your eyes on the bright flames seeming to lure you in; but not like every other time before, this calling is different now, you don’t have the urge to touch the flames or bathe yourself in their fierce beauty.

What calls you now are whispers; unclear, but trying to make sense in their own way.

“Listen,” Kinvara says as if can read your mind. “And open your eyes.”

She can’t mean your actual eyes because those are already open, she must mean it metaphorically or whatever, and as difficult as it seems you draw out a deep breath and focus on nothing else but the dancing flames; you don’t let Aemond come to mind, nor do you think about what was told to you, you narrow your gaze slightly and watch in silence.

After a few moments, you start to grow irritated, but suddenly before that frustration breaks your focus you freeze and catch your breath when you see snow falling. It’s clear as day as if you’re living through what you see.

Something falls with the snow though, something thicker and different in color. It’s slightly intoxicating and brings a stench of fire and smoke with it.

You have the urge to dive deeper to figure out what you see, but the scene changes to more white plains covered in snow, ashes, and bones, and above it stands a woman with silver hair. She stands above it all while a winter storm descends upon her. You see her start to turn her head but before you can make out her face, fire is all you see.

“<A long winter.> Kinvara breaks the silence and pulls your attention back to her.

“<Yes,>” you respond in High Valyrian as it actually makes sense.

The priestess offers you a smile and walks to the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I’ll see you again.”

You’re left in so much disbelief that you don’t question what she means by “I’ll see you again.”, you bid her a farewell and return to Aemond.

“I was about to barge in there,” Aemond says in a rush.

You blink repeatedly and meet his gaze with your disbelief still clinging to your features. Aemond notices and grabs your shoulders.

“What is it? What did she do?” He hisses.

You draw out a deep breath and with that push away all your disbelief to not worry him over something that’s not clear.

“Nothing, she simply told me we’ll have seven kids,” you share the only thing that was clear.

Aemond scoffs in disbelief but he leaves it at that. Just as you do.

——

*NOW. WINTERFELL*

When you think of home, Aerion, your mother, and your brothers are what you picture in your mind. They are your home, it doesn’t matter the place, as long as they’re with you that’s what you call home.

But oftentimes, when the word home comes up, when you think about home sometimes you picture these tall grey walls, you see these snow-covered hills, the white skies that stretch for miles and bring icy winds and delicate and beautiful snow. You see grey eyes and a timid smile. You remember the warmth from all the fires lit all day and the warmth his body provides. You think of home and someone who isn’t your husband is all you see. You try to fight it, but your longing is stronger than your will.

Now as you stand in these snowy planes and feel this instant comfort fill your heart all you can think about is how dangerous it is.

You were too hasty to make your suggestion and climb your dragon. You’re only steps away and as heart racing as it is, you also can’t help but strain your heart with anxiety as well.

Letters are completely different than seeing face to face again than feeling his hand grab yours and feeling his lips brush your knuckles. Jacaerys is here but will that stop your deep desires? Will that stop him from being mad at you for being distant and not writing to him anymore? Will that stop that tension?

But why is it that a problem?! You’re married! And you love Aemond, he’s your home too; him and Aerion are your family. A family you built after being apart from your own, and even if you have this new strain, you still want to fix it, you still want to fight for Aemond and your family. You have to be strong for them. You can’t give in to what feels comfortable and what your heart might cry for. You have to be strong. You have to be friends and nothing more.

“It’s snowing,” Jacerys muses as he reaches for a snowflake. “I honestly thought there would be more.”

You glance at the open gates and already imagine him waiting in that courtyard in front of his staff, family, and friends. It’s impossible to ignore two dragons descending in front of your home after hearing about an impending war and a call for a declaration from the Greens.

“It’s a lot colder than I thought it would be down here,” Jacaerys adds to his rambling. “How did you ever do it?”

“Well we are in the North,” you mutter unaware of your tone.

“Oh, no need to get snippy, I know where we are,” your brother remarks.

You sigh and turn to him. “Sorry,” you admit. “It's just what if he says no? It’s almost winter, his people need him here. And what would he gain from supporting one or the other, he could just decide to remain neutral.”

Jacaerys leans forward and tries to be assertive. “He’ll gain the Queen's lifelong gratitude, and a chance to prove his loyalty…he’s a Stark, you know that, they take pride in their loyalty. I don’t see why he’ll turn us away. Do you?”

No, but that’s not really why you’re worried, in one form or the other you just needed to be assured.

“I see your point,” you tell him.

Jacaerys gaze lingers on you to be an assuring brother for a moment longer before it’s time to break away from your running thoughts and growing panic and face Cregan with your head held up high, and a fierce determination on your face.

Yet when you walk past those main gates, that fierce determination is met with inklings of worry. Your head is high, but it’s practiced, it’s years of practice, there's a tension on your shoulders, and your breathing is slightly hitched because of your racing heart making your lungs work overtime.

You try to show your confidence in your stride, you are the Queen's daughter after all, but the closer you get to that courtyard the more you hide behind Jacaerys, as if that will help you avoid anything you’re about to face.

If someone were to guess, they’d say it’s your first time here with the way you’re cowering behind your brother and letting him carry all the confidence and pride for you both, but it’s not. As you trail behind your brother, some people you pass by actually recognize you.

You are Winterfell's luminous sun after all, the warmth and light in the darkest winter storm and lightest snow days, capable of melting the most stubborn ice. To their Lord though you are much more and it’s been easy to notice since the moment your purple dragon was seen. You are the reason he smiles, and the sun that gleams in his grey eyes.

But like the sun you hide. You finally make it to the main courtyard but Jacaerys is the first one seen and almost the only one they can see. You don’t want to come out of hiding because you don’t want to see him.

Your heart is pumping so fast, and your hands are trembling. You can almost feel a tightness grab ahold of your chest.

“Jacaerys,” you call out in a quiet panic.

Said man turns and when he does he uses his whole body to move away from you, in that moment leaving a clear and open view of none other than Cregan Stark. There he stands, tall, proud, and mighty. Grey eyes bright and soft even against his hardened gaze. His pink lips form into the faintest smile that you notice right away because you can’t help it, everyone and everything disappears, leaving only him and you in the snow-covered courtyard.

Not even your initial panic exists anymore, it melts away, and your body eases with a simple look into his familiar eyes. Your once-racing heart slows down, but now flutters and skips a beat, and you can’t stop it. Just like he can’t help himself because here you are again, across from him with light snow perfectly raining over you, eyes so deep and captivating that he loses himself within with ease. Your face is basked by a gleam of light that makes you so much more divine, and a heartwarming smile decorates your perfectly sculpted lips.

Now he knows composure, he knows his place, but in this small escape where only you and him exist, it’s costing everything within him not to break away and capture your lips with his. He just wants to grab and kiss you, but your trance is broken by the sound of your name being announced followed by your house.

“…of House Velaryon, wife of Aemond Targaryen.” And then there's that ridiculous reminder that you are not his anymore.

Luckily that cruel reminder is not with you, instead, there’s another, smaller in stature, but still standing tall and mighty with gold dragon emblems on his belt and on his cloaks broach. He proudly wears the colors black and red which shows who he is without the need of an introduction.

“Prince Jacaerys, of house Velaryon,” the guard still announces the man you’re accompanied with.

“My Prince, my Princess,” Cregan speaks in that thick northern accent that makes your heart swoon. “Welcome to Winterfell.” He bows his head, and the crowd behind him mirrors him.

When he raises his head again and stands tall the first thing he does is meet your gaze. You should glance away and share why you’re here, but you part your lips and only a soft breath comes out as you hold his gaze.

“It’s a pleasure to have you back, Princess,” Cregan addresses you formally, hiding away the history you share. “The North has missed you.”

Your cheeks grow warm, and your lips form a flattered smile before you announce it. “You flatter me, My Lord. I have missed the North, and the snow as well.”

He huffs in amusement and spares a glance at the falling snow. “Well you’re lucky then, it just started to snow. It seems you brought a late summer snow with you.”

You share a breathless giggle, and his eyes share his awe.

“My Lord,” Jacaerys cuts in and reminds you he’s here too.

“Oh right,” you cut in and look at your brother, seeing his eyebrows furrow as he looks at you and then glances at Cregan. You ignore him and grab his arm to go on proudly. “Lord Stark, my brother, and my mother's heir, Jacaerys Velaryon.” You share what he was already told, but it feels right to introduce him yourself again. “Jacaerys, this is Lord Cregan Stark.”

“It's a pleasure, my prince, welcome to the North,” Cregan addresses him kindly, making you smile. “Your sister has told me many tales about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Your brother bows his head. “Likewise, my sister speaks fondly of her stay here too.”

Cregan glances at you and the corner of his lips twitch ever so slightly.

“I do wish I was here under better circumstances to have some of that fun my sister always goes on about,” Jacaerys starts to get to the point, leaving no time to wander. But that’s good, you are here on business, you can’t forget that.

“But unfortunately we are here under orders of the Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Jacaerys proclaims, making the crowd murmur as the whispers they’ve heard are finally confirmed.

Cregan nods stiffly and glances back at his great hall just behind him. “I assumed so,” he says and looks back at Jacaerys and you. “Let’s go talk inside. I’m sure this change of weather is not so agreeable for southerners used to warm summers.”

Jacaerys scoffs softly and nods before he follows Cregan’s lead unaware of the fact that he’s leaving you behind as you’re stopped by some people in the crowd.

“Princess,” a thin middle-aged man who works inside the castle greets you and steals your attention.

“Good sir, John,” you greet him with a smile. “How is your daughter?” You ask as you remember how she had been when you left.

The man nods eagerly and smiles in return. “Very well, my princess. Healthy and strong. The gods let her survive her fever,” he shares and points behind you. You follow his line of gaze and see his daughter in a tall tower watching what you can only assume are the dragons in the distance.

“I told you she’s strong,” you tell him with genuine relief.

“Princess,” one of the cooks addresses you, making you turn to her and smile.

“Ms Maribell,” you turn your attention to her. “I’m glad to see you.”

“And you,” she returns sweetly. “I hear you have a son, where is he now? Why didn’t you bring him?”

You nod. “Yes,” you share excitedly and touch your chest. “Aerion. He’s four months old, but sadly I had to leave him behind with my mother, what I’m out here doing is no place for children I’m afraid. But I do want to bring him after these affairs are in order.”

“When you do, stop by here,” she suggests. “I’m sure he’ll love Winterfell as much as you did.”

You grin and nod, but before you can add more to your friendly conversation, your name cuts through the icy breeze. You look over and see your brother with a pressing look.

“My brother beckons me, I’ll see you all later,” you excuse yourself and offer them a small head bow before you stride to your brother and take his arm.

“<We are not here for a friendly visit,” he whispers sharply in High Valyrian. “I know your history here, but please stay focused.>”

You sigh and look ahead, catching Cregan’s vigilant gaze focused on you after he, unbeknownst to you, watched you interact with his people and treated them like they were your long-lost friends. It honestly fills his heart with a warmth that makes his grey eyes gleam with a joy that you easily notice against his nonchalant expression while he waits for you and your brother.

Since he so often wears a hardened expression on his face it’s hard to know what he feels, but after five years you learned how to read him like a soulmate reads its other half without a need for words. Yet you don't know the exact reason why he was so touched.

“Forgive our delay,” Jacaerys instantly brings up like a proper Prince. “My sister is easily distracted.”

Cregan lets you walk in the great hall first and once the doors close behind him he huffs and responds. “Yes, I remember, so do not worry, my Prince.”

You glance at your brother and pass him a teasing look. He meets your gaze and shoots you a warning glare before he brings you both to a stop just under Lord Stark’s throne.

“I hope the northern winds weren’t too harsh,” Cregan addresses while he walks to his chair.

“Well they were colder the closer we got to Winterfell, but they helped our dragons pick up speed to deliver this message from Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Jacaerys makes a quick workaround to why you’re here.

“Just last night I received an envoy from your uncle who calls himself King as well,” Cregan says as he takes the sealed scroll from Jacaerys.

“No, you got an envoy from a Usurper,” you immediately correct him. “The true ruler is the one the late King Viserys appointed as his heir, Queen Rhaenyra. That never changed nor was it his will for it to change after his death.”

Cregan glances at you and stares at you in silence for a moment as he processes your words before he finally opens the scroll and reads what was written.

“Your father bent the knee to Queen Rhaenyra when she was named heir, and swore that House Stark and the North will follow the line of succession,” Jacaerys adds to the point to try and further convince Cregan. “Now Queen Rhaenyra’s throne was stolen and demands you follow your father's path and stand proudly in support of her rule and war if it arises.”

You have seen so little of your brother's political side since you were reunited, so now that you see it you can’t help but be in awe of the man standing tall beside you, proving himself a worthy heir.

“Your words move me,” Cregan finally interjects as he lowers the scroll to look at Jacaerys and you. “And your presence honors me. Winterfell is almost at the edge of the world, but you still came to deliver this in your mother's regard,” he says and makes some of that tension release from Jacaerys shoulders. “I know of my father's oath to your Queen. I also know how deep disloyalty cuts when it’s made by one’s own kin, your sister was here to witness my uncle usurping my rightful place as Lord…which is why I do not intend to break oath today. The North will not break oath today,” Cregan proclaims confidently and with no falter, relieving your brother of his worry, but not yours.

“But,” Cregan proves your worry worthwhile. “Winter is coming my Prince, my Princess. And these seem almost like family affairs. The Queen has my loyalty, but why should we support this war? My priorities are with my people and providing for them before Winter arrives.”

You and Jacaerys share a conflicted look, but neither of you are stuck on what to say, you're just debating who should speak in your defense. You with an advantage, or Jacaerys with a blunt but respectful tongue?

Honestly, you both probably have great points, but in your speechless exchange, Jacaerys trusts you.

“I understand,” you argue and step forward, gaining all of Cregan’s attention. “I have not lived a true winter, but I understand your hesitance, My Lord. I understand your people need you now more than ever, but the Greens have an advantage, that’s something we can admit, and they will not be afraid to use it against you, and your Queen. They already steal from her, will you stand to see them take more? Will you stand and see your people and lands burnt? Will you sit and do nothing as injustice is acted upon your Queen? Or will you and your people fight for what’s right, and for the greater or good of the North?”

Cregan shifts in his seat and keeps his hardened gaze on you for a long and tense silence. You could read what he might be thinking, but you look at your brother and fall back by his side to wait for a response.

“Your words move me,” Cregan interjects with a small huff. “And leave me a lot to think about. I hope you understand my choice will not be taken lightly, I must speak with my own people on these matters, just be assured that the North supports the rightful Queen.”

Cregan stands from his seat and Jacaerys steps forward to cut in. “How long will we have to wait?”

Cregan raises his chin. “Soon, I swear,” he promises. “As for now, you must be tired from your travel. Baths will be drawn in your quarters, and supper will be served shortly in this hall.”

You draw in a deep breath and much to your surprise you’re the one who grows impatient instead of Jacaerys. “Thank you, My Lord Stark,” you deadpan and bow your head.

Said man catches your tone before the change on your face, but says nothing on the matter. Instead, he walks down and points to the door that leads to your apartments.

Yet before you can make any attempt to walk out, the doors open and a servant carrying a dark-haired child walks in, and without as much as insight to clue you in, you know who the child is right away, you can see it in his familiar dark eyes, and that kind resting face.

“Oh gods,” you muse excitedly and lose all your annoyance in the blink of an eye. “Is this baby Rickon?” You direct at Cregan.

“Yes, this is my boy,” he assures you and you don’t wait for the wet nurse to come to you, you meet her halfway.

“Jacaerys,” you exclaim as you grab the child’s hand with a bright grin. “I helped deliver this child!” You squeal and turn back to the baby.

“I believe it,” your brother mutters.

“Hello little Lord,” you greet the baby a bit too excited. “Look at you, you look like your mother…May I?” You direct at the wet nurse, and she doesn’t hesitate to hand you the child who is a mirror of Arra.

“Hello,” you greet him again a lot softer this time since he looks at you puzzled. “I know you don’t remember me, but I remember you. How old are you now? 1?”

You don’t expect an answer, but the baby does. “Hello.”

You beam at him and caress his head while you share a happy look at Cregan. “I can’t believe it. Words truly aren’t enough, Rickon is so big. I’m so proud.”

“He would’ve been out to greet you but you caught him in his naptime,” he says and steps towards you but keeps his distance.

“He looks like his mother,” you tell him and look back at Rickon, catching him taking the pearls around your neck. “Ah, yes, nice huh?”

“Hello,” he says again, making you laugh and turn to start heading to your quarters with the others trailing behind you. “My Aerion likes my jewelry too,” you tell him. “But he likes to suck on it. You just like to look at it, hm?”

“I reckon this little lord is a lot kinder than your Aerion,” Jacaerys teases as he falls by your side.

You roll your eyes at your brother and reassure Rickon. “Don't listen to him. He’s just mad because Aerion can sense his impatience. He’s very sweet, and I’m sure when he’s older you’ll be great friends. I’ll make sure of it.”

The baby is unbothered by what you say, but you couldn’t be more happier than to see Cregan and your friend's child. He reminds you of Arra, and when you think of Arra you think of where you are, and when you think of where you are all you feel is that comfort embracing you harder, consuming you little by little.

Which is dangerous, you know. The longer you stay here the more you let yourself get consumed by what’s familiar and kind that the reality in the distance becomes easy to forget.

But you can’t. You can’t let yourself feel complete comfort or you’ll run the risk of falling into the temptation you long for the most. Thus when you finish your bath you don’t linger in your borrowed quarters, nor do you explore what you left behind out of curiosity to see what’s new, you act as if you’ll be leaving any minute and visit where Arra was put to rest.

Yet that temptation finds you there and puts it all at risk. You don’t know about his looming presence until you turn away from Arra’s tomb.

“Lord Stark,” you gasp.

Cregan bows his head. “Forgive me I did not mean to startle you, I did not want to interrupt your moment that's all.”

You laugh nervously and glance back at Arra’s tomb. “If I did not visit her while I was here she would haunt me.”

Cregan hums and you stop avoiding his gaze to look into his grey eyes.

You had hoped to contain yourself, but in the silence that falls as you just look at one another, you can’t contain your joy, it takes over you and before you know it you’re beaming like a shining sun and striding over to him.

Cregan gives in the moment you break and meets you halfway with a tight and warm embrace.

“I had come to terms with not seeing you again,” Cregan breaks the silence first as he holds onto you.

“Me too. I really did not think I would see you again,” you murmur excitedly and hold on for longer than either of you wanted to. You just can’t seem to let go even if there's a shared silence in which you keep in words that you both are aching to say and just add tension.

“I…I’m happy to see you again,” he says instead and pulls back to face you

“You grew out your hair,” you point out to change the subject. “You said long hair was for barbarians.”

Cregan chuckles, and you smirk. “Well, I thought I could try it out,” he says. “And it keeps my neck warm.”

You study his brown hair that falls just above his shoulders and let yourself have this one thing. “I like it. It suits you well.”

Cregan offers you a thankful nod and takes this time to study you closely again. “You seem happier this time around,” he points out.

You scoff. “What are you saying? Did I look miserable when I got here six years ago?” You tease lightheartedly.

Cregan nods. “Yes. You did. This time you look happy though.”

You sigh and glance at the exit as if you’d see your brother. “Yes, well my brother is here. As annoying as he can be, I am happy he came with me.”

“Mhm.”

You smile softly in response and to avoid staring too long into his eyes you start to walk out. But for a few seconds as you walk aimlessly there’s a silence that lingers until he finds what to say. “Arra’s friend came to see me a few days after you left.”

You glance at him with a curious gaze and probe. “Why?”

He exhales deeply and confides in you what he hasn't had the heart to share in letters. “She came to blame me for her death. She said I was the reason she died.”

You come to an immediate halt, and he follows suit and slowly turns to face your sorrowful face.

“She was hurt, Cregan. It was not your fault. She was just grieving,” you try to comfort him even if he didn’t ask for it because you know how much guilt he already carries for Arra’s death and because you can't stand hearing him blame himself.

“Well, there is some truth to it is there not?” He says breathily and averts his gaze.

You draw in a deep breath and reach out, but before you can touch his arm you clasp your hands and fiddle with your ring. “No. There is not,” you say firmly. “Childbirth is not easy. I hate to admit it but her loss is common. It cannot be helped, so no it is not your fault. Arra’s friend was just grieving the woman she loved.”

Cregan blinks and meets your gaze with gratitude behind his perked lips but hesitation in his grey eyes. You don’t think he’s going to say anything and leave it as him just processing what you said, but as you continue walking side by side he finally interjects hesitantly.

“Your son…how is he?” He asks as if it pains him to actually ask.

You smile proudly. “Good. Spoiled endlessly by all the love my mother is giving him, but he’s good,” you muse. “I wish you could have met him.”

Cregan swallows thickly and finds it in himself to speak. “I wish I could have seen him too, I am sure he looks like you.”

You meet his gaze briefly and nod with glee.

There's so much you can say at this moment, but there’s also so much you can’t say that you end up in this battle of not knowing what you should do. Should you touch into this past that you need to keep closed? Or leave it all unspoken and just filled with tension that threatens to overflow and break you both?

No one would have to know. You could speak about this unspoken past you both cherish…But! Then you think of Aerion, and when you think of your son, you think of his father and once again, you still want to fight for this relationship even if you stand on opposite sides now.

Thus you leave it untouched and just lean towards something else.

However, when you speak Cregan’s name to address something else he also speaks your name, leaving you at a crossroads he luckily lets you cross first. “About why I came—”

“Did you come to sweet talk me, princess?” He cuts in and does assume right, but that’s not what you’re going to say.

“Maybe,” you laugh breathlessly and exhale deeply to get at what you want to say. “But look, I understand you’re needed here, your people are your priority. Winter is dangerous, which is why we won’t ask for a lot. We’re proud and honored to get your loyalty, but anything you can spare will help. We may have more dragons, but they lack experience in war, unlike Vhagar.”

Cregan nods in comprehension and does assure you honestly. “I meant when I said I’ll try. I want to help the Queen, I swear. Let me just see what I can spare, winter is not friendly, winter is cruel, you know that.”

More than most…and more than he knows…

“I know.” You agree softly. “How long will that take?”

He sighs and shrugs. “A couple of days. Not long. Why are you in a hurry?”

You drag your gaze over to pass him a knowing glance because he knows that your presence means much more than anyone knows, and it brings risks.

Still, he smirks faintly at you.

“I will say,” you admit and smile at him. “I am glad to be back in the North. I missed it. It’s so loud in Kings Landing compared to here. And the view from my chambers?!” You exclaim without a care in the world. “Over there it’s busy streets, and here it’s serene hills.”

Cregan chuckles softly. “I told you there’s no place for you so far South anymore. You bring your son here and it is over for you.”

You laugh and nod. “I do love the sun though, and a sea in which I can swim in!” You nudge his arm, and he leans to the side with a smile.

“I will bring the warm sea here, I told you.”

You snort and shake your head. “While I'm here we need to show Jacaerys some of the fun we would have. I want him to see some part of Winterfell before we leave.”

Of course, Cregan doesn’t argue, he gives in but when he meets your gaze from the corner of his eyes he grows sweet and smug. “Not all the fun though?”

You hold his gaze and shake your head. “No. Not all the fun.”

He hums and looks at you with a dangerous longing look that you quickly look away from.

“Ice fishing?” You suggest.

“You have an entire day to waste?” He brings up and clears his throat.

You hum in agreement and stroke your chin, unaware of the fact that you’re being walked into the great hall.

“Owl hunting?” Cregan teases in that stern nonchalance, and you can’t help but burst out laughing as you remember what he means by that.

“You think you’re funny huh?”

“You just laughed.”

You shake your head and grab his arm to laugh more and much harder.

“I can’t believe you fell for it the first time.” He keeps taunting you.

You stand tall and throw out an excuse. “I was young.”

Cregan looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed and you look at him and laugh again, unaware of how lost you were until you hear your brother.

“Sister. Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.”

You blink repeatedly and catch your breath before you point back at where you came from. “I visited a friend, Arra, remember? I needed to go visit her resting place before we left.”

Your whereabouts don’t really matter anymore, he was worried when he knocked on your door and you didn’t answer, but now what he finds more interesting is who you walk in with. He looks between the both of you full of curiosity and takes note of the way you walked in laughing, as well as the smile you wear, and the faint one that decorates the Lord's lips.

“I hope you are both hungry,” Cregan interjects while you come to a stop in front of the grand table. “We had something prepared for your welcome.”

“That’s nice—”

“We’re starving,” you cut your brother off bluntly and make your way around the table. “Flying for so long isn’t only draining for our dragons, but for us too.”

You approach Jacaerys and he surprises you by pulling a chair out for you. “Oh,” you praise his gesture. “Thank you, Jace.”

When you sit though he doesn’t walk around Cregan's seat like he should have, he makes sure to sit at your other side, leaving you in between both men.

“<What are you doing?>” You demand to know in High Valyrian.

Jacaerys pulls in his chair close to the table and looks at you to whisper back. “<Sitting.>”

You blink and lean your head back with a teasing smile playing on your lips. “<Are you nervous?>”

He squints and rebuttals immediately. “<What? Why should I be?>”

You’re choosing to be too naive and pat his shoulder. “<Your big sister is here do not worry.>”

He swats your hand away, and you steal a glance over at Cregan taking his seat beside you

“How many days do you have to be here before your husband sends you a raven?” Jacaerys fills the silence.

At first, you don’t want to entertain his question, he’s only going to make fun of Aemond, but you give him an assumption to be nice. “Three days. The last thing he wrote was, ‘come home now. Your place is here.’ And that was before we left the Eyrie.”

Jacaerys leans in and continues. “Has he actually written that he misses you?”

You hold his gaze and part your lips to argue in your husband's defense, but those words have not been written on paper so you don't rebuttal Jacaerys, you deflect. “Have you tried to make a move on Baela?”

Jacaerys clenches his jaw and speaks through gritted teeth. “What are you on about?”

You grab the cup in front of you and shrug. “What? She is your betrothed, it's okay to sneak off and you know, have a little fun.”

“Stop it.”

You take a sip of your drink and lean towards him. “When we get home I will play a game and lock you both in a room—oh! No! I’m brilliant!” You exclaim and push yourself back, making him grimace.

“Shut up.”

“Nothing boosts romance more than a fun little adventure, just you and her alone,” you share excitedly without shame that you’re talking to your brother about romance as if he were a lady. The gods didn’t give you sisters, just five brothers, so you have to make the best of what you have. “I will throw you out of the castle to go fetch dragon eggs, or you know, something fun.”

“You’re childish,” he snaps at you under his breath.

You exhale deeply and sit back proudly. “And when your wedding comes I will be paralyzed with joy. Unless she marries one of our Velaryon cousins,” you finish in a whisper to just light a small fire under his ass.

“What?” Jacaerys asks in a shocked whisper, which you ignore to share an amused smile with Cregan.

“Princess,” you hear someone call before you see Lady Maribell approaching with servants carrying supper. “We made your favorite to welcome you and the Prince.”

You watch your plate get put down with a big appetite and then look at Lady Maribell and touch your chest. “Thank you, ma’am, I’ll make sure to savor it well.”

The lady bows her head and leaves the hall, letting you appreciate your supper and the fact that these people took the time to prepare your favorite meal by their own will, or for the wishes of someone else, you don’t know, but it’s a huge difference with the way you get treated in the Red Keep.

“I would like to make a toast,” Cregan’s voice booms throughout the hall as he stands up, pulling the attention of those gathered in the hall. “To the Prince and Princess. Welcome to Winterfell, you honor not only me but the entire North for coming in person in the Queen's regard…”

You smile up at Cregan before you share your joy with Jacaerys.

“Your stay will not be long, but we will do our best to make you feel at home,” Cregan continues before he looks over Jacaerys. “The North may be a drastic change, but it is beautiful. I hope you learn to grow fond of it just as much as your sister has.”

You don’t check Jacaerys reaction, you meet Cregan's gaze and follow him all the way down to his seat with a soft appreciative smile, while his own gaze softens…for a moment, because his gaze then drifts over your shoulder and it loses that gentle touch.

You follow his line of gaze and meet your brother's thankful but slightly narrowed look that he holds with a smile. And as to not make suspect something you raise your cup to him.

He returns the gesture before looking past you again, making you now look at your steaming food and let out a slow deep breath as you try to remind yourself to keep yourself contained. In doing so, albeit you remember the tragic dinner you had at King's Landing not many nights ago and you now start to feel amused by the memory.

You happen to let your gaze wander over to your brother in the midst, and he slowly locks eyes with you. Silence follows for a moment, but then as if mentally tangled with your thoughts you both start to giggle before you chuckle together.

“Man,” he says between laughs. “I wish I would have seen your right hook. I missed it!”

You cover your mouth and stifle the laugh you want to let out and respond. “He was so shocked! I was holding that in for so long!”

You snort and lean towards each other. “It was such a mess from the start, but I applaud your toast. That was smooth.”

“Really? Thank you, I think I landed it too.” He takes your compliment and you both laugh together again before he grabs your shoulder and turns you towards the man at your other side.

“Lord Stark,” he happily drags Cregan into the conversation. “Considering you are friends with my sister, I will tell you a great feat she completed a few nights ago on our last night at Kings Landing.”

You shake your head lightheartedly and lick your lips as you catch your breath.

“To make this story short, one thing led to another and my sister landed a right hook on the usurper,” Jacaerys shares, making the corner of Cregan's lips twitch.

“He slammed our brother's face into the table,” you try to give reason to your actions. “I acted. My rings helped too.”

Jacaerys laughs softly and you meet his gaze and smile wide.

“It seems like an impressive feat indeed,” Cregan says and lets his gaze linger on you. “But I cannot say it surprises me, your sister has never been one to recoil from such things. I’d say she's fond of it.”

“Too much,” Jacaerys remarks. “It is why she would always get in trouble.”

Cregan huffs softly and meets your gaze. “I only wish I could have seen it,” he says directly at you while also letting your brother hear.

You can’t help your deep breath, or stop your face from burning under his impressed gaze. You don't say anything but luckily that conversation leads to a lighthearted dinner where Jacaerys and Cregan start to talk more instead of just passing glances.

Unfortunately, you do the one thing you told yourself you didn’t want to do, and that’s losing yourself in the bliss that comes with interacting with your brother and Cregan, the man you…have a secret past with.

You thought you could do better, you wanted not to get lost at all, but it pulled you down rather quickly and you couldn’t fight it. Especially because there’s something about seeing Cregan interact with your brother without tension or disdain, that makes your heart swoon.

“Jacaerys,” you blurt and turn to him. “Let’s dance.”

His eyebrows pinch together and he shakes his head before he answers. “What? No!”

You ignore him and jump from your seat to grab his arm and pull him with you to the center without as much as a protest. He likes to act all tough and nonchalant in front of others but he’s a big sweetheart when it comes to you and your brothers.

And he proves that further when he doesn’t fail to make you smile when you’re dancing slowly at first to follow the beat of the music that plays in the corner. When the music picks up he becomes faster but disregards the actual beat to start spinning you around the room.

“That’s not how you dance this!” You remark without much meaning behind your words. “You’re going to get me drunk!”

“You can handle it. You love it!” He assumes right and goes faster around the room without that initial worry of being judged or carrying this tough and proper image.

Neither of you actually find a worry in the world, it’s just him and you in that moment, laughing, and unaware of the pair of grey eyes that follow you all around the room. People talk to him, and a commotion surrounds him but Cregan finds a way to keep watching you laugh with your brother as he takes you around the room.

He should feel somewhat upset that your brother is bringing this different kind of joy out of you that he never saw when it was just you and him, but his heart only fills with bliss as he sees you so overjoyed. He knew how much you missed your family when you were living in Winterfell, so how can he be upset and petty that you’re so drunk with bliss by your brother's company?

Only a fool would refuse you this joy.

“Princess!”

You come to a quick halt and give your attention to the one who seeks it; catching Ser Rolf, one of your greatest friends just past the door.

“Ser Rolf!” You greet once you know who has beckoned you, and let your brother go to rush to your friend.

“I heard you were here and I came as fast as I could,” he says and answers your curiosity as to where he’s been before you had the chance to ask. “I almost feared I missed you.”

You shake your head. “No, you got lucky. Come!” You pull him with you to return to your brother. “Ser Rolf, this is my brother, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.” You immediately introduce them.

“My Prince,” Ser Rolf greets him properly.

“Jace, this is one of my greatest friends from here, Ser Rolf,” you explain. “He went to my engagement tourney and played in my honor.”

Ser Rolf scoffs. “Well, I needed to show off my skills, and not let you Southerners forget how talented we can be.”

You smile at him and you both purposely leave out the other reason why he had gone.

“It's nice to finally meet you,” Ser Rolf directs at your brother. “Your sister often spoke fondly of you and the rest of your family.”

“Did she?” Jacaerys presses and flashes you a smug smirk. “When we return to our brothers I’m proudly going to use that over her head.”

Ser Rolf laughs and nudges you, and you roll your eyes.

“Do you mind if I steal your sister from you, My Prince?” Ser Rolf asks.

Said man shakes his head. “Not at all, go ahead, I need to step out anyway. I will be back.”

You offer him a comprehensive smile and watch him leave the hall before you face your friend. “Are you going to dance with me?”

Ser Rolf scoffs. “No. Unless it’s a command.”

You smile in amusement and shake your head. “Never to you.”

“Good, I may be swift with a sword, but I'm afraid I'm not a gifted dancer. My wife can attest to that,” he breathes out and points his hand away from the crowd of people dancing to walk away together.

“How is your family?” You ask.

Your friend looks at you and smiles sweetly for the first time tonight. “Good. My girl is a year old and a delight. You have a son, I heard.”

You clasp your hands together and nod. “Yes, Aerion. He’s four months old, and his father's pride.” You share now that you can share it with someone since so many details about your son felt wrong being shared with Cregan.

“About…the father,” Ser Rolf picks on that matter as he sits around the first table you see. “I hope my actions in that tournament did not get you in trouble. I saw him later that night at a feast after the tournament was over.”

You sit down first and sigh before you shake your head. “No. Do not worry…was he…” you trail off and glance at the ring Aemond gave you to fiddle with it. “…with anyone?”

You can feel Ser Rolf press his gaze on you, but you avoid it and wait, even if you shouldn’t considering who’s occupying your mind now too.

“No,” Ser Rolf answers hesitantly, making your heart skip a beat. “He was lurking in the corner watching over the other silver-haired Prince.”

You swallow back nervously and meet your friend's gaze to press him since he didn’t sound convincing. “Tell me, Rolf. I can take the truth. I mean look at me, I’m on opposite sides of this war.”

Ser Rolf quickly shakes his head and looks at you with a pitiful look. “I swear it, Princess. He was lurking the entire night. When his brother brought in women and tried to gift him one as an engagement present, he finally left.”

You let out a relieved sigh and nod in comprehension, feeling a lot more assured now than before. “Thank you, my friend.”

“Of course.”

You feel it now…how much you’re starting to miss Aemond. Which is all so conflicting, but you admit it, you miss your husband, especially when it’s just you and him. That’s when he lets his guard down and lets out this person he keeps within; this sweet, affectionate, and amusing person that knows how to love you in the way you want to be loved, and knows the deepest parts of you, while he lets you know his.

He doesn’t hide his love for you in public, he's not overly affectionate but he makes it known that you’re all his and he’s all yours. And perhaps that makes you a little too attached to one another, but you take pride in it and never feel alone.

But…

Yes, there’s a but when you’re in Winterfell, when Cregan is close, and when he comes to mind. You can’t let Cregan go. The love you shared was so consuming, it was full of passion, it was exciting, and it had so much to give that no matter what, you could never get enough of one another.

But that's it isn't it? Was. You need to let go.

“How are you…holding up?” Ser Rolf breaks you from your troubled mind and only makes you confused. “With…you know…” he trails off and points to the side.

You follow his line of gaze and realize that he’s referring to Cregan.

“Rolf,” you warn him, making him laugh.

“He’s finally smiling,” he makes matters worse and makes you smile down at the table while your stupid heart skips a beat.

“He hasn’t been with anyone,” Ser Rolf clarifies and you snap your eyes at him and kick his shin.

“Stop.”

Rolf smirks and rubs his wounded area, while your eyes wander to the man you’re talking about, and you see him leaving the hall.

You almost find it in you to follow him out, but what will that bring? Nothing but temptation. You did good before when it was just him and you, but the stars are out, and the snow blankets the ground, it will feel like one of those nights when you would admire the sky in each other's embrace, and you’ll probably lose it, so you stay put and keep talking to your friend while also watching for your brother.

Eventually, more of Cregan's friends join Ser Rolf and you, but as much as you enjoy their company you can’t rest easy without knowing about your brother. He left a while ago and hasn’t returned. He would’ve told you if he went to bed, but he hasn’t. He said he needed to step out and hasn’t returned.

Maybe he froze out there since all he’s used to is a chill—but more seriously you should go check on him.

You stand up and just as you’re going to excuse yourself you catch your brother walking inside in front of Cregan.

They approach the table and you want to ask about your brother's whereabouts, but Cregan interjects. “I've decided we could take him hunting tomorrow morning and have lunch there, so he can know some of the North’s wilderness.”

You look at your brother and he gives you an assuring nod. And considering Cregan hasn’t given you an answer you have no choice but to accept. “Very well then.”

“I might’ve overshared with your brother just now,” Cregan continues to direct at you as you step back and sit back down.

“No, no,” Jacaerys shakes his head. “He glorified.”

You cross your leg over the other and press them. “What?”

Cregan glances at your brother and then looks back at you. “I might have praised your archery skills on dragonback.”

You smile at Cregan and pass your brother a cocky look. “It’s true. I am an excellent shot on Dragonback, but I cannot take all the credit, Astraea helps me when she flies. I think Lord Stark is just too in awe of the dragon itself.”

Cregan huffs and points his chin at you. “You are being too humble. You deserve the praise, not anyone can hit the target while moving, especially while flying. And you like to stand, which, that alone deserves its own praise.”

You shake your head. “You flatter me too much.”

“But I do suppose the same cannot be said about your traps. She almost caught her own leg once,” he shares a bit too amused. “Arra caught her in time.”

You shake your head. “It was not my fault,” you rebuttal. “You were distracting me. Hunting is done in silence and you distracted me.”

Cregan scoffs. “Are we talking about the same day?” He teases. “You are remembering wrong. I did not do such a thing.”

You touch your chest and slowly get up. “Lord Stark, are you calling me a liar?”

He shakes his head. “Admit it, you could have used help.”

You inhale deeply and nod. “Only if you admit you spoiled our bait for that fishing evening on your name day.”

Cregan parts his lips but he can’t deny you so he presses his lips together and nods slowly, causing you to nod in return, and share a mutual agreement to your questions through shared glances that you don’t break. There in the middle of your friends and brother, you look at each other as if it’s only you and him in that hall, in this world entirely. You exist only for each other.

Until the reminder tears it all down and pulls you back into reality. “Sister why don’t you sing us a song,” Jacaerys exposes you.

“What?” You gasp and ignore all the looks you get.

Jacaerys nods. “It seems fitting. It’s still early, I think it would be nice for you to fill the hall with your song.”

You blink repeatedly and shake your head quickly hoping he’ll get the hint, but he does the opposite as if purposely torturing you. “Wait…you have not sung here?”

You stay quiet and spare a glance at Cregan who is too amused by what’s going on.

“Wow…” Jacaerys trails off to chuckle before he faces the crowd of your friends and Cregan. “That is why she is called the Siren of Driftmark.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and groan.

“I thought you said it was because you were a good swimmer,” Ser Rolf points out.

You shake your head. “No,” you grumble.

Jacaerys moves over to you to grab your shoulder and shake you gently. “She’s really good. She sings all the time,” he praises you. “She just sang the other day when we got to Dragonstone.”

You shake your head and feign a smile. “No, no, my brother is being too nice. He’s exaggerating.” You laugh and then turn to your brother to shoot him a burning glare. “You’re exaggerating,” you sneer at him through gritted teeth.

Jacaerys chuckles and pushes you forward. “Sing us a song. Come on!”

You share a breathless chuckle and turn on your heels to point back at your brother. “I would not want you to cry,” you reveal and glance at the crowd. “When he was a boy he would hide at the back of the crowd so no one would see him cry when I sang.”

Jacaerys doesn’t give you the satisfaction of being flustered, he just smiles, and Cregan steps in.

“Come on, prove your name, princess.”

You pass him a glare and sigh deeply.

“Just one,” Cregan insists with a sweet and intrigued look that really makes it hard to say no to.

“Fine…” you give him brugrudgly. “But…I’ll sing a Sea Shanty. One father liked to sing with us, Jacaerys, so you can sing with me.” You smirk.

Your brother is quick though and shakes his head. “No, no, anyone happy enough can sing a Sea Shanty. Sing a different song.”

“You’ll be surprised not everyone can,” you murmur and stare at your brother with a piercing glare but don’t argue now. You’ll get nowhere, so you begin to step away from the crowd. “Only if you do it,” you protest and turn back to your brother.

“No,” he snaps.

“Do what?” Ser Rolf probes.

You grab your brother's arm and he gives your friend the answer. “Our father would present her to the crowd as if she was a famous singer before she sang.”

You nod eagerly and shake him, but he shakes his head to deny you of such a pleasure.

“I’ll do it,” Ser Rolf volunteers and takes you with him, but leaves you at the side as he runs to the center and steals everyone’s attention.

“Can I get everyone’s attention please! Tonight we have a special guest blessing this hall with her song! May I present the Siren of Driftmark!” He shouts and you don’t shy away or protest now, you run to the center, and bow to the crowd while you spread your arms out like a dragon spreads its wings.

“Hello, Winterfell!” You address the crowd and stand tall without a hint of smugness or your nose in the air to show your royal status, you show off a charm that hasn’t been seen in this hall and gains all the wavering attention to you, as if you were born to lead the masses. “Now, now I know what you may be wondering! Can she really sing, she’s never proved that to us! But,” you laugh softly. “I promise that I at least will not make your ears bleed.”

The crowd laughs and a warm look grows on the serious Lord’s face.

“This song goes to my brother who accompanies me this time around,” you let it be known so you don’t share all the attention. “And of course to your Lord Stark. Thank you for hosting us tonight, my friend.”

You flash him a smile and he nods gently in return, unable to keep his eyes off as you whisper to the band in the corner. He follows your every step with a curiosity that grows only as you clear your throat, take in the crowd that’s gathered in the hall, and draw out a deep breath, because after you part your lips and start to sing softly for all the crowd to hear, all he knows is complete awe as you grow louder and more enchanting with your song.

You become one with yourself and it makes it impossible for anyone to turn away, all the attention is on you as if you were a real-life siren. Yet no matter how many eyes watch you, how surprised and amazed everyone is, and how that prides you, all your attention falls on one man who only watches you with awe, because in this hall it’s just you and him once again.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Fishing has never been your strength, you enjoy the quality time when you go with someone, but besides that, you aren’t patient enough to wait for a fish to take the bait.

It’s why as you watch the blue fish in murky waters you make sure to stay out of the water as you slowly pick up your bow, and align your arrow, hoping it won’t hear you and swim off somehow.

Albeit the fish with blue scales moves, making you hold your breath and wait…

Good thing it just moves under the sunbeam that casts in the water. Now though, you do feel guilty for trying to kill it, it’s so beautiful, its scales glimmer a deep blue against the sun like the prettiest gems are stuck to it.

Yet a fish is all it is.

Before you can shoot though, the fish swims away quickly. “Damn, damn,” you hiss and move your aim along with its hasty movements to not let it get out of sight. And just before it can escape into the shallow river, you let the arrow go and luckily shoot the fish right through its eye.

“Haha,” you celebrate to yourself and throw your bow aside to pull your fur cloak off and leave it on the giant rock so it doesn't get wet when you step into the water.

“Oh,” you gasp at the icy touch and rush to grab the fish on the tips of your feet whilst letting out quick ‘oh’s at the cold touch of the water.

However, before you can attempt to turn and run out of the water you catch a branch snap behind you and stiffen.

There's only two people it can be, but you’re still so nervous that the Greens are going to find you that your mind panics and quickly makes you reach for your dagger around your belt.

When you hold the handle you slowly peer back and gasp when you just see Cregan. “Gods,” you breathe out and let the dagger go. “You startled me.”

Cregan finally walks out of the tree line and puts his hands up. “Forgive me, I didn’t want to interrupt your moment. Forgive me.”

You laugh nervously and walk out of the water with relief, and your trophy in hand.

“You’ve been on edge lately,” he points out as he watches you trade your trophy for your cloak.

You sigh. “With this impending war, my husband and his family have been insistent on getting me and Aerion back to King's Landing, that I fear they’ll be in every corner I turn,” you share as you hang your cloak around your shoulders.

Cregan drops his head and nods gently. “Well, no Greens will reach you here. You have my word.”

He looks up and you meet his gaze and offer him a gentle and thankful smile before you grab your arrow from the rock and show off your prize. “I promised my little brother Joffrey we would go fishing, but I think this way is more effective, do you not think?”

Cregan gets closer and tilts his head to the side to shrug. “Can’t say it’ll be called fishing if that’s the way you go.”

You scoff and flick your wrist to brush him off. “Sure it is, we will just use a bow and arrow to catch our fish. I don’t want to wait hours to get one on a hook.”

Cregan huffs and you take that as a challenge. “But I know fishing in the extreme is not for everyone.”

A faint smile breaks on his face and he remarks. “Who do you think you are talking to exactly?”

You shrug and pick up your bow to offer it to him. “Prove your skill, Lord Stark.”

Without further argument, Cregan takes the bow and narrows his gaze. “You know how much I hate it when you’re so formal with me,” he remarks.

You shoot him a simple teasing smile and let the bow go to fall by his side instead. “Alright there’s one right across from us,” you whisper as you hand him an arrow. “Quietly.”

Cregan aligns his arrow and tilts his head down toward you. “Who taught you to hunt?” He picks on your comment.

You lift your gaze, catching the gleam in his eyes, and giggle. His gaze lingers, threatening to drive your heart mad so you look down first and he follows your gaze to follow his prey. When he thinks he has the right angle to catch the fish he lets the arrow go, but the wooden weapon whizzes to the fish's side and only works to startle it away.

“Aha!” You blurt and grab his arm. “I told you. Skill!”

“Oh, hush you,” he brushes you off with a grin before he walks over to collect your arrow. “Oh, by the way, singing?! How come you never told me?”

You sit back on the giant rock and shrug. “One, because I was quite timid to sing to you,” you admit and make him smile at the ground. “And two…after my father died…I just lost my heart to sing. It did not feel right.”

Cregan steps out of the water and his smile fades to show his comprehension. “I understand,” he says quietly and puts your arrow bag in the leather holster.

“I would sing for my grandfather Viserys when I returned to the Red Keep, but I didn’t have a heart to sing until I had Aerion,” you muse as you miss your boy. “He made me find my voice again. And now he falls asleep to my song.”

“What a lucky lad,” Cregan says and steps toward. “You have a beautiful voice. I understand why you got your name.”

A warmth creeps on your cheeks and you smile at the rock beneath you. “Thank you,” you whisper. “And don’t take it as something I hid from you, you are just learning something new from me.”

He hums softly and adds. “It’s just a way to keep me on my toes, I respect that.”

You return his hum and blink to look over at him, catching his watchful gaze, and feeling at that moment a need to entrust him with something that’s been troubling you, something that didn’t satisfy you when you spoke about it to your grandmother.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask hesitantly. “If it makes you uncomfortable, tell me, all right?”

Cregan shifts in his stance and nods without hesitation. “It’s all right, go on,” he assures you to keep going.

You avert your gaze and fiddle with the ring that Aemond gifted you. “It’s just,” you breathe out and make sure Jacaerys isn’t approaching before you continue. “You’re the most loyal man I know. Your oaths are everything to you,” you tell him, making him slowly sit down beside you. “So can you tell me where my loyalties should lie? Should I return to my husband? Especially now that we have a child should I follow him blindly? Growing up, the Septa’s would plague me with how to be a good wife, Alicent makes indirect comments all the time, it's my job as a woman to be a loyal wife, but…” you trail off and look up at the sky and exhale shakily.

“I love my mother, I love my family, and I know she’s the one who belongs on the throne,” you continue to confide in him. “It was stolen from her, nothing will ever make me look at that differently. I will follow her rule, but…Aemond is my husband. He stands loyally on the other side, shouldn’t I stand by his side? Follow him blindly?” You ask from the depths of your torn heart and drop your gaze to look at Cregan with an aching look that wounds his heart.

“He might be your husband, and you may have a responsibility to him now that should come over your mother, but you still have your beliefs,” Cregan says with sincerity since he knows that all you need now is a friend, not a jealous ex-lover. “What you want still matters. And you know what you want to do, I hear it now, I see it with my own eyes. Don't betray yourself just because you don’t want to disappoint one or the other,” he reassures you softly and leans closer to you without actually touching your hand that’s pressed on the rock next to his, he doesn’t let his breath unfurl over your skin, or let his lips brush against your cheek. He just gets his face closer so you can feel his comfort.

“Would you do it?” You can’t help but ask. “Would you go against your wife if she was on opposite sides of a war?”

Cregan sighs deeply and doesn’t debate his answer, he nods, and you add something that pains him to hear because he knows what it really means. “Even if you loved her?”

Cregan swallows thickly but he doesn’t let his eyes fall, he nods stiffly. “If it was the right thing to do, yes. Even if it pained me.”

You drift your gaze away and nod, hoping you can beat the stinging in your throat, but tears fall from your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It will be okay.”

You sniffle and meet his gaze to probe speechlessly.

Cregan understands your gesture and nods, making you offer him a gentle smile and lean towards him. “Thank you, Cregan. It really means a lot.”

“Of course,” he says with a caring look that works to assure the doubt and lift the weight you’ve been carrying on your shoulders since you found out what happened.

“Thank you,” you add much to his surprise and yours while letting yourself grab his hand. “For loving me.”

Cregan stares at you for a lingering moment with his eyebrows furrowing and unknotting with every emotion that runs through his mind and makes his heart race. “I would do it again, it was my honor,” he speaks softly.

Your bottom lip trembles but you don't cry, you let your head fall on his shoulder for a brief second to express the deep unspoken love that you’ll never actually be able to let go. It’ll forever be scarred in your soul.

And that’s all you could ask for in this world full of horrors. Even if there's no proper goodbye, and there’s so much left untouched, this moment is all you could ever want, it welcomes a comforting silence that brings a smile to your face as you both watch the serene environment.

“We should find your brother,” Cregan breaks the silence after a long moment of being selfish.

You hesitate for a moment but you slide off the rock and collect your stuff before you lead the way back into the forest.

“Do you…” Cregan starts to say while he helps you by carrying the fish you caught. “Still dream of flying to faraway places?”

You keep your eyes out for your brother and purse your lips together as you sigh. “Would you be disappointed if I said I did? Only sometimes though.”

Cregan chuckles. “No, of course not. I’m glad you still do. Where to?”

You suck in air and twirl around to face him as you walk back. “Maybe,” you breathe out and happily share what he wants to know. “Yi Ti. I was given this beautiful gem necklace from there and I’ve been completely enamored by the place ever since. It’s said princes live in solid gold houses.” You nod eagerly, making him scoff.

“My most favorite gowns are made of silks from Yi Ti,” you muse and turn back around on your heels. “Some I have yet to wear because I have been saving them. Hopefully, I get to wear one soon! Don’t worry though my feet are still on the ground,” you make sure to assure Cregan. “I have not forgotten what I learned here.”

You hear him hum before he mutters. “I’m quite curious about these expensive gowns.”

Your breath catches in surprise and you peer over to shoot him a pointed look. He responds by flashing you a charming smile that makes you roll your eyes and hold back your smile.

Thankfully in that next moment, you spot your brother in the distance and force all your focus on him.

Jacaerys doesn’t seem to spot you right away though, so after a quick and brilliant idea hits you you leave Cregan behind to sneak around Jacaerys. Once you get close and he’s made some distance from the tree you’re hiding behind, you slip out and avoid stepping on all the branches and dry leaves. When you’re close enough you bite back your smile and raise your hands to jump on his back, but much to your misfortune he’s too perceptive and ruins your plan. “I saw your foot behind the tree.”

You blow out air and drop your arms with a pout. Jacaerys turns and spots Cregan walking out of the shadows first before he faces you and shows off the rabbits he caught. “What did you catch?”

You frown deeper and point at the single fish, making him chuckle. “That’s all?! I thought you were some great hunter!”

You roll your eyes and sputter out an excuse. “Well, I did see some rabbits but I didn’t want to kill them, they were adorable.”

And you can’t say Cregan distracted you either, for the most part, you were just walking and taking in the sights you left behind last year.

“Uh-huh.” Jacaerys nods with a smug smile on his face. “Sure,” he quips. “You are such a girl.”

You roll your eyes and wave him off before you get ahead of the group and lead the way to a distant clearing where you’ll have lunch. “A few months back,” you share to fill the silence and avoid your previous topic. “I was at the market street and on our way back I ran into this Red priestess.”

“A witch,” Jacaerys corrects you, causing you to turn around and counter.

“No, a red priestess. Calling them witches is kind of mean.”

Jacaerys scoffs and turns to Cregan for support. “I say witches, what do you call them here, Lord Stark?”

Said man grabs his blade hooked on his belt and meets your brother's gaze with a hidden smugness behind his eyes. “Witches, but sometimes we call them pretenders, depending on the price.”

Jacaerys chuckles and you know they’re obviously just working against you so you choose to ignore the negativity and go on. “Anyway!” You exclaim and twirl back around. “She told me my future. She said…” you leave them with anticipation for a few seconds before you share what you were told. “I would have seven kids.”

“Gods,” Jacaerys murmurs.

“Mhmm.”

“Now,” Jacaerys cuts in and rushes over to fall by your side, leading Cregan to fall on your other side—“Who will give you all these children if your husband dies in this war?”

Without as much as thinking you turn to your brother and nudge his chest to make him think it’s something you planned when really you’re just teasing him. Kind of. “You. We could get married.”

Your brother's face falls and he immediately shakes his head and turns you down bluntly. “No. I would not marry you.”

“Oh right, there’s Baela,” you point out and grab your chin as you think deeply. “Well…I could take her. She’s quite terrifying, but yes,” you nod and look back at your brother. “I can take her in both a dragon fight and hand-to-hand combat…I think.”

Jacaerys' nose scrunches and he shakes his head again. “No, I would not marry you! You are…you.”

You look around confused and pick on that considering your house is known to marry within the family to keep the bloodlines pure. Aegon and Helaena are married.

“So?”

Jacaerys parts his lips but he can’t think of a strong argument that will beat the truth. Yet you do take a good look at Jacaerys and find an excuse. “You are right,” you mutter. “We could not, I do favor taller men, thus maybe...” you trail off to think, leaving Jacaerys offended by your bold comment.

“A Prince from Yi Ti with a house made of gold,” Cregan finishes for you, making you snap your eyes at him and smile slowly in amusement.

“Funny,” you hold back your laugh. “Very funny.”

He rolls his head down and hides his smile.

Gods laughing with him is so much better in person. He can be very funny in a serious way that only makes what he says or does that much funnier.

“She also let me see in the fire,” you continue to share more excitedly now. “And what I saw was a girl—”

“Wait, wait,” Jacaerys cuts you off and wipes away his smile. “Now when this priestess of yours talked to you, was she on the other side of this fire?”

You look away and bite your cheek before you lie by shaking your head as a response.

Albeit Cregan knows you well and points you out. “Liar.”

“Yes, fine!” You exclaim and gently nudge him away. “She was at the other side, but it was not her that I saw, it was a girl with silver hair,” you catch your brother's serious attention now. “She…stood on top of a mountain covered in snow, ashes, and death.”

Cregan’s own amusement falls and your brother doesn’t dare to tease you now, so you go on.

“All brought by…<A long winter,>,” you finish in High Valyrian to mirror the way the Red Priestess told you before you repeat in the common tongue. “A long winter.”

Both men look at you but one doesn’t look at you with disbelief, nor fear, he’s serious and deep in thought, while your brother lets out a dry laugh and shakes his head to try and deny what you shared.

“I believe it,” you defend yourself and what you saw in that fire because it was clear as day as if you were seeing a memory that hasn’t happened.

“I also believe what this old man said about Ice dragons living past the wall,” you tell your brother, and Cregan interjects right away.

“Old man Thomas is known for tall tales. There are things that are true, but what he says is not.”

You shrug. “He’s well-traveled, why wouldn’t it be true?” You rebuttal and lean towards him.

“Because,” Cregan argues and leans towards you. “He likes attention. And he’s drunk all the time.”

“A drunk man is less likely to lie, you know that because you don’t lie when you’re drunk.”

His lips twitch and before he can respond with something in his defense his eyes turn to your brother at your other side. You discreetly follow his line of gaze and catch your brother's attention so you play it off quickly.

“All I’m saying is I believe what I saw, it may not happen in our lifetime, but it’s in our future,”

A short silence follows that only works to make you grow nervous over what your brother might’ve just thought. But he thankfully brushes you off.

“Maybe but you probably got ripped off by a fake witch.”

Once again you choose to ignore this negativity spouted by your brother and instead drift your attention to lunch, and since Cregan was more in charge of guiding Jacaerys, he didn’t catch anything. All you have is the single fish you caught and the rabbits Jacaerys caught, but neither one of you wants to skin them, so you eat a small lunch and share the fish over a quite fun moment where you, unfortunately, don't receive an answer from Cregan, regarding what he’s willing to offer your mother.

You hoped he’d finally say it during supper, but supper came and passed, and nothing. That lack of response followed until the next two days too, leaving your brother quite impatient now.

“What have you told him?” Jacaerys greets you ever so warmly.

“What have I told who?” You pretend to act clueless while you pick a square cake from the tray and study it before you plop it into your mouth.

“Lord Stark,” he snaps.

You knew he was getting to that since you spotted him stomping over to you and Astraea, but you had hoped he wouldn’t get to it yet.

“It's been days and you said you would talk to him! We don’t have days to waste,” he remarks and spats out your name before going on to give you a mean reminder. “We need to leave and we have nothing.”

You don’t intend to sit up or fix your gaze on your brother, you keep yourself against your dragon's large arm and respond calmly. “He promised he would give us an answer—”

“When?” Jacaerys cuts you off and crouches down to take the tray of cake from you. “When?”

You drag your eyes up and nonchalantly answer. “He cannot pull the army out of his ass, Jacaerys. We have to wait, if he promised he would do something he is going to do it.”

Your brother rolls his eyes and turns away to let out a frustrated breath. “There's a difference between saying a promise and actually committing to it. I do not know how close you are or if you have actually talked to him, but you need to figure something out, that is why you are here.” He mutters.

You watch him knowing that he has a right to be annoyed, Lady Arryn gave you her answer quite quickly, and you’ve been in Winterfell for days but still haven’t received a word on what Cregan will give to support his Queen, but you also trust Cregan, you know he’s going to do what he says, you just need to wait.

“I’ll talk to him again,” you assure him. “If he doesn’t give anything then we’ll return home with his simple loyalty.”

Jacaerys rests his hand on his hip and lets out a deep breath. “All right, that sounds good.”

You sigh and nod, letting a silence linger for a moment before you lean forward. “Can I get those back?”

“What?” He breathes out and turns all dramatically with his cloak twirling with him.

“My cake pieces,” you point at the tray in his hand with your eyes.

Jacaerys passes you a judgmental look before he leans over and lets you take the tray he took.

“Aemond found me,” you let him know of the raven that came to you this morning. “He said ‘come home at once’. Shorter than the last one but still persistent.” You giggle.

Jacaerys walks over to sit next to you against a sleeping Astraea. “Will you?” He asks with genuine curiosity.

You take a cake piece and shake your head. “No…our mother belongs on that throne and I am going to stand by that,” you say confidently now that you know where you want to stand. “He can try to take me by force if he wants, but I am going to fight for her.”

Jacaerys looks over at you with a faint smile and nods in comprehension. “I’m glad to hear it.”

You mirror his smile and offer him a piece of cake. As he takes one a memory creeps in and your smile widens before you can tell it to him. “Do you remember a few years ago, when Lucerys disowned me because he thought I ate the last piece of lemon cake?”

Midchew Jacaerys loses himself in thought before he snorts, spitting out pieces of cake, and causing you to scrunch your nose in disgust.

“Ew,” you grumble and he interjects abruptly.

“Yes! I remember he’s like you cannot be my sister anymore because you are selfish and you ate it all!” He mocks your younger brother.

You giggle and nod, but before you can add to that shared memory Astraea suddenly raises her head, bringing Jacaerys and you to a pause to look over; noticing none other than Cregan approaching.

When he’s near he bows his head and greets the both of you on the ground. “Good day, my princess, my prince.”

You smile at him and greet him for both Jacaerys and you. “Good day. It is nice to see your face today, we ate lunch and breakfast alone.”

Cregan bows his head again. “I am terribly sorry, I have been busy all day, I only barely got out.”

You remember his long days, on some terribly long ones, he wouldn't be let out until it was time to go to bed. You would usually meet him in his chambers on those days and just lay down enjoying each other's company. Today all you can do is look at each other as nothing but old friends.

“I hope your day has not been dull,” Cregan worries.

You shake your head. “No, we were just reminiscing about a day of our childhood when,” you snicker and go on. “Our little brother Lucerys disowned me because he thought I ate the last piece of lemon cake.”

Jacaerys nods and continues the story for you. “We both knew there was more so she pretended to leave. Our mother came in a few moments later with more and Lucerys completely freaked,” Jacaerys laughs and stands up as if that would change the way he was telling it. “He started bawling and ran out to look for our sister.”

“When he found me,” you finish the story. “He’s like I am so sorry, I never meant what I said. Come back, do not leave us. You can have as much cake as you want!” You finish with a laugh and Jacaerys joins you.

“That sounds like quite a memory,” Cregan says and reaches out to pat your dragon's snout since she leans towards him with dilated eyes. “Did your mother say anything?”

You and Jacaerys stare at one another in search of the answer, but you can’t recall.

“Not that I remember,” you mention and look back at Cregan. “But it was quite a memory. Lucerys is a sweetheart.”

Cregan hums and Astraea groans softly in response to his touch.

“Oh, maybe you needed something, my Lord?” Jacaerys only asks now.

“Well,” Cregan sighs. “I only wanted to invite the both of you to Castle Black on the morrow so you could see the wall, My Prince. Just before you leave, that is.”

You and your brother share a hopeful look and even if Jacaerys was quite impatient to leave, now he accepts Cregan's invitation. “I have always wanted to see the wall. It would be a pleasure.”

“Good, we will leave at first light then.” Cregan lets you both know and leaves you hoping for a good response that will hopefully make your mother proud.

A/N- Who’s the 2nd heart of fire? A new character we’re getting soon, or someone else

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 months ago

Text

HBCU CONFESSIONS.

Part Four

One entire month.

Valencia wanted nothing to do with Erik. He had come to terms with that after many failed attempts at trying to talk to her. She blocked him, she hadn’t been active on the blog in weeks since her last message, and every time he would see her around campus or in the dorms, she would turn a blind eye or walk in the opposite direction. She even stopped studying in the library to avoid him. And the thing is, she didn’t look sad, hurt, or angry. She walked around campus with a pep in her step and she smiled brightly.

Moving on wasn’t hard for her apparently. Erik can respect that. He fucked up, even if he hadn’t intended to. He didn’t plan on rekindling anything with Jeanette. EVER. At D9 parties, it’s a routine to get a sexy dance from a SOROR, but Erik didn’t expect to be the chosen one. She hopped up in his arms and locked her legs around him in a vice grip. His brothers circled him and cheered him on. Erik dropped her and she went in for a kiss. Valencia was gone within two seconds.

She hadn’t seen the part where Erik laid into Jeanette’s ass about that. Everyone thought it was hilarious. He was pissed. The dancing, he could have told her no, which he knows he fucked up on, but that kiss was unexpected and DEFINITELY not what he wanted. He apologized many times, tried speaking to her in person, and even asked her roommate, Brielle, to relay a message to her. Her socials were private and she didn’t accept outside messages from people she didn’t follow.

He wasn’t going to invade her personal space and corner her. She wanted to be left alone, he’ll give her that. No more texts, no more blog messages, no more trying to talk to her in person. He wished her well although he still really liked her. He really wanted another shot. But it would take a lot of work because Valencia would not let up. Erik respected that. He loved it actually. Maybe he needed the wake up call. He’s so used to things being easy. Nothing challenged him. But this? She wouldn’t budge.

After an exhausting class, Erik decided to make a stop at Andrea’s office and get some insight from his friend. On his way there, James was leaving her office. He was in the middle of fixing his tie and looking really sneaky. Erik snorted and shook his head. It was obvious what they were doing in there. James turned towards Erik’s direction and he smiled. They dabbed and bro hugged.

“You lookin’ stressed, my nigga. What’s good?” James questions with a chuckle.

“Lady trouble,” Erik replied with a monotone voice.

“You? Lady trouble? Since when?”

“Since now, fool.”

James didn’t believe that for a second.

“Not Mr. Suave himself. Listen,” James clapped Erik on the shoulder, “Whoever it is, she’ll come around, bruh.”

“I can never take you serious, Yo’” Erik shakes his head with a smirk, “Drea still in there? Should I giver her some time or?”

Erik jokingly pointed to the door causing James to crack up.

“Knock first.”

James backed away, saluting Erik before making his way down the hall.

“Come in!”

Erik twisted the knob and peeked his head around the door cautiously.

“Is it safe to enter, or do you still need some time?”

“Erik!”

He laughed before opening the door further. Andrea was in the middle of fluffing her voluminous hair into a ponytail. She cut her eyes at Erik and gave him a look. He sauntered over to her desk, pulled out the chair, and proceeded to take a seat while cuffing the crotch of his slim fit slacks.

“What can I do for you, best friend?”

Andrea folded her hands on her desk, tapping into her professor energy.

“I figured I could come to you for some advice. Before we get into that though,” Erik sat back in his seat, folded his arms across his sturdy chest, and arched a brow, “I see things are moving along with you and Jay.”

“They are,” Andrea cleared her throat, “Rather nicely actually…”

“And all that worrying was for nothing. I told you it would work out, girl.”

“Thank you for being so supportive!” Andrea replied with an overzealous tone, “Enough about me. What’s going on?”

“…Valencia.”

Andrea sat up straighter. A smile slowly crept up her face.

“I know that you know that I KNOW,” Erik pointed his finger like Denzel, “who my crush is.”

Andrea chuckles, “Of course I know. Don’t I use the blog too? I saw what she sent weeks ago…”

Erik propped his elbows up on her desk.

“Tell me I fucked up.” Erik said.

“You fucked up. And Jeanette is a fucking nuisance.”

Erik exhaled, “The car wash is tomorrow afternoon. She’s gonna be there—”

“Then tell that ho to leave you alone, Erik! You know it’s harder for me to get buck because I work here and I can lose my job, but she needs a reality check. I mean…did you want to get back with her?—”

“Hell nah. I wasn’t expecting all of that. I’m interested in Valencia. I wanna make it right so we can continue getting to know each other.”

Andrea raised both of her brows and grabbed her drink tumbler, sipping her tea. Erik gave her a strange look.

“And yet you allowed that girl to throw herself all over you in front of her.”

“I didn’t allow—okay, okay…I should have been more proactive in stopping her. I see that now. What should I do?”

Erik was desperate. If nothing else worked, he would leave her be for good this time. He was tired of the mental turmoil. One second he wants to leave her be, next second he’s trying to figure out how to win her back. This shit was driving him crazy. He had this on top of school to worry about.

“You’re known to be that guy, right? And you’re such a romantic, right? Romanticize her. Do it for everyone to see. Be your most vulnerable self. Show her that you will do anything to get her back.”

Erik drummed his fingers against her desk and twisted his thick lips in deep thought.

“…All I’m saying is, she’s a really nice girl. She’s such a sweetie pie. She didn’t deserve that mess. Do whatever you gotta do, Daka, seriously. I like you with her,” Andrea smiles, “I want this to actually work.”

Erik bowed his head and smiled. Even that knowledge made him feel like complete shit. Even after she told him how she’d been mistreated in past relationships. Andrea was right, he needed to go all out with his approach to this.

_______

It’s an abnormally hot day, the sun beating down on all those melanated bodies in the parking lot. Erik makes his way over to his group, shirtless and wearing athletic shorts that showed off his muscular legs. He wore Adidas slides on his feet, polarized aviator sunglasses, and purple paint streaks beneath his eyes like a proud Que Dog. Three Omega branded scars were on his right bicep.

His chest and toned stomach with skin golden brown made the gold chain hanging around his neck pop. Throwing up the hooks in greeting, his Bruhz handed him a bucket full of sudsy water and a sponge. Today was the yearly charity carwash. They hosted the event at a local lot in Houston and booked a DJ, grilled food, and offered pouch drinks. All sororities and fraternities from TSU banned together. The turnout was always big, and cars were already lining up.

"Where the hell is Isaiah?" Erik protests.

A fellow Omega, Travis, shrugged his shoulders.

"He already in hot water with the shit that happened last weekend. He keep this shit up, he's getting cut."

Erik slaps hands with all his boys, even men from other fraternaties, grinning excitedly to be at the function. Just then, Isaiah came strolling over wearing nothing but purple basketball shorts, his Nike slides on his feet with a gold fanny pack with his letters on it hanging loosely across his chest. He had a crisp line-up and all like he'd just gotten out of the barber chair.

Erik inclines his head, pulling his sunglasses off and approaching the neophyte, "You're late, Static. Get your narrow ass over there and help those cars."

Erik shoved the soapy bucket and sponge in his hands.

"Chill, Poet, I had to grab some supporters," Isaiah tilts his head and jerks his thumb behind him, a group of pretty women in a neon green Jeep Wrangler waving over at them from their open window. They honked their horn and shook their titties at them.

"Hi, Poet! you lookin' real good!" One of the girls shouted.

Erik couldn't help that he was good-looking. He's a tall man with caramel skin that was a shade darker due to the southern heat. His athletic shorts hung low off of his hips and gave anybody that looked hard enough a preview of what was beneath. He was a walking thirst-trapper.

"See? they want you, Poet," Isaiah slapped his chest with the back of his hand, "I'm lookin' out for you."

Erik put his shades back on and walked away, Isaiah throwing his hands up.

Andrea and her line sisters were wearing fitted tanktops with their soro colors and letters on it. They had black biker shorts on and different types of black sandals. The Zetas wore their soro t-shirts and little denim shorts. Majority of the ladies were mostly covered up but when the AKAs arrived, it was a scene straight from ATL. Bikini tops and booty shorts. Andrea shared a look with her sisters and rolled her eyes. It was known for the AKAs to pop out and do the most, which made them the popular ones. Jeanette wore a pink bikini with her bundles in a ponytail covered with an AKA trucker hat.

Erik locked eyes with her through his sunglasses and Jeanette blew a kiss at him. Ignoring her, Erik jumps in to help, motioning for the next car to pull up. A middle-aged black woman with her toddler in the backset gave Erik heart eyes out of the window of her Honda Odyssey. Erik gave her a smirk, sponge and bucket in his hands.

"How much to clean my whip, handsome?"

"Twenty dollars, ma'am."

"Here you go..."

The lady boldly slipped the twenty in Erik's waistband. He shakes his head, Ignoring the laughter from everybody who caught that. He placed the money in a collection bucket before cleaning her car off.

"Get it extra clean for me baby!" She shouted with a wide smile.

While Erik cleaned, a Zeta walked over offering free water and the option to park and grab some cookout food or a mixed drink pouch. Erik grabbed the hose when he was finished and the woman rolled up her windows so he could rinse it down. When he was done, his shorts were soaked. He knew that it was only a matter of time before his big boy made an appearance. The woman drove off and Erik motioned for the next car. Erik spotted Isaiah running game so he whistled, Isaiah turning in his direction.

"Static, you better get to work boy! making your brothers look bad! us Nupe's are known for being clean!" A Kappa brother teased.

"Nah, G, we ain't letting a dirty dawg show us up! Poet! you better get yah boy in line! making ya'll look worse than he already did!"

Erik shot a pointed look at Isaiah. Isaiah walked over and got back to work, motioning for an all-black, 2019 Ford Focus to pull forward. Meanwhile, Erik took a water break and after drinking it all down, he used the hose on mist to spray his body. He could feel eyes on him and when he looked up, Jeanette was eye-fucking him while sucking on a Bomb Pop, the cherry lime of the popsicle dripping to her chest from her sloppy slurping. She made her way over and Erik shot a glance at Andrea.

"This is the first time in weeks that I've been this close to you," Jeanette licked her popsicle, "You avoiding me again?"

Erik threw a towel over his shoulder and shut his eyes before opening them to stare down at Jeanette.

"You're not still upset about that kiss are you?"

"I am. Because you don't know when to chill the fuck out." Erik argued.

He walked around her and Jeanette marched right after him. He waved his hand for a car to pull forward and they rolled their window down. The driver handed Erik some money and he placed it in his pocket before cleaning the car off.

"You act like what we had wasn't real! you said so yourself that we could make it work again. Or did you forget?!"

Erik agressively scrubbed the car, his annoyance towards Jeanette growing, "I never said that shit to you. You wasn't thinking about none of that with that nigga dick in your mouth." Erik quipped.

Jeanette and the driver had to look at Erik in disbelief that he even said that. Jeanette was so shocked that she dropped her popsicle. Erik continued cleaning the car like he didn’t just say what he said.

“Fuck you! I wasn’t going to wait around, Erik! Don’t act like you weren’t doing whatever it was you were doing!”

“I wasn’t though,” Erik glanced back at her over his sweaty shoulder, “Look, I’m not doing this with you. Why don’t you pitch in and help.”

Jeanette was fuming. She stomped away, grabbing the water hose out of a soro’s hand, turning it on the highest pressure before spraying Erik in his back. He flinched and dropped the bucket and sponge. He turned to her with rage. That was painful, especially since he hadn’t expected it.

“THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM, GIRL!”

Erik really wanted to call her a bitch but he had to bite his tongue. She laughed right alongside her AKA sisters. Others snickered and laughed as well, not fully comprehending that Erik was seriously angry.

“What? You deserved it, Erik!” Jeanette yelled.

Erik grabbed an extra hose and sprayed the car down. He shook his head and flared his nostrils, heart thumping in his chest. When he finished, he walked over to Andrea and the other Deltas. She met him halfway and he turned for her to examine his back. The water hoses were attached to a fire hydrant. She could see that the middle of his back was bright red and irritated. James strolled over to look as well.

“You good, E?” James questioned.

“Jeanette is doing too fucking much. Look at her.”

Three pairs of eyes fell on Jeanette twerking on the hood of some guys car. It worked, because he gave her fifty dollars instead of twenty.

“I’ll be aight. She just needs to stay far the fuck away from me.” Erik spoke angrily.

“I’m here if you need me,” Andrea said.

Erik walked away and picked up his sponge and bucket. After refilling the bucket, he made his way back over. He kept cutting his eyes at Jeanette. He wanted his lick back for that. So much for ignoring her. Taking the bucket, while her back was turned, Erik dumped it over her head. She screeched and flailed her arms.

“OH MY GOD!!!! MY HAIR!!!!!”

Jeanette snatched her hat off and rubbed soap from her face. She turned a rageful gaze towards Erik and he laughed in her face. Laughter echoed across the lot.

“You started it!”

“Awww! Now you’re mad!”

“Get her ass, Poet!”

She pushed Erik and stormed past him to grab a towel. He made a crybaby motion with his hands as if he were rubbing his eyes. Some of her AKA sisters rushed to her aid and they didn’t hesitate to shoot Erik dirty looks. That’ll teach her ass not to fuck with him again. Erik refilled his bucket with a smirk on his face as he watched Jeanette drying her weave. She noticed and gave him the finger. Erik returned the gesture.

Some time went by, everyone working hard and raising money. The next car, Isaiah motioned to pull in and when they did, he recognized them and spoke their name. Erik heard and his head whipped in that direction so fast he could have twisted his neck. His once sour mood was no replaced with anticipation.

“Valencia, what’s up girl?”

Valencia was sitting in the passenger side of Brielle’s white 2019 Nissan Altima. Skai and Cindy were in the backseat. Brielle was wearing a yellow tube dress and her braids down and flipped to the side. She accessorized with octagon-shaped silver hoops and Y2K shades with butterflies.

“Hello,” She gave him a wave before passing him a twenty, “This is my donation.”

Brielle, Skai, and Cindy handed over their money.

“You ladies wanna stick around for some good vibes? Just pull in after I’m done.” Isaiah said.

“Will do. It looks lit out here,” Brielle looked around with a smile.

Isaiah couldn’t stop staring at Valencia. She glanced up at him with a straight face.

“Aren’t you gonna clean the car?” She questioned.

“Yeah but I’m tryna see what’s up—”

“STATIC!”

All four ladies and Isaiah followed their gaze towards the source of the shouting. Erik walked over with his usual gait. He paused in front of Isaiah and pointed to the car behind them.

“Get yo’ ass back there and clean that Jeep pulling in.” Erik ordered.

Isaiah kissed his teeth but before he walked away, he grabbed Valencia’s hand that was dangling out of the car window, kissing it before giving it an affectionate squeeze. She jerked her hand away, staring at him with her nose turned up.

“I love it when you play hard to get, girl!”

Erik put the sponge in the bucket and placed his hand on the hood of the car, leaning in towards the open window to peek inside. He still had his shades on, so Valencia was staring at her reflection through the lenses. She looked visibly tense, toying with her hair and jerking her leg.

“How’s everything, ladies?”

“They all said ‘good’ in unison, all except for Valencia. Erik caught Brielle trying to be discreet with bumping Valencia with her arm. Valencia shifted in her seat.

“…I’m doing great, you?”

This was the most she’d said to him in a month. He parted his lips but no words came out. Erik furrowed his brows and cleared his throat.

“I’m good. Been busy…”

He tapped the hood of the car. If only she were alone.

“…Are you gonna clean us off?” Brielle asked.

The awkward tension between them was palpable.

“Yeah, I gotchu, arms in and roll up the windows tight.”

They did as they were told, Valencia and Erik staring each other down. He went to work sudsing up the sponge and then he started with the back of the car first. He then moved onto the hood of the car, taking his time to get every spot. He walked around to the drivers side to clean the front and back doors and windows, and then he made his way around to the passenger side. Erik scrubbed the back down, then he was right at Valencia’s window again.

She focused her eyes forward while he cleaned but when he made it to the front window, Erik watched as her eyes scanned his body. He titled his head towards her, licked his lips, and flashed her a grin. She quickly averted her gaze to her lap and Brielle’s eyebrows disappeared behind her curly ginger bag. Skai and Cindy were giggling in the backseat. Erik retrieved the hose and started spraying the car down. He stood at the front of the car again, smirking at her through the window.

Erik walked over to Valencia’s side when he finished and Brielle eagerly rolled the window down. Valencia shot her a look and then she turned her attention to Erik who was leaning into the window. Valencia inhaled slowly and then exhaled a shaky breath. Removing his sunglasses, Erik kept his gaze pointed at Valencia. Now, she had no other choice but to look him directly in the eyes.

“…Got you ladies all cleaned up. Why don’t ya’ll stick around for a while? Grab some food, dance a little…”

He was really asking Valencia.

“Oh, we will. Right V?” Skai said.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Brielle replied, fighting the urge to laugh.

Erik waited anxiously for her to speak.

“…sure. We’ll hang out for a little while.” Valencia said.

“Bet. Say less…”

Erik stood at his full height, his lower half in her face. He slowly backed away and Brielle pulled off.

——————

They’d just finished the last few cars and by then the lot was filled with people having a good time. Erik slipped on a cropped golden yellow muscle tee that had Omega Psi Phi printed on the front in purple letters and the fraternity logo in the center. He sipped from a Blue Raspberry drink pouch that had some Hipnotic in it. He took pictures with his bruh’s and other fraternity buddies as well as the ladies

Valencia was leaning against the side of Brielle’s car, drinking a watermelon mixed drink. Erik kept looking over at her, wanting to approach her badly. Jeanette hadn’t bothered him since the hose incident and he was grateful. They were too busy putting on a performance, doing an AKA stroll to entertain people. Like clock work, Isaiah approached Valencia to talk to her and Erik noticed that he had one too many drinks. He kept grabbing Valencia’s arm and Erik could tell that she wasn’t asking for any of that attention.

Erik jogged over and yoked Isaiah up by the collar of his T-shirt. Valencia looked up at Erik with wide eyes. Others started paying attention as well.

“The fuck you doin’, Static?” Erik barked out.

“We were just talking, right, Valencia?”

Isaiah looked at her expectantly. She cut her eyes at him to Erik and then Valencia shoves him out of her way before storming off. Erik let go of Isaiah and pushed him back, causing him to stumble.

“Yo, what the fuck is your problem, Erik?!” Isaiah questioned with frustration.

“You don’t know what no means, nigga? And how much have you been drinking?”

“I only had two drinks, relax. You got a thing for Valencia or something? Every time I try and talk to her, here you come cock-blocking.” Isaiah fired back.

A few Bruhz came over to see what was going on.

“All good?”

“It’s cool. Poet can’t stand it when it ain’t all about him, that’s all,” Isaiah jokes.

Erik cut his eyes at Isaiah, one of their brothers clapping him on the shoulder to calm him down. He tried to get Erik riled up with some barking and goofing around and Erik gave in. The party continued and then the sky turned a deep orange. Erik could see Valencia walking towards a trash can to throw away her plate. It was now or never. Erik walked over towards her with his hands in his pockets and before she could walk away, he took a hold of her hand and she looked up at him.

“Valencia, can we talk? Please?”

“No, Erik—”

“I’m sorry, okay? Look,” Erik let go of her hand, “I know that I fucked up. I should have stopped her from jumping on me like that. The kiss—you ran away so fast you didn’t see how pissed I was that she kissed me. I don’t want her…I wasn’t planning on rekindling anything with Jeanette…”

Valencia looked down at her feet. She kicked at the ground with her arms folded. She finally looked up at him, her eyes searching his. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and feel those lips again. She looked so damn sexy in that dress.

“Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to come thru at Poetry Live tonight? I’m gonna recite some new shit and…I’d really like to see you there. Will you think about it?”

Erik tilted his head down at her. She pondered, her cafe noir eyes looking heavenward. Valencia exhaled, staring up at Erik through her lashes. He waited with bated breath. She parted her full lips to speak.

“I’ll be there.”

Erik cracked a dimpled smile. Valencia gave him a small smile and then a quick once-over before walking away. Erik made it back to his group and he spotted Valencia and her friends leaving. It was definitely a step into the right direction. Erik was happy about that. Andrea made her way over to him with a knowing smile.

“I saw that, Daka. So, is she coming?”

“She’ll be there. I’m a lil’ nervous. Not gonna lie.”

Andrea laughed, “you got this!”

“I just wanna make it right. I want us to get back to how things were, you know? I was just getting to know her in so many ways…”

Erik cut his eyes at Andrea and she stared at him with her mouth agape.

“I BET,” Andrea rolls her eyes.

After another hour, they started to shut things down and it took them another hour to make sure everything was cleaned up before heading out. Erik was exhausted with no time to get rest since he had to get ready for tonight. He made it back to his RA dorm with a sweaty body and tired limbs. Dropping his gym bag onto the floor, he grabbed his towel, rag, soap, and a fresh pair of briefs with a pair of basketball shorts.

In the showers, he cleaned himself off good, thinking about the night to come. Valencia was going to be there, and he hoped that she would give him a second chance. After rinsing off the second round of soap, Erik pat dried his skin and before he exited the shower, he slipped on his briefs and shorts. Towel over his shoulder, he exited the bathroom and made his way down the hall to his room which was a short distance away.

Back inside, he shut his door and turned on some music to get ready to. He took off his shorts and opened his closet to grab an outfit he planned to wear.

Ping.

Erik paused.

That sound could only be from one thing. He took long strides to his lap top on his desk and pulled out the chair. He touched the mouse pad to wake his lap top screen up and then he went straight for Tumblr. There, he clicked on his message thread and his eyes scanned back and forth, reading the words.

ebonygoddess1990s: I know it’s been a while. I’ve gone an entire month not speaking to him. Today I spoke to him for the first time and it reminded me of what happened at that D9 party. He asked me to come to Poetry Live tonight and I’m a little nervous. A part of me wants to forgive him, but the other part of me has trust issues. What should I do?

Erik for the first time didn’t know what to say. He didn’t feel right messaging her. He could simply persuade her into forgiving him, but then that would be manipulation. He slowly closed his laptop and stood up from his seat at the desk.

He was going to make it right as authentically as possible.

————

“How do I look?”

“Girl…you look damn good.”

Brielle snapped her fingers while Valencia did a turn. She was all dressed up herself in a denim dress with platform chunky brown heels and her big, curly ginger hair styled in two Afro puffs.

“He’s gonna love it.” Brielle said.

“…this isn’t for him, it’s for me.”

Brielle rolls her eyes at the ceiling, “Right. Sure.”

They grab their bags and then head out of the dorm room. Skai was going to drive tonight. Cindy and her were waiting in the car. They left the dorms and headed towards the parking lot. There, they spotted Skai and she was talking to Dior. Valencia’s footsteps slowed down and she instantly grew defensive. Brielle looked at her with an equally angry expression.

“Let me go, I’ll see you there…”

Dior looked at Valencia.

“Brielle,” She touched her arm, “Valencia—”

Valencia smacked her hand away. Hard. Dior raised up on her and Brielle leaped between them.

“Let’s get going! Right, Val?” Brielle pleaded.

Brielle looked over at Skai for help. Skai walked towards them and grabbed Dior by the arm.

“Yeah, let me go before I drag this bitch all over the parking lot!” Valencia shouted after Dior.

Dior yanked her arm out of Skai’s grip.

“Awww still mad your crush doesn’t want you?”

“Dior!” Skai yelled, “Chill out!”

Dior put her hands up, “I’m chill. She’s the one that put her fucking hands on me.”

“I should have been put my hands on you!!!!” Valencia screamed.

“THEN WHAT’S GOOD?!” Dior screamed back.

“Just go, Dior,” Skai moved her towards her car.

“I’m going. Just as long as she stays over there.”

Dior backed away to her car with a big grin on her face. There was a girl in passenger seat, laughing at the entire thing. Dior got in her car and drove off. Valencia took meditating breaths while Brielle tried to calm her down.

“She pulled up to my car to talk, Valencia. I wasn’t trying to start trouble,” Skai spoke to her defense.

Brielle ignored Skai. She loved her friend but if she was going to keep being friends with Skai knowing that she didn’t like Valencia and was probably talking shit about her, she had to cut her off too. They all got back into the car, Cindy rubbing Valencia’s shoulder.

She just wanted to have a good night. Megan Thee Stallion Cognac Queen came one and Valencia started rapping the lyrics. She wasn’t going to let that dumb bitch ruin her night.

Her makeup looked good, her outfit is sexy, she felt the hottest she’s ever felt. She felt great. She rolled her window down and as the air whipped across her face, she couldn’t get Erik off of her mind. Valencia couldn’t help but smile to herself. He looked extra scrumptious today. The effort he took into winning her back made her feel good. She wanted him to know that she could easily forget about him and move on.

Erik still tried. This man could have any woman on campus, hell, even his crazy ex girlfriend, and yet he didn’t want her or anyone else but Valencia. She couldn’t control the butterflies. It’s been a month too long. She could only hope that tonight would go right.

“We’re here.”

It was a huge turnout. Brielle parked and they all stepped out. From the outside looking in, Poetry Live was packed like sardines.

“Please tell me Russ saved a table for us,” Cindy said.

“I hope so, because I am not standing.” Brielle said.

They were carded at the door and when they were in the clear, all four of them walked inside. Cindy took the lead, searching the crowded room until she pointed towards a round table with a great view of the stage. They squeezed through people dancing and having a good time with drinks in their hands. Cindy wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s shoulders and went in for a kiss. Valencia sat her bag on the table and looked around. As she scanned the room, her eyes fell on Erik, sitting at a table with Andrea, James, and a few of their friends.

Valencia’s eyes scanned his body from head to toe. He had a fresh retwist and he was dressed nice with a layered gold chains hanging from his neck and black diamond earrings in his ears. He didn’t have his glasses on tonight, so Valencia could see his onyx eyes more clearly beneath the lights. She shifted in her seat and fiddled with the strap of her bag when he finally looked over at her. They locked eyes and then a slow smirk crept up his lips. She felt hot all over. He waved to her and Valencia returned the gesture. He checked her out from across the room and with an appreciative nod, he mouthed ‘you look amazing’.

Valencia blushes and mouthed ‘thank you’ in response. She reluctantly pulled her gaze away and released a shaky breath. He always makes her so flustered.

“Everyone looks so nice tonight like it’s a special occasion!” Brielle said with a sonorous tone.

“I know! We need drinks!” Cindy declared ecstatically.

“I second that,” Valencia fanned herself.

Their waiter returned and they put their orders in. Valencia looked around the room again and in a booth seat, Jeanette and Dior sat surrounded by their AKA sisters. They were dancing and causing a scene since they needed to be the center of attention at all times.

“SKEE-WEE!!! SKEE-WEE!!!!”

A few Zetas threw up kitty hand signs, Deltas threw up triangles, Sigmas threw up three fingers with their thumb and ring finger down.

Their drinks came and Valencia automatically took sips of her Long Island Iced Tea. She couldn’t stop herself from looking over at Erik’s table again and he was stomping around like a proud Que with his Bruhz Valencia giggled at Erik’s mug. He settled back in his seat and took a sip of his drink.

After some time, the lights in the room went dim and a spot light hit the stage. It was a spotlight with a purple hue. Valencia was nursing her second drink, taking careful sips so she wouldn’t get drunk too fast. She was too busy turning up with her friends to notice that Erik himself took the stage. He walked up to the mic apprehensively, grabbing the pole with one hand while adjusting the mic with his other. The sound of the mic caused everyone to turn their attention towards him.

Valencia looked at him and her smile disappeared from her face and in its place was a nervous look. Erik’s presence on that stage commanded the room to silence. The only sound being that of Usher Dot Com instrumental. Valencia scanned the room, and then her eyes looked towards the stage again.

“Hello…hello…hello. I’m sure most of you know me but I’m gonna introduce myself anyway. My name is Erik. My friends call me E, Daka—that’s short for my middle name, N’Jadaka, and Poet. Uhm,” he placed his hands in his pockets, “It’s been years since I’ve been on this stage. Tonight I have some new shit,” Erik chuckles nervously, taking one hand out of his pocket to run over his locs, “This is for you, Valencia.”

Valencia’s eyes went round like saucers. Her eyebrows shot up as she looked around the table at her friends, all of which were staring back at her with big goofy smiles. One by one, they each pulled a rose from beneath the table and handed it to her. Valencia clutched her chest, the roses placed in front of her on the table rendering her speechless. Others stood from their tables and walked over, handing her red roses painted with glitter.

“W—What?” She accepted another rose, “I can’t believe…”

After the last person, Andrea, handed her a rose. Valencia had a full bouquet in her hand. She wanted to cry. This was the most beautiful thing a guy has ever done for her. And it wasn’t over. She looked up at Erik with glossy eyes. He smirked at her and gave her a wink.

Valencia…

I'm sorry for what I've done

I'm sorry for who I've been

Sorry for where its gone

So sorry to lose a friend

I’m sorry I kiss your plump lips in my sleep

So sorry I can’t get you off my mind

As I lose myself and find myself

I’m sorry if I wonder do I ever cross your mind

So hypnotizing…

Your soft voice and bashfully beautiful gaze

I’m sorry we’re apart

I’m not sorry I’m falling for you though

Forgive me if I can’t help that I want you

Forgive me…

If I stumble and fall.

Too clumsy…and my words do not form as I wish

So let me kiss you and let my lips paint for you

All that I feel in my heart.

Let my hands touch again…and my mouth again…

Erik paused. The suspense of his words blanketing the room. Valencia drew her bottom lip into her mouth. She could never…would never forget how his mouth felt on her pussy. Saying that on stage in front of everyone…

Every rose I gave to you

I hope brings a smile to you face

Inside each rose is a piece of my soul

So Valencia

I want your trust more than anything

Baby girl

It was a bad decision

And now I want you here

So please take me back

'Cause I need you right now

Vulnerable words from your Poet…

Erik backed away from the mic, and instead of snaps, everyone clapped. There was a standing ovation. Erik exited the stage and walked over to Valencia. She stood up and tears rolled down her cheeks. She opened her arms and Erik pulled her in for a tight hug. He pulled away and Valencia surprised with a kiss to the cheek. It didn’t matter if it was the lips or the cheek, he was happy as hell.

“This is so much—Erik, thank you,” Valencia blotched her eyes dry.

“Anything to put a smile on your face again,” Erik said.

————

Valencia returned to her dorm room with a smile and her bouquet of roses pressed against her chest tightly. That was the sweetest most sincere thing any guy has ever done for her. She liked Erik even more. Brielle decided to stay with Skai for the night and Valencia was grateful because she needed to process this alone. The fact that her friends even knew what was going to happen all this time and they didn’t give her a hint amazed her.

Valencia sat on her bed to take off her shoes. As she did, she looked at the selfies she took with Erik before she left. Her phone vibrated and she noticed it was a text from Erik. She unblocked him on the ride over. Valencia read his text and she instantly smiled.

Erik: care for a night swim?

Valencia knew that he would be texting her. He whispered to her that he planned to send her a text with a surprise later. So, he wanted to go swimming? Valencia smiled at her phone as she texted a reply.

Valencia: absolutely ☺️

Erik: Cool. I’ll meet you there. Bring a change of clothes 😈

Valencia shot up from bed and headed towards her closet. She opened a drawer that stored all of her bikinis and found an orange one. A pink body con, a thong, sandals, and a few pieces of jewelry went into a bag. She quickly undressed and put the bikini on with Erik’s hoodie on top. She slipped on a pair of slides and grabbed her bag, phone, and keys. She made her way over to the pool and when she got there, Erik was nowhere to be found. She shot him a quick text message outside of the entrance to the pool.

Valencia: Where are you?

Erik: One second

The door opened and Erik was dressed in a pair of blue swim shorts that hugged his thighs. He was shirtless and still rocking the gold chains. His locs were in his face, almost long enough to cover his eyes. He opened the door further and Valencia slipped inside. The luminescent swimming pool looked calm and lonesome. The blue hue created the same glow around them. The tiny ripples created a specular reflection across their bodies as they dress closer.

Placing her bag down, Valencia took off the hoodie and sat it on a bench. She stepped out of her slides and walked over towards Erik. His eyes roamed her body, and then he licked his lips. Valencia sat down on the edge of the pool and Erik joined her. Their feet slipped into the water and it felt warm. She turned to look at him before timidly avoiding his gaze to stare down at the water. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of her.

“That was beautiful, Erik.” Her voice echoed as she spoke.

“Thank you. It wasn’t my best but…It was definitely my most vulnerable.” Erik said.

“Well, I thought it was heartfelt and sweet. How the hell did you get everyone to go along with it?”

Erik laughs, “The car wash? I pretty much went around and asked every one if they wanted to participate. The roses were planted there beneath the tables.”

“Very clever,” Valencia giggles.

“I knew you weren’t gonna let me off the hook that easily, and for that…I thank you.”

Valencia looked up at him through her lashes.

“…I’m happy we can start off where we left off.” Erik said.

“Me too…I did miss you…I just….I have major trust issues.”

Erik shrugged, “I get it. You ain’t gotta explain that to me.”

Valencia tucked her chin and smiled.

“The water looks good,” Valencia stood up, “I’m getting in. Are you coming?”

“Yeah.”

She stepped into the pool from the ladder and backstroked towards the deep end. Erik swam over towards her, water splashing on Valencia. She giggled, splashing Erik back even though it wasn’t intentional that he got water in her face. Back and forth they played water tag.

“Okay! Stop!” Valencia shielded her face, “Truce!”

“You givin’ up that easily, girl?” Erik teases.

“Yes, I am. You’re stronger.” Valencia said.

“Am I?”

Erik swam over and picked Valencia up. She squealed before Erik tossed her playfully, Valencia going under. She reappeared, smoothing her braids from her face. Erik laughed at her attempt to glare at him. It was cute. They circled each other, staring each other down. Valencia broke the eye contact first. Erik inched closer. They paddled their arms and propelled their legs to stay afloat. Erik looked so delicious. Valencia couldn’t help but to reach up and smooth his locs back from his eyes.

“…You’re so handsome,” Valencia shyly looked at him.

“And you’re so beautiful.” Erik replied.

The sound of his voice bouncing off of the walls shot straight to her pussy.

“I want to kiss you…” Erik whispered.

Valencia turned away from Erik. He watched her go under, swimming away from him. Erik followed and took in a breath before going beneath the water. He swam, following her until she turned his way, still under water. She broke the surface and Erik was right there, centimeters away from her face. They stared into each other’s eyes and then Valencia’s back hit the edge of the pool. Erik trapped her there. Water dripped from his hair and made his lashes look wet and curled.

“…Can I kiss you?”

Valencia looked from his lips to his eyes. She slowly nodded her head and Erik closed the space between them, his lips crashing into hers desperately. He yearned for her lips. Erik grunted against her lips. Valencia opened up and Erik swiped his tongue across her teeth. Valencia draped her arms over his shoulders and Erik gripped the edge of the pool harder. His chest and crotch were pressed snuggly against Valencia’s body.

Their heads swiveled from left to right, tongues dancing, their lips moved together in a sloppy manner. It was hot, sexy, steamy, and passionate all at the same time. Valencia wrapped her thighs around Erik and he took that opportunity to pick her up. They moved towards the center of the pool and after sucking each other’s faces off for minutes, Erik came up for air. That didn’t stop him from kissing her. His lips were on her neck now.

“Mmmm,” Valencia moaned.

His lips kissed the tops of her breasts and between them. He looked her in the eyes while doing it. She knew what he wanted. Valencia slowly grabs one of Erik’s large hands and guides it to her bikini strings. He didn’t take his eyes off of hers as his fingers pulled, the top falling from her chest. Erik’s eyes dropped down to admire them. B-cup, perky, with perfect nipples and areolas. Deep brown and tasty.

“Damn, baby,” Erik whispered, “Fucking beautiful…”

His lips were on hers again and then he broke the kiss, lifting her up more so that her breasts were in his face practically. Staring up at her, Erik wrapped his thick lips around her left nipple and started sucking. That sensation was a tickle that went straight to her pussy. Her clit jumped, her inner thighs gripped him tighter, and her breathing became uneven.

Erik took his time sucking each nipple. They were so stiff and begging for attention. The sensation of his warm mouth and soft lips did that. She couldn’t watch him doing it anymore, it was too much. She instead moaned towards the ceiling with her eyes shut. Now, his tongue flicked her nipples. Valencia looked down with her beautiful mouth parted, tiny breaths of pleasure from between her lips. She loved that he took attention to her breasts. Her ex would suck a nipple for only ten seconds. Isaiah didn’t even care to do it.

Another box checked off her list.

“Erik…”

He lightly nibbled with his teeth on the tips of her nipples. She gripped his shoulders tightly. He dragged his tongue and lips all over her areolas like a starved man. Valencia couldn’t take it anymore. She tried to move her chest away from Erik’s mouth but he wouldn’t stop. Her body tensed up and she started to panic. What the hell was happening?

“Unh…Erik…uh—uh—uhhhhh—”

Her body trembles, as if the water ran cold. He pressed his face between her breasts and exhaled. Did she just experience an orgasm from nipple play? A wetness that didn’t come from the water made her pussy hot and sticky. Erik looked up at her with a smirk and Valencia couldn’t help but giggle.

“That was intense and out of my control.” she spoke breathlessly.

“Didn’t I tell you I can be your first of many things, beautiful?”

“Yes,” Valencia bites her lip. “Getting freaky in a pool is definitely something I’ve never done.”

“Hmm,” Erik brought her down so that they were face to face, “Getting your pussy ate pool side sounds amazing right now, don’t you think?”

Erik’s hand came down to sit between Valencia’s legs. He cupped her pussy in his hand over her bikini bottoms and slowly rubbed up and down. His thick digits applied pressure to her clit and he could feel her piercing. Valencia closed her eyes and parted her lips.

“Nah…look at me…”

She took her time opening her eyes. When she did, she was staring into Erik’s eyes.

“I still have those panties…”

She shuddered. Yes, her used thong from a month ago.

“They still smell amazing by the way.”

A sly smirk painted his thick lips. She looked away. She couldn’t believe this man still had them! That was the nastiest thing and she loved it.

“…what do you do with them?” Valencia asked with a small voice.

“Well…I sit them on my face and I just…beat my dick whenever I think about you…”

Her face grew hot and she shifted in his embrace but Erik made sure she didn’t move. His hand rubbing up and down felt so good. Valencia started circling her hips while his hand rubbed. He chuckled at her and that Que tongue teased her.

“I guess you can say I’m obsessed. I need a new pair to add to my collection…”

“What else are you obsessed with…sexually?”

Valencia had to chew on her bottom lip to control the tremors. He started rubbing her clit in a circle with his finger tips.

“I have fetishes and kinks…bondage…voyeurism…exhibitionism…toe-sucking…that’s just to name a few.”

Valencia is familiar with BDSM but she’d never experienced any of it. He has a foot fetish and that’s something she always found interesting. She’s very ticklish, so she hoped Erik wouldn’t do that to her. She wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“How about you?”

Valencia blinked away from him, “Uhm…well I do have some kinks for some things—I’ve never tried—it’s not as hot as yours though.”

Erik cocked his head. They floated towards the edge of the pool again and Erik sat her down. He stood between her legs and looked up at her eagerly.

“You can still tell me,” Erik said with a reassuring voice.

“…okay…I consider myself to be a size queen.”

Erik lifted a single brow.

“Do you know what that means—”

“I do. You prefer big dicks. Bigger than average dicks.”

It was the way he said that. Valencia couldn’t look him in the eye after that. Erik laughs.

“Sexual partners with bigger dicks…coming from you, that’s…not what I expected.”

“What did you expect then?”

“DD/LG. Sex talk…you know size queens take dick, right?”

Erik emphasized dick strongly.

“I know,” Valencia looked away shyly.

“Aight,” Erik smiled playfully at her, “What else?”

“…I feel like I have an oral fixation…”

“Me too. I definitely do,” Erik chuckled.

He reached up to stroke between her legs. She shut her thighs and trapped his hand there.

“Spread your legs, Valencia…”

She did as she was told.

“Bring your feet up and open wider…”

She leaned back and carefully brought her legs up one-by-one. Her pussy was sitting phat between her legs from that position. Erik got closer, taking his thick fingers to push her panties to the side. What he saw blew his mind. Her wetness had a slimy consistency to it that connected to her bikini bottom. She was ready for some dick and his mouth. He used his thumb to peel back her outer lip and the more he did, the more it leaked.

“Fuck…you should see this…you’re so fucking wet, girl…”

Valencia scooted her hips towards the edge and Erik used his tongue to swipe between her outer lips. Valencia placed a hand on the back of his head. He was slurping and sucking at the same time. Anything to get all of that tasty stuff in his mouth. He flicked his tongue up between her folds and the sensation caused her clit to ache in the best way.

“Yes…mmm…Erik, that feels so good…I missed your mouth…”

That was music to his ears. She could hear him smacking his lips and the sound of his wet tongue.

“Daddy…yes…please don’t stop…make me cum…”

Pushing her thighs back, Erik did just that. He didn’t stop. He sucked that bejeweled clit into his mouth and sucked to his heart’s desire and it tugged on Valencia’s heartstrings. She had his locs in her fist. Her wet braids fell over her face. Her naked chest thrust forward. It was the most erotic thing.

“Oh my gosh!”

Her body spasmed and Erik dipped his tongue into her entrance so he could catch it all. Every drop needed to be on his tongue. Valencia pushed his head away and sat up. Erik shook his locs from his eyes and licked her sticky sweetness from his lips.

“We need to take this shit to my room now…I can’t do what I wanna do to you here…”

Valencia knew she was in trouble. He gave her this look and she just knew.

————

They entered the Omega Psi Phi house and Erik shut the door softly. Hand in hand, they crept up the stairs and when they both made it to the top landing, Erik led Valencia down the hall to his right. Majority of the house was still out for the evening. His room door was the most decorated out of the ones at the end of this hall. He took out his keys from his hoodie pocket and opened his door. Valencia slipped inside first and then Erik came in right behind her before shutting his door and locking it again. The room was cloaked in darkness with a little light from the streetlights outside peeking through the blinds. Erik took her bag from her and she could see his silhouette moving towards a desk.

He flicked on a lamp and adjusted the lighting so that it was dim. A yellow ambiance filled one corner of the room and the area where the bed resided was 80% dark. Valencia thought it was the perfect glow for what was about to go down. Erik proceeded to take his laptop out of his book bag and Valencia made herself comfortable on his bed. It was neatly made and fluffy. Some music played and Valencia figured it was to muffle the noises they were about to make but one thing about her, if it feels good, she can’t keep quiet.

Erik took off his hoodie and T-shirt. He stood in front of her with a bare chest and shorts on. They took a quick rinse after swimming. Valencia removed Erik’s hoodie from her body and her panties. She kicked off her slides and went to shield her body with her legs. Erik walked up to her on his bed and while his eyes looked down at her, he slowly peeled his shorts off. Valencia watched his movements with a steady gaze.

She could see that he was well groomed down there. When his dick bobbed out, she went still with speechlessness. It was thick, long, and veiny with heavy balls to match. Shaft the color of hickory and the tip reminded her of cinnamon. Something you would see in a porno. She’d never seen a dick this big in person. That’s all she had to compare it to. Valencia didn’t even want to venture a guess as to how big he is. Tonight was going to be the night where she explored her size queen fantasies.

“You’re so big…”

Valencia wrapped her small hand around him. Her fingers barely touched. She didn’t want to look scared, but she was. She replaced her shocked expression with a flirty smile. Erik reached down and caressed her chin. She knew what he wanted. She wished she’d practiced for this. She wanted to impress this man badly with skills she didn’t possess. Sure, she could give head, but would he enjoy it?

“Valencia.”

She was knocked out of her daze. Sitting up on her knees, she leaned forward while gently stroking him. Valencia would dart her eyes up at him timidly while his fat dick was in her face. So much dick.

Don’t chicken out, she thought.

“Go on, don’t act all shy, get a taste.”

Valencia let go of his shaft to push her braids back over her shoulders. Erik helped her by taking her braids into his fist loosely.

“Thank you,” She took him into her grasp again.

Fear flashed before her eyes and Erik used his thumb to stroke her chin again.

“C’mon, don’t be scared. Not with lips like that…”

She giggled nervously. Valencia leaned in and flicked her tongue along the tip of his dick like she was testing the waters. Erik’s grunt made her kiss his tip with her juicy lips.

“Stop teasing me and suck this dick.”

Valencia opened her mouth and Erik tugged on her braids so she could look up at him. She shut her eyes while sucking his wide tip into her mouth. That action alone made her jaws sore.

“Open your eyes, Valencia,” Erik tugged on her hair, “What I say?”

He was starting to show his dominance more and more. Valencia blinked up at him, the view from her position a sight for sore eyes. That body and that face with that big dick in her hand was all too much. She sank her lips deeper, and Erik exhaled a longing breath.

“You got a tight ass throat, ma…”

Valencia popped her lips off.

“I’m sorry—”

“Nothing to apologize about, baby. Put that mouth back on daddy’s dick.”

She did as she was told.

“There you go, put some more in there…”

She squeezed her thumb and breathed through her nose. A technique she’d learned about but never really used. She wasn’t a throat goat but she’d never had to challenge herself until she met Erik.

“Good girl…mmm.”

She added more spit to her sucking. There was no way she was going to fit all of him in her mouth. Valencia stroked him like she was grinding pepper with one hand while she sucked whatever she could.

“Look at you, all that being scared and you sucking it just like I like it…nice and slow…lots of spit…such a nasty girl.”

Erik licked his lips at her and his eyes were low. He kept making these grunting noises in his throat. She loved it so much.

“Those lips…feel so good on my dick, baby…”

Erik did something she wasn’t prepared for. He thrust his hips forward a little and more of his dick sank down her throat. Valencia gagged and her body jerked away from the feeling. Spit was hanging from her mouth and she looked up at him with wet eyes.

“Did I tell you to stop sucking?”

“N–no,” Valencia sniffled.

Erik tapped her lips with his dick.

“Open your mouth.”

Panic set in. She opened up and Erik had a hand on the back of her head and one on her throat. He started fucking her mouth slow. Valencia placed a hand on his thigh to try and control him. A knock suddenly came to Erik’s door and not once did he stop.

“Poet! Me and the rest of the guys were going out for drinks. You wanna roll out, dog?”

“Nah! I’m good. I’ll see ya’ll tomorrow!”

Erik bites down on his bottom lip when her lips popped off. He rubbed his dick along her lips, dribbling her lips with his tip before whispering for her to open the fuck up.

“Aight! We’ll catch up!”

When the coast was clear, Erik groaned.

“When I cum don’t you come up off this dick, you hear me?”

“Mhm,” Valencia couldn’t use her mouth at the moment to reply. Only sounds.

She sucked and sucked and her jaws ached but she was determined to make him cum. She was doing so well and Erik was loving it so much. He started moaning and saying her name. She felt in control. With a deep inhale, she took a chance and relaxed the back of her throat, twitching it around his tip.

“Shit, here it comes—”

Valencia sat still with Erik’s dick between her jaws. She could feel him throbbing with his release. He came in her mouth and it was thick and warm. She swallowed quickly, careful not to choke. It was a lot. She wasn’t surprised, with a dick that big and balls that heavy, it was expected. She came up for air and wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand. Erik twirled one of her nipples while bending over to kiss her lips. Tongue and all.

“You did so good, baby.” Erik whispered against her lips.

“You liked it? I wanted to make it good for you.”

“You made me cum didn’t you? I was tryna hold back but I couldn’t control it. I wonder what that pussy gonna do to me…”

“The same,” Valencia boldly replied.

“Yeah? That pussy gon’ make this dick bust too?”

“Mhm,” She jerked him while chewing on her bottom lip and staring him in his eyes with all the strength she could muster.

“You better hope I don’t bust in you…”

Erik tongues Valencia down again. His words fluttered in her mind. She was on birh control but she’d never let a guy do it. Isaiah drunkenly told her that he wanted to cream pie her, but he was wearing a condom. Erik planned to fuck her raw.

“Come sit on my face.”

Erik climbed into his bed and propped his pillows up. When he was settled, Valencia threw her leg over him and Erik popped her on that bubble booty with a hard slap.

“Turn the other way…just like that…”

She turned her back towards his face while her ass and pussy sat inches away from his mouth.

“Arch that back, girl.” Erik commanded with another smack to her ass.

Valencia did as she was told and Erik spread her cheeks . He didn’t waste time tongue-fucking her wet hole and slurping up her clit. Valencia clawed the sheets and started grinding her pussy along the length of Erik’s tongue. He spit on her pussy and sucked it back up over and over. Her eyes crossed like she was losing consciousness.

“OOH!, Erik, fuck, I’m gonna cum already!”

Erik whacked her across the ass through her release. He was showing a roughness with her that overwhelmed her. Valencia didn’t have time to recover when Erik sat up and positioned her on her back. He loomed over her and his lips pressed firmly against hers. She could feel his thick fingers between her thighs, stroking her pussy before slowly sinking two fingers deep.

“Uh—”

“I gotta make sure I open you up for this dick, girl,” Erik whispered.

His fingers pumped in and out of her. He was knuckle deep and torturing her spot. Valencia turned her face away and Erik attacked her neck. The obscene noises her pussy made was similar to squelching. She felt that from head to toe. Erik’s continuous nasty talk in her ear with a husky voice had her whimpering.

“This my pussy, Valencia?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t wait to fuck you…”

She felt a flutter in her belly from his words. His anxiousness let her know that she was going to take it all over his bed.

“Ima be in that pussy every way I can…you’re so pretty…you have the best pussy, babygirl…My dick is so hard…”

She could feel his stiffness on her inner thigh. Rigidly tapping her.

“I’ve been waiting for this shit…”

“Daddy—”

“You wanna cum? That pussy cumming again?”

“Yes—”

“Tell me whatchu want…open your mouth and tell me. All that shy shit is over wit’ you know what time it is.”

“…can I cum, please, daddy?”

She clawed his back. The more he continued to finger-fuck her, the harder it became to hold it in. She felt a sensation and she was afraid she was going to urinate. It was so intense, Valencia couldn’t fight it.

“Erik, Erik, Erik!”

“Gimme that shit.”

A stream of liquid similar to a fountain stained the sheets. It was too powerful and the more he fingered, the more she did it. She’d never ever squirted before.

“Oh my gosh,” Valencia tried to catch her breath, “I squirted…I’m sorry, I made a mess.”

She shielded her face with her hands in embarrassment. Erik moved her hands away and showed her his messy fingers before sucking on them.

“You can squirt, you can cream, I want all of that shit. Don’t ever be embarrassed about what this body can do. I’m so crazy about you…”

Erik pecked her lips and she could taste herself. He sat up on his knees and spread her thighs. Valencia hitched her breath when he started spanking her pussy with the tip of his dick.

“…A fat puss and a fat dick…you know what time it is, right?”

Valencia nodded her head with a pout of her lips.

“I’ll go nice and steady, okay?”

Erik kissed her inner left thigh before he gripped the base of his dick in one hand, gliding it between her folds before the wide tip of his thick pipe sat at her entrance eagerly. She watched as his chest moved up and down and his eyes focused on his movements. His eyes drifted up her body to rest on her face.

“It’s gonna feel so good…you’ll be begging me not to stop…”

She brought both of her arms up and her hands squeezed the pillow beneath her head. She tried to steady her breathing, but when Erik finally thrust forward, she lost her cool.

“Shit,” she squeezed her eyes shut, “It’s too much…”

The tip popped in and instantly she clenched him. Erik groaned. The snugness around his tip felt so fucking food. He needed more.

“Ima give you more…fuck, Valencia, pussy tight as fuck…”

He had his hands on the back of her thighs and both of them watched as he fed her pussy more fat dick.

“I’m tryna behave but all I wanna do is dig yo’ shit out.”

He gave her this look that told her ‘I’m ready to go berserk’ he would stop to give her a second to adjust and then more filled her up. She threw her head back and moaned. Erik had half of his dick in there.

“Look at me, talk to me…”

He withdrew his hips and Valencia’s eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open.

“Tell me where I’m at…”

“You’re in my pussyyyyyyy!”

Tears rolled down into her hairline. The sensation was so intense. She couldn’t even describe how wet she was. She felt so full.

“I’m finna’ go harder. You ready?”

Valencia had panick in her eyes. Erik kissed his teeth. He was impatient and with her good pussy wrapped around his dick she better get ready.

“Be a big girl and take it…own it and take it, ma.”

“…okay.”

Erik dropped that dick off in her all the way now and Valencia cried out. He leaned over her body causing her hips to lift from the bed. He put his fist into the mattress and the momentum of his thrusting went faster and faster. She didn’t know what to do.

“Yes,” Erik whispered, “I’m in this pussy now. hmm…”

“Unh—”

It felt so intense and so amazing. Erik sat up so he could look her in the eyes. He drew his bottom lip into his mouth and delivered sharp thrusts while staring her down. She was completely ruined and all he did was fuck her and look at her.

“I c–c–can’t hold it—”

“FUUCK—”

Her orgasm rocked through her body. Erik slipped out and she exhaled a shaky breath.

“Look…”

She sat up on her elbows. His dick was coated in cum and brick hard. Erik looked at her through his locs, a teasing smirk on his face. He was on her again, not even telling her how he wanted her. Instead, he positioned her with her face down and ass up. He fixed her arch, adjusted her legs, and then with two large hands on her ass cheeks, he pointed his tip at her opening and bam! He was back in like he never left.

“Keep that arch. What the fuck did I say?”

“Okay!” Valencia bowed her back, “Do I need to do it more?”

Erik didn’t respond with words, he fixed her himself and then spanked her ass.

“Ouch,” it stung so hard, “daddy that hurts..”

He kissed her cheeks and she whimpered.

“It wouldn’t hurt so much if you listen to what I say. Stay just like that.”

Erik’s dick went in and out. Each time it would go in, her pussy would queef. So much creamy mess. She felt it in her lower belly, it created intense pressure to the bottom of her pussy, her body quaked out of her control. So many different sensations hitting her at once.

“Mhm, you look so good right now…”

Valencia looked back at Erik.

“It’s s–s–so deep….” Valencia stuttered.

“I know, baby, but you’re doing so well, pretty girl…now daddy gotta bust it open some more…”

With just his hips, Erik showed her a good time. When he wanted to play back shots, he didn’t want you running and pushing him away. Her ass ricocheted off his hips and all she could do was grip the sheets and moan so loud it bounced off of the walls. She couldn’t do anything about the intense sensations.

“DADDY! OH MY GOD! ITS SO BIG! ITS SO BIG, DADDY! OH MY GOSH! ERIK! ERIK! ERIK!”

“Don’t push me away,” Erik locked her wrist behind her back as he barked out his command, “FUCK!”

He slowed down and Valencia tried to catch her breath. She didn’t want him to slow down. She wanted more dick. How was it possible to want more when she couldn’t even take it in this position?

“There you go…there you go. You fucking me back? Oh, so now you ain’t scared of this dick?”

Valencia threw it back on him and Erik stood there watching her with unblinking eyes and his mouth hanging open.

“Didn’t I tell you I would have you on this dick? Didn’t I fuckin’ tell you that?” Erik slapped her ass, “You showing out, girl. Fat pussy takin’ it like a real size queen.”

She looked back at him and licked her lips.

“Can you beat it up, daddy?”

Valencia was talking her shit. Erik pounded her pussy out.

“UHHHH SHIT!” She yelled.

Valencia sat up and Erik placed a hand around her neck from the front.

“Right there! Please don’t stop!” She begged.

Pound after pound. Her body seized up.

“You ain’t gotta tell me, baby, I feel that pussy…don’t hold back, give me what I want, wet up this fuckin’ dick!”

“YES!”

Erik slipped out and Valencia fell flat against the bed. She rolled over and stared up at Erik before reaching her arms out. He chuckled, picking her up and then she wrapped her legs around him snuggly.

“You want me to fuck you in the air?”

She nodded her head and bashfully smiled at him.

“I’ve always wanted to be picked up during sex. I wanna see how it feels…”

“I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Erik lined himself up and dropped her down on his dick. He palmed her ass and forced her down on his big dick, bouncing her up and down at a leisurely pace so she could feel it from the tip to the balls. Erik dipped his hips and Valencia had her arms wrapped around his neck.

“Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!” That’s all she could do. Moan and live in the moment.

Erik pressed his forehead against hers. She took in a sharp breath.

“I’m so close, this pussy gon’ make me cum so hard, fuck, gahdamn, shit, this wet pussy…tight, wet, gushy pussy—”

“I’M CUMMING FOR YOU!” Valencia declared.

“Cum on this fucking dick!”

Valencia came so damn hard. It was an out of body experience. She clung to Erik tightly and he sat on the bed and bounced her in his lap. Her words ran through his mind.

“Daddy! I wanna have your baby!”

“Valencia—”

Erik’s balls tightened and his shaft throbbed and twitched the same time her walls clenched him.

“Ima fucking nut—FUCK—”

He lifted her off of his dick and she was on her knees fast, sucking him clean. Erik sat back on his elbows and his body twitched. Spurt after spurt of his thick cum covered her lips and dripped onto her breasts. She jerked him while sucking on his tip.

“Unh, mmm, huhhhh, uhhhhh, fuckkkk….”

He was too sensitive. He grabbed his dick from her and sat up. Valencia licked her lips and tried to clean herself off. She peeked up at him and gave him a small smile followed by a giggle.

“I can’t believe I said that.”

She laughed it off, trying her best to conceal her embarrassment. She was so caught up in the moment. She covered her face and Erik moved her hands away. He helped her to her feet and sat her in his lap.

“Forget I said that.” She looked down into her lap, “That was amazing…”

Erik tilted her head up and stared into her eyes.

“I don’t want to forget it. And you need to stop feeling so ashamed. Shit, I almost gave you that baby.”

They both laughed. Valencia pressed her face into Erik’s neck.

“…you might experience a lot of emotions. It’s intense…”

“I’m so happy I got to experience it with you.”

Erik kissed Valencia on the forehead.

“Me too, baby girl. And I want more moments with you.”

Erik pulled the sheets back and he laid back against his pillow with Valencia snuggled close to him.

“You wore a nigga out…”

Valencia giggled.

“I could go for round two…”

———

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qnomnstrs · 3 months ago

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Heian Era! Sukuna x Concubine! reader The only way is down

PART 2 IS HERE

I think I might give this one a part two with more fluff

Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, use of word slut, pregnancy, slight humiliation, plot with porn, fluff if you squint, creampie, double dicks, anal, fingering, blowjob, double penetration, dacryphillia, trueform! Sukuna

Word Count 3K

Sukuna speaking is in red

y/n speaking is in green

Hana speaking is in blue

Small Concubine in purple

Small Concubine’s Servant in orange

Sukuna ruled over all. Sukuna’s law was above anything else. He ruled over humans and curses. They feasted on human flesh. Towns were turned into cattle farms. Sukuna was not a nice or forgiving man. Even still, he had desires. Many concubines lived in his estate, human concubines. Sukuna had a perversion of taking those frail and weak. He had his favorites that he visited often, causing ranks among the concubines. His favorites received a lady in waiting, their own pavilion and staff. This caused discourse in the concubines. They would try de-ranking each other to move up in status. Sukuna wasn’t any help as he has no care for the concubine disputes. He would kill them if he was displeased.

You were a mid-ranking concubine. You had your own room, bath and a lady-in-waiting. Your pavilion was shared with the other mid ranking concubines. Your servant was a low-level curse. Every servant was a curse. They were faster and more capable than humans. Not to mention a curse can protect a concubine if needed.

You currently were in the garden with the other concubines. A tea party was hosted, you showed up out of respect and curtesy.

A smaller woman next to you spoke, “I love my lady-in-waiting. I view her as a close friend. Its nice to have one! She even tried scolding me for dirtying my dress in the garden! I told her not to worry, she’s so thoughtful!”

You rolled your eyes. She clearly is a new concubine, who moved through the ranks quickly. She was very beautiful and delicate, Sukuna’s type. It irked you when the girls pretended their servants were their friends. You took a sip of your tea and calmly retorted.

“Your lady-in-waiting is here to keep you safe and presentable for Lord Sukuna. If you truly thought of her as your friend, you wouldn’t be so careless. She is the one that gets punished for your naive actions. I hope you can do better in the future.”

The small woman blushed in embarrassment; tears welled up in her eyes. She abruptly got up and rushed off.

“My lady!” Her lady-in-waiting followed closely behind her.

It wasn’t intentional to make her cry, you did feel bad for her servant though. You sighed in frustration, staying a bit longer at the garden party.

“You shouldn’t have been so rude to the new girl; she really didn’t do anything.” A woman in green stated.

“I was just trying to give her some advice, she is too naïve. She is climbing the ranks too quickly. If she becomes a top consort, she will be de ranked quickly; trusting others so openly. Once at the top, the only way is back down.” You spoke the truth. You purposely don’t rank up for this very reason. Sukuna comes and visits you once in a blue moon. He has so many women here, he couldn’t visit them all in one month if he visited one every night. When he visits you, you sleep with him and do what he asks. You don’t do anything fancy.

Speak of the devil, Sukuna himself rounded the corner. He wore a leisure robe, his bottom set of arms folded across his chest. He doesn’t look happy. His bottom eye is looking directly at you, you shiver at the condescending glare. All the women get up from their seats and bow. You did as well.

“My Lord Sukuna” everyone says in unison. You glance forward and notice the small consort rubbing the tears out of her eyes. She is behind Sukuna. Normally Sukuna doesn’t settle consort disputes, he must of ran into her on accident.

“Tell me who made this brat cry?” He was pissed like he didn’t want to be here. You had to be careful, or it was your head. Before anyone else spoke you ratted yourself out.

“Lord Sukuna it was me. It was not my intention; I was giving her advice.”

“I’m sure, and what advice would that be? Get to the point.”

“I simply stated she should be more cautious of her actions as they affect others. She should be careful of whom she calls friends.”

Sukuna looked at your servant, Hana, who nodded in agreement.

“Is this true?” Sukuna now looked at the small lady.

“WELL- SHE!” The lady started to get anxious and loud but her servant stopped her.

“Yes, my Lord this is what happened. My lady is just not used to being critiqued so openly.”

Sukuna scoffed, “So my time was wasted for this shit!? Learn how to talk to others, I won’t accept another stupid outburst from you again”.

“Yes, my Lord” The small lady sniffled and bowed her head.

“AND YOU-“

Sukuna now had his attention back on you. You can’t deny the nervous sweat on your neck. He was so intimidating. Hopefully you wouldn’t be de-ranked or even worse killed.

“Visit my room tonight.” With that Sukuna turned and left, not even awaiting your response. He wanted you to visit him tonight? After you annoyed him? Suddenly, being de-ranked didn’t sound so bad.

“My lady you need to be careful on how you speak to Lord Sukuna” The servant was trying to calm the small lady who was still crying.

“Miss, we should prepare you a bath and get ready.” Hana spoke to you awakening you from your deep thought.

“Yes of course.”

You followed Hana to your room. She helped you undress from your layers of robes and started a warm bath. The bath had aromatic oils and flowers in it. She helped scrub you down and shave. Once done, she combed your hair, decorating it with fine jewelry. You wore a see-thru night gown and robe over it. Your attire was alluring but not over the top, just the way you liked it. Hana began escorting you to Lord Sukuna’s palace. Once you arrived at his door, Hana stopped you.

“Please be careful my lady.” You smiled at the thought. She was worried about you.

“Thank you Hana I’m sure it will be alright.”

Hana knocked, “Lord Sukuna Lady y/n is here”

“You may enter”

Hana opened the door for you. She bowed her head and left. You bowed your head and awaited Sukuna’s command. He was only after his own pleasure as usual.

“Enough with the formalities come here and undress.”

You looked up and saw Sukuna on top of his large bed. He sat in his usual position, resting on his side with a shit eating grin. You blushed at his urgency and began to undress. It was still uncomfortable to get bare in front of someone so casually, but you hid the emotion from him. You crawled onto the bed on your knees in front of him. He undid his robe revealing his hard abs and two flaccid cocks. Just seeing you naked wasn’t enough for him.

“Suck me off until I’m satisfied”

“Yes, my lord”

You bend down and put one cock in your mouth and stroke the other. Even soft, his cocks are thick and 8 inches long. He was a grower too. He was a large curse after all. You swirled your tongue around the tip. You took as much as you could in your mouth. You could feel him growing in your mouth. You repeated the motions then switched to suck the other one on top. At full length he is 12 inches and four fingers thick. Sukuna liked how well you deepthroated him compared to most concubines. You were sloppy. You would gag and have saliva dripping down your chin. You hollowed your cheeks. You loved the feeling of his cocks hitting the back of your throat and how he tasted so clean every time.

“Maybe I should bring you in here more often. I think you could take all of me eventually since you love my cocks so much, fuck!”

He put a hand on your head and pushed you down further. He rocked his body into your face. You breathed through your nose and let out a big gag. He released your head. You went back down to his bottom one. The other one resting atop your head. Pre cum dribbled into your hair and face.

“That’s enough”

You pulled back a string of saliva connecting you to his cock. Your mouth was open and your breathing was ragged. It was surprising he didn’t finish in your mouth like usual.

He pulled you on your back, towering over you. Your eyes met his chest. You admired his attractive body and markings.

“You caused quite a stir today”

“Im sorry my Lord you should have not been involved in such trivial matters.” You were scared now. Why bring this up now? What was his intention? You shook slightly.

Sukuna smiled and his pupils dilated. He liked seeing you so frail and scared. Out of all his concubines, you always remained calm and collective. It caught his eye, and he started to acknowledge your presence a while ago.

“Maybe I should make you cry as you did the other girl today. Perhaps I will fuck you until you beg me to stop.”

You looked up into his eyes. The fear in your eyes was delicious. You weren’t sure how to respond to him. You’ve had sex with Sukuna before he’s huge and it’s kind of painful, more than pleasurable. He’s never tried to please you before, only himself. You assume he means fuck you so hard that you can’t walk afterwards, nothing pleasurable about that. Sukuna stays in his same position, top arms on their elbows above your head. His bottom arms move. One hand opens your legs and the other spreads your folds. He puts in one finger. His hands are so much bigger than yours. One of his fingers was three of yours.

“damn you’re tight” he massages his finger inside trying to find where its most sensitive. You moan quietly as he abuses the same spot. As you loosen up, he adds a second finger. You put your hands up to his chest trying to stay quiet. Your legs were twitching as he penetrated you. He adds a third finger gently massaging your insides. The tension in your belly was rising about to break. You continued to let out soft mewls and wriggling your hips around. You couldn’t stay still as the pleasure was overstimulating.

“Go ahead and cum y/n”

Upon hearing Sukuna speak your name, The tension broke and you groaned as you squirted on his hand. You still tried to be as composed as possible when you came.

“Thank you, Lord Sukuna,”

“Tch what the hell was that?”

Sukuna leaned back onto his knees, while you laid down. Your eyes were widened. Curious, what he was so upset with?

“I can’t wait to break you. This time down hide your moans from me. Relax I want to see you melt under me.”

“y-yes sir” That was the first time you stuttered in front of him. How were you supposed to relax when he made you so tense? Either way you would listen to his command.

He positioned his bottom cock at your entrance, rubbing it up and down. He pushed forward. His head couldn’t even fit. He continued pushing and prodding, your pussy slowly giving and allowing him entrance. His head was all the way in and you shuddered. You could feel every ridge, and vein in his cock. After your first orgasm everything was sensitive. You gripped onto his forearms. He was still on his knees, you could see his face more clearly and he yours. You blushed at the thought of him watching you receive pleasure from him. His top set of eyes watched your face and the bottom set watched your pussy. He had a shit eating grin watching you blush under him. Sukuna continued pushing his cock all the way in until you were full. You moaned and rubbed under your belly button, where you could feel the tip of his cock press against you. It was so sensitive up there. You could never reach with your own hands how far Sukuna is. His top cock was resting on your stomach. He used one of his hands to pump it. Before letting you adjust, he began moving at a slow pace. Normally he would move at a fast and rough pace. This allowed you to feel your insides being rearranged instead of going numb.

“nhnn- o-ohh! Ugh nn wait I ugh-“ You couldn’t speak normal sentences anymore. It felt like he was taking the air out of your lungs. He continued to push into you.

“Open your mouth little slut. Clearly you still need something to suck on”

He bent down and kissed you; he has never done that. It was a sloppy wet kiss. His tongue prodded you. You moaned in his mouth and whined. You moved your hips up, he had to pin you down. He switches his angle rubbing a sensitive spot that it almost hurt. You dug your nail into his arms, then scratched down his back. You put your hands everywhere they could reach to try and hold yourself. You came harshly. You couldn’t even tell your orgasm was approaching. Your pussy clenched but it was no match for the thick cock inside you; he kept pushing in as your pussy tried pushing him out.

“Fuck woman your sucking the soul out of my cock right now.”

He continued a few thrusts while a hand pumped a few fingers in your ass. You have done anal with him before, so this wasn’t an issue.

“Sir i- I can’t”

“Nu-ugh you haven’t received your punishment yet little slut I don’t see any tears yet.

He pulled out and lined both his cocks at your entrances. He pressed in. If you felt full earlier, now you really do. You were sure there wasn’t any room for any organs in your body. You laid there limp. You were still so sensitive and sore from the last round. You pussy was still trying to push him out.

“Fuck!”

This time he had a fast and rough pace. He was so deep in your ass. Tears welled up in your eyes. Finally, those sweet tears of pleasure.

“My-my Lord Sukuna please -please I- can’t”

Sukuna started to lick the tears off your face now fully aware of your desperation. It turned him on to see you unravel and needy. He continued his brutal pace, and you came. Sukuna finally roared as he came hard. He filled you to the brim, thrusting into you a few more times. Sukuna wasn’t tired in the slightest. He pulled out slowly. It felt empty.

“Get on your hands and knees, show me your pussy.” You shakily moved. His cum dripped out of both holes. He smacked your ass and played with your body.

“Fuck yes”

“Thank you, Lord Sukuna,”

“You may leave now y/n”

You jumped when he said your name. How did he remember? He never knew it before. You put on your clothes and left quietly. Hana was outside the door and helped you to your room. Once there you crashed. You were so exhausted and sore.

The next morning Hana gave you breakfast in bed, heating pads and tea. It was normal for concubines to have to stay in bed after sex. You thought about when you first arrived how embarrassing it was to have someone help wash the cum out of you or to wait outside Sukuna’s room. Now it’s normal.

Nothing unusual happened after that. A few weeks later you were tending to the garden, practicing songs and dances with the other concubines. You were all taught these arts to impress Sukuna at banquets and such. However today you were exhausted. You were sleepier than usual, as of late. Once you arrived in your room you started to fall asleep on the couch.

“My lady sorry to wake you, you mustn’t sleep on the couch please sleep in your bed.”

“Just let me rest with my eyes closed, I won’t fall asleep.” You fell asleep sitting up on the large couch. In your room you had a bed, dresser, and sitting area for guests. Hana let you sleep there, clearly you were very tired. She went to prepare some food for later. Sukuna barged into your room suddenly

“My Lord!” Hana dropped to the ground and bowed.

“Where is she?”

“Lady y/n is resting on the couch my lord”

“Why is she sleeping there and not her bed?”

“My lord she seemed very tired and I did not want to disturb her”

“Very well you may take your leave”

Sukuna shooshed away Hana. You still slept. Sukuna came and sat next to you. He didn’t wake you, just let you sleep. You moved in your sleep and rested your head in his lap. He huffed and petted your head. He was coming for sexual reasons but decided to let you sleep. Especially since he noticed your energy was off. He studied your sleeping face and contemplated why your energy fluctuating. Then it hit him, you’re pregnant. He couldn’t believe it. He finally has an heir. Being a human-turned-curse has wasn’t sure if he could produce children. Finally, out of all the consorts you were pregnant. He boasted out laughing and it awoke you from your slumber. Your eyes opened still full of sleep. You stared at your room trying to wake up. That’s when you realized you were sleeping on someone. It was Sukuna! You jolted up and bowed your head.

“Lord Sukuna I am sorry for sleeping I wasn’t aware of your arrival.”

“Ill forgive it this time. Its understood with your condition.”

You gave him a puzzled look, as he smiled like a madman.

“Y/n’s Servant!”

Hana hurried back in “Yes my lord?”

“You will gather Y/n and her belongings; she is to be moved into my palace at once.”

“Yes of course, thank you Lord Sukuna”

“Wait my Lord why? I don’t understand”

“You are being promoted”

“I understand my Lord but why into your palace? I dare not question you my lord but I have never heard of another consort being in your palace”

“Always the courteous silver tongue you have y/n. Yes you are the first to be promoted as a wife.”

“A wife!?”

“Yes enough rambling I must go”

“Servant make sure you double y/n’s portions and have the doctor come check her for the pregnancy”

“Yes my lord” Sukuna left just as fast as he arrived.

“PREGENANT!!!???”

Hana looked at you shocked.

“Oh! Miss y/n! How delightful! A wife! And an heir!”

You couldn’t believe it. All this time you were trying to stay hidden and now you’re promoted to wife. It can’t get worse than this!

#rin writes #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #heian sukuna

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salmon-bagel · 7 months ago

Text

Tf2 mercenaries x Seductress! Class! Reader

Warning: nsfw content, female reader, sexism

Scout

When Scout heard that there's a woman who's a professional at seduction, he had already started plotting.

"Hello, name is Y/n L/n, but you can call me the Seductress. It's nice to meet you."

"Heya, nice to meet cha' mommy- Oh, i mean mommy i mean mommy i mean mommy i mean mommy-"

Constantly hits on you. Scout believes that you're the type of girl that's 'easy', someone who will let anyone bang them regardless of who they are.

That boy isn't going to leave you alone until you let him into your pants.

Even when he's not busy trying to get in between your legs, Scout is asking you for advice on how to woo the ladies. Considering you're a professional at flirting with people.

You go back and forth on giving him good advice and bad advice. Sometimes you feel bad that he can't get a girlfriend. Then again, you think to yourself that no woman should be within three feet of Scout because of how much of a horny asshole he is.

After some time, you did grow to have a soft spot for him. Since he's bullied a lot by the other mercenaries. He can be kinda cute when he's not being a complete jerk.

Soldier

Soldier treats you like the other mercenaries. Ruthlessly bleating in your ear when you're doing something wrong.

"GIVE ME ONE HUNDRED SQUATS NOW! I WANT THAT AMERICAN ASS NICE AND PERKY BY THE TIME YOU'RE DONE!"

He wants the best from you. Regardless of your gender, he'll push you to the limit until he's proud enough to call you a warrior.

Soldier tests that you're a good seductress by making you flirt with him. It's an ego boost on his part, but he's genuinely trying to make sure you're hot enough for the enemy.

"YOU CALL THAT FLIRTING!? I'VE HEARD BETTER FLIRTING FROM A MONKEY! AT LEAST THEY CAN PUCKER THEIR LIPS BETTER UNLIKE YOURS!"

Buys you clothing that he believes would work well when you're seducing the enemies. It's always american themed swimwear or lingerie. You began to believe he's just buying that for himself for you to try.

Whenever the team successfully wins for the day, Soldier immediately rushes towards and smacks your ass as hard as he can.

"NOW THAT IS AN ASS I'M PROUD TO CALL AMERICAN!"

Sniper

Sniper believes your work is very unprofessional. Considering he believes you have to whore yourself out to the enemy team. Instead of using your actual skills.

He says he has nothing against prostitution or sex work in general. Sniper just thinks that stuff you do should be kept behind doors and not on the battlefield. He says it causes too much of a distraction. However, you claim that 'distraction' is the point. Sniper doesn't seem to get it.

You honestly could care less what he thinks. Snipers throws jars of piss for a living, and he really thinks he has the right to judge other people?

The truth is you're good at seducing people. Too good. That it distracts him from doing his own job. Sniper has a tendency to watch you through the scope of his gun.

The way your body gets all hot and sweaty from the terrible heat, oh it does something to him. Sniper has imagined licking your sweat off your tits while you degrade him for being such a filthy fuck.

You are his go-to jerk off material. The women in his porno magazines don't get him off like they used. The only way he can relieve himself now is by imagining your fat ass bouncing on his cock.

When he noticed a pair of your panties in the laundry basket, Sniper couldn't help himself to inhale the sweet scent of your panties before putting them back.

Sniper knows he's a damn hypocrite.

He slut shames you for what you do, only to get off to you afterwards. The post nut clarity consumes him with guilt and shame.

Sniper still hasn't built up the courage to apologize to you.

Heavy

Heavy is one of the very few people who treat you like an actual human being. He was raised by a single mother alongside three sisters. Heavy knows to treat a woman right. Less he wishes to face their fury.

Heavy doesn't understand why you seduce the enemy. You're supposed to shoot at the enemy, not bat your eyelashes and wink! However, after watching your work on the battlefield, he gets to more of an understanding.

"Oh, I see. You lie to enemy and lure them in like fish? HA! Very clever!"

Absolutely loves gunning down the enemy that is distracted by you.

Is one of the few men who genuinely falls for you for your personality. Heavy knows you're drop-dead gorgeous, but he knows that beneath all that beauty is a truly intelligent woman. You earned your place on the team by impressing Mann Co., with your skills instead of batting your eyelashes and begging to be a part of the team. You make his heart swoon like no other woman has.

He likes to write you poetry. It helps convey how he feels for you because he's too bashful to put it into simple words.

Heavy is not afraid of anything. Nothing, not even death itself. However, it took him a lot of courage and constant rehearsal to ask you out on a date.

He hopes to start a genuine relationship with you. Heavy doesn't want a one-night stand or be friends-with-benefits with you. He wants you to be his girlfriend and maybe possibly his wife later down the line.

Engineer

"Well, I'll be! Aren't you the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

Engineer is taken aback by your good looks and sauve personality. He genuinely questions why you wanted to be a mercenary. A beautiful lady like yourself is too of high risk to get hurt!

Will always be there to help you if it gets too much for you to handle.

However, he can be very overprotective over you on the battlefield. Engineer thinks it would be safer for you to stay on the rancho relaxo than getting shot at by the enemy. As much as you'd like to not do anything on the job, Mann Co. isn't paying you to be lazy. They see everything and will tell you to get off your ass and start fighting.

You have to beg Engineer that you can do it on your own. He understands your point of view and begrudgingly lets you fight with the others. Even if it means going against his code of defending and protecting a lady when she needs it.

While putting up dispensers and sentries, he can't help to admire you from afar. Engie believes that a guy like him has no chance with a girl like you. What woman would be interested in a bald man who has a robotic hand and locks himself away in his work? No gal that's who.

Engie fantasizes about working up the courage to flirt with you and ask you out, which would eventually lead to a rather sensual night spent together. He did try to ask you out once but miserably failed. Engie kept stuttering and mispronouncing words out of nervousness while attempting to seduce you. You couldn't make out what he was trying to say. Thankfully, Demo had the heart to pull Engie out of that mess of a conversation and save him from further embarrassing himself.

So now, he just admires you from afar. Dreaming that one day he'll get to win your heart.

Spy

Surprisingly, he wants to get to know you as soon as possible. It's not every day you get to meet a lovely lady.

When he learns of your class type, oh boy, this man will make you question if you're even meant to be the Seductress.

"Mademoiselle, you are the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on."

"Do you know why they call Paris the city of love? Why don't I take you there and show you?"

"If the verb ‘to love’ didn’t exist, I would have invented it upon seeing you."

Spy leaves your entire face red and completely frozen after he's done talking to you. He's so flattering and charismatic. In comparison to the other men, he makes it seem like they're not trying at all. It isn't their fault, though, Spy is a natural at wooing the ladies.

You're surprised when Spy gifts you things that you really like. You never shared these intimate details with him before or with the other mercenaries. When you asked him how he knew what you specifically liked, Spy merely winks at you and grins. He has a way of receiving information without anyone knowing.

He has a tendency to kiss the back of your hand whenever you two are greeting each other. Spy is a gentleman and can't help himself to be sweet to a beautiful woman.

When Spy asks you out on a date, you agree to it because you have been meaning to go out. You felt like you'd go insane if you stayed in the base any longer. You put on your best dress and left with Spy into town.

After having a nice meal and a few glasses of wine, both of you give into temptation. Spy could hardly keep his hands off you when he drove you both back to the base. All your clothes came off the moment you reached his bedroom. You found it a little strange he refused to take off his mask. Oh, what the hell. He's hot and treated you to a nice date.

In the morning, you receive uncomfortable stares from the other mercenaries. Let's just say you and Spy weren't exactly quiet during your lovemaking. Unfortunately for the others, you decided Spy would become your fuck buddy.

Medic

He's been meaning to include a female subject in his experiments- I mean, he's glad to meet you!

You try your best to steer clear of him. However, on the front lines, it isn't so easy. When you're constantly getting shot at and stabbed by enemies, you'll need the Medic's help to get better.

When he sees you in action, Medic feels a new emotion that he's never felt before. Is this.. love? Maybe it is. Or maybe it's just lust.

Medic has never been infatuated with any woman. Except you. The way you lure in these pathetic men with your good looks and false promises, only to kill them afterwards- oh God, it makes him giddy. He feels like a schoolboy all over again!

Medic does routine check-ups on you. To make sure all your lady parts are in working order. In reality, this perverted fuck wants to have an excuse to grope you. Always gaslights you into believing he's not being a degenerate.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Why, of course! Breast cancer isn't something to take lightly!" He'd respond. You would understand, but after thirty minutes of him fondling your breasts, you knew what his true intentions were.

Medic writes you love letters and his dove, Archimedes, deliver them to you.

The letters start off relatively sweet. Medic writes that he views you as a Goddess, a truly ethereal being that is too perfect for this world filled with lesser mortals. And how he's the only man truly worthy for you.

Then, the letters take a complete turn the more you read it. He writes how he wishes to fulfill every filthy fantasy he's ever had with you. Oh boy, the list is long. For one, Medic wants to tie you down, gag you, and breed you like the filthy whore you are. Another consited of how he wants to fuck you on the battlefield while you're bleeding out and fingering your open wound as if it was your pussy.

You've stopped reading his letters and tend to light them on fire.

Demoman

"So, how much do you regularly charge for a quick shag?" He'd ask you before laughing his ass off.

Demo will never take you or your work seriously. Even if you politely ask him to.

He doesn't see what's so hard about showing off your tits and saying how much you love to suck cock. Demo believes you should've been a stripper if you wanted to tease men so desperately.

You frequently explain to him in detail how you help and provide for the team. You honestly can't tell if Demo deliberately forgets or because he gets drunk so often, he hardly pays attention to you while you talk.

Don't worry, though. After you've instilled the fear of women into him, he'll be gladly reminded that he shouldn't judge or ridicule a woman. If his mother were here, she'd knock some sense into him.

Demo apologizes to you, drinks, gets drunk, and apologies some more

"I'm sorry, lassie! It's just that I just get so lonely sometimes! What woman would give me, a one-eyed freak, a chance!"

He bawls on the floor, crying in front of you. You attempt to cheer him up by comforting him. Instead, you end up getting drunk with him.

Did you shag him in the heat of the moment? That's all up to you ;)

Pyro

Has no idea what you're doing to the enemy. Anything sexual you do is translated as innocent in their vision. Will never know what real seduction or sex.

Luckily, they think everything you do is nice and polite!

Regularly gives you grotesque gifts, which are usually human hearts and bones. You begrudgingly take the gifts because you know they mean well and don't wish to be disrespectful.

Pyro has a tendency to go through your closet when you leave your room. Or while you're sleeping. Either why, they steal your clothing and belongings. They pick out outfits and wigs they like along with makeup supplies. You wonder where you placed your dress and immediately begin searching for it. Maybe you left it in the laundry room. As soon as you exit your room, you see Pyro wearing your clothing over their suit. Fake eyelashes have been glued onto their eyes, and lipstick smeared all over the breathing hole.

You can't even be upset with Pyro. They're doing their best.

You let Pyro keep the dress they're wearing, considering it most likely wouldn't fit you anymore.

#tf2 #tf2 soldier #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 demoman #tf2 pyro #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you

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sapphiresandferrari · 4 months ago

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Heaven on dirt (1/?)

Summary: When lady y/n Lannister moves to King's landing to be Queen Haelena lady in waiting, she didn't think she could catch the attention of a certain one-eye prince

During her stay, the two of them grow more and more fond of each other, but what happen when they both get betrothed to other people?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister reader

Warnings: fluff, smut in the next chapters, perv Tyland Lannister, Plotto Otto Hightower being the usual controlling freak, kind of slow burn

A/N: here we are with my second fic

This time it will be a series, but idk how long it will be yet

English is NOT my first language, so apologies if there are any mistakes

Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, feel free to give me advices or suggestions, just remember to be polite

Hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻

The carriage stopped with a harsh movement, making y/n jumping in her seat.

The trip to king’s landing was a bit rough, she wasn’t used to travel this far and for all these days, but this was a good occasion for her, and while she was scared about such a big changing, it was also exciting, in some ways.

The only reason why her parents agreed for her to go to the capital and be queen Haelena’s lady in waiting was because her uncle, Tyland, had a chair at the small council.

They knew he was going to keep an eye on her and since she came from a noble house, this was also a perfect way to find a suitor for her hand, a match worthy of her status.

She stepped out of the carriage, holding her burgundy skirt, with her father, while her uncle was waiting for them in front of the gates of the castle with his arms open.

“Brother, niece, you made it, I’m glad you’re both safe and the trip was agreeable”

“It was fine brother, some bumps here and there along the road but that’s fine”

Y/n observed the banners in front of her, it was weird to see all that green associated with the three heads dragon, she knew the colours of house Targaryen were black and red, yet she liked that shade of green, it reminded her of the garden at casterly rock, her favourite spot in her house.

“Come child, let me see you” her uncle asked her, distracting her from the banners and making her look at him.

She wasn’t too fond of Tyland, he started to look at her in a weird way since she had her first course and started developing into a grown woman, his stare made feel uncomfortable and she wasn’t too pleased with the idea of staying away from her home with him.

She took a step forward, letting him look at her form, before telling her father how well she’d grown and how easy it would’ve been for him to find her a suitable husband in no time, the idea made her stomach twist.

As she walked through the aisles of the red keep, she kept thinking that she wasn’t too ready for marriage, but that if she had to get a husband, that she wanted a kind man, who could’ve try at least to know her for real and not just being interested in keep her barefoot and pregnant.

She didn’t even realise that they stopped until she bumped into her uncle’s shoulder and saw queen Haelena and her mother, along with the hand sir Otto and prince Aemond.

“Excuse her my queen, she’s always with her head in the clouds” her uncle said, quietly laughing, trying to justify her clumsy self to the royals in front of her.

She bowed her head slightly, trying to not embarrass herself further.

“It’s fine, Lord Lannister, I’m sure lady y/n must be a bit overwhelmed, the travel must’ve exhausted her, and this will be her new home for a while” she smiled hearing the queen dowager speaking, thank gods at least one was being nice to her, understanding that it was indeed a long day, and she needed a moment to recollect herself.

She smiled at both women gratefully before her uncle and father asked to escort her to her new room to refresh a bit before dinner.

Dinner was different from what she expected, she mostly stayed silent, listening to her uncle and father talking with the hand, while King Aegon looked at her with a weird smirk on his face, making her feel uncomfortable, knowing the rumours about the king.

At some point, queen Alicent asked her about her interests and likings, trying to know her better, mostly to check that she was going to be a good company for her daughter Haelena.

“I like embroidery, your grace, taking long walks in the garden, and riding my horse, but what I love the most is reading, especially history books, I’m highly fascinated by” as she was speaking, a laugh rudely interrupted her “oh yes, reading is her passion, she could go on and on about what she read on those books she so adore, let’s hope she won’t bore her husband to death, no one wants a girl who reads this much, am I right?”

She wanted to die from embarrassment, the king and the hand both laughing at his uncle rude comment, praying the gods that this dinner ended soon, so she could seek refuges under her sheets, but then something, better, someone, saved her from the awkwardness of that moment

“Speak for yourself Tyland, I wouldn’t mind a wife who reads a lot, at least I know there’s something in her head, but I recognise not everyone can handle a smart woman, it takes a lot, is definitely not for everyone”

And in that moment, y/n thought that maybe, just maybe, her staying in king’s landing wouldn’t be as bad as she thought.

That morning started as usual for Aemond, he woke up early, got dress, broke fast with his mother and sister and the headed to the small council for the daily update about the war.

He noticed Tyland’s absence and remembered that his niece was moving to the red keep that day, to be his sister’s lady in waiting.

He heard rumours about her beauty, but if her traits were to be like Tyland’s and the other Lannisters, then she wasn’t anything special, a very basic and plain girl, pretty for sure, but nothing more.

Exiting the small council room, he headed to the library, wanting to study a bit more about the Riverlands, since they were planning to take them, as they were the key for the war, until he saw her mother with his sister and grandsire, waiting in the hallway.

Aemond stopped, joining them, mostly for the sake of his sister: she was nervous about this, Haelena was well aware of her oddness, and it happened before that her ladies in waiting made some mean comments about her, so he wanted to check personally this new lady before leaving her for his daily duties.

She entered the room few minutes after, and how thought, she wasn’t as beautiful as people said, yes, she was pretty but that was it, her eyes were the only thing that captured his eye, they seemed to be of a deep shade of green, yet a second after they seemed blue.

This intrigued him, never seeing such eye colour before, it gave her a sweet look and he was hoping for her to be as kind as she looked, his sister was already miserable, she didn’t need another lady making her feel weirder than she already felt.

He stared at her for a while, studying her figure, the discomfort in her eyes after her uncle’s comment, clearly embarrassed by the way he was talking about her.

In that moment he thought that maybe she was going to be a good company for his sister, they seemed to share the same shyness, and hopefully the same interests, even if he doubts any noble woman was interested in bugs like his sister was.

Through his way to the library he kept thinking about lady Lannister, she seemed out of place in the capital, part of him wanted to know her better, but the other was trying to suppress his thoughts, repeating himself that she was just another boring and plain noble woman whose only goal was to marry the wealthiest man.

He couldn’t concentrate at all that day, both in the library and during his training with Sir Criston, and gods how much he hated it.

Why was he thinking about her so much? She wasn’t special, yet his mind couldn’t stop thinking about her, her figure intoxicating his thoughts, craving to know more about the Lannister girl.

That evening he joined the dining hall with a certain anxiety, excited to see her again.

He thought he was a loser, simping like this over a girl he just met, a girl who was just like others, damn Aegon would have a field if he could read his thoughts, he would’ve mock him till his last day, and rightfully so.

He was acting like a little kid, and what was enraging him the most was that he didn’t want to stop thinking about her, he wanted to give in, maybe she would’ve stop being so intoxicating if he simply allow himself to know her better.

His mind would realise that she wasn’t worth the effort and would let it go on its own.

Boy how wrong he was, so so wrong.

The moment she entered the room, dressed in her dark gown with emerald jewels, he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful and graceful she looked, and he wasn’t the only one who thought that: his brother was eyeing her, didn’t even try to hide it.

His eyes were scanning her figure head to toe, and he kept doing that during the duration of the dinner, making her feel uncomfortable.

He could see it, and it was clearer the moment her uncle rudely interrupted her, subtly mocking her for her interest in books.

Such a simple man her uncle was, no wonder he thought a girl who reads is not a good thing, he would never handle a smart woman, but Aemond would.

He was different, he didn’t want a lifeless puppet for a wife, someone who didn’t have a single thought in her head besides staying still and being pretty.

No, Aemond wanted more, and that’s why he couldn’t let it slide, he couldn’t let her uncle disrespect her this way, let him mock her for simply being different.

And the grateful look in her eyes after he spoke, was all Aemond needed to sleep peacefully that night.

Next chapter ->

#aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond x oc #sapphiresandferraris

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ghost-in-the-hall · 1 year ago

Text

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part V

Thank you as always to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading for me, you're the best bb!! ❤️❤️

Hello everyone!! This chapter is going to be a little more plot/lore heavy. But, we still get some sweet and flirty boys. IV brings Reader dinner and II is becoming more comfortable in his flirting. Thank you so much for reading, if you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!

WARNINGS: None

Part IV - Part VI

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

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Today was one of those times where your store was absolutely slammed. "I'll be right with you Jay, just give me one second." You clap the older man on the shoulder as you round the counter.

"No worries darlin', I got all day." He smiles cheerfully at you." You hurriedly set a fresh batch of coffee to brew, quickly cleaning up the station.

"Next batch will be done in about ten minutes guys." You smile as you pass by a tow of your usuals, a group of old timers that would set up shop at the shelf along one of the windows and spend their day drinking cups of coffee and playing scratch tickets.

"Now Miss (Y/N), don't you go running off, I got a vibe to pick with you young lady." You skidded to a halt, turning in your heels to face the myriad of curious stares.

"You better make this quick Randy, I got a line out the door." You huff with a sarcastic smile.

"I just want to know what you're doing hanging around with those cultists." Your eye involuntarily twitched as he spit out the word. "I'd just hate to see you get mixed up in that crowd."

"They're nice boys Randy." You hurry up to the counter as you continue to call over your shoulder. "It might do you some good to actually get to know them before you try to crucify them over nothing.

"Why don't you try inviting them to the Fall Festival?" Jay asks gently.

"Unfortunately I don't think they'd go. I know it's hard to believe but they're just as nervous about you as you are about them." You explain with a huff.

"I think it's worth a shot at least." He leans in a bit to whisper to you. "Now I can't speak for everyone obviously, but I think if the townsfolk actually got to meet them and see that they're not some big ol' scary monster in the woods… well, they might just come around." He offers his advice with a patient smile. "If you're saying they're a good group of guys I trust your judgment. Your word means a lot more to me than some blood thirsty reporter after a story."

"Thanks Jay, I'll ask them. Who knows, maybe they'll show up." He bids you farewell before leaving you to tend to the rest of your sea of customers. After what felt like an eternity your store was finally empty. You groaned, slumping over the counter. The cool linoleum felt nice against your sticky skin. You jolted up at the sound of the bell ringing above the door, eyes flashing over to reveal II and IV looking at you curiously. "Hey guys." You give them a tired smile.

"Everything alright, love? You look exhausted." II approaches the counter, his eyes full of concern.

"Yeah, just a long day." You explain. You sit down in your chair, resting your elbows on the counter. II copies your motions, his eyes searching yours, his nose just barely out of reach from bumping into you.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You shake your head in response.

"You boys are already too good to me as it is." You giggle as II playfully rolls his eyes. "I'll be alright, just gotta do some quick cleaning before I go upstairs. Then it's a cup of ramen cause I'm too lazy to cook and shitty movie re-runs until I pass out on my couch."

"A cup of ramen isn't a meal, doll." He tuts.

"I know that, doctor." He chuckles at your sarcastic tone. "I'll be alright, one night without a proper dinner isn't going to kill me."

"I wish we could come help more around here, I hate seeing you so tired." IV chimes in, dropping an armful of snacks on the counter.

"I appreciate all your help, but I promise you, I'll be just fine." You respond with a reassuring smile. Neither of them seemed satisfied with your answer but they could tell you weren't in the mood to argue.

II sighs, "just promise me after you finish up here you'll go get some rest."

"You have my word." You chuckle. The two of them finish their shopping, idly chatting with you as you do some cleaning up. "Goodnight guys, get home safely." You wave as they head out.

"I better not come back here and see you exhausted tomorrow." II warns playfully.

"I'll try my best." He winks at you before pushing out the door. IV wishes you goodnight before joining his companion.

You collapsed on your couch with a groan once you finally made it upstairs. Despite how much you were trying to convince yourself you weren't hungry your growling stomach said otherwise. You lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, when suddenly the familiar rumble of a pick up truck pulls into the lot. You stood, walking over to the window and pushing the curtain aside. You saw IV fumbling with something in his passenger seat before kicking the door open. You met him at the back door, he froze when he saw you standing at the top of the landing with a smirk spread across your features. "I, uh, I brought some food." He offers bashfully.

"Come on up IV." You chuckle before heading back inside. IV steps into your apartment, eyeing you curiously.

"I'm sorry I showed up without an invitation." He apologizes. You smile, taking a couple steps closer to him.

"You're welcome here anytime." He breathes out a laugh as his eyes dart to the floor. You offer to take the food for him, setting up a spot for the both of you on your couch. "I am curious, how did you manage to get fast food without raising any suspicion?" You ask as you pop a fry in your mouth. IV chuckles in response, adjusting to sit more comfortably.

"It's a funny story actually, I pulled up at the drive through and the kid working there told me he liked my costume." You laugh.

"Really?" He nods. The thought of the Fall Festival popped into your mind; how you would love to bring the four of them because you know they would have a great time, how it would give them a chance to see the town for what it really was, and of course your little crush on the charming masked men didn't help either. "IV, do you think Vessel plans on ever going into town? You know, aside from you guys making supply runs under the cover of darkness." You joke.

"If I'm being completely honest, I don't know." He pulls his mask away from his face to take a sip of his drink. "I'm the newest of our little group so I can't give you the whole story, but from what I understand up until we reached here things weren't too great. There's a lot of people out there who want to get rid of us before they even have a chance to get to know us. We've been run out of town after town, sometimes through more… humane means… other times not so much. But, we have something good here, with the camp in the woods, with you." He pauses for a moment to smile at you. "That's something I want to try and hold onto for as long as I can."

You study him for a moment, "what if I tried to help?" You offer. "I could be the middleman for you. People in town know me, I grew up here, that has to mean something. I just… I don't want you to have to constantly be worried about someone being out to get you. I know that if they met you, if they got to know the people I know you are, they wouldn't be afraid anymore."

"I'm sure Vessel would be interested in hearing you out. Who knows, maybe you'll actually convince him." He chuckles. "Between you and me, if you bat those pretty little eyes at him, I'm sure you could convince him to do just about anything." He jokes as he shoots you a wink.

"I bet that line works on all the girls, huh?" You giggle, trying to shake off the heat that had settled in your cheeks.

"As long as it works on you I'm set." You playfully smack his arm. He nestles back into the couch cushions, letting out a soft groan as he stretches an arm over the back, the back of your neck buzzing as you feel his warmth seep into your skin.

"You're all a bunch of flirts." You smile at him.

"A bunch of flirts?" You roll your eyes at his mock annoyance. "It's not my fault that you're so captivatingly beautiful." You noticed that growing familiarity in your chest. The steady thrum of your heartbeat as you tried to hide your flustered state. IV leans in closer to you, his side pressed flush against your body. "Once I met you I understood what they were all fussing over." He chuckles before muttering, "the perfect being brought to us by Sleep." You turn to look at him, his hazy blue eyes coaxing you in deeper with every passing second.

"Who's… who's Sleep?" You whisper. IV tilts his head, a curious expression matching yours. The pieces must have clicked together because he returned to his usual smiling self a moment later.

"You'll find out soon, Vessel's probably waiting for the right time to explain." You accepted his explanation without a fuss. You trusted that if it was something you needed to know they would tell you. He glanced up at the clock, "I'm sorry to cut things short, love, but I should head back." You nod, standing and walking him over to the door.

"Thank you for bringing some food." You smile.

"Anytime." He responds with a wink. "Get some rest, alright? II will throw a fit." You both shared a laugh before IV reached out and pulled you into his arms. You froze at first, not fully comprehending that he had wrapped you in a hug. But, the moment realization set in your arms slipped around his torso. Neither of you were in a rush to let go, the two of you standing in a comfortable silence as IV held you close, gently swaying you from side to side.

"Goodnight, doll." His hand lingers in your hip, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before slipping out the door.

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Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @herripinkle @thepoisonedchalice @themultiverseofmars @saturnhas82moons @wingsofeternitysstuff @creamwhxre @itsyagirl-snowflake @bookishpenguino @m0cha-bunny @coreofpleasure @madsthenightowl @dangerkitten1705 @rainy-darling @shad0wcast @amara-among-the-stars @venuswinnyix @dontpercieve-me-pls @ripleyswife @thepityscene @lipstick-and-lycanthropes @vmpirekiss @savaneafricaine @mustluvecho @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe (I think that's everyone, if I missed you or you would like to be added please let me know!!)

#sleep token fanfiction #iii sleep token #sleep token iii #vessel sleep token #sleep token vessel #iv sleep token #sleep token #sleep token iv #sleep token worship #sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #vessel

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macfrog · 1 year ago

Text

hits different cowboy like me chapter twelve

oh, my, love is a lie! are we all ready? do we have our coping strategies in place? have we prepared ourselves for impending doom? then gather round, my dear children, for i’ve a tale to tell. and it’s a SORE one

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: still reeling from your fight with joel, you seek out an effective way to deal with it: a night of sambuca shots and no second thoughts

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) alcohol + drug consumption (reader gets hammered), heartache, angst, unwanted touching, intended sexual assault, drink spiking, descriptions of blood and bruising, protective!joel gets into a quick barfight, more discussion of cheating(?), joel won't admit feelings, pain pain and more pain, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 10.9k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

Joel takes a beat to answer. Like he’s waiting for your voice to fill the space, the way it usually would. What’s up, old man? How hard is it to copy an address right? Lois not as good at typing as she is at sucking your – “You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.” The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.

Of course he went to see Lois. He’s probably been seeing her for some time now. A nice lady, his own age, his line of work. You’re pretty sure she has a son, too. And your dad would love her, would love to think Joel was shacking up with some plant hire receptionist. She could turn your life around, son, he’d said. They fit together like a couple of jigsaw pieces. What the fuck would he have ever seen in you, past some young, tight thing for him to fuck? Just a placeholder. Just a time-waster.

A twenty-three-year-old; enough energy to keep him on his toes, cure his boredom. Fill his summer with something to do. And close enough to him, too, that he reeled you in with minimum effort. One stupid look at you – one stupid, stupid glance and you were hooked. High as a kite on him. All the touching, all the whispering. That fucking – the fucking bottle. The video. All of it, every second he ever spent near you – it all makes you cringe now.

And then, once the embarrassment of being played by your dad’s best friend passes, there’s the hurt. The aching. Fuck, the aching. The way your chest swells, feels like it might rip at the seams and burst open. The sting behind your eyes anytime you picture his smile, the way he’d look at you. The feeling of your throat closing up whenever you go to speak, windpipe constricting around any words that aren’t his name, and using them to choke you.

And it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it. Can’t have a heart-to-heart with your dad, have him make you a tea and sit him down by your window, ask for advice on heartbreak and getting over his best friend. You’ve been excusing your reclusiveness by telling him you’re on your period. That’s why you haven’t left your bed in four days.

It was just all so fucking believable, wasn’t it? So good, you thought you were dreaming the entire time.

And here he’d just proven you right. You dreamt it all up.

Has he fucked her yet? Lois. Is she one of the ten he told you about the other night? Has she touched him the way you have? Has he touched her, the way he did you?

Does she know how he sounds when he comes undone? How he looks? How he feels? Does she do it for him the way you do it? And what does he call her? Baby? Darlin’? Or something different entirely?

Now you’re wondering when he started seeing her, and then, if they have slept together, when the first time was. Whether or not you cross over with her. Maybe he went and fucked her after you argued. Let off some steam over at her place, while you sat in his house, smelling his shirts and reading his stupid fucking Alcatraz books. While you paced around, practicing the words you’d say to him when he came back.

All you wanted was for him to come back. You wanted him to come find you upstairs, take the book from your hands and lean his head down on your chest, mumble an apology into the material of your shirt and then kiss you, and kiss you again while he pulled the clothes from your body, and kiss you while you were naked underneath him, and kiss you while he rocked his hips into yours.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You think you hate her. You don’t even know her. Don’t know what she looks like, only heard her voice. She’s probably gorgeous. Probably a really sweet woman, helps out on the PTA, the type that stops to read missing dog posters so she can keep an eye out for them. Probably knows Joel well enough that she writes Sarah a birthday card every year. Just a real nice, Southern lady.

And you fucking hate her.

That’s not fair, though, and you know it. She didn’t do anything wrong. Joel’s the one who screwed you over – screwed you both over. Really, you and Lois are one and the same.

Except that she’s taken away the only thing to put a real smile on your face since you got home, and for that, you fucking hate her.

What had he said again? That night he drove you home from Sal’s, the night your dad asked him to stay for pizza. …said she’d like to go for a drink. I said maybe sometime. Maybe he’d organized that drink, in the midst of whatever you two had been doing. Thought nothing of it – you said it yourself: you were just messing around. Said it, like, three times to him. Good fucking job.

And that adds to the hurt. That neither of you seemed to care enough to call it anything more. Because now, sitting alone in your room, desperately checking your phone for a missed call or a text message from him, ears pricking at every sound your dad makes downstairs in case he’s answering a call from Joel or welcoming him in through the front door – you wish you had called it something.

Wish you had just fucking said it. Told him outright about the feelings you had. You were thinking about them enough – the thought circled your mind any time there was a moment’s silence between you.

Sometimes, the way he’d glance over to you, the way his hand would brush against yours, the way he’d say your name…he felt like…

Yours. He was yours. He was so fucking close to being yours.

You almost said it, once. Almost admitted it to him. Couple times you saw it flash behind his eyes, too. And it’s a damn good thing neither of you did say it, because it would’ve been a mistake. Would’ve been lies.

You don’t love him. You never did. You were in some fantasy, built by Joel. There ain’t no love between you. None from your side. And definitely none from him.

Definitely – none – from –

him.

----------

Anna’s been at you all week. She text you on Monday night, but you were about four layers of blanket deep in your bed, weeping into a box of dry cereal and listening to some sad girl playlist on repeat. You fished your cell out from under your mattress the next morning. Your dad had to call it to help you find it.

Anna: Frank’s again on Friday? Rodeo night round 2!!!

Tuesday, it was Please?? It was so fun on Sat. Cmon, Kara’s coming again. Sam’s working but that means free shots so.

On Wednesday, she tried a new approach. I’ll cover any shift you want.

Any two shifts……

Ok three????

Thursday, she started to get desperate. I’ll spill all your secrets to my dad if you don’t come. And you know he’ll tell them all to your dad lol

By Friday morning, though, she’d decided you had no say in the matter: you were going, and you’d be happy about it. And you didn’t have it in you to fight back.

She’s standing at the side of the mirror, scanning you from head to two.

“All black? Again?”

“I look good in black.”

“You look good in anything,” she agrees, turning to sift through your closet, “so why don’t we go for…?”

“No,” you clip, holding a finger up to the red dress in her hands. “No.”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s hot. C’mon.”

“Why do I gotta be hot?”

“I mean…is Mr. Miller gonna be pickin’ you up again, or…?”

You lob a previously discarded dress at her and she snorts, turning to slip it back onto a hanger.

Even his fucking surname sends a pang of pain through your body. Your heart jumps at the sound of it, like its hopes had risen for a second, but then it plummets with the realization that it’s not really Joel, and he’s still really gone.

You’re in a plain black slip dress, black denim jacket slung over your shoulders. Black lace-up boots, too. It’s like rodeo night, except without the fun and excitement of Joel waiting for you at the end of the night. It’s basically rodeo night’s funeral. And good fucking riddance.

Anna – always glittering, always in some sparkly getup – leads you out of your bedroom and down the stairs. Your dad agreed to drop you guys off, seeing as he’s out working later on.

He’s sat in his armchair, glasses on the tip of his nose, squinting down at the instruction booklet to that fucking Garmin he’s still wrestling with. He looks up and claps his hands once.

“Ready, girls?”

Anna nods eagerly and you lift your eyebrows, thinking about how Joel would laugh at the sight of his buddy still fighting a very obviously lost battle to a GPS. Then you think about how he’d tell you quietly, You look beautiful, darlin’, and ask you to text him when you got home safe.

And finally, you think about how much of an ass he is, and you blink the tears from your eyes before following the two blurry figures out to the car.

Anna snaps a couple selfies as the car winds out of the neighborhood, angling her phone to pull you into shot. The sun setting over the roofs of the houses dazzles your eyes. She tuts, tells you to Look like you actually wanna be goin’ out, and sends them to Kara, letting her know you’re on your way.

You’re watching her reply to a text from some boy she’s seeing when your dad’s ringtone echoes throughout the car, the name on the tiny digital screen the very last name you want to see right now.

Or maybe the very name you’ve been waiting all week to see. Just, on your screen instead of your dad’s.

“Hey, Joel,” your dad calls, and your body instinctively leans in to listen better. Drawn in like a magnet to just the sound of his voice.

“Hey, bud,” he replies. It’s like a punch to your chest. Hands around your throat. Salt behind your eyes. “I just got off the phone with Clark’s, they just dropped that equipment off at the site. Said there wasn’t nobody around to sign for it, so they just left it at the gate.”

“It’s a manned site, what do they mean there wasn’t–?”

“No idea,” Joel says, cutting across him. “Just said there wasn’t anybody to take the delivery.”

Anna’s head slowly turns in your direction, likely to take another dumb selfie or to ask some random question about your outfit, but you turn away, refusing to meet her hazel-eyed stare. Refusing to let her take your attention away from this phone call. From Joel.

Your dad sighs, runs a hand down his cheek. “I hope it’s still there when I get to it. Sure you gave ‘em the right address on Monday?”

“I wrote it down exactly how you text me it.”

Joel’s voice sounds flatter than normal. Less trademark Joel grumbly and more tired, deflated. A little irritated. It bruises your heart hearing him and not chiming in, not teasing him for potentially getting the street name wrong or something. Not letting him know you’re here.

Your dad does that anyway, though.

“Well,” he sighs again, hitting the turn signal, “I’m on my way to Frank’s – girls are havin’ another one of their wild nights out. I’ll head straight from there to the site ‘n make sure everything’s in place. Thanks, Joel.”

“You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.”

The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.

No. He was talking to you. He knew you’d be listening. Knew that conversation would mean much more to you than it ever could to your dad. And he knew you’d be hanging on to every word he spoke.

He’s home all night, which translates to: he’s only ever fifteen minutes away if you wind up needing him. If you end up wanting him.

You’ve spent the last four days purposefully stopping yourself from wanting him. Your thumb has hovered over his name in your contacts more times than you’d care to admit. Mostly at night, when your dad goes to bed and there’s eight hours of quiet – quiet you’d usually fill by annoying Joel, striking up a conversation at midnight when he’s about to sleep.

What the fuck would you even say if he did pick up? Would you be mad? Would you yell? Or would you just break down, sob a few incoherent sentences down the line to him and pray that he doesn’t hang up?

But then – would he even pick up? It’s not a thought you want to entertain much. That sound of ringing and ringing, and no gruff, Hey, baby, at the other end.

Your chest hurts. You take a gulp of air.

You’d happily have him never touch you again if he’d just come the fuck back.

Anna slaps your arm and Joel’s face is wiped clean from your mind. “C’mon,” she chirps, and nods out of your window.

You turn to see the faded blue brick walls of Frank’s, clusters of people outside clutching cigarettes and glasses, holding hands up to shield their eyes from the sunlight and tipping their heads back in laughter at one another. Kara stands among them, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. She waves when you catch her eye, stumbling out of the car in a daze.

Anna’s arm links through yours, almost violently, and she skips along the sidewalk to Kara, who joins your chain. The three of you stroll into the bar together and over to Sam, who smiles genially in welcome.

“Hello, ladies,” he sings, leaning in. “What can I do ya for?”

“Get us drunk, Sam!” Anna exclaims, rapping her knuckles on the bar top, and, for the first time tonight, you find yourself nodding in agreement with her.

Get me –

fucking –

hammered.

----------

You get your wish. Sam hands you a cold beer, and within twenty minutes you’re ordering a second. Anna and Kara opt for cocktails, some bright pink concoction that you don’t even bother to ask the name of, you just lean over the bar and tell Sam to make up a third.

And then there are the shots, two each, which are a hysterically terrible idea. You know it as you tip your head back, sickly taste of sambuca spilling down your throat and taking with it the very last of your good sense, apparently.

All the while, that phone call rattles through your head. Joel’s voice swings between your ears like a pendulum. His dry tone, the borderline contempt he spoke to your dad with. The thought of who he’s been with and what he’s been doing either side of that call burns like the drink in your belly, and forces you back up to the bar for another to wash him away with.

You rock against the dark wood, sticky with alcohol, and hoist yourself up onto a stool. “One peer, blease, sir,” you garble to Sam, one finger in the air. “Oh, wait…”

You throw your hand down onto the bar with a roar of laughter and lean back, forgetting there’s no back to your chair. It tilts back, and your hands fumble to grab the edge of the bar, but it’s too far, too late, and you land on the solid floor with a clatter – metal leg of the stool digging into your own.

“Fuck,” you hiss, dragging yourself back to your feet. A thin line of dark red blood cuts from halfway down your calf, streaming down into your boot.

“Are you okay?” Sam yells, stood frozen with the beer and bottle opener still in his hands.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, clambering to your feet. You don’t even convince yourself.

Sam doesn’t let go of the bottle when your fingers curve around it. He looks you dead in the eye and asks, “What’s goin’ on?” and you know he won’t let go until you answer him.

“Nothin’. I’m fine.”

Until you answer him truthfully, that is.

“I’m…It’s just…I got a lot goin’ on up here.” Your shaky finger draws a circle against your temple, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I can see that. Is this really a good ide–”

“Well, howdy, clumsy!”

The owner of whatever fucking annoying voice just shrieked through your ears slaps his hand down on your shoulder, almost toppling you for the second time in five minutes, and you twist around to find a pair of red, blotchy cheeks and almost equally red hair to match, stood before you.

“Hi…?” You squint your eyes to get a better look, the figure swaying with the room behind him.

“Hi.” He’s still smiling. Two huge front teeth, like a pair of overgrown Tic Tacs. “You have no idea who I am, do you? That’s…embarrassing for me.”

“Zack!” another voice screams over the bassline of the music. “Are you fucking coming or not, dude?”

A pale, jittery guy with a dark green t-shirt hanging off of his lean frame barges into the red-haired boy’s side, and a few seconds after his mouth stops moving, you register what he’s said.

“No – f-fucking – way,” you breathe, staring him up and down. His red flannel is tucked into his jeans, sealed by a brown leather belt. There’s a longhorn head on the buckle. “Zack? From Costco? What the fuck’d you do, stalk me?”

He laughs awkwardly, looking from you to over your shoulder, where Sam’s still holding your beer.

“Sorry–” you mutter, shaking your head. “I’m not at my best right now.”

“It’s cool,” he replies, grinning. “You look like you’re having a good night. I’m out with my buddies. This is Eric.”

Eric gives you a nod – his blond fringe jumps, and he jerks his head to sweep it back out of his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he says, before rounding again on Zack. “Seriously, bro, he says he’s not waitin’ around this time. C’mon!”

“We were gonna head to the rooftop if you wanted to come?” Zack raises his eyebrows, pointing a thumb over his shoulder as Eric and another two figures make off for the stairs at the other end of the bar.

“Sure.” You blindly reach for your beer and Sam relents, letting it slip from his grasp. He calls your name as you trot off, and you turn for one second to give his worried stare a thumbs up, before swirling back toward the stairs. No second thought.

This isn’t the night for second thoughts.

The rooftop is quieter, less crowded. Background noise made up of passing cars, a siren in the distance, and the muffled music from downstairs. You wander over to where Zack stands with Eric and a couple others: a short guy with wireframe glasses, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, and someone you think you almost recognize.

His black V-neck looks like it might burst at the seams around his chest, swollen with muscle. Thick neck, holding up a square jawline, and a face heavy with features which mirror the broad body below.

And a thick smell of marijuana which follows his every move.

Zack shuffles to the side to let you into the circle. You shimmy in between him and Eric.

V-neck pulls a small metal case from his back pocket and fishes a cigarette out of it. Eyes start to shift around the group, the boys glancing over shoulders to check who’s watching.

“Are we…? Is that weed?” you blurt out.

“Shut the fuck up!” Eric hisses, jabbing his elbow into your ribcage.

V-neck eyes you down quickly. It’s the first he looks at you, and it puts a sickly feeling through your body. Sends the alcohol hurtling over itself in your stomach.

You raise your eyebrows and wrap your arms around yourself, your beer bottle against your lips. “Sorry, jeez…”

“This is Knox,” Zack mutters, as Knox lights the cigarette.

He takes one hit, inhaling deeply with his chin in the air, and passes it to the boy in the hoodie. Another cloud of smoke joins Knox’s, slowly dispersing above your heads, and then it’s Eric’s turn. With a cough, his fist against his lips, he passes it to Zack. Soon, the air around you is thick and white, and Zack’s handing you the joint.

You lift it to your lips and inhale. The feeling hits you instantly; your body feels light, your face warm, your eyes blink in and out of focus, watching as a blurry shadow begins to follow your hand when you pass the joint back to Knox.

A couple more circuits, and the roach is pressed into the ground by Knox’s boot. The group separates; Zack and his friends fall into some metal chairs around a table, sparking up a debate on the best Lord of the Rings film, and you float around nearby.

“You a friend of Zack’s?” Knox asks, downing what’s left of his whiskey.

“Hm…Not really. We met at Costco, ‘cause I was there to get some party stuff for my dad’s friend’s daughter’s– Well, she’s my friend, too, and she wanted this garden party, and my dad’s friend was like, What the fuck is a garden party? you know, so I had to go help ‘im get stuff for it, with my dad, who was kinda a buzzkill, but anyway…Z-Zack helped me lift some sodas into my cart.”

Knox nods once. Fingers locked tight around his empty glass. He’s staring you down like you’re fresh meat.

You purse your lips and stare back, but quickly get bored when he doesn’t speak, and you miss Anna and her selfies and her sambuca shots. As you’re about to wander back to the door, though, Knox steps in front of you.

“So, you’re here often, then?”

Your shoulder knocks into his. “Huh?”

“Saw you last week. You were pretty spaced, don’t know if you remember.”

The memory whips past your eyes quicker than you can catch it, frames lingering only long enough for you to see Knox’s thick arm linked with yours outside Frank’s, the smell of weed in your nostrils, and the bright lights of Joel’s truck. And then it’s gone, before you can get a good grip of it.

“I’m…I remember now. Yeah. No, I’m not here much, I just…Rough week.”

He nods again, and you suspect he hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said since he got you alone. “You want another drink?”

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel more and more nauseous. Makes you want to turn and run back downstairs, slot in beside Anna and Kara, bury yourself between their shoulders and stay there until they decide they want to go home.

It makes you feel the way it felt last week, when he halted you outside the bar on your way to Joel. And suddenly the memory is soaring in front of your eyes again.

Your hand on Joel’s elbow. The frown on his face. Whitened knuckles around the steering wheel. ‘s go, pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl.

“Yeah,” you tell Knox. “Yeah, I do.”

You follow him downstairs where he nods to Sam at the bar.

Sam ignores him, instead glares at you. “Can we talk…?” he asks, but Knox cuts across him.

“Beer, right?” he checks with you, and you nod. “And another whiskey.”

Your friend hesitantly grabs the drinks, glancing up at you every five seconds in a question. You respond by nodding slowly, feeling your head bounce each time you do.

You lazily scan the room for Anna and Kara, who you spot in a booth over by the window. The spotlights overhead reflect in the sparkles of Anna’s dress; Kara’s holding the straw of her drink between her lips, bobbing her head to the music. You saunter over, twirling on your way.

“Where have you been, baby?” Anna calls, giggling when you fall against the booth, palms flat on the wooden table.

“Upstairs,” you mumble, and then feel a tap on your back.

“Forgot this,” Knox says, pushing the beer into your hand. “You wanna go dance?”

Anna’s face twists into one of worry, and you give her an apologetic smile and spin off, following the wide frame to a dark corner of the bar where he takes your wrist and pulls your body against his.

He’s not doing much dancing, rather, he’s just keeping a solid grip on your waist, watching as you rock side to side, taking a couple shallow sips of your drink. You pull on his arm, Fucking move, dude, but he only leans further back, until he’s shrouded in shadows and pulling you into them with him.

When he leans into your space and snakes a drunken arm tight around your neck, you don’t retreat. You lean in, too, and plant your lips on his.

It’s messy, it’s a little gross. He tastes sour, weed and alcohol on his tongue, and it makes you wish you’d never started kissing him. Still, you take it further. You open your mouth more, letting more of him in, soak your own tongue, wet your lips. You barely even feel it when his hands move south and cup your ass, and it’s only when he squeezes that you wriggle out of his grip.

“Sorry,” you mumble, taking hold of his sleeve to steady yourself. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, says something short that you don’t hear, and you lean back against him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He’s smaller, much shorter than Joel. Your shoulders almost match the height of his. But he’s more built, he’s bulkier, in an uncomfortable way. Like trying to put your arms around a giant balloon or something. There’s no softness, no enclosing feeling when your weight presses against his. Just the huge surface of his chest, the hollow feeling of two mismatched bodies unwillingly pushed together.

Not strong. Not safe. Not secure. Not him.

But you’re kissing him again, because it’s the first time in five days you’ve felt something other than your aching chest and heavy head. You’re kissing him because you feel unwanted and unloved and, even though he seems almost as hammered as you are, it feels good to have someone want to be on you.

You’re kissing him because you’re trying to pretend it’s Joel.

Only he tastes…well, disgusting, and he smells different. He’s sweating from the heat in the bar, and his arms aren’t placed somewhere to make you feel wrapped in his grasp, they’re placed anywhere that he can pinch, squeeze, or otherwise fondle.

Joel’s face swims in and out of your head; a smile as he pulls you in for a kiss, a smirk when he’s telling you off, soft eyes when he’s listening to you talk. It makes you want to throw up.

That might just be the drinks.

Someone taps you furiously on the shoulder, and you push Knox off your body.

When your eyes fail to meet Sam’s, he takes your wrist and drags you behind the bar, ripping the beer bottle from your grasp and almost launching it into the sink. It smashes, and the liquid pours down the drain.

“Hey, what the f–?”

“I’m gonna call your dad,” he yells, deafening to your numb ears.

“Do not fucking call my dad,” you slur, laughing a little. “I’m fine! I’m having fun.”

“You’re fucking wasted. And that guy – he’s bad news.”

“Does it matter?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Who even are–? What the fuck is up with you right now? Yes, it fucking matters!”

“Not my dad,” you repeat as you back away, staggering over to the booth where your friends sit.

Anna storms over to meet you, slipping her wrist around yours and bringing you to a halt. “Did Sam find you?” she asks. Her hands plant on your shoulders, and she dips her head until you’re eye to eye.

She’s blurry. She’s nothing but shapes, and movements, and noises. And she’s fucking pissing you off.

“Can everyone just – get the fuck off of me?” you groan, stumbling backwards, and Anna links her hands with yours to stop you from collapsing.

She pulls you back upright, leaning in close. Her head shakes, you can see that much. But her expression is cloudy, and her hands don’t let go of yours so easily when you try to pull away. The orb-like shapes in front of you mutter your name, only it’s not Anna’s voice, it’s his.

Anna’s babbling, panicked tone drives through your skull. “She’s been drinking, like, a lot, and I think she might’ve had some weed upstairs. But Sam said he saw –”

“C’mon, kid,” his voice says again, and there’s a heavy arm pulling you off to the door.

“Get – off – of – me.” You struggle in his grasp, pushing his body away from yours, fingers expecting to find the V-neck collar of a black shirt and instead finding –

Buttons. The edges of a green flannel shirt. And a soft cotton tee underneath. And then his scent washes over you: warm, sweet, earthy. Grounding.

“Joel…” you whisper, thick with fear and intoxication and need.

His jaw angles down, you catch one fleeting glimpse of his chin, graying beard, tight lips hidden beneath it, and then you’re shoving his chest again, attempting to push him as far away from your own body as he’ll go.

Only he doesn’t move.

“Fuck off,” you seethe, palms flat on his pecs. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He says your name in a hazy blur, says, “We’re goin’ home,” and you almost laugh in his face.

“I don’t f-fucking think so.”

“Yeah? Well, I do. Thanks, Anna, I got her.”

“Hey,” a fourth voice joins the chorus, “hey, you know this guy?”

Knox pushes past Joel’s arm, unlinking your fingers from his, and takes your shoulder with one rough hand. All your anger, all your rage at Joel, and yet, the second you’re separated from him, the only thing on your mind is having his hand back around yours.

Joel’s upper lip twitches, he stares at the back of Knox’s head and then scoffs, reaches by him again to take your wrist. You let him have it. “Come on,” he says.

Knox is rounding on him, holding Joel back with a palm flat to his chest. “I ain’t too comfortable lettin’ her head outta here with some random old man, dude…”

Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the –

Joel’s jaw ticks. His expression falls blank, narrowed eyes looking up and down Knox’s frame as you tremble behind it, Anna’s steady arm around your shoulders.

“Take your hand off of me, and move aside,” he snarls, voice dangerous. You can hear the threat, and at the same time, the desperate attempt from within himself to hold off.

“Hey,” Anna reaches forward, tapping Knox’s shoulder three times with a glittery nail, “she knows him. It’s fine. He’s fine.”

“Nah, man,” Knox hisses back, “who the fuck even are you? You ain’t takin’ her anywhere.”

You step forward, putting yourself between the two of them, hands clumsily landing on each of their shoulders. “He’s a f…my dad’s friend,” you slur, eyes unfocused.

Knox isn’t listening. He hasn’t listened the entire fucking night. His eyes are set on Joel’s as he wraps a tight fist around your free arm, trying to pull you closer to him. Only he’s hurting you, and your fingers struggle to pry yourself free, so you look up at Joel.

You couldn’t see Anna’s expression. Couldn’t make out the worry on her face that her voice clued you in on. You could barely even see Sam, when he dragged you out of the dark corner of the bar.

But you can see Joel. See the shadow his brows cast over his glower, see his thin lips, see the tightening of his jaw. See the rage inside him like it’s an alarm beacon, flashing red from behind his eyes.

Knox tugs angrily on your wrist. “You just gonna let this asshole ruin your night?”

“Let go of m-me,” you murmur, suddenly feeling the bar’s eyes on you. Your face reddens with heat from the alcohol, doubled by your embarrassment.

When he hears you, Joel’s face contorts into one you’ve never seen on his face in your life. Fury, disgust and fury, twisting his lip and tugging on his brows. He leans in and rips yours and Knox’s hands apart, pulling you free and shifting you behind his body with as much effort as it’d take him to click his fingers. Your weak hand reaches out to take a fistful of his shirt, holding onto him at his spine.

The men square up to one another, Joel at least four inches taller and, despite Knox’s built form, far broader. Knox takes a step forward and Joel matches.

“Joel…” you whisper, catching Anna’s gaping stare over his shoulder.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Miller?” Sam edges in from behind Knox. “I’m gonna have to ask that you…don’t…do this, but if you have to, can y’all maybe move it out to the street?”

“Do I gotta do somethin’?” Joel asks Knox. You pull in closer to his back, trying to hide your face from the spotlight cast on you by what feels like thousands of drunken eyes staring directly at you.

Knox thinks it over for a moment. You can see Zack watching like a deer in the headlights from behind his buddy. He’s seen Joel before, and you know from the way his eyes stick on him that he recognizes him. Remembers how briskly he swept you out of the soft drinks section, how blunt he was about it.

The V-neck swells with the deep inhale its wearer takes, and then he shakes his head, sighing. Smug smirk thick across his lips.

“Nah, man. I didn’t think she was gonna be worth the fuck anyways, so.”

Joel clicks his teeth, gives his head one quick shake, mutters a resigned, “Alright,” then reaches back, and nudges you gently by the stomach until you’re safely out of reach.

And then he swings.

Once, catching Knox across the corner of his jaw, sending his face skyward. The crowd around the three of you gasps. Knox’s burly chest twists, and he staggers backward. His hands come up to clutch his face before Joel’s taking the collar of his shirt in his fist, reeling him in and holding him steady.

“Joel!” you yell, but he doesn’t fucking hear you.

His second blow lands square on Knox’s nose with a crack loud enough even for your numb ears to hear over the thudding music. Blood sprays from his nostrils and floods down into his mouth, smearing across his cheek as Joel’s knuckles ricochet off the square face. The crimson pours down his chin, spattering onto his shirt, bright and shocking against the stretched black material.

Joel lets him drop and he collapses onto all fours, coughing blood and spit and whatever the fuck else onto the dark floor.

“Fuck!” Knox screams, fingers trembling over his burst nose – thick, dark droplets running down his hands. “You motherfucker, you broke my fucking nose!”

Joel stoops down, takes the back of Knox’s shirt in two rough hands and hauls him up until he’s limp on his knees.

“I ever see you around here again,” he growls, “I ever find out you’ve been anywhere near her, as much as looked in the same fuckin’ direction as her, I’ll do worse ‘n break your Goddamn nose. You hear me?”

Knox whimpers, more blood dribbles from between his lips, and Joel throws him down. He turns back to you, massaging his knuckles with his thumb, and grabs your hand.

Your voice is weak with shock. “What the f-uck was that?”

“Just – come on,” he says, dragging you out of Frank’s without another word.

He leads your wobbly form down the street, past chattering crowds toward his black truck, opening the door for you and helping your unsteady limbs up into the passenger side, before he closes the door over and strides around to the driver’s side.

When he shuts his door – more of a slam – he sighs, head leaning back. His hand clenches and then relaxes, loosening his knuckles, hissing anytime the quickly-darkening skin stretches.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“What you sorry for?”

You shrug. Your mouth trips over words. “…gettin’ you into a barfight.”

He doesn’t look over at you. Just Hms and switches the ignition on, pulling away from the busy curb.

“Where’s m-my dad?” you slur.

“Work. Site inspection, remember?”

You nod, turning back to the road when you start to feel motion sick. Your eyes feel like they’re spinning in their sockets, your stomach flips with the slightest turn. “He get that delivery?” you ask, letting Joel know you heard the phone call earlier.

His jaw turns in your direction. Letting you know he knows you heard it. “Yeah. He’ll be home in a couple hours.”

“Did Sam c-call him?”

“No. Why?”

You lean your head against the passenger window, the cold distracting your brain from the ache in your head. The streetlights sail by in a blur. The engine rattles through the glass.

“Asked ‘im not to.”

“Yeah? ‘n why’s that?”

Your head rolls back onto the headrest as you decide on an answer. I didn’t want him seeing me drunk and high. I don’t care about you seeing me drunk and high. I just wanted to see you.

“’s never seen me drunk.”

“Or high?”

You snort. “I’m not…”

When your head slants to the left to look at Joel, his face turns from yours. He was just looking at you, and you missed it. Probably had that look on his face, that Nice try, kid expression.

“Okay…” you admit, spiritless, “a little high, then.”

“Anna was the one who called,” Joel says. “Said you were hammered, some guy was all over you, ‘n Sam watched him put somethin’ in your drink. They couldn’t find you anywhere. She was fuckin’ hysterical.”

Your head bobs with the moving truck. “When’d he put someth…?”

Joel shrugs. “I dunno. But I believe it.”

So do I, you think. Knox was on you from the minute he saw you. Tight grip around your waist, your wrist, drawing you into him with beer and weed and whatever else he had in his pockets. The comment that had warranted him two bone-breaking punches from Joel all but confirmed the intentions he had in mind. And now you feel fucking stupid.

“I didn’t really…I only had a couple sips of it,” you hear yourself saying, head heating with embarrassment – an attempt to convince him, or maybe more yourself, that you’re not as dumb as leaving your drink to be roofied.

Your voice sounds pathetic, though, and Joel doesn’t say anything to make you feel better. Doesn’t say anything to make you feel worse, either – the silence does that by itself.

You bring your knees up to your chin, nestling a little into the seat. It could almost feel like nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed, except you’re intoxicated, and Joel’s hands are firmly by his person. Not on your thigh, or tangled between your fingers like they usually would be.

You study him. Stare at every part of him like it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see it, until the gentle curve of his nose and the glint of his watch face are burned into the back of your eyelids when you close them over. Face lit red from the brake lights in front, right hand sitting idly on his thigh.

He looks like your Joel. Almost. Just a little closed off. Distant.

But he came to get you, right? Damn near punched Knox’s lights out, took you by the hand, led you back to the safety of his truck. He came straight to Frank’s as soon as Anna called. And he’s taking you home. He’s looking out for you.

So why doesn’t he feel like your Joel?

Well. You can wager a pretty solid guess. It starts with L and ends with comma, Receptionist at Clark’s Plant Hire.

The dark silhouette of your house looms overhead as Joel pulls into your drive. Sure enough, your dad’s not home.

The engine cuts and your head drops, eyes fixing on your hands clasped in your lap. You know Joel’s watching you. What the fuck is he thinking about?

Fuck that. Don’t think about that. Let’s not dive into that pool of imagination.

“Well, thanks.” You do your best to smile, without really looking at him. Your fingers find the door handle and you tug on it, pushing it open and spilling out onto your driveway.

You hear Joel sniff behind you. “Need a hand?”

“I’m good,” you call back, only just managing to stay on your feet.

The cold air helps a little to waken you up, sharpen your senses, but the world around you is still a whir of dull color and shapelessness, and you wobble across to the house in a route of zig-zags, boots almost tripping over thin air as you go. When you reach your front door, you hear his truck lock and the shadow of him appears by your side.

“I said I’m good.”

“I ain’t leaving you, kid. You’re hammered.”

You roll your eyes and open your mouth to protest, but then he’s taking the keys out of your hand and unlocking the door himself, hand on your back as he ushers you into your own house.

“I’m f-fine,” you repeat, tripping over the doorway.

“Look it.”

You meander over to the stairs, and when your foot manages to find the first step, Joel says your name. Your gaze sweeps across the floor until it meets his boots, travels up his legs, and finally rests on his outstretched hand.

“Water,” he tells you.

“I’m fine,” you say, the word losing meaning the more you utter it. “I wanna go – to bed.”

He shakes his head, and then tilts it in the direction of the kitchen.

You groan, mumble something about him being such an asshole, and walk straight by his hand.

Joel doesn’t react. Just follows you and hits the lights, which burn your eyes when they flicker to life. You wince and point up to them.

“Off,” you bluntly order, and he grunts, stepping back to oblige. You’re plunged straight back into darkness.

You’re holding yourself unsteadily against the edge of the kitchen island, whole body swaying. The room is fucking spinning, the lights out back swirling with it in a blur of white motion before your eyes. You swallow dryly and turn around to focus on Joel.

He’s filling a glass over the sink. “What happened to your leg?” he asks over his shoulder.

You turn your knee, examining the dent in your calf where the stool leg cut into you. The dry burgundy stain like a backwards seam line on your skin, emerging from a bright red bruise slowly fading to deep purple.

“Fell off a stool,” you mutter, angling it in the moonlight streaming in through the window.

Joel Hms again. “You got anything to cover it?”

You shrug, having lost any and all energy to barter back with him. He slides the glass across the countertop to you, followed by a bottle of painkillers, then turns back to the open drawer he pulled them from and begins rummaging for a band-aid.

Your shaky hand lifts the glass to your lips. It’s cold and slippery in your grasp, drops of condensation running over your fingers like the blood from Knox’s nose had run over his. The more you tighten your grip, the harder it becomes to hold, until it’s sliding from your clutch.

“Easy,” Joel murmurs, appearing at the side of you and placing his hands over yours, holding the glass still.

“Your knuckles are bleeding,” you say, eyes focusing and then unfocusing on the marks at the base of his fingers, the dabs of dark red where the skin has burst.

He slowly lowers your hands until the glass is safely back on the counter, and then pulls away from you, drawing his swollen knuckles in to his body.

“They’re bleedin’,” you repeat, looking up at him.

“I know they’re bleedin’.”

“Let me see,” you step forward, “Joel. Let me–”

He catches your hands in his. Pushes them back down. Stares at the counter, sighs instead of replying.

Your eyes sting, filling with tears that crowd your already-blurred vision. The punch you feel to your gut brings you to your senses as if it drains you of every substance in your system all at once.

It’s like he’s broken up with you all over again. And it pisses you the fuck off.

“Fuck you,” you whisper into the dark, and he doesn’t move. Doesn’t lift his eyes, doesn’t even flinch. “Fuck you, so much.”

You’re staring him down, what little you can see of him in the pale light cascaded onto him through the shades. The crease between his brows, more prominent with the frown on his face; the line his lips form with the tight clench of his jaw.

Fucking look at me, you think. He can say something back – anything. You can stand and hiss horrible words at one another, yell at each other if that’s what he wants to do. Argue until you’re blue in the face, until the alcohol’s all dried up and the moonlight on his chest is replaced by sunlight. Just fucking look at me.

“You’re an asshole and a liar, you know that?”

“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah,” you decide. “Just stringing me along this whole time.”

You blink away the tears before they can fall, making room for more. They’re forming rapidly, each time heavier, and thicker, and angrier. But fuck it, right? This is over. He’s done, and you’re done. Just ignore the pain of it, stick your finger in the wound and keep pushing until you hit bone.

“That guy you punched? He was all over me. All fucking night.”

Joel’s voice is toneless. He’s already over the conversation before it’s begun. “I know he was, kid.”

“We kissed.”

“I know that, too.”

“Had his hands all over me. ‘n if it hadn’t been him, it woulda been literally any other guy in there.”

The words are starting to bleed into one another in your inebriated state. Anger turning to rage turning to fear turning to shame turning to hurt turning back into anger.

“Woulda kissed any one of ‘em. Mighta let them take me home, mighta let them fuck me.”

His head gives an involuntary shake and he blinks. Like he’s trying to wash the thought away. The image of you under someone else, moaning someone else’s name, pulling someone else into your body.

“That piss you off? It make you hate me?”

And then he looks up. Finally, his gaze locks with yours. And his eyes are just as glassy, just as fucking full of tears as yours. He replies with the worst thing he could possibly come up with. It forces the breath from your lungs in a painful exhale.

“There ain’t a thing in this world that you could do that would make me hate you, you know that.”

And then your tears start to fall. Your façade breaks. Stone crumbles. Dam bursts. They fall onto your cheeks, searing on your heated skin, rolling down onto the front of your dress in dark splatter marks.

Through a sob, you choke out another, “Fuck you, Joel,” and then, when you catch your breath, “you don’t get to – to sleep with someone else, and make me feel like the idiot for it.”

He looks up at you with a dark expression, lips locked tight like he’s refusing to let something slip. He shakes his head, and then says, “Can we not have this conversation right now?”

You scoff. A drunken, angry scoff. “You don’t wanna talk about her? When’s a good fuckin’ time, then? When suits you and f-fuckin’ – Lois?”

He falls quiet. Presses his fingers into his eyes. Sighs. “Baby,” he says into his palms.

“’m not your fucking baby,” you whisper between your teeth.

“Baby.” He drops his hands. Looks you dead in the eye. “I did not sleep with Lois.”

You’re frozen to the spot. Your lips fall apart, coated in salty tears. You’re holding your breath, though you’re not sure what for. The room stops spinning for all of ten seconds until he speaks again.

“I didn’t. I know what that message sounded like. Know how you musta heard it. But nothin’ happened, nothin’ has ever happened. Nothin’ would ever happen,” he says, a little more animated, tossing his hands in the air.

You stare between his eyes. He’s still enough that your fucked brain can focus on them, can see plain as day – even in the dark kitchen, even through your cloudy tears and all of the poison in your blood – that he’s telling the truth.

“Ex-plain,” you say dryly, looking down to his lips.

Joel sighs again. “I told you I had work to do. Had to head over to Clark’s to order that stuff for your dad. Saw her there, said hi. ‘n that’s all.”

Your eyes slowly close over, wet lashes on hot, dehydrated skin. Your ears are ringing, your body aching. You breathe a sigh as what he says sinks into your slow, throbbing brain, and then lull to one side, slumping against the counter.

“You didn’t…you didn’t think this was worth tellin’ me on Monday?”

“Tried, baby. You were gone. You were so angry; thought it’d be better if I let you cool off.”

“You’re – a fucking – idiot,” you seethe, shaking your head. It’s starting to pound again, sharp pain right behind your eyes like they’re being tugged backwards.

“Well, tonight, I guess that makes two of us.”

You grimace at him. “Lettin’ me go for four fuckin’ days thinking that –”

“– thinkin’ that I would actually cheat on ya? ‘s that what you think a’ me?”

“What did you ex-pect? You didn’t exactly try to – c-clear it up.” You step back, lifting a hand to cup your forehead with a groan. A mix of frustration, pain, and exhaustion in the form of a slow-moving ache hauls its way from one temple to the other.

“Baby, I gotta get you to bed,” Joel says, stepping forward. “We can talk about this when you’re able to see straight.”

“I’m fine,” you whimper, but it’s the least convincing you’ve sounded all night.

“Kid–”

“Don’t fucking call me kid. Like it’s some pet name, like you give a damn about me–”

“You think I don’t give a damn about you? You think I don’t care?”

Your head wobbles in response. It sends the room hurtling again, Joel’s figure swimming in and out of your vision. You grab the countertop again in attempt to freeze him in place.

He tuts and turns his jaw. “You know how much sleep I’ve had these last few days? Not a fuckin’ minute. I ain’t slept a single night, worryin’ about you ‘n what’s goin’ through your head. Like I give a damn about you. I wish I didn’t give a damn about you, baby. Make my life a whole lot easier.”

“Then, show me. Fucking prove it to me.”

“Prove it to you how? Break some asshole’s nose in a bar? Take you home when you’re wasted?”

Yeah. And also, no. Not just that.

You seethe. “You know what the fuck I mean. Do something about it.”

“I can’t,” he says, raising his voice. “Can’t take you out on dates, can’t put my arm around you, can’t kiss you ‘less there ain’t nobody watchin’. I can’t do none of what I wanna do. This is – it’s fuckin’…”

“…impossible,” you breathe, thick and slurred.

Joel lifts his head then, sees the look in your eye. He sniffs. “’s pretty damn hard, yeah.”

You tip your head back, feel the weight of your tears and your eyes and your brain slap against the back of your skull, a nauseating pull at the nape of your neck. You’re defeated. Nothing left in you to argue, talk, even so much as breathe.

Your words drag between one another, each one beginning with the remnants of the one before it.

“Just - take me to bed.”

He’s standing inches from you, hands hovering over your own, hesitant or unwilling or fucking afraid to touch you.

You ball your fists against his chest and give him one tiny, ineffective shove. But he’s bigger, stronger, sober. He doesn’t budge. Accepting defeat, you breathe one last, “Fuck you,” and brush past him, staggering out of the kitchen.

Joel – water and painkillers in hand – watches you like a hawk going upstairs, arms braced for you to lean on anytime you begin to tumble backward. When you do, his hand brushes your elbow, and you whip it out of his reach and reel it back in to your body.

He settles you on the bed just like he did six days ago, after your rodeo night. Only he doesn’t kneel, doesn’t take your boots off. Just walks away, grabs a tee from your chest of drawers and hands it to you to slip into by yourself.

You don’t even have to open your eyes. You know which one he’s given you. Can tell from the feel of the material, the cracked lettering on the chest, that it’s his Rangers shirt, the same one he put on you the first night you slept together. Smells more like you than it does him these days, but feels just like he always does. And as he waits a safe two-feet from you for you to change, no hands reaching out to help, to fix your hair, to stroke your cheek – you think the shirt will just have to do.

Everything he does is close enough for you to recognize him as Joel, and yet distant enough for him to be someone totally different. Every move he makes is pre-determined, all outcomes already analyzed and mapped, all risks carefully averted. It’s like he’s walking a minefield.

He hands you a couple of pills and helps with lifting the water to your lips. Then he sits at the end of your bed and applies the band-aid while you drag a makeup wipe clumsily over your face.

His thumbs linger on your fucked leg, rubbing over the padded dressing a few times after it’s stuck on, gentle and slow. Eyes never leaving the spot your skin broke open. And then, when you’re done with it, he takes the makeup wipe and quickly runs it down your calf, cleaning the dry blood from your skin.

Touch as delicate as though he were holding a rose – fingers brushing over your body like you might tear or fall apart at the slightest movement. When he’s done, he makes his way around to the opposite side of the bed.

“There’s a sleeping bag in the hall closet if you’d rather take the floor,” you tell him, rolling back and pulling your knees to your chin.

“Nah,” Joel says with the groan of a near-fifty-year-old man, kicking his boots off and propping his pillows up. “We’re close enough by now.”

He pulls the flannel from his shoulders and tosses it to the end of the bed, then slips in under the covers beside you, clasping his hands on his chest. His entire body a perfectly polite distance away.

Your wrist lifts, weak and limp, and your fingers ghost across his red wine knuckles. He winces a little, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he watches as you trace the curves of his hands, surfing the valleys where the bone drops, then back up to the peaks where the blood breaks from his skin.

“You didn’t have to…” you whisper. “He was just some dirtbag.”

He sniffs. Replies to you in his head, translated through the look in his eye. Wasn’t all about the dirtbag.

And you know it. Knox was just an asshole who took the hit for the last four days. Sure, he deserved it. But his big, ugly face and the uglier words which happened to tumble out of it were simply a punchbag full of sand; Joel’s fist hammering into it was as much about defending you as it was about punishing someone, anyone, the first fucker who wound up on the wrong side of him, for everything that had happened.

He's angry. At himself and at you and at this entire fucking mess. And you’re angry. At yourself and at him and at the very same thing. The two of you lie side by side in the dark, both broken and bruised and bleeding. You let out a small, pathetic sigh, and Joel echoes it.

His eyes close over and you stare at him. Stare at the faint lines on his face that slowly fade as he relaxes more, falls closer and closer to sleeping. Watch his chest slowly rising and falling, and his hands moving up and down with it. His entire body is still. Like it’s the first calm he’s had in a while. The first time he’s been able to settle.

And you stare at him. For hours, feels like. You stare at him until sleep, or alcohol, or something stronger coats over your vision and sweeps him out of focus.

----------

The wall opposite your window is lit with a single stripe of bright, nauseating orange, the sunrise staring in between your drapes. There are birds screaming outside. Your head is still throbbing and your throat feels like splintered wood and the other side of your bed is empty.

He can’t have left long ago. The mattress is still warm under the sheets he’s folded back over. His shirt is sat folded on the pillowcase.

You grab it and haul yourself out of bed – head still spinning, you trip out of your room.

He’s gotta be in the kitchen. He’ll be standing at the counter drinking a coffee, he’ll mumble a Mornin’, then pull you in and kiss the top of your head. He’ll ask how you’re feeling and if you want some breakfast. He’ll be Joel again.

“Joel…?” you call, rounding the bottom of the stairs toward the kitchen. No response.

The clock on the oven reads 5:57. The kitchen is deserted. When you loop around the island – as if he’d be crouched behind it or something – you notice an empty mug sitting in the sink, trails of black coffee at the bottom.

Your shaking hands cup around the ceramic. It’s cooling, but it’s warm.

He’s been in here.

“Joel!” you yell. Come out, now, this ain’t funny anymore.

You hear the squeak of wheels rolling to a stop outside and flee over to the living room windows, daybreak burning your eyes when you peer through the shades.

You’re frantically searching, going blind with the bright rays singeing your corneas, pacing back and forth between each window to get an angle on the street that will show you his truck. Show you him.

You don’t even notice the sound of keys in the door, or the rattle it makes as it pushes open.

“Hey, kiddo.”

You whip around. The owner of the voice lifts a hand to his puffy eyes and rubs them, yawning.

“H-hi, Dad.”

You look fucking insane. Hair all over the place, makeup haphazardly removed, Joel’s flannel shirt hanging from your fist. Wearing nothing but a long tee, a blood-seeped band-aid on your calf.

“Good night?” he says with a sleepy chuckle. “I am pooped. You want anythin’ before I head up to bed?”

You shake your head, but he’s not looking. Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“Alright, I’m gonn–”

“Where’s Joel?”

Your desperation has reached a new high. Your pride, a new low. You just want him back, don’t care who knows or thinks or suspects what. Just come back.

“Huh?”

“Joel? He brought me home and I woke up and he’s gone.”

“He – Well, I…I suppose he’ll be at work, hon. He can’t stick around here all day.” He smiles weakly, and then swivels on his heels.

“He text you?”

He sighs, his back still turned. “What has gotten into…? Here.”

Your dad twists and throws his phone toward you. It lands on the carpet at your feet. Then he turns back and begins climbing the stairs.

“See ya in a few hours.”

When he turns the corner on the landing and his footsteps fade out of earshot, you bend and your fingers clutch his phone.

He has one unread text from Joel.

You unlock the phone with a click and open up the message thread. Your half-drunk, half-sleepy eyes flit across the screen, leaning back against the arm of the couch to read every word he ever sent your dad.

Joel: She’s in bed. Sat with her for a bit to make sure she didn’t roll onto her back. She’s a little worse for wear. I got a job up in Waco I need to be at in an hour, so I gotta head.

You scroll further back.

Joel: She okay?

Joel: Sarah says she hasn’t heard from her in a few days. We can come over for dinner tonight if you reckon that might help?

Further back still.

Joel: Sure, not doing anything anyway. Sarah in Nashville. Tell her to text me when she’s ready to be picked up. Hope she enjoys her rodeo night 🤠

Joel: Table booked for 6. Get you both at 5:45. Looking forward to it.

You scroll until your eyes hurt.

Joel: No answer. She’ll be home soon I bet.

Joel: You ever seen Grey’s Anatomy? Pretty good TV

Joel: Your daughter available tonight to help me put up stuff for Sarah coming home? I fear what might happen if I attempt it myself

You read the final message, the first thing he sent your dad after you got home. Six days in. He’d driven you home from work.

Joel: No problem, wouldn’t have her walking home in the rain. Was nice to see her again. She’s a sweetheart.

You’re laid back across the couch, your legs hanging over the armrest. You drop the phone to your chest and stare up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling a lot more sober.

She’s a sweetheart.

Your throat tightens around a sob. Like a fist clenching around your neck, crushing your breath to nothing. Your eyes well, tears slowly flood across your vision and then spill over, running rapidly down to your ears and seeping into the fabric of the couch. You’re still silent. Still unable to open your mouth.

You’re doing everything you can to hold back. To stop it from happening. But your chest feels like it could burst, and your eyes are screwing shut tighter and tighter, and your body curls up like an animal succumbing to a mortal wound, and then –

Then, you break.

It forces its way from your throat, hammering against the sides of your mouth before it’s escaping, tearing away from your lips and hurtling skyward. A deep, violent exhale. Broken, and painful, and heavy.

There’s no one to hold back for. Just you, sat in your living room, clutching the flannel of a man who doesn’t want you anymore.

Your breath stammers, shudders against the palms of your hands as your fingertips massage your eyes. You’re crying like a little kid, and it’s not making you feel any better, but no matter what you do, it won’t stop.

And you don’t know why. You tell yourself that: I don’t know why I’m crying. Almost laugh when you think it through to yourself: sobbing at 6AM over someone you were sleeping with, for all of, what, four weeks? I don’t know why the fuck I’m crying.

Except – you do. You do. And you’re totally, completely, undeniably fucked.

You sigh and close your eyes.

You are – fucked.

----------

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